It's night. The air is cold, and the streetlights cast long shadows on the wet pavement. The Digi-Camo feels good on me; the orange and black scheme is aggressive, and the hood pulled up, combined with the face mask and goggles, makes me feel like a real superhero. I can't afford to have my identity revealed. Shield would be all over me.
I stand before the first Tombstone hideout. "System, are you sure about this place?"
[Affirmative. This location is a known front for Tombstone's illegal activities. It is a warehouse used for storing illegal weapons.]
The System helpfully marked each location, which is a blessing. Who knows how long it would take to find these places otherwise?
"Alright, ladies, let's go!" I point the Digivice at the building. Gatomon appears in a flash of light, landing gracefully on her feet. BlackGatomon is right behind her, already bouncing with anticipation.
"So, what's the plan, Ethan?" BlackGatomon asks, claws extended.
"We go in there and kick some bad guy butt." I grin under my mask. "System says this place is full of weapons and criminals. Time to clean house."
Gatomon nods seriously. "Are we expecting heavy resistance?"
I shrug. "Probably. Which brings me to my next question... you guys bulletproof?"
They exchange a look. "Never really been shot at," Gatomon admits. BlackGatomon shakes her head.
"Okay, good to know. Then let's just avoid getting shot at all. You're both fast and nimble. Use it." I take a deep breath, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline. "Let's do this."
We hug the building's shadows, moving along the corrugated metal siding. The stench of diesel and stale beer hangs heavy. Two goons stand guard near a side door, their breath misting in the frigid air.
"Easy peasy," BlackGatomon whispers, a predatory glint in her crimson eyes.
Before I can even blink, she and Gatomon are blurs of motion. One moment, the guards are there, jawing away; the next, they crumple to the ground like discarded ragdolls, each taken out with a single, precise strike.
"Showoffs," I mutter, but a smile creeps under my mask. We ease open the door and peer inside.
The warehouse sprawls before us, a cavernous space lit by harsh fluorescent tubes that hum and flicker. Forklifts beep and rumble as men hustle, loading and unloading wooden crates. The air tastes of oil, sweat, and something vaguely metallic. One guy pries open a crate, and I get a clear view of the contents.
Rifles. Assault rifles, handguns, even a few rocket launchers, all gleaming with fresh oil.
"Holy crap," I breathe. "What is this guy planning? Is Tombstone trying to start a war or something?"
I press closer, trying to get a handle on the situation. Voices carry over the mechanical din.
"...gotta get this shipment out by midnight," one of the henchmen yells to another. "Tombstone wants this stuff gone, no questions asked."
"Yeah, yeah, I heard," the other replies, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Just gettin' tired of luggin' these crates around. What's he need so much firepower for, anyway?"
"Don't matter. Just do your job, and you'll get paid."
Midnight? That doesn't give us much time. If these weapons hit the streets, the body count will be through the roof. We need to shut this operation down, and we need to do it now.
"Can we just attack them now? Please?" BlackGatomon asks, her voice dripping with impatience. "I'm itching for a fight."
"Hold up," I say, raising a hand. "Not yet. Let me think." I scan the room, my mind racing. Just charging in would be suicide. There are at least twenty of them, all armed to the teeth. We need an edge, something to turn the tide.
Then I see it: a massive overhead crane, suspended from the warehouse ceiling, hauling pallets stacked high with crates. Even better, through my Digi-Goggles, I can see the digital connection linking the crane's controls to the warehouse's network. A slow grin spreads across my face.
"Jackpot."
I pull out my Digivice and focus, my fingers flying across the screen. The Hacking skill kicks in, and I dive into the crane's system. Lines of code cascade across my vision as I bypass security protocols and take control. It's crude, amateurish programming, child's play for even my beginner-level hacking abilities.
"Alright, ladies," I say, my voice low and intense. "Time for a little... demolition." I target the crane's release mechanism, selecting a point directly above a cluster of henchmen. "Stand back."
I hit 'enter'.
The crane groans, its gears grinding. The cable holding the pallet snaps, sending tons of weapons plummeting earthward. The henchmen below barely have time to look up before they're engulfed in a shower of splintered wood and twisted metal. The impact shakes the entire warehouse.
"Now!" I yell. "Go, go, go!"
BlackGatomon and Gatomon explode into action, a blur of white and black fur. They launch themselves into the chaos, claws extended, teeth bared.
The remaining henchmen are stunned, disoriented. Their eyes dart around, trying to make sense of the sudden downpour of cargo. They scramble for their weapons, hands shaking. But it's too late. Two feline dynamos are already among them, tearing them apart.
This is going better than expected.
One guy manages to raise his rifle, his face a mask of terror, but Gatomon is on him in an instant, a 'Lightning Paw' connecting with his jaw. He goes down like a sack of bricks, his rifle clattering on the concrete floor.
"What the-" One of the henchmen barely gets out before he eats dirt.
Another tries to swing a metal pipe, his face red with rage, but BlackGatomon dances around him, a whirlwind of dark energy. She ducks under the swing and retaliates with a swift kick to the groin. He doubles over, gasping for air, the pipe falling from his limp fingers.
The other henchmen watch in disbelief, frozen in place. "What the heck are those things?!" one of them shouts, his voice cracking with fear.
These guys clearly aren't ready for Digimon. They are completely shocked and bewildered seeing two cats attacking them. Most of their bullets hit the floor or ping harmlessly off the metal shelves. Gatomon and BlackGatomon dodge the wild swings and panicked shots, their movements fluid and graceful. Each strike is precise, debilitating. It's a symphony of destruction, a beautiful, brutal ballet.
"I'm starting to like this job!" BlackGatomon yells, landing a flying kick on another goon's chest. The henchman flies backward, hitting a stack of boxes with a loud crash.
The other henchmen stare. "That cat just kicked Dave through some boxes!"
That's an understatement.
One of the henchmen, a hulking brute with a shaved head, is starting to stir. He spots me, his eyes narrowing. "Hey! Who the hell are you?!"
Before I can react, he charges, swinging a fist the size of a brick. My enhanced senses give me just enough warning. The fist connects, sending me stumbling. I push back, the strength from the system barely enough to keep me upright.
Gatomon leaps in, a 'Lightning Paw' sending the thug flying into a stack of crates.
"You okay, Ethan?" she asks, her blue eyes filled with concern.
"Yeah, thanks, Gatomon," I say, catching my breath. "That was a close one."
After a few minutes, the warehouse is silent. The henchmen are sprawled out, groaning or unconscious. Gatomon and BlackGatomon stand proudly amidst the wreckage. They are breathing hard, but otherwise unharmed.
"Good job, you two," I say, grinning. "You handled them like pros."
"Of course, we did," BlackGatomon says, puffing out her chest. "Did you see that kick? That was my special."
Gatomon rolls her eyes. "Please, BlackGatomon, you got lucky. My technique is what really mattered."
"Oh, here we go again," I mutter under my breath. "Can't you two ever just agree on something?"
"Well, if she wasn't so full of herself..." Gatomon starts.
"I am not!" BlackGatomon retorts, her tail bristling.
"Okay, okay, settle down, you two," I say, stepping between them. "You were both amazing. Happy now?"
They huff, but the tension eases. Man, these two can be a pain sometimes. But they're cute, so I'll forgive them.
I pull out my phone to call the cops. I should report this and let them handle it. It's the right thing to do. But then, something catches my eye. Tucked away in a corner, partially hidden by some overturned crates, is a small, unlocked safe. Curiosity gets the better of me.
"Stay here. I'll be right back." I walk over to the safe and peek inside. It's mostly empty, but there are stacks of cash inside. I can pay rent, buy food and... a couple of thousand dollars!
My brain starts churning. Rent is due. Gatomon and BlackGatomon need to eat. And... those Supply Boxes are calling my name. I could get some killer gear. A gold item, maybe?
I glance back at the Digimon, then back at the money. A silent battle is waging inside me. The good guy in me says to leave it, call the cops, and do the right thing. But the other guy? The guy who's broke, hungry, and desperate? He's screaming, "Take it! It's a sign!"
"Screw it." I grab the cash, shoving it into my pockets. "Finders keepers," I mutter, trying to justify my actions. "Besides, Tombstone won't miss it." I'll leave enough for the cops. With that settled, I call the police.
My fingers fly across the Digivice. It is nothing impressive, just a quick message using a burner IP address. "Alright, I've tipped off the cops. Let's go before they arrive."
"Another one already?" Gatomon asks, perking up.
"Hell yeah, another one," I say, grinning. "Let's keep this party rolling!" I check the map. "There's another Tombstone joint about ten blocks from here. System says it is a gambling den. Let's go." I summon them back into the Digivice and head to the next location.
***
Donate Power Stones to support this novel
Advance chapters in patreon.com/Najicablitz