My eyes fluttered open to Impmon's jagged grin filling my vision, his breath smelling faintly of sulfur.
"Look who's finally awake," Impmon said. "Took you long enough, sleepyhead."
I shoved him away instinctively, my muscles protesting as I scrambled upright. The movement sent a dull throb through my bandaged shoulder. I was on a different rooftop, away from the fight.
Proxy and Spider-Man stood frozen near a rusted warehouse pipe, their body language radiating awkwardness. Spider-Man fidgeted with a loose thread on his web-shooter. Proxy kept adjusting her goggles, avoiding my gaze. The air felt thicker than Kyubimon's smoke screen.
"You're okay!" Proxy exclaimed, relief evident in her voice. "Kyubimon brought us here. We… uh… got you some first aid."
I touched the bandage on my shoulder. It was neat, surprisingly professional. Kyubimon, now reverted to Renamon, sat a little distance away, observing us with her usual calm. She seemed to be trying to give us space, but her ears were clearly perked.
"Thanks," I mumbled.
My head still spun a little, a lingering echo of the impact. I glared at Impmon.
"You didn't have to get that close to my face," I said.
"Just making sure you weren't faking it," Impmon replied, a mischievous glint in his green eyes. "You hit your head pretty hard, Jewel."
"I am fine," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
Spider-Man cleared his throat.
"So… uh… glad you're back in the land of the living," Spider-Man said, still fiddling with his web-shooter. "That guy hit you pretty hard."
"I noticed," I replied, my voice dry.
I pushed myself to my feet, testing my balance. My legs felt a little wobbly, but the super-healing was already working its magic. The dull ache in my head was starting to recede.
"You should probably take it easy," Proxy said, stepping a little closer. "That Winter Soldier guy is no joke."
"Winter Soldier?" I repeated.
"He is the one with the metal arm," Renamon clarified, her voice calm and even. "He moves with a frightening precision."
"Yeah, he's… experienced," Spider-Man added. "You two really saved my bacon back there, though. Thanks."
He sounded genuinely grateful, which was a nice change from the usual panic or accusations I sometimes got. It made the whole 'hero' thing feel a little more real.
"We help each other," Proxy said, a small, proud smile on her face.
"Are they gone? The agents, I mean."
I rasped out the question, my throat still a little sore. Spider-Man gave an exaggerated thumbs-up, then launched into a pantomime of confused agents stumbling around, looking in all the wrong alleys. Proxy nodded stiffly, her shoulders relaxing a fraction. The tightness in my chest eased.
We were safe. At least for now.
Then I noticed their lingering stares. Both Spider-Man and Proxy kept glancing at my face. A cold dread seeped into my gut. My hand flew to my head, my fingers brushing bare skin where my Jewel mask should have been. Ice flooded my veins. My stomach dropped.
"Oh, uh, about that," Proxy stammered, her voice shrinking with each word. "You sort of… passed out mid-flight. We needed to check for head injuries."
Spider-Man scratched the back of his neck, his lenses wide with guilt.
"Yeah, your mask was… in the way," he mumbled. "It was a medical necessity."
My cheeks burned. I looked at the ground, wishing I could just vanish. This was worse than being punched by that metal-armed guy.
"Oh, God. Please tell me you didn't tell anyone my name," I blurted out, the Jewel facade crumbling like cheap drywall.
I didn't care about my mask, or my hair, or my costume. All that mattered was my identity, my secret. The panic was a cold hand gripping my throat.
"You didn't, right? Please tell me you didn't."
My voice came out thin and reedy, a stark contrast to the confident tone I tried to project as Jewel. Their shared wince felt like a punch to the gut. Spider-Man's shoulders slumped, his masked head shaking slightly. Proxy hugged herself, gnawing on her lower lip, avoiding my eyes. It felt like I had just kicked a puppy, twice.
"No, no, we didn't," Proxy said quickly, her voice hushed. "We swear. We didn't."
Spider-Man nodded, his web-shooter now hanging forgotten.
"Yeah, no one saw your face but us," he added, his voice equally quiet. "And Renamon."
He gestured vaguely at the fox Digimon, who blinked slowly. Impmon, however, was still grinning, oblivious to my mortification.
"I… I can't let anyone know," I whispered, the words catching in my throat. "Not my family, not Olivia. No one. Please."
My voice cracked at the end, a desperate, raw plea. I hated sounding so weak, so vulnerable, but I couldn't help it. This was my life, my new life.
The two heroes huddled behind a corroded forklift. Their voices dropped to muffled whispers.
"We owe her the truth," Proxy said, her words barely audible.
"Ethan would kill us," Spider-Man hissed back, his tone laced with a familiar exasperation.
They returned after what felt like an eternity, their faces set in grim determination. Both took synchronized deep breaths, as if preparing for a dive into cold water. Spider-Man's fingers hovered over the edge of his mask, a bandage he was afraid to rip off.
"We need to talk," Proxy said. "There is something else."
Spider-Man nodded, his head hanging low. Renamon watched, her tail swishing slowly. Impmon bounced on his toes, looking like a kid about to witness a really good prank. My heart hammered against my ribs. What else could there possibly be? Had I accidentally leveled a building? Did I punch a hero by mistake?
"We hope you are not mad," Spider-Man mumbled, his voice tight.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing pulse. I was already exposed, what more could they reveal?
"Just tell me," I said, my voice steadier than I expected.
Proxy took another deep breath, then pulled off her goggles. My jaw dropped.
"Gwen?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.
It was Gwen Stacy, my friend, the girl who sat next to me in calculus. She looked so earnest, so worried, her blonde hair falling around her face. It was impossible. She was just… Gwen.
Then Spider-Man reached up, and with a soft shhhwp sound, his mask came off.
"Peter?" I gasped.
Peter Parker. Nerdy, sweet, always-late Peter. My brain struggled to process it. Peter? Spider-Man? The guy who fumbled his words in class, the one who always looked like he was one bad grade away from an anxiety attack. He was the wisecracking hero who swung through the city.
This was crazy. My friends, the people I saw every day, were also… them.
"You guys are… superheroes?" I asked, the words feeling foreign on my tongue. "Like, actual superheroes?"
Gwen nodded, a small, shy smile on her face.
"It all happened while you were… out," she said softly, her eyes holding a trace of sadness. "After your accident."
Peter ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit I knew well.
"Yeah, a lot has changed," Peter added. "We wanted to tell you, but…"
"But you couldn't," I finished for him, the shock slowly giving way to a strange sense of… belonging.
I had been so alone with this. The strength, the fighting, the secret identity. And now, two of my closest friends were right there with me. It felt like the universe had suddenly made sense, in the most insane way possible.
"So, you have powers, Gwen?" I asked. "And… a Digimon you call it?"
Gwen nodded, and Renamon stepped forward, her golden fur gleaming in the dim light.
"And you, Peter?" I asked. "The spider bite? The radioactive spider?"
Peter winced, rubbing his arm.
"It is a long story," Peter said. "A really long story."
I couldn't help but laugh, a genuine, relieved laugh that bubbled up from deep inside. This was all so ridiculous, so unbelievable, but it was real. My friends were heroes. And for the first time since the accident, I didn't feel quite so alone.
"So, how did you become… Jewel?" Peter asked, the question tumbling out with a nervous energy that was very Peter.
Gwen nodded, her eyes wide with curiosity.
"Yeah, we know about the accident," Gwen added gently. "Ethan told us you were… well, you know."
I explained the convoy, the chemicals, the coma, and the slow, confusing awakening to a body that no longer felt quite my own. The bending bed rail, the effortless lifting of crates at the coffee shop, the exhilarating leap to a rooftop. It was all a blur of discovery, a mix of fear and excitement that had pushed me into this new life. I told them about seeing the news, the headlines about heroes, and the strange, undeniable pull to do something good, something more than just survive.
"And the costume?" Peter asked, a faint flush on his cheeks. "The… pink hair?"
I laughed, a real, unforced sound that felt good after all the tension.
"That was all me," I said. "I wanted something bright, something that said 'hero' without being too serious. And the pink hair? Well, that was just for fun."
They laughed with me, their genuine amusement washing over me like a warm wave. For the first time, the weight of my secret felt lighter. It was amazing, knowing that they understood, that they were going through similar things. A pang of annoyance hit me, a small, sharp jab.
"You know, I'm a little mad at you two," I said, trying to keep my tone light, but a hint of genuine frustration crept in. "You could have told me sooner. All those times we hung out, and you were both… secret heroes."
Gwen winced, and Peter rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish.
"It's complicated, Jessica," Peter mumbled. "The whole secret identity thing, it's… a lot."
"Tell me about it," I muttered, but the anger was already fading, replaced by a deep sense of relief.
They understood. They really did.
Impmon, who had been listening to our conversation with an expression that could only be described as bored amusement, suddenly let out a dramatic groan.
"Ugh, enough with the sappy reunion already," Impmon whined, rolling his eyes. "I'm going to barf all over this rooftop if you don't stop."
We all turned to him, the spell of our shared moment broken. Impmon, seeing our gaze, shifted uncomfortably, his impish grin faltering for a second.
"Look, uh… thanks for the save, Jewel," Impmon mumbled, his voice unusually quiet. "You too, fox-lady. Spider-dork."
It was the closest thing to gratitude I expected from him, a reluctant acknowledgment that he'd been helped.
"So, are you going to come quietly now?" Gwen asked, a determined glint in her eye. "Back to the Digital World?"
Impmon's grin returned, wider and more mischievous than before.
"That's a different matter entirely," he said, then stomped his foot.
WHOOSH
A small, purple fireball erupted on the ground, creating a thick cloud of smoke that enveloped him. When the smoke cleared, Impmon was gone.
"See ya again next time!" his disembodied voice echoed from somewhere in the distance.
***
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