My fingers closed around the cold, textured handle of Mjolnir. I strained, muscles tensing, pulling with everything I had. The hammer remained stubbornly fixed in the earth. Not even a wiggle. My shoulders slumped slightly, but I quickly caught myself. Of course, it wouldn't budge, I thought. It's a mythical weapon. What did I expect, a participation trophy?
"See? I told you it was just a hammer," BlackGatomon said, batting at the handle with a claw. She pushed, grunting with effort, but Mjolnir didn't move.
Gatomon, always more pragmatic, gave it a half-hearted shove with her head.
"It's heavier than it looks," Gatomon conceded. "Perhaps 'worthy' means it's bolted down."
"It's not bolted, Light-paws, it's just… dense," BlackGatomon argued, trying to wedge a paw under the head of the hammer. She let out a frustrated growl. "This is stupid. How can a hammer be this heavy?"
"It's not about the weight, it's about the magic, you overgrown alley cat," Gatomon retorted.
Before my Digimon could escalate their bickering into a full-blown catfight, a convoy of black SUVs tore across the desert, kicking up dust like a mini-tornado. The vehicles screeched to a halt a safe distance from the crater.
Coulson stepped out of the lead SUV, his gaze landing on me with a familiar mix of caution and irritation. He walked with that unhurried, measured stride of his, surveying the scene. His eyes, always so sharp, paused on Mjolnir, then flicked to Gatomon and BlackGatomon, who were now standing beside me with an air of innocent curiosity.
"Kepler," Coulson said, his voice even, yet I could hear the underlying tension. He was clearly wondering if I was about to claim a mythical hammer. "Does that belong to you?"
"That, Agent Coulson, does not," I replied, gesturing toward the hammer with an open palm. "I was just… admiring it. It's quite the conversation piece, wouldn't you agree?"
He narrowed his eyes slightly, a flicker of concern crossing his face as he processed my casual tone. Coulson knew my Digimon were not to be underestimated, and he certainly knew I had a knack for showing up in places I shouldn't. He was calculating the odds of me resisting a SHIELD operation, and I could practically see the gears turning in his head.
"Will you permit SHIELD to secure the area without interference?" he asked, his voice formal, but his gaze was a challenge.
I shrugged, a nonchalant gesture I had perfected over time.
"I have no claim to the land, nor the very stubborn hammer, Agent Coulson," I told him, making sure my voice carried an air of calculated casualness. "SHIELD is more than welcome to the headache."
A subtle relaxation spread through his posture, almost imperceptible to anyone else, but I noticed it. He nodded, then turned to his agents.
"Cordon off the perimeter," he ordered. "Begin a full investigation."
The agents moved quickly, setting up a perimeter. Coulson turned back to me, his expression still professional, but a hint of curiosity had replaced the wariness.
"What brings you to the remote New Mexico desert, Kepler?" he asked. "I wouldn't have pegged you for a sightseer."
"Just hunting a rogue Digimon," I replied, watching his eyes for a reaction.
Sure enough, a flicker of concern crossed his face. He knew what "rogue Digimon" meant. It meant trouble, and where there was Digimon trouble, I wasn't usually far behind. My mission was just getting started.
"I haven't pinpointed its exact location yet," I admitted, shrugging slightly. My Digi-Goggles were silent, which meant the Digimon wasn't actively causing trouble. "Just a general sense of 'big desert, something digital' from the Digivice. I'm planning to stick around for a few days to track it down."
Coulson nodded, his gaze sweeping over the vast, empty landscape. He knew how large "vast desert" could be. It was a clear sign he was thinking of how much time and resources SHIELD would waste covering the same ground. He was a practical man, and I respected that.
"SHIELD can assist in your search," Coulson offered, his tone carefully neutral. "We have resources for desert reconnaissance that might speed things up."
"I'll take the help," I replied, a small smirk playing on my lips. "But we're clear on the rules, right? No nets, no cages, and definitely no poking and prodding with pointy sticks."
Gatomon let out a soft mrrrp of agreement, her tail swishing. BlackGatomon just narrowed her crimson eyes at Coulson, a silent warning. He remembered the Kuwagamon incident in the Amazon. He'd seen firsthand what happened when SHIELD tried to play catch-and-release with Digimon.
I remember the look on Coulson's face when Kuwagamon tore through his agents. Pure, unadulterated shock. He was a professional, but even he hadn't anticipated that level of chaos from a "creature." It was a good reminder that Digimon weren't just monsters; they were digital entities that broke all the rules of this world.
"Understood, Kepler," Coulson said, a slight tension in his jaw. "No repeat of the Kuwagamon incident. Our priority is elimination, not capture."
It was a good enough answer for now. I needed his intel, and he needed my… unique abilities. An uneasy alliance, but a necessary one. I watched his agents move, efficient and professional, their movements a stark contrast to the wild energy of my Digimon.
"Speaking of highly trained individuals," I began, my voice taking on a casual, conversational tone, "I've heard some chatter in New York about a certain group. They're pretty good at what they do, chasing after Digimon and even trying to 'apprehend' some of my friends."
I watched Coulson's face carefully, trying to gauge his reaction. He was a good man, loyal to SHIELD, but even he couldn't deny the existence of rogue elements. I wasn't going to mention HYDRA directly, not yet. I needed him to connect the dots himself, or at least show me what he knew.
"They're a bit... heavy-handed," I continued, making sure my tone implied an inside joke. "Especially with a certain web-slinger and his very capable, ahem, female partner."
Coulson blinked, a genuine look of confusion on his face. He shook his head slowly.
"I am not aware of any SHIELD operation targeting a 'web-slinger' or his 'partner,' Kepler," Coulson replied, his voice firm. "Director Fury keeps me informed of all high-priority operations. Perhaps you have outdated intelligence?"
I gave him a knowing look, a slight smirk playing on my lips.
"Tell Fury there are rats scurrying under him," I said, my voice dropping slightly, laced with a hint of something darker. "He should check his blind spots."
Coulson's posture stiffened, his eyes narrowing to slits. He understood the implication. Internal corruption. Betrayal. It was a serious accusation, one he wouldn't take lightly.
"What information do you possess to make such a grave insinuation?" he demanded, his voice now colder, sharper.
I simply met his gaze, offering no further details, letting the ambiguity hang in the air between us. The desert wind whistled, carrying the unspoken tension. He was a professional, he would follow up. That was all I needed.
"Kepler," Coulson said, his tone shifting, clearly putting the unsettling revelation about potential internal threats aside for the moment. He gestured towards the hammer with a slight tilt of his head. "Do you know anything about that hammer? The locals seem to think it fell from the sky."
"Oh, that old thing?" I asked, feigning casual disinterest as I walked closer to Mjolnir, kicking at the dust around its base. "That's Mjolnir. Legendary weapon of Thor, the Norse God of Thunder. You know, son of Odin, protector of Asgard, all that jazz."
Gatomon and BlackGatomon exchanged a look, both clearly thinking I was making this up.
"It's supposed to control storms, summon lightning, and generally just make bad guys have a really bad day," I continued, looking back at Coulson. "Only the 'worthy' can lift it."
Coulson listened, a skeptical expression firmly in place. His scientific mind was clearly struggling with the concept of mythical gods and magic hammers.
"Asgard? Norse gods?" Coulson questioned, a hint of incredulity in his voice. "Are you suggesting this is... extraterrestrial technology, perhaps? Or some kind of advanced illusion?"
"Believe what you want, Coulson," I replied, shrugging. "Whether you believe in the mythology is irrelevant. The undeniable fact is that Mjolnir's true owner is somewhere nearby. Their arrival will undoubtedly bring more complications to this already strange world."
***
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