I walked into the cafe, the scent of burnt sugar and stale coffee hitting me first. Fury had picked this place, which was just bizarre, like a clown showing up to a funeral. I scanned the room, expecting his bald head and one eye, but all I saw were regular people, sipping their lattes, oblivious to the digital chaos brewing in the city.
Just another Tuesday.
Then I saw her. Black Widow, in a civilian outfit, looking impossibly normal at a corner table. She caught my eye, a subtle flick of her head, a small gesture telling me to come over. My stomach did a weird flip.
Fury sending her? This was getting stranger by the minute.
I slid into the seat opposite her, trying to look cool, like I wasn't internally screaming. The table felt too small, the air too quiet between us.
"Where's Fury?" I asked, my voice a little rougher than I intended.
I already knew the answer, but I had to ask.
"He sent me."
Right. Of course he did. My face must have been a picture of thinly veiled annoyance, because she didn't even crack a smile.
It was just… classic Fury.
He wanted to play games, sending his top agent instead of showing his face. I swear, that guy lived for the dramatic entrance, or in this case, the dramatic non-entrance.
She then slid a tablet across the table. Its screen glowed with files and images. My eyes scanned the screen: a man with purple skin, files detailing his mind-control powers, his recent activities. Killgrave.
So, they knew. That was a small relief, actually. It meant I wasn't just chasing shadows, or dealing with some random Digimon. SHIELD had intel, which was a good start. But then again, it was SHIELD intel, which always came with strings attached, usually ones that choked you.
"I'll be helping you with the target," she stated, her gaze unwavering. "Why do you want to go after Killgrave?"
My hands clenched under the table, knuckles white. The truth felt heavy, but I had to say it.
"He's got Jewel," I said, the name feeling like a raw wound on my tongue. "And Jewel's my friend." The last part was hard to get out, the truth of it making my throat tight.
It was more than just a mission. It was Jessica.
Black Widow watched me, those sharp, green eyes missing nothing. She didn't say anything, just observed. It was like being X-rayed.
"Tell me about him," I managed, trying to sound tougher than I felt. "Killgrave, I mean. What does SHIELD know?"
She took a slow sip of her coffee, still watching me, making me wait. It was a power move, a subtle way to remind me who was in charge here. Fine, I could play that game.
"Zebediah Killgrave," she began, her voice a low, steady current that cut through the cafe chatter. "Formerly Kevin Thompson. A British national with a disturbing history."
She paused, letting the name hang in the air.
"His power is persuasion," she continued, her eyes scanning the room, not me. "He can compel people to do whatever he says. Anyone who hears his voice, within a certain proximity, loses their free will."
I already knew that much from Jessica's blank eyes, but hearing it from Natasha… it made it feel more real, more terrifying.
"The effect is temporary once he leaves their presence," she added. "But while under his influence, victims will perform any command, no matter how depraved or self-destructive."
A shiver went down my spine. That sounded exactly like what happened at the restaurant. I thought back to the innocent civilians.
"So he's basically a walking, talking mind-control button,"
"His origin is a bit murky. He developed his powers after being experimented on as a child, an attempt to cure a neurological disease. The procedures, obviously, went sideways."
I grimaced. Childhood experiments… that always ended well, didn't it? Another messed-up villain with a tragic backstory. It didn't change what he was doing to Jessica, though.
"He uses his power for personal gain," she continued, her voice still detached, like she was reading from a dossier. "He's a narcissist, a sociopath. He believes his power entitles him to anything and anyone he desires."
"Including my friend," I said, the words coming out sharper than I intended. The cafe noise seemed to fade. I could only hear her voice, calm and precise, detailing the nightmare Jessica was living.
"There might be a Digimon involved," I added, almost as an afterthought, because the whole Gyuukimon thing was still bugging me.
She just took a mental note, her expression unchanged. Okay, so Digimon weren't a total shock to her. That was good, I guess. One less thing to explain while my brain was screaming about Jessica.
"Has SHIELD found Killgrave?" I asked, leaning forward a little.
That was the real question, the one that truly mattered. She shook her head.
"Not yet. But we're monitoring his movements. We should have him in a few days."
A few days? That felt like an eternity. Jessica could be anywhere, doing anything he told her to do. My stomach twisted just thinking about it.
"Can't they go faster?" I asked, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. Every second counted. I needed to move, not wait.
She just looked at me, her eyes unreadable.
"Calm down, Ethan. Be patient."
Her voice was soft, but firm, like a parent talking to an over-eager kid. Patience. Right. The one thing I'd never been good at, especially when a friend was in trouble.
"Easy for you to say," I muttered under my breath. She probably heard it, but I didn't care. Telling me to calm down was like telling a bomb not to explode.
Natasha's voice was steady, but there was a weight to it that cut through my frustration.
"I know what it's like to have your friend captured. I've been on missions like that. I had to save them."
She let that hang in the air for a moment, watching me process it. The idea of Black Widow having people she cared about enough to rescue felt… weirdly human.
"Rushing won't help her, Cipher. Being impatient will just get you caught, or worse, get her hurt. You need a plan, not a tantrum."
A tantrum. Okay, ouch. But she wasn't wrong. I was just spinning my wheels, and Jessica was the one paying for it.
I took a deep, shaky breath, trying to force my heart rate down. She was right, I needed to be calm. But the thought of Jessica, out there, controlled by that purple creep, made my stomach twist into knots. It was hard to be patient when my friend was in danger. My hands clenched under the table. It was like a little war was going on inside my head, all logic versus pure, unadulterated worry.
I just wanted to punch something. Or someone. Preferably Killgrave.
"We'll contact you as soon as we find him," she said, gathering the tablet. It was a dismissal, plain and simple. I just nodded, feeling a fresh wave of frustration. So, I was back to waiting. Again. Just sitting here, playing the hero-in-waiting. It felt wrong, like I was doing nothing. My Digivice, usually a source of comfort, felt like a dead weight in my pocket, useless without a target.
***
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