Digimon Tamer in Marvel Chapter 13 13

-Tombstone-

"What in damnation is going on?!"

My voice booms, the sound bouncing off the concrete walls of my office. My guys are dropping like flies, and every two-bit operation I got is going up in smoke. I grip my desk hard enough to leave marks in the wood.

"They all say the sa thing, boss," one of my lieutenants, Tiny, stamrs. He's a mountain of a man, but right now, he looks like a kid caught stealing candy. "So punk with two cats hits the place, then the cops show up right after."

Cats?

I narrow my eyes. "Cats? What kinda crap are you feeding , Tiny? Since when do I employ guys who are afraid of house cats?"

"Not afraid, boss. These ain't regular cats. They fight, like, real good. And the guy… he's like a shadow, moving too quick to see."

I snort. "A shadow with cats. You boys been hitting the pipe?"

"I swear, boss! Frankie saw it, too! And Sal! They all saw it! A guy with two cats tearing through our operation, and then the cops are there, waiting for us like we sent 'em an invitation!"

I lean back in my chair, my filed teeth grinding. This is getting out of hand. I can handle a few busts; it's the cost of doing business. But this… this is coordinated. Soone is making a move.

First, that Devil in Hell's Kitchen starts poking around, now this? "So we got ourselves another clown in a costu," I growl. "Just what I needed. Tell the boys to keep their eyes peeled. I want this 'cat man' found. And when you find him, bring him to . I want to know who thinks they can step on my turf."

I stand up, my size filling the room. "And tell 'em, next ti they see a damn cat, they shoot it. I don't care. I want this problem solved, and I want it solved now."

Tiny doesn't need to be told twice. The big oaf is out of here faster than grease through a goose.

I sit back down, my head throbbing. This ain't just about so costud freak show anymore. This is about territory, respect. Or, more accurately, the lack thereof. My territory is shrinking faster than a snowball in July, and word is getting around. The vultures are circling.

I hear whispers about Hamrhead sniffing around, trying to poach my suppliers. And the Maggia? They are watching, waiting for to show weakness. They'd love nothing more than to carve up what I've built.

I clench my fists. No. That ain't gonna happen. This city is mine, and nobody, not so punk with cats, not so hamr-headed gorilla, and certainly not the damn Maggia is going to take it from .

Ti to remind everyone why they fear the na Tombstone.

Just as I'm about to call in so muscle, the overhead lights in my office sputter, casting strobing shadows. The TV in the corner, usually tuned to the financial news, blares static before cutting out. My phone starts vibrating erratically on the desk, the screen a jumbled ss of characters.

"What the hell…?" I mutter, my red eyes darting around the room. A chill snakes up my spine. This ain't normal. This is beyond so simple power surge. Even the digital clock on the wall is going haywire, numbers flashing like a damn slot machine.

My gut clenches. Sothing is seriously wrong. I can feel it, a heavy weight pressing down on . A primal instinct screams danger. I stand up, my knuckles white as I grip the edge of the desk.

Is this so kind of attack? So new tech weapon? Did Hamrhead get so new toys? Or is it sothing else entirely?

Suddenly, the computer screen flares to life, the static resolving into an image. It's a face, distorted and pixelated, but undeniably there. A voice, crackling with digital interference, cuts through the room.

"Do you want power?"

I raise an eyebrow, suspicion warring with morbid curiosity. "Who the hell are you?"

The image on the screen doesn't answer my question. The face just repeats, the digital voice echoing in my office. "Do you want power?"

I pause, considering. Power is what I crave. Power is the only thing that matters. It's what keeps on top, what keeps the wolves at bay. Without it, I'm just another punk in the street.

"Yeah," I reply, my voice low and gravelly. "I want power."

The screen brightens, the light intensifying until it's blinding. I throw an arm up to shield my eyes, but the light keeps getting brighter and brighter. A high-pitched whine fills the air, and I can feel the electricity crackling around .

Then, with a final, deafening pop, the light explodes outward.

When my vision clears, the computer screen is dark, dead. But sothing else is in the room with .

Standing between and the desk is a hulking figure. He must be eight feet tall, and built like a brick outhouse. His skin is a sickly green, and thick cords of muscle bulge from his arms and chest. One massive hand clutches a crude club made from what looks like a femur. But the most unsettling feature is his face. A snarling visage with tusks jutting from his lower jaw and a single, massive horn protruding from his forehead.

"I will give you power," the figure says, his voice a guttural growl.

I stare at the… thing. It's not human. Not mutant. Not anything I've ever seen before. And I've seen so ssed-up things in my ti. This city breeds the bizarre, but this… this is off the charts.

"What the hell are you?" I demand, my voice a little shaky. It's not often I'm caught off guard, but this… this has scrambling.

The green giant grins, a display of pointed teeth that could rip a man apart. "I am Ogremon," he says, his voice rattling the windows. "And I am here to make you strong. Strong enough to take back what is yours and crush anyone who stands in your way."

***

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