Summary:Spider-Man deals with a Black Cat crossing his path… Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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The Black Cat's evening has gone exactly as planned. Down to the minute. Down to the very last detail. Her extraction from the Metro Auction House went just as smoothly as her entrance. And everything in between. The only unexpected detail was the presence of a new night guard, who luckily had a soft spot for women in patent leather bodysuits. The only thing he liked more, he told her, was women out of patent leather bodysuits. With a giggly promise, she allowed him to lead her into a room with no security cameras, and then she left him there. Locked inside without his radio, which mysteriously disappared off his belt at some point during the ruse.
Standing outside the front gates of the auction house, Cat drops a radio, turned off, into a rubbish bin, and swiftly climbs an adjacent brownstone building, firing off a tiny titanium grapple hook from her wrist toward another three doors down across the street. The cable that shoots out behind the hook is strong, and within moments, the Black Cat and three million dollars' worth of emeralds are swinging their way across town.
It was almost perfect. Except bad luck can sometimes turn on you in interesting ways.
One of them being the notification that a security system has been compromised. Normally, the only one who knows is the security company, who routes it to the cops, who send a couple of uniformed cops to check it out.
Or, a specially-programmed virtual intelligence can pick up the distress call and re-route it to Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man. He doesn't see the figure swinging along the skyscrapers, but ambient noise and the telltale signs of climbing gear used on brickwork send him in the general direction of the felonious feline.
The alliterative thief makes off with her pretty, pilfered plunder, post-haste. And she would've gotten away with it too, if it weren't for those meddling kids. All she got was a flash of something - someone - behind her. There aren't many in this city who could follow a trail she blazed. She swings up onto a rooftop and retracts her hook and cable, kneeling to watch quietly - stealthy - as if stalking prey rather than hiding from somebody who could be one of only a handful of capes who can fly, or a handful of spiderfolk who swing, or the other handful that holds all of the spiders the first hand couldn't hold, because OH MY GOD do they breed like bunnies or what??
So basically, it could be anybody or his uncle at this point. Slowly, she backs into shadow to wait. Only a slant of blue neon light across her face on the diagonal can be seen, as she lays in wait.
She's not an imminent danger, so the burglar is not spotted as the guy in the red-and-blue longjohns lands on a rooftop across the street from hers, maybe thirty yards away. He stops, and she can see that the suit is not just longjohns. It's actually fairly well-made, although a little tight in the derriere by the look of it.
Then his eyes turn towards Felicia's rooftop…and he pauses. He sees SOMETHING here, it's plain to see.
He reaches over, fires a webline to Felicia's roof, and then…JOGS along the thin webline over the busy street.
There's little that piques the Black Cat's interest more than a new toy, unless it's a new toy that isn't hers /quite/ yet.
She's seen this guy - pictures in the newspaper. Photos aplenty online. But she's never seen him in person before, and she arches a brow. That suit's either extremely creative, or he'd make an extremely fun squeezy toy. It's a conundrum she has to consider all of six seconds before her mind's made up. But the emeralds have to go somewhere he isn't going to find them. So…out of a belt pouch, and down the cleavage they go. A slow, playful smile toys with her lips, and she simply stays still, and waits.
He knew someone was here. He could sense it. But he couldn't see them.
"Alice, switch to IR."
And there they…SHE is. Hidden in the darkness, almost one with it, but her heat signature might as well make it high noon. But that's okay. He has some VERY accurate shooters.
"ALICE, start a file."
"Working," the suit replies via HUD text message.
"You might as well come on out, whoever you are. I know you're there."
The figure in the shadows stirs, and steps out quietly. A young woman in a black patent leather catsuit trimmed in white fur slowly emerges from the darkness. When the neon lights mix and play across her porcelain skin, she half-smiles. "You're the Spider-Man," she replies. It isn't a question. Her pale blue eyes are wide. The suit accentuates her body in all the right places, and she looks around nervously. "Long time fan, first time caller. Are the others around? There are lots of you guys these days," Cat purrs, licking her lips apprehensively.
Whoa. Seeing her step out like that was…disconcerting. It definitely set off his Spider-Sense, a low tingle at the nape of his neck.
For a moment, he is struck dumb. Then he recovers straightening his spine, then tilting his head slightly. "Just me, whoever you are. I take it you're the burglar who stole the gemstones?" ALICE had kept him abreast of what was reported stolen. "What say you give up those stones right now, and I'm sure you can plead down grand theft larceny if they get the stuff back."
"The emeralds are safe," the Black Cat assures Spider-Man, raking fingers through her silvery hair as it shines iridescent beneath the neon lights. He didn't answer her question. And that means he's alone. For now.
"There's blood on the hands of the man that's selling those emeralds. If they knew half of what he'd done to get them, they'd be throwing the book at him, instead of money." She holds her arms out from her sides, and the light silhouettes her body in flattering ways. She blinks once, slowly, those wide aquamarine eyes framed delicately by a black domino mask, and she looks at Spidey intently. "You can frisk me. If you want…"
He blinks. She can see it, the irises of the mask close and open quickly. Ease back, try to maintain your bearing, even in the face of…geez, talk about structural integrity DAMMIT LIBIDO I SAID FOCUS.
He latches on to the story she tells. "ALICE," he subvocalizes, "…see if there's any validity to her argument." He eyes her carefully. "If you've got evidence, then I'd like to see what you've got."
A moment passes, then his hisses to himself, *STUPID MOUTH!*
The playful little smile settles in, and the Cat tilts her head, moving in a step closer, and then one more, before she pauses, the night's breeze playing through her hair. "I'll show you anything you want," she purrs. "I have everything you need, trust me. And it's yours for the asking." Her gaze wanders down over his…well, for practical and rating purposes, we'll just say his suit. "I always wondered if you were a /real/ boy under that mask. And from what I can see, it certainly seems you are…"
Vulture, he moves forward to meet him. Ghost Rider, he moves forward to take him head-on.
This one…he takes a step back. Because she unsettles him in different ways.
"Hey…" he says uncomfortably. "Uhm, first and foremost, maybe you ought to tell me what you call yourself, because I don't feel comfortable referring to you as 'Hey, You.'"
"Most call me the Black Cat, although others have called me other names." She breathes a laugh. "And I've answered to 'SERIOUSLY?' more often than I care to admit." She takes another step forward in this tango, and slowly lowers her arms again to her sides. "I like you. You don't feel the need to judge before you ask questions." And one more step.
"We could do some amazing things together, if you'd let me."
He stands his ground, though. But he is still very leery of her.
"Amazing things, eh? Do they involve taking things that don't belong to us? Because I gotta tell you, that's a deal-breaker. What say you tell me about this guy you stole those gems from, you help me bring him to justice, and maybe we'll chalk up the theft to misguided exuberance…?"
"For one," Cat begins, "if I didn't relocate the emeralds tonight, the auction would go off without a hitch in the morning, and this scumbag would have his money and be on his way across the pond before anyone could get anything done. And two…I dunno, I just always heard the place was harder to get into than Fort Knox, and you /know/ I just had to try." She smiles, perhaps even a little more sincerely.
"Gereig Erikson's reputation is far from spotless, but if anyone looks into his finances, they'll find three charities that don't exist. Money laundering. He is a human trafficker. And he uses many of those humans for various purposes. The emeralds are undocumented. There is no paper trail. Gemstones of that quality don't just fall out of the sky, Spidey."
What you say makes up roughly eight percent of your conversation. The rest is body language, pitch, octave, facial expressions, and more. She may be a thief, but whether it is the truth or not, she believes what she is saying. The mask doesn't hide much of her face, concealing her identity but letting her face say volumes. She also loves a challenge, that's for sure. It seems she enjoys the GETTING more than the HAVING.
That is when ALICE pulls up the info on this guy, Erikson. He does have a file in Interpol, and Homeland is also interested in the guy.
Problem is…what will he do?
"…All right, Black Cat. Here's what I'm offering. I know someone in Homeland Security. You give me those gems. I'll give them to him, say they were recovered from a thief…and no, I won't give your name. They'll put the stones into an evidence locker, so he can't touch 'em. He'll also put the screws to him as only Homeland can. As he once told me, 'The Patriot Act means never having to say you're sorry.' If there's evidence, he'll find it. He'll pin this guy to the wall. But in order to do that…"
Spider-Man holds out his hand. "You have to give me the stones. But you have my word that Erikson will never see them again."
The Black Cat smirks. Spider-Man has no idea what he's asking for. But the Cat's down for his game. It might even be fun.
"Oh no, you can tell 'em who took them. And you can tell 'em I turned them over to you, if ya like. I'm not afraid." After all, not just anyone has ever been able to boast of having broken into the Metro Auction House, and gotten away with it. And there's no doubt that whatever databases are whispering in his ear about Erikson are also giving him an earful about the Black Cat.
"Well, if absolutely /need/ them, you can have them," Cat replies smoothly, reaching up for the zipper at her cleavage. "I told you they were in a safe place…"
Oh, jeez, is he ever glad he went full balaclava mask, because she can't see how red his face is now. Focus on the eyes, focus on those heartstopping piercing blue eye, like glacier ice under millions of tons of pressure for centuries, ANYTHING to keep from looking at her hiding place. *HELENA…* he thought to himself, trying not to react too visibly.
"A-all right…I'll let them know." His hand does not drop, the palm remains face-up. He is NOT going to reach in there. He will be lost if he does. Robin Williams jokes about a man having two heads and only enough blood to run one at a time, and he had to stay focused.
The zipper is lowered a few inches - but it's just enough, considering it only covered a few inches to start with. She keeps eye contact with those lenses until she lifts a hand to retrieve the emeralds - set in a necklace with ample small diamods of high quality. But the emeralds themselves are stunning.
As luck would have it, her catsuit manages to continue to cover the things that it absolutely /must/ continue to cover. Cat lifts a hand out to let the necklace dangle from her fingertips, as she moves closer to Spider-Man. "All yours," she says softly, as she rests it gently in his palm and reaches up with her other hand to fold his fingers over it securely. She leans in as close as he'll let her, to his ear. "It's all right," she whispers. "You turn me on, too…"
He cannot suppress a little shiver at her words. A part of his mind is telling him he's crazy, she's trouble with a capital T and A…but he does not pull away. Because she is radiating sex appeal, and he's still human.
So, for a moment, he says nothing. Then he draws back, the necklace in his closed palm. Worth about as much as the Parker house, maybe ten times over.
"I'm…going to call Agent Chastain now. You should…probably get going. He doesn't play well with others. He just likes me because of how I helped rescue some people last month."
Keep talking, because if you stop, she'll start. And if she starts, God help him, because right now she looks like the sin he never had the nerve to commit.
He says aloud, "ALICE, call Agent Chastain, please."
A dulcet, modulated female voice says obediently, "Ringing now."
The Black Cat smiles - a knowing smile. She can hear it in his voice, and her instincts are tingling, too now. Just on a different frequency. She nuzzles him along where his ear rests beneath the mask, tracing the tip of her nose along its edge. "Tell him I said hello, won't you?" And then she steps back, as well. "I'll see you again, Spidey. VERY soon…" She is zipping up, slowly. "If you want me, you'll find me…" And without further adieu, she fires off a small hook from her wrist, and it rockets out, catching on a nearby rooftop. She stands on the edge of the roof, blows a kiss, and backflips off into the darkness, swinging off to her next adventure of the night.
Spider-Man is silent for a few moments, watching her go, and then the phone picks up. "Spider-Man? To what do I owe this call?"
"Gereig Erikson. He just got robbed tonight by the Black Cat."
A pause. "You're screwing with me."
"Agent, I recovered the stolen goods, but she got away. But Erikson is about to rabbit. You know that favor you said I could call in? I'm calling it in now. Put the screws to Erikson before he slips away."
"…All right, I know a legal team who'll eat him raw with cole slaw. But we're square, Webhead. You just used up your Homeland card."
"I have the necklace. I want you to mark it as evidence in a theft. The moment Erikson gets his mitts on it, he's gone."
"'''I'
"…I'll come right over."
Spidey disconnected and looked out into the night, as if wondering what had happened, exactly…