Black Cats Luck (Spider-Man)

[justice]

He rounded the corner and found a very empty portion of roof staring back at him. Rushing over to the back side where Spider-Man had left the woman he found his webbing hacked and ripped from the wall. It didn’t take long to see that he still needed to work on his finer precision aim. Tossing some of his webbing he had picked up Spider-Man made his exit and left the roof behind him. He returned back towards the museum until he was about a block away. Falling down and landing in the darker part of an alley he began to put some normal clothing over his spidy outfit.

Once his red and blues were covered up by a pair of dark jeans and a warm jacket he left the alley and pulled out his camera from his small bag he had left on a roof before he had given chase to the black leather wearing woman. For now he had to let the crimes of the street go on if he wanted to make any money for himself and Aunt May. Reaching the street he made his way to the already erected police line around the building. At first he thought something more than a basic thief had taken place with the amount of police presence. Little did Peter know it was all much bigger than it seemed.

A quick flash of his Daily Bugle press pass was able to get him closer, but not by much. They said they couldn’t let Peter into the building while the investigation was currently going on. For now he just asked around and snapped as many pictures he could. He knew it was mostly a lost cause since his boss wasn’t interested in anything from him that wasn’t involving Spider-Man. All the same it might net him a few dollars for a under the fold photo. And something was definitely better than nothing. After a few final photos of forensic people taking bags of evidence out from the museums front entrance Peter left the scene, but not before taking a long glance and the few spectators watching from behind the restricted zone. After all didn’t the woman always return to the scene of a crime in those books?

No luck in finding the woman he knew he would identify from her hair Peter returned to the same alley as before only this time he left it as Spider-Man. He had checked the time and with it already after 3 am he knew it was time to call it a night and head home. The distance from where he was to his Aunts home was about a thirty minute trip by normal means. Thankfully as Spider-Man that time was halved with him reaching his room in less than 15 minutes. Once there he shed his mask and tossed it into a shoe box. The rest of his costume quickly followed and soon enough he was in his simple black boxers sound asleep.

-------------------------------------------------

The next morning began like any other did for Peter. It started with Aunt May knocking on his door for the fifth time in the past half hour only the last one actually woke him up. With tired and aches all over his body he slowly rose from his bed and made his way into the bathroom for a shower and all round waking up. The shower was half successful in waking him up, but what got him downstairs was the smell of a morning breakfast cooked by Aunt May. Walking down the stairs and sitting at the kitchen table he enjoyed a plate of waffles with plenty of syrup and of course a glass of milk. Finishing his meal and gathering his things he was soon out the door and heading to campus.

The trip to campus was a quick one since today he decided to take the subway like a normal person. He reached the station in good time and only had to wait for the cars for a few minutes. They took him down to the cross station where he transferred and then finally reached his destination stop. Getting out with the car full of other students and workers of the great city he followed the pack until he saw a newspaper stand selling his Daily Bugle. He stopped picked up a copy and began reading it while making his way to his first class which was a general education credit class. Archeology 256 was the title of the course and while it was interesting he didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about it since his science classes took up most of his time.

[Flickaha]

Felicia had a rude awakening, the blonde certainly wasn’t squeaky clean and she was more than used to waking up with strange men trying to sneak out of her apartment. What she wasn’t entirely used to was having her head snapped back, a hand fisted in her hair painfully, “rise and shine kitty cat” a voice snarled down her ear before the grip was released. Making sure to keep the blankets over her naked form for modesty’s sake she rolled over from her stomach and sat up in her bed, glancing across the room, sat on her dresser was a form she knew well. Her brow furrowed right about the same time her blood turned to ice in her veins.

“Bullseye” she said, “what, you break into a lady’s apartment and don’t even bring coffee.” Her outward calmness was entirely false and her pulse was thundering in her ears, Bullseye was notorious, Black Cat was Fisk’s favourite thief but Bullseye was his go to man, his assassin and general confidant. Felicia had met him enough but if he was here in her apartment now it mean Kingpin had sent him, and waking up to find a mercenary in her bedroom was never a good sign.

“Well, we both know you’re far from bein’ a lady.”

The blonde didn’t respond to the bait, in truth she was too nervous, it was hard to run when you were trapped in your bedroom naked. Shooting a tentative glance across the floor she could see where her costume was still strewn, he followed her gaze and laughed coldly. “Oh you’re safe Cat. It’s your head Fisk wants.”

“What, why?” Her icy blue eyes snapped up, suddenly wide with undeniable fear, but before she could protest further a small, heavy statue was thrown at her. It was the one from last night, solid gold; it was what she had given to Fisk. Or at least to his doormen.

“What can you tell me about that”

“That it’s what Fisk wante-“

“Don’t get cute. Appraise it for me. You’re a thief, you’re supposed to know what you’re doing. So tell me about it.”

Tentatively Felicia turned her eyes to the statue, moving in over in her hands, it looked different with the sunlight reflecting off it. Had she left her window open or had Bullseye?

“It’s gold” she started, tipping the figurine up, squinting a little “solid, though the triangle on the bottom is a different metal inside. The eyes are” a pause “glass.” Suddenly her stomach clenched tightly as she met his eyes, he gestured for her to keep going. Bringing it up to her face and sniffing it tentatively she swallowed thickly. “It can’t be fake, it’s the one I got from the museum. I swear I-“

“Oh we know you were at the museum, the place is swarming with cops. Fisk thinks you’re trying to pull a fast one.”

“Why would I?”

The man was across the bed before she could finish her sentence, ripped from her sitting position he had her pinned to the wall behind her by the throat. Felicia brought both knees up to his stomach, winding him and in the second his grip loosened she delivered a kick that sent him sprawling from the bed. Glancing around to find a weapon or something heavy she froze when she realised she was looking at the barrel of a gun.

“This isn’t the time for games. Fisk wants the key.”

“The Key?”

“The statue was always fake, the key inside is what he wanted. You have forty eight hours to track it down, return it, get it back – I don’t care. Fisk doesn’t care.”

“And if I can’t find it?”

“Then it doesn’t matter whether you have nine lives or one” Bullseye shrugged before dropping his weapon and exiting the room. Felicia sunk to her bed, already trying to figure out how she was going to find the key. It was like a needle in a haystack, but the best place to start would be the museum. Getting passed the elevated security wouldn’t be easy, that place wouldn’t be good for a hit for at least a couple of weeks. Unfortunately it wasn’t like she had a choice; if she wanted to survive she needed clues.

Dropping back down in her bed, she glanced at the clock and swore loudly. Leaping from the impossibly soft mound of sheets and pillows she all but flew across the room. Even if she had the quickest shower known to man she was still going to be late. Hell, even if she went to class naked she was going to pushing it.

It was twenty six minutes later when the blonde skidded into the classroom, apologising to the teacher who was in fact her boss. Archaeology had always been a passion of hers, largely because it always felt like a legitimate form of stealing. Finding tombs, collecting relics, it was all about precision and worth. Taking things that didn’t belong to you. It would have been perfect had she not found out how little it paid. Then again very little compared to her current income unfortunately.

“I’m really sorry” she apologised for the fifth time, her hair was still a little damp from her shower and the curls that it dried into naturally were present only because she hadn’t had time to straighten them into submission. She wore a black and white tartan pleated dress, which granted was a little too short for work, topped off with black Mary-Jane pump that most girls wouldn’t even be able to walk in let alone work in. Luckily she was well practiced and it took more than heels to make her wince.

Sliding into her seat, her mind still mostly focused on what she had to do after class. Robotically she drummed her fingers against the stack of papers she was supposed to be marking. Oh, the glamorous life of a TA, still the extra credits may well aid the fact that she was epically failing Chemistry, which though she had thought was entirely redundant alongside Archaeology, had actually proven extremely helpful when it came to knowing what artefacts should smell and taste like.

[justice]

As the students filed into their seats throughout the auditorium Peter watched them walk past his seat in the first row with no surprise. He had always been a front of the class kind of guy. Perhaps it was due to his weaken eye sight and need for glasses, or because most of the time the bigger trouble making kids sat in the back, but what he knew was that he wasn’t in class to mess around and talk with people sitting around him. Peter Parker went to class to learn and listen to his professor. This was exactly what he planned to do.

Funny how plans work out.

No more than a second before the bell rang did Peter see her walk into the classroom did the white blond haired woman take all the focus he had stored for the professor. She entered with a strong walk that felt closer to a jaguar moving than a simple unsuspecting college TA. Peter instantly felt like he had seen both the hair and the power not 12 hours ago onto a roof, but he held his energy back. She was dressed smartly and with considerable amount of fashion sense while also looking like she had just grabbed what she could reach and then put it on while rushing out the door. As she sat down Peter heard the bell ring and he forced himself to pull his eyes away from the woman.

With the bell calling for the start of class the Professor walked out from behind the podium and began to address the class. He made several standard announcements such as a reminded of a quiz which was next week as well as a plug for one of his extra credit fieldtrips to the museum. This grabbed several peoples interest it seemed after he was done almost two dozen hands went into the air. Before he called on anyone the Professor cleared his throat and spoke a warning. “If any of those hands are up in lieu of the unfortunate crime which took place last night I will ask that you lower them.”

To the educators light amusement almost all the hands went down instantly save for a few who had questions about the exam. Not caring to hear someone in the back ask a question which proved they weren’t listening earlier Peter caught the sound of a conversation going on a row behind him which grabbed his attention.

“Why would the professor know anything about what went on in the museum?”
“Maybe because he is one of the assistant curators of the whole place?”
“Since when? I never knew that.”
“That’s cause you don’t read the newspaper. It said in the story this morning. The recent exhibit was procured by the Professor who is hoping to be allowed to do some examinations or tests.”

While Peter was one to read the paper, as well as work at one, even this fact had not come his way. Since morning the entire incident last night hadn’t sat right with him. After thinking about it more he had begun to suspect that the masked woman last night was not as innocent as she may have been. Granted nothing about her precisely shouted innocent, but before Peter hadn’t seen her as that big a big threat. Now that he had begun to think as her as someone under King Pins influence everything changed.

What if the woman had been contracted to steal something from the museum? What if this statue she took held something more than just a badge of honor for having survived so long. He wanted to follow up on this, but from the way the Professor had evaded the questions earlier he didn’t see any way to get the information he wanted quickly. Unless he didn’t play the quick game, and instead tried to rally for points. Recently Peter had gotten a few side jobs by filling in for other newspaper photographers even taking some tennis shoots. As class began to really start Peter pushed the detective voice inside his mind into the back and opened his notebook.

The end of class came soon enough as the bell freed the students from the cages that were their desks. Getting up quickly they all began to move like cattle towards the exit. Everyone except for Peter who walked over to the Professor. “Excuse me Professor, but if I could have a moment I was wondering if you could answer a question.” Peter watched as the Professor began to protest, but cut him off before he could. “This doesn’t have to do with the thief. I actually wanted to see if I could join in this next field trip to the museum.”

“Of course as I said before signup sheets can be handled by my TA.” The professor waved a hand back towards the front row which landed Peter’s eye squarely on the woman who had caught his attention earlier. The resemblance was almost unquestionable, but Peter had made the mistake of fingering people with accusations too early before. For now he saw a chance to at least approach the woman.

“Excuse me I believe you have something I need to sign for the field trip?” Peter asked politely.

[Flickaha]

Felicia had spent the entire lesson contemplating what she was going to do, in fact she’d scarcely listened to a word the professor had said. Instead she took advantage of her position hidden in the corner and utilised the PC on the desk. Flipping through endless Google results she couldn’t find a single mention of any key hidden inside a statue. Having researched the collection itself, related finds, history of the era it was crafted in.

Nothing.

Her fingers which were drumming the desk absently got a brief reprise as she massaged her temples, her eyes starting to ache from the sheer amount of text she had been skimming. There was a chance it would look suspicious if anybody pulled up the history, but it would be easily explained away if she said she just wanted to be on top of any questions that might be asked about the theft last night. Closing her eyes Felicia cast her mind back to last night, trying to discern whether there was any subtle difference between the weight of the item last night and today. It was impossible, she hadn’t checked it over. Spiderman had interrupted her usual routine; normally she would have appraised anything she had stolen before hanging it over. Had she have she would have insisted on seeing Fisk herself because the statue was obviously not what everybody claimed it would be. The smell alone would have let her know that it hadn’t ever been entombed, at least not in Egypt. It lacked the unmistakable musk that stained the metal, the ancient smell of cinnamon, embalming fluid, age and occasionally rot. Even masked beneath sterile cleansing agents and trained nose could tell, and if the smell was so faded then the taste would not lie.

In fact, Felicia paused her thinking, it had smelt like salt.

This confused her, not much smelt solely of salt, especially something that had been kept in museums for a few years. That was the last leg of the journey anyway, these items spent years being catalogued, researched, cleaned and perfectly restored before the public were made aware that they even existed. The only way something would smell of salt would be if they had used a salt-based cleaning product. Salt was corrosive so it was extremely unlikely anybody would be stupid enough to use that on an ancient metal.

Except that there was something inside it, which meant it was hollow and that meant – suddenly Felicia pulled up another browser on the computer with renewed vigour. Typing quickly into the search engine, her perfectly manicured nails tapping along the keyboard she frowned as the search turned up little. No, she was right, she knew she was, changing the wording a little she tried again and began scrolling down the page. As she was about to try again she caught a name that sounded vaguely familiar and typing that in instead it looked like she was getting somewhere.

There had been something, a few years ago, discovered buried deep in the seabed of the Atlantic by divers off the coast of Namibia. Nobody had paid much attention, much of the things found there were too old and eroded to survive being brought from the freezing depths. Skimming the article she didn’t absorb much of it, ignoring the vast recounts of everything that had been destroyed she froze when she came to the mention a box. The box was, after much debate, brought out and though corroded beyond repair it had created an almost airtight seal for a few treasures. Felicia frowned when she could find no mention of what was found, general speculation was that they had been to destroyed during restoration and disappeared. It had however been taken to the same restoration centre as the collection from which she had stolen last night. Could it be coincidence? Pulling up a few more articles she learnt nothing further which was frustrating.

But if the statue had been underwater for the majority of its creation, it was the only thing that would explain the smell. Salt was too corrosive, sea water claimed relics by the millions and it was incredibly rare that anything could be successfully recovered from the vast depths. Certainly nothing exceeding one hundred years of submersion. About to type something else in she almost jumped out of her skin when a voice spoke to her, eyes darting up it took her a moment to re-orientate herself.

“Field trip?” She repeated, buying time to collect her thoughts. “The field trip is in two days’ time, you’re aware of this, no? The likelihood of having spaces is slim.” Holding his gaze she tried to place his name but couldn’t, Felicia didn’t pay much attention to the students as a rule. She had too much to do herself, balancing a TA position whilst still working towards her degree wasn’t easy. Especially with her extra-curricular activities, the time it left her certainly didn’t lend itself to befriending students. There was something about his gaze though, honest and he had been polite enough. Pushing aside her bad mood and feeling a mite guilty for snapping at him she pulled the sheet from her desk and smiled.

“You’re in luck, there’s actually not that many people going” but as she spoke the wheels were turning in her head again, the field trip would be a perfectly legitimate reason to get inside the museum and with her boss’s rather elevated position there it was exceedingly likely he would get them into areas they shouldn’t be. He was the type that loved seeing people excited about learning, usually she found it tedious but this time she might well have a use for it. Asking for the student’s name she looked up once again, standing from her seat she pushed the paper and pen across the desk. It was a list of forty spaces but only a dozen or so were taken.

“If you’re after juicy pictures I think you may have missed your window of opportunity” she added, letting her lips curl into a smile as her icy eyes watched him. The small statement was enough to let him know that she recognised his name from the paper; Peter Parker was Spiderman’s very own photographer. Or stalker depending on how you chose to look at it. Felicia had been reading the Bugle since she first moved to the city and though she didn’t always agree with the story it was a touch habit to break.

After Parker was done, Felicia made a point to go and find the professor and see if she couldn’t wrangle going. It would mean pushing another TA out of the way but she wasn’t worried. There was a reason Felicia Hardy was the youngest TA in the university; and regrettably it was only partly because she was a talented, deserving and hardworking young woman. The other assets the brought to the table were fortunately, extremely effective on her boss.

[justice]

"I pay attention in class" Peter said with a sort of mix of bashful and goofy smile. This complimented his somewhat unorganized outfit turning the moment to a odd sort of model moment. While Peter was more or less a normal kid he had never seen himself as anything other than a simple geek. He was picked on in high school and still wore glasses. College was different. He wasn't the talk of campus or even a class, but he still had his own charm. He never saw it and most would never admit it. Still these situations were where is shone though. His ability to listen and truly care about what other people were talking about. Even if it was a beautiful woman telling him he was pushing the procrastination bar.

He was worried that there indeed wouldn't be any more space for him, but thankfully that issue wasn't needed to be thought about as the white haired woman found some space for him to join. "Thank you." He said with a small weight shift. He pushed up from his toes and then fell back down on his heel a moment later. It may have looked like he was being impatient whereas those that knew the young science lover would know that this was a nervous tic he had when trying to think of something to say. Needless to say it was good his friend Harry Osborn wasn't anywhere in sight because he could have seen in a second that Peter was attracted to the woman.

Still Peter wasn't above the facts of reality. Woman like this TA weren't interested in the normal guy in their archaeology class. He had seen them draped over the jock or next up and comer. His downtrodden thoughts were thankfully shot down as the woman started to lecture about Peter to not expect the chance to photograph anything at the museum. To this statement Peter smiled. The simple fact that this woman knew who he was had to count for something and in his mind that was a victory. He still shook his head. "Yea well taking any sort of picture in that place is a pain. Last night they were up in arms over one flash photograph I took." With that odd comment about him being at the museum last night Peter took the information sheet from the woman and left the classroom.

He saw that she was leaving as well and almost tried to break a walking conversation with her. He should at least ask for her name, but unfortunately with their official business done with Peter didn't have the courage to engage her. Good thing since it seemed that she was needed by the Professor as she hurried towards his office. Still he wasn't going to see it as a failure. After all how many other men could say their work gets noticed by woman like her? Proud of this he flipped the information packet and started searching the pages for something to start with.

A few hours passed and by the time Peter was done with all his classes he felt he had exhausted all his energy on not getting excited over a class project he had been assigned in the class after archaeology. The project called for him to work directly with a Professor from the science department and as luck would have it he had gotten his first pick which was his own professor in his advanced particle physics course. He had wanted to go to the woman's office; however, something else needed his attention and if he didn't get there on time his boss would likely kill himself with a stroke.

Making his way from the subway and out into the crazy world of daytime downtown Peter fought his way to the Daily Bugle building which was situated in the center of the world it seemed. Reaching the upper floor he clutched a large envelope full of his latest Spider-Man photographs. He wasn't overly proud of what he had brought in. Last night had involved some rather unexpected events which meant no pictures other than standard crime ones he had taken as Peter. Not having one of the wall crawler was likely to make J.Jameson start with the whole criminal speech again. Walking back and into the editors office his voice could be heard before the door opened.

"A god damn criminal that is what he is!"

Great Peter thought with an eye roll. All the same the money was needed so he opened the door and entered hell.

[Flickaha]

Felicia had managed what she intended but it took her a lot of begging and promises that she hoped she wouldn’t have to keep. The blonde didn’t really want to fill her evenings with extra hours if she didn’t have to, nor did she want to spend more time than she had to dealing with the grunt work of her boss. However she was blessed with the ability of charm and the skill to turn it on and off when she wanted. So now she was on board for the field trip and some other unsuspecting TA was ousted, Felicia was one step closer to getting what she needed. Or at least the information to precipitate it, for once the blonde set her mind to something there wasn’t much that could stand in the way. Determination and stubbornness were two traits running rampant through the beautiful young woman and even though more often than not they worked to her advantage, at times they were the bane of her existence.

Felicia stayed at school as long as was possible, avoiding her apartment lest Bullseye find some other reason to torment her. She wasn’t afraid, she knew he wouldn’t kill her and that fact was comforting, Fisk didn’t give people deadlines unless he couldn’t find somebody else to do the job. She knew him well enough to know she could procrastinate as long as she liked, maybe take a few warning beatings, it was after she had retrieved his prize that her life would be forfeit. Until then she was golden, so long as he didn’t find another cat thief – but even so he wouldn’t find one as good as Felicia. The young woman was excellent at what she did.

The light was waning by the time she emerged from her office, armed with at least a few more leads. Having spent the afternoon online browsing forums and conspiracy theories as what was known as the ‘Pearls of the Atlantic’, a nickname she had Googled extensively, she was feeling more optimistic. There were vast speculations about artefacts that might belong to that collection, none were confirmed but a few favourites materialized after far too much reading. One of which was the Bowl of Serpents; an ornate bowl which features snakes coiling around a frame. The erosion patterns were consistent with something that had been underwater; however in pictures the thing looked pristine. Nothing conclusive had been found but as luck would have it, it was being showcased at the MET along with a few other serpent orientated art. Art was lost on Felicia, it had no purpose save to be fenced. Interpretation be damned; in her head all that mattered was how much people were willing to pay.

It would be easy enough to get a look, looking wasn’t stealing, however it would be easier to observe if she snuck in at night and with the police force likely still distracted by the break in on the other side of town it should be a piece of cake. Speaking of cake her stomach rumbled loudly, she’d skipped out on breakfast and lunch and it was approaching six o clock. Easily enough remedied she stopped by the coffee shop on the way home and grabbed a double non-fat latte and a muffin. Neither made it home with her and were both deposited a few blocks from her apartment, the muffin unfinished and the coffee drained. Caffeine and sugar, was there a better combination of treats?

Taking the stairs two at a time to her apartment, up seventeen flights, without even breaking a sweat was an art. Her deathly trepidation of elevators however made it necessary. She walked in with more caution than she would have liked to show and checked her messages. Nothing more than her boss confirming her extra hours next week and reiterating that she needed to be at the museum before the students. She got it, really she did, she was a responsible adult during the day time and she prided herself upon it. Still it was always good to have reminders of these things and she left the message on her machine in case she needed reminding of the times at a later date.

Naturally she killed some time until the museum closed, and then a bit more until a more respectable hour. Shortly after midnight the black, leather-clad figure slept imperceptibly out of the window of the penthouse she shouldn’t be able to afford and back into her night-time playground en route to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Getting in was easy, finding the damn thing was not and as she picked her way through the shadows clocking the cameras and knocking them off as she went, she was actually contemplating running to reception and stealing a map. This was lunacy, it was also a lack of preparation and she kicked herself that she had let her eagerness cloud her planning. Luckily she found it before she needed to risk alerting the night guard to her presence and it took her no time at all to have plucked the bowl from its perch and inspecting it thoroughly. Turning it around in her hands, Felicia couldn’t decide if this was a hoax or whether the museum had been played. The ‘golden’ effect was somewhat tarnished and was only gold plating at best. Then again, they had to have known this. Perhaps it was so damaged from being underwater extensive repairs had been necessary. The snakes themselves were beautiful though, details and intricate the scales were slivers of polished gems lain perfectly and painstakingly along the length of the serpent to create a shimmering effect.

Gold or not those snakes would be worth a fortune.

It was the teeth that really got her though, lifting them closer so she could squint at the strange realism of the enamel she wondered if the sharp fangs were made of pearls. Touching them she winced, the sharpened stone had cut straight through her gloves and skin, enough to draw blood which dripped into the sculptures hollow mouth. Felicia swore softly but she wasn’t going to risk getting more DNA evidence in there for the sake of cleaning out a drop. Remembering why she was here she sniffed at the bowl tentatively, but it didn’t smell of salt, it smelt of blood. The metallic scent could be mistaken for the gold, but then she had already decided it wasn’t solid gold and there were other subtle differences. Felicia had smelled enough blood in her time to know the difference.

So all this was for nothing?

Placing the bowl back down she heard a rattle, it was subtle but it was there. There was something hidden inside and that had to be far too much of a coincidence for it to not be related. Picking the bowl up she turned it over in her hands again trying to find some sort of opening or recess. It was probably nothing, and yet she found her curiosity wouldn’t let her walk away quite so soon.