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 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.