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"Shit… Luke, where are you?" Felicia muttered, anxiously biting her nails as she sat behind the wheel of her car.
She had been trying to reach him all day, but his phone was off. Not just out of reach—completely off. That never happened.
She checked her messages again. There was only the one from early this morning: Back in New York. Mission's a go tonight. Love you!
But since then? Nothing. No replies. No updates. Not even a seen checkmark.
"Should I ditch the plan? Or just… go solo?" she muttered, glancing at the time. The second ticked past her hesitation.
"Ugh, fuck it. I'll do it alone."
She slammed her door open and stepped out with purpose, heading straight to the nearby elevator.
The Watson Tower's underground levels were off-limits to almost everyone—except her and a few others Luke trusted.
Inside the elevator, she punched in Floor 80, then glanced at her phone again for the tenth time. Still nothing.
"D.A.I.S.Y., you there?" she asked, looking up at the embedded camera in the elevator ceiling. "Do you know where he is?"
There was no answer.
Her brow furrowed. D.A.I.S.Y. always answered. Always.
The elevator stopped. She stepped into the gleaming corridor, heels clicking on pristine floors as she made her way down the long hallway lined with doors—most of which led to rooms that looked abandoned or under construction.
Come to think of it, she had never seen another soul on this floor. It was like a ghost wing of the Tower, save for one room at the far end: hers.
The door had a slick black plate above it labeled BLACK CAT in silver chrome.
Felicia grabbed the handle and gave it a push.
Locked.
"Ugh. Seriously, D.A.I.S.Y., what's up with you today?" she asked aloud, staring toward a corner where she knew one of the mini-cameras sat.
Still nothing.
No lights. No voice. Not even a flicker.
Something was definitely wrong, first Luke's cell was shut off and now even D.A.I.S.Y. was not responding to her.
"Are you ghosting me now too? Great. That's just peachy." She crossed her arms, then sighed. "Fine. I'll handle this myself."
She pressed her palm against the biometric scanner beside the door and punched in her personal code. After a quick beep, the door unlocked with a hiss, sliding open smoothly.
Inside was a luxurious room—sleek, modern, and undeniably expensive—but Felicia made a beeline straight to the bedroom.
Mounted on the wall in front of the bed was a large painting of a black cat, its piercing green eyes eerily similar to her own.
Felicia leaned in close, her own emerald gaze locking with the feline's. To anyone else, it might have looked like she was being weirdly affectionate with a painting—but they wouldn't know the truth.
The cat's eyes weren't just art.
They were scanners.
Click.
A mechanical sound echoed as the section of wall holding the painting slid inward, revealing a hidden passage.
"Still feels cool every damn time," she muttered with a grin, stepping inside just as the panel slid shut behind her.
The lights came on automatically, illuminating a private room packed with sleek display tables, weapon racks, and stylish wardrobes. It was a secret tech vault—hers and hers alone.
According to Luke, the Watson Tower was full of hidden spaces like this, each tailored to someone he trusted. This one? It was hers. Her personal armory, which she had gladly accepted.
"How are you, my babies…" she purred, opening a nearby wardrobe—only instead of clothes, it held gadgets. Rows and rows of them.
See ever since she started using the VR program, things had changed. She had gotten seriously into stealth, infiltration, all the spy-thief stuff Luke had built into the training modules.
Luke, seeing how into this she was, began giving her little "rewards" every time she cleared a training level. Gadgets. Tools. Weapons. Some deadly, some ingenious… and some just downright weird.
With a delighted grin, she moved to the next wardrobe. This one held something far more personal.
A sleek, black bodysuit hung inside, accented with white fur at the cuffs and collar.
"Ooh, darling… I'm finally getting a chance to try you on!" she said with giddy excitement, already taking off her clothes to put it on.
The suit fit like a dream. Snug where it needed to be, flexible in all the right places.
"Sybil definitely knows her stuff," she said, stretching her arms and arching her back. "This feels perfect."
Unlike her VR training outfit, this was her real work gear—designed for missions, not simulations. And it was made by her newest friend: Sybil Dvorak.
Sybil had been introduced to her by Luke. Apparently, the girl was looking to make more female friends she could go shopping with. Felicia had found her sweet, if a bit shy at first, and as a favour, took her to some of her favourite shopping spots around the city. They hit it off instantly.
Luke had mentioned how talented Sybil was at making custom "work clothes." In fact, Luke himself had a knack for design—he had shown Felicia more than a few outfits he called 'Black Cat prototype suits'.
Tight, sleek leather numbers that she had to admit were pretty damn sexy... in a kinky sort of way. She had teased him that she would wear one for him—maybe—on a special night.
Then one afternoon, while the two girls were chatting, Felicia casually showed Sybil one of Luke's suit designs that she actually liked. The very next day, Sybil surprised her with a completed version of it as a gift.
Felicia had loved it ever since.
As for why she needed a work suit in the first place?
Well, by then, she was already in the final stages of her VR Infiltration Training—but she had grown bored of it. The thrill wasn't the same anymore. So Luke had offered her something new: real-world missions.
Apparently, Luke wasn't quite the goody two-shoes she had originally pegged him to be. According to him, there were certain things he really wanted—rare tech, off-limits artifacts, secret data—but getting them legally? Practically impossible.
So, his solution?
Steal them.
He had even handed her a full list—missions ranked by difficulty and priority, complete with notes, blueprints, and contingency plans. The guy basically gamified grand theft.
Out of that frankly massive list, only two jobs were currently marked "AVAILABLE" for her. Both were time-sensitive and on the easier side of the scale.
The first: a classic museum heist. The target? A massive red gemstone known as the Omega Stone.
Felicia liked the sound of that—stealing jewelry? Oh, she would love to do it for sure.
The second: stealing some experimental biotech project from Oscorp's top-secret lab.
Less glamorous, sure. But Luke had flagged it as a high priority for Watson Group. And she could tell—it mattered to him.
So, for her first official mission, she chose the Oscorp heist.
"It's fine, you don't have to feel nervous," she whispered to herself, standing in front of the mirror. "Remember your training. Trust your prep."
And she had prepped. For weeks. She had scouted, simulated, studied everything—from Oscorp's security patterns to their floor layouts. She even dyed her hair white today, just to throw off facial recognition.
Sure, she could have gone red or blonde—but only platinum blonde—her original hair colour and white matched the suit's vibe. Fashion mattered the most of course, even during a break-in.
Originally, Luke was supposed to be her backup tonight—just in case things went sideways. But now?
She couldn't even contact him.
"Sigh… I was saving this for my exams," she muttered, reaching into her purse and pulling out a small sealed packet.
Inside was a transdermal patch—a square, matte strip barely larger than a coin.
Felicia had gotten a lot of toys from Luke. This was one of the weird ones, but still useful.
NZT-48.
A smart drug, according to Luke. Boosted cognitive abilities. Focus, reflexes, pattern recognition—all on overdrive. Basically, a shortcut to becoming a genius.
There were multiple versions: pills, injectables, even eye drops. She had them all tucked away in this room. But the one she carried with her?
The Focus Patch—a "focused" version of the drug. Perfect for heists.
And tonight felt like a good time to try it.
She opened the packet and pulled out the patch.
"I guess I just slap it on my arm?" she muttered, tugging down one side of her suit before pressing the patch onto her pale skin.
Click.
A tiny pulse ran through her body.
"Whoa."
Her green eyes widened as the world snapped into razor-sharp focus. Every detail—every shadow, every sound, every flicker of motion—was suddenly crystal clear.
"Is this… what being high feels like?" she whispered, stunned by the sudden clarity. Her thoughts were faster. Cleaner. Her mind was like a sharpened blade.
Even the anxiety she had felt before? Gone.
Looking back, she couldn't understand why she had been nervous at all. This wasn't just doable—it was easy.
"Yes… What's the point of nerves?" she said, smirking as she turned toward the wardrobe. "I'm doing this for the thrill in the first place."
Her body moved with practiced ease, grabbing gear, packing light, efficient. In less than a minute, she was ready.
She reached for the final piece: a sleek black Anti-Cognitive Eye Mask—another of Luke's incredible toys, built to confuse facial recognition and visual tracking systems.
"Shall we go then, Black Cat?" she said to her reflection in the mirror, sliding the mask into place.
Grabbing the prepared bag, she placed her hand on a panel beside the room's entrance. With a soft click, a second hidden panel slid open, revealing a concealed elevator that she stepped into.
This private lift only connected to a few select floors—one of them being her destination: Basement 3.
Seconds later, the elevator doors parted to reveal a sleek underground garage filled with specialized vehicles.
"There you are," she murmured, brushing past the rows of exotic rides and heading straight for a sleek black bike.
All the vehicles here were completely "clean"—untraceable. Luke had created them using his powers, leaving behind no evidence, no paper trail, no origin. They were Ghost Machines.
When she had first visited this place, she had fallen head over heels for that bike. Naturally, Luke had given it to her.
She pressed her finger to the scanner at the center of the console.
Beep.
The bike roared to life.
VROOM. VROOM.
"Let's go," she said with a smirk, slipping on the black helmet resting on the seat. Without hesitation, she throttled forward and tore out of the hidden exit—an automated panel that opened up into a quiet nearby alley.
"This is crazy fun!" she shouted over the engine, weaving through narrow alleyways and busy roads without a hint of fear. Her silver hair fluttered wildly behind her, catching the glow of passing streetlights.
She didn't need navigation. The map was burned into her mind. She had already calculated the fastest, quietest, least conspicuous route to the Oscorp Tower.
It was a Sunday night—New York was buzzing, alive with lights, noise, and movement. But that made it the perfect time to infiltrate Oscorp. The VR training's first lesson had been drilled into her memory:
Know the target.
Only by knowing everything could you pull off the perfect heist.
D.A.I.S.Y. had provided her with all the internal schematics and schedules, but Felicia still did her own digging—and she had discovered that every Sunday night, like clockwork, the only two night duty guards snuck off to a nearby underground gambling den for a few hours of poker.
Even so, waltzing through the front door wasn't an option.
Not even D.A.I.S.Y. could disable every alarm in the building.
So Felicia had settled on something bolder.
It didn't take long to reach Oscorp. The building loomed in the distance, all steel and glass and secrets. As she approached, a quick glance confirmed the guard station out front was empty. A young woman was walking down the sidewalk, oblivious. She barely noticed the black blur that was Felicia drifting her bike smoothly into the alley beside the tower.
Despite Oscorp's size and reputation, its adjacent alleyway was filthy—narrow, dimly lit, and overflowing with trash bins and litter. Typical.
She cut the engine, slipped off her helmet, and blew a playful kiss toward a black cat perched atop a trash can.