In the state-of-the-art labs of Primus Tower, an unlikely but powerful partnership was flourishing. Dr. Curt Connors and Dr. Bruce Banner, two brilliant minds bound by the shared experience of containing a monster within, worked in quiet, focused harmony over the final piece of their latest puzzle: the Super Soldier Serum.
After Ben had secured the complete, original formula from Walter Hardy, he had handed the project to them with a simple directive: make it perfect.
Connors, with his extensive and deeply personal research into the Lizard serums, brought an unparalleled understanding of genetic enhancement and its perilous side effects. While he couldn't claim to have perfected his own formula, his experience gave him an intimate knowledge of the pitfalls. Banner, on the other hand, possessed a staggering intellect, his seven PhDs representing a breadth of knowledge that could solve almost any problem. Ben knew that with the two of them working together, the project was in the most capable hands on the planet.
Connors had willingly shelved his other projects to focus on this one. The production of the basic healing serum was now a well-oiled machine, running under the brilliant oversight of their newest recruit, Dr. Otto Octavius, freeing Connors to tackle this new, more complex challenge.
The two scientists found an easy camaraderie, a kinship born of shared genius and a mutual, monstrous secret. They were both doctors, both titans of science, and both capable of transforming into giant, green-skinned behemoths. It was a bond forged in a fate few could possibly comprehend.
"By the way, Dr. Connors," Banner began, looking up from his microscope with an expression of genuine concern. "After our… altercation, you were exposed to my blood. Have you noticed any abnormalities? Any adverse reactions?"
Connors paused his work, shaking his head. "Ben warned me of the possibility, but I ran a full diagnostic panel. My own unique genetic markers appear to have remained stable. No gamma radiation contamination."
Banner nodded, a visible wave of relief washing over him. The truth was, his condition was a biological anomaly; very few bodies could absorb and process gamma energy the way his did. His greatest fear was that he might inadvertently create another monster like the Abomination. It seemed Connors' own mutated cells were robust enough to resist the influence.
They returned to their research, projecting holographic molecular models between their workstations.
"The serum Steve Rogers received was, in essence, a semi-finished prototype," Banner mused, manipulating a strand of DNA with a gesture. "Erskine was a genius, but he was working against the clock. On anyone else, the results could have been catastrophic."
"The side effects are the key," Connors added, his expertise in genetics coming to the forefront. "It doesn't just strengthen the body; it amplifies the psyche. The serum acts as a magnifying glass for the soul." He knew better than anyone how deeply genetics influenced personality. "It makes a good man better, but it makes a bad man a thousand times worse."
"And yet, the version used on the Winter Soldier seems to lack that particular drawback," Banner noted, pulling up three separate blood samples for comparison. The vials, containing the blood of Steve, Bucky, and Natasha, had been provided by Ben for their analysis. He had even procured a sample of the later, inferior SSS variant developed by S.H.I.E.L.D. after the war.
That version was a pale imitation—a "castrated" serum, as Ben called it. The physical enhancement it offered was minimal, though it did possess the curious property of significantly slowing the aging process. Its primary disadvantage was the need for regular, long-term injections to prevent the body from metabolizing its effects. Ben had dismissed it as a viable option for his mom and dad, but Norman Osborn's eyes had lit up when he'd learned of it. The corporate titan immediately envisioned a new product line: a heavily diluted version, stripping away most of the physical enhancement to focus solely on life extension, to be sold to the world's wealthiest elite at an exorbitant price.
Ben had enthusiastically supported the idea. It was no longer about the money; for Primus and Osborn Industries, capital was a trivial concern. It was about influence. A drug that offered longevity would be more coveted than any other product on Earth. The global elite would bankrupt themselves for a few more years of life, and with the requirement for continuous injections, Ben and Norman would effectively hold the reins of global capital. If you wanted to live, you had to be their obedient dog.
Connors, ever the idealist, had briefly suggested that if the drug could be mass-produced, it could raise the average life expectancy of the entire human population. Ben had immediately shut him down with a wry, weary rebuke.
"Are you insane? That means I'd have to keep working until I'm ninety. When does this life of endless labor finally end?"
The joke, though light, had silenced Connors.
With the original formula, multiple successful variants to study, and their combined intellect, their research proceeded with remarkable speed. Soon, they had not only stabilized the serum but improved upon it, creating the perfected version Ben had requested. After a final battery of tests confirmed its safety and efficacy, they sent word that it was ready.
Meanwhile, in a hidden training facility beneath the Hardy estate, Felicia's transformation was well underway. Walter Hardy, a stern but proud taskmaster, pushed her to her limits. Though they had already decided she would receive the improved serum, Walter was adamant that she not become solely reliant on its power. True mastery came from skill, discipline, and cunning—not just brute force.
Every day after school, Felicia poured every ounce of her energy into the grueling regimen. She learned the art of stealth, the craft of infiltration, and the acrobatics of a master thief. The intense schedule left little time for anything else, and the moments she could steal with Ben became fewer and farther between. She missed him terribly, but she gritted her teeth and endured, her resolve hardening with each passing day.
Initially, her motivation had been simple: she wanted the power to protect Ben. But after learning the truth of his double life, her ambition had evolved. She no longer wanted to just protect him; she wanted to stand beside him, an equal partner in his dangerous world.
And, of course, the thought of teasing him mercilessly as a mysterious, masked new player on the scene was an irresistible prank for her cat-like sensibilities.
Her anticipation reached a fever pitch when her father finally told her the time had come. Tonight, she would receive the serum. Tonight, she would gain her powers.
Just you wait, Ben, she thought, a mischievous smile playing on her lips as she stretched her aching muscles. I'm going to give you the surprise of your life.
Mary Jane, however, knew nothing of this. She only knew her best friend was becoming a stranger. She caught up with Ben after school, her expression clouded with concern.
"What's going on with Felicia?" she asked, her voice low. "She rushes home the second the bell rings, and she dodges every question I ask. It's not like her."
"Her father is back," Ben replied, offering a carefully constructed half-truth. "I think she's just been busy reconnecting with her family."
Mary Jane watched Felicia's retreating figure disappear down the street. "Oh. Well, I'm happy for her," she said, though a pang of envy echoed in her voice. Her own father was a painful memory of alcoholism and violence, a ghost she and her mother had fled from years ago. Her mother's passing had left her feeling like a ship without an anchor, passed between relatives until she finally found a fragile sense of stability with her aunt.
She quickly pushed the painful memories down, her expression brightening with forced cheer. Complaining wasn't her style. "That's great for her. But I guess that means I have you all to myself for a while."
She tightened her grip on Ben's arm, a small, subconscious gesture, as if afraid he might slip away too.
Later that night, Felicia stood before a full-length mirror, clad in a sleek, black, form-fitting suit. The material felt like a second skin, and even without the serum, it showcased the powerful, athletic figure she had earned through her training. Her golden curls cascaded over her shoulders, a stark contrast to the dark suit.
"Dad," she called out, her voice steady. "I'm ready."
"Very good." Walter Hardy entered the room, his face a mask of pride. Felicia's progress had been astonishing. She possessed a natural talent, an innate genius for the craft that had surprised even him. "Then come."
He led her into a hidden laboratory, the centerpiece of which was a large, complex machine that looked like a modern version of the Vita-Ray chamber from old S.H.I.E.L.D. files.
"Lie down inside," he instructed.
Felicia obeyed without hesitation, settling onto the padded surface. The machine whirred to life, its sections closing around her like a giant, metallic cocoon. The procedure was a bit of theater; injecting the serum no longer required such elaborate steps. The chamber's true purpose was to obscure Felicia's view of the outside.
A moment later, the lab door hissed open and Ben entered, holding a vial filled with a shimmering, light-blue liquid.
Walter took the vial, his eyes examining the contents. "This is it? The new, improved serum?"
"Yes," Ben confirmed. "Researched by Dr. Connors and Dr. Banner. It provides the full spectrum of enhancement from the original, with one key addition: the user can consciously suppress their powers, effectively appearing as a normal human at will."
A slow smile spread across Walter's face. "Felicia begged me not to tell you about her plan to become the Black Cat. She thinks she's going to pull a fast one on you."
Ben chuckled, the sound echoing softly in the sterile lab. They both savored the irony. Felicia believed she was the one with the secret, preparing to playfully torment Ben with her new identity, all while unaware that he had not only supplied her serum but had also designed her entire suit.
The sexy black catsuit was packed with his high-tech innovations. The domino mask contained advanced night-vision and thermal imaging. The earrings were sophisticated gyroscopic stabilizers to aid her balance. The claws on her gloves were retractable and forged from a solid vibranium alloy. The suit itself was a durable, impact-dampening weave, and the soles of her boots were layered with a sound-absorbing polymer, mimicking the silent tread of a cat.
Walter inserted the vial into the machine's infusion port. The bright blue liquid began its journey through a series of tubes, snaking its way toward Felicia's cocooned form.
At the same time, Ben pulled up a security feed on his wrist-mounted device. A dozen armed men, moving with professional precision, were surrounding the Hardy Foundation building.
"Kingpin's made his move," Ben said calmly. He had been tracking Fisk's movements for weeks, anticipating this very moment. It was all part of the plan.
"Then let's give the girl a chance to break in her new claws," Walter replied, his eyes gleaming. He was more than happy to let Fisk's thugs serve as his daughter's first test.
Ben watched the last of the serum flow into the chamber, knowing that in a few moments, Felicia Hardy would be reborn. Her transformation into the Black Cat was about to begin. With a final, knowing nod to Walter, he slipped out of the lab as silently as he had arrived, leaving the stage set for the opening act.