Felicia drifted in the quiet darkness, suspended in time. Inside the sealed chamber, the outside world ceased to exist; there was no light, no sound, only the steady rhythm of her own breathing. She felt no fear, no anxiety. Instead, a profound sense of peace settled over her. This was her element—the deep, velvet black of night, pregnant with mystery and a whisper of danger that she found utterly intoxicating.
After what felt like an eternity, she sensed a change. A low hum vibrated through the structure, and she felt the prick of a needle against her arm. The serum flowed into her veins, not with a sting of pain, but with a spreading, pleasant warmth. A heavy drowsiness washed over her, pulling her into a dream.
Outside, Walter Hardy watched the bank of monitors, his eyes tracking Felicia's vital signs. Only after every reading stabilized in the green did he allow himself a sharp exhale of relief. He then swiveled his chair to face the security feed, a cold, thin smile touching his lips as he watched the armed intruders creep deeper into the foundation.
He had, of course, heard of the Kingpin. Though he might be an antique in this new age of heroes and gods, he had only been imprisoned a little over a decade ago. He wasn't a man out of time like Captain America; he had watched Fisk's criminal empire swell into the behemoth it was today. Under normal circumstances, Hardy would never risk a conflict with such a man, not even with a super-powered daughter.
But with Ben Parker's support, the entire equation changed. It wasn't just Ben's connections to the newly formed H.A.M.M.E.R.; it was Ben himself. Walter had been catching up on recent history, learning of Iron Man, Spider-Man, and the pantheon of powered beings now shaping the world. He also knew, thanks to his daughter, that Ben was a second, more dangerous Spider-Man. When Ben had told him he was a 'pretty good fighter,' it was the understatement of the century. With a backer of that magnitude, what was there to fear? Kingpin? He was just a man.
As he mused, the intruders successfully breached the lab's perimeter. Their passage had been easy, of course—Hardy hadn't set a single defense. He remained seated, calmly playing with a silver dollar, flipping the coin between his fingers with the fluid grace of a master magician.
The gangsters, initially cautious, grew bold as they met no resistance.
"Heh, looks like this is gonna be an easy score," one of them, a broad-shouldered man, chuckled.
"Easiest million I ever made," another agreed. "Just gotta bag an old man and his daughter."
"Don't be stupid," a third gang member countered. "This is Walter Hardy, founder of the Hardy Foundation. That name alone is worth a fortune. We could get millions for ransom."
"Ransom's messy," the leader grunted. "Kingpin pays clean, and he only wants the people. Anything else inside is ours for the taking."
"I just wonder what Fisk wants with the old-timer," one of them mused aloud. The Kingpin, naturally, hadn't shared that his true target was the Super Soldier Serum. A secret that valuable couldn't be trusted to hired muscle.
"I hear the princess is a real knockout," the first thug grinned, his expression turning lewd. "She's going to Fisk anyway… maybe we could have a little fun first…"
"Yeah, and her mother's still got it, too," his friend added with a slimy laugh.
The leader's head snapped around. "Shut your mouths," he snarled, his voice a low growl. "We split the money, you can buy any woman you want in Hell's Kitchen. You screw this up because you can't keep it in your pants, and I'll personally cut off your lust-addled dicks and feed them to the sharks!"
"The girls in Hell's Kitchen can't compare to a high-society dame," one of them muttered, but the threat of losing their payday was enough to silence them. They knew which was more valuable: one night of risky fun, or a lifetime of pleasure bought with millions.
"Boss, front door's locked," the point man announced, finding the laboratory entrance sealed. They all realized their target must be inside.
Without a moment's hesitation, the leader pulled the pin on a flashbang grenade and tossed it at the door.
BOOM!
Felicia was wrenched from her dream by the violent explosion. It had been a strange, intoxicating fantasy. She was a sleek black cat, lazy and powerful, the ruler of her domain. She had a toy—a spider, black with intricate white patterns, that she held pinned beneath a pristine white paw. She couldn't bring herself to deliver the final blow, instead toying with it playfully.
Then, in a sudden twist, the spider lunged, transforming mid-air into Ben. He tackled her, and they tumbled together in a laughing, wrestling heap. He pressed her to the ground, stroking her head and scratching under her chin, making her purr against her will. Overcome with a wave of shy affection, she vowed she would never be a pet. Reclaiming her power, she had morphed back into her human form, straddling his waist. She had leaned in, ready to press her advantage, to steal a kiss…
And then the world had exploded.
Felicia's eyes snapped open. It was still dark, but the mask's lenses flared to life, painting the world in the ethereal green of night vision. Her hearing, now exquisitely sharp, easily bypassed the chamber's soundproofing. She heard rough, unfamiliar voices.
"Old man, you're coming with us. The Kingpin wants a word."
A bolt of pure fury shot through Felicia. She had just gotten her father back after so many years, and now these thugs were trying to take him away. They had shattered her perfect dream and dared to threaten her family.
"You wanted my dad," she whispered, her voice a low growl. "And you woke me up." Her hands clenched into fists, and she felt an incredible, unfamiliar power surging through her limbs. "I'm going to tear you to pieces."
The next moment, she flexed her fingers, and with a soft snikt, ten razor-sharp claws extended from her fingertips.
SHREEEENK!
The metal of the chamber door screeched as she tore it from its hinges. She exploded from the machine like a predator unleashed. Her body was leaner, more toned than before, her muscles coiled with power beneath the black suit.
No one was fortunate enough to witness the beautiful sight. The explosion had severed the main power, and the lab was lit only by the frantic, flickering beam of a single emergency light. The gangsters swung their flashlights toward the sound, their beams catching nothing but a wrecked machine spitting sparks.
Hardy watched, his face impassive.
"It's just the machine falling apart," the leader barked. "Grab the old man and find his daughter! Let's get them to Kingpin and get paid!"
The broad-shouldered thug cursed under his breath, turning to follow the order. He never saw the shadow of death detaching itself from the darkness behind him. Felicia moved without a sound, a phantom gliding across the floor, agile and cruel.
With a whisper of displaced air, her claws tore through the man's arm, shredding muscle and tendon. A high-pitched scream of agony ripped through the lab, drawing the attention of the others.
"What the hell was that?" one yelled, his voice tight with fear.
They swung their lights back just in time to see their comrade clutching his mangled arm, blood pouring between his fingers. Panic seized them, but it was a short-lived emotion.
Felicia was a blur of motion, a silver-haired whirlwind of violence. She didn't kill them, but she was brutally efficient, shattering limbs with precise, powerful strikes. In seconds, the entire crew was writhing on the floor, crippled and screaming.
Hardy's brow furrowed slightly. There was a ferocity in Felicia's attack that was more than he expected. For a moment, he wondered if the serum's psychological side effects had not been completely eliminated. But he dismissed the thought. This wasn't the serum. It was something more primal. She was destined to be the Black Cat, and the ancient totem of that name had already claimed her.
"Good work, Felicia," Walter said calmly, rising from his chair. He flipped a switch, and the backup generators hummed to life, bathing the lab in a steady, clean light. It was then that he truly saw the change in his daughter.
"I feel… incredible," Felicia breathed, flexing her hands, marveling at the power that now coursed through her. The serum Ben had designed was far superior to the original, granting her strength, speed, and agility that rivaled Captain America's.
"It appears the serum was a complete success," Hardy said with a proud smile. "From this moment on, you are truly the Black Cat."
Felicia beamed at her father's praise, then her expression grew serious. "Dad, who is this Kingpin? Why does he want you?"
"He is the reigning emperor of New York's underworld," Hardy explained. "He wants me for the serum formula you now hold in your veins."
Felicia's frown deepened. "Then he won't give up this easily. If he can't get to us directly, he'll threaten someone else…"
Ben's face immediately flashed in her mind, and a fresh wave of anger washed over her. She knew Ben was more than capable of handling himself, but the very thought of Fisk targeting him was intolerable.
"Dad," she said, her voice hard as steel. "I want to kill him."
Hardy nodded, producing a slim datapad and handing it to her. "I've been collecting my own intelligence on Fisk. Now that you've come into your own, I believe this task falls to you."
As Felicia scanned the data, her eyes widened at the sheer scale of Kingpin's influence. It stretched far beyond New York, encompassing the entire East Coast, with holdings even as far away as Japan.
"Fisk's power is immense," Hardy warned. "Overthrowing him alone will be difficult. You may need a partner."
"I know just where to find one," Felicia smiled. She produced a tube of bright red lipstick from a hidden pocket on her suit and applied a perfect, crimson slash to her lips.
Then, she launched herself into motion. She was an agile cat, leaping three, four meters into the air with effortless grace. Her claws sank into a concrete wall, allowing her to scramble up its surface. She bounded from rooftop to rooftop, a lithe silhouette against the silver moon, the night wind whipping her long silver hair behind her like a goddess's ribbon.
Her destination was Queens.
She landed on the eaves of a familiar house as softly as a falling leaf. Without disturbing a soul, she crept to the edge of Ben Parker's window. Across the way, she could see the faint outline of Mary Jane, asleep in her own room.
Felicia offered a sly, unapologetic smile. "Sorry, MJ. I get to taste him first."
She tested the window and found it unlocked. Of course it was. She slipped through the opening like smoke. The room was small, and Ben was lying on his bed, the picture of peaceful slumber.
A thrill shot through Felicia. Biting her lip, she tiptoed to his bedside, her dream rushing back into her mind. She bent low, studying his sleeping face, her heart hammering in her chest.
At that moment, as if sensing her presence, Ben's eyelashes trembled.
Before he could open his eyes, a gust of wind brought with it the scent of expensive perfume. Felicia pounced, pinning his hands above his head with surprising strength.
"Don't move, little spider," she purred, her voice a husky whisper. Her crimson lips, glistening like fresh blood, descended toward his.
"The Black Cat is ready to play."