Felicia Hardy was everything the comics had promised and more.
I'd tracked her through a combination of legitimate private investigation and strategic use of my powers on low-level criminals who'd seen her work. The Black Cat wasn't hard to find if you knew where to look—illegal auction houses, high-end estate sales, anywhere wealthy people kept precious things they didn't deserve.
Tonight, she was hitting a private collection in a brownstone in the Upper West Side. The owner was a Russian oligarch with ties to the Red Room program. The target was a Fabergé egg worth three million.
I watched from across the street as she slipped in through a third-floor window, moving like liquid shadow in her black suit. Even from this distance, I could sense her mind—sharp, focused, alive with adrenaline. There was no fear in her, only excitement. She loved this.
I waited.
Twenty minutes later, she emerged from a different exit, the egg case tucked into her bag. She was on the fire escape when I made my move.
I didn't use my powers. Not yet. Instead, I simply called up to her.
"Nice night for a walk, isn't it?"
She froze, her hand moving to something at her belt—likely a weapon. Her eyes found me in the shadows below, and I saw her calculating, weighing her options.
"Who are you?" she called down, her voice cautious but confident.
"A fan of your work," I replied, stepping into the streetlight so she could see me clearly. Expensive suit, non-threatening posture, hands visible. "And someone who'd like to discuss a business proposition."
"I don't do business with fans."
"Then it's fortunate I'm also someone who can pay very well." I pulled out my phone and showed her a bank transfer confirmation on the screen. "Five hundred thousand. Consider it a consultation fee for ten minutes of your time. If you're not interested after hearing my pitch, you walk away, no strings attached."
Her head tilted, curiosity overcoming caution. "You're serious."
"Extremely."
She descended the fire escape with feline grace, landing softly on the pavement a few feet away. Up close, she was stunning—platinum hair, sharp green eyes, a body that moved with predatory confidence. But it was her mind that fascinated me more.
I brushed against it, just enough to sense her surface thoughts. She was intrigued despite herself, but also wary. She'd dealt with rich idiots before who thought they could buy her attention. This felt different to her, though. I wasn't acting like a fanboy or a client. I was acting like an equal.
"Ten minutes," she said. "There's a coffee shop two blocks away that stays open late. Public enough that you can't try anything stupid."
I smiled. "Lead the way."
The coffee shop was nearly empty at this hour, just a tired barista and a college student hunched over a laptop. Felicia ordered black coffee; I got an espresso. We sat in a corner booth, and she studied me with those sharp green eyes.
"So," she said, leaning back. "What does a guy in a five-thousand-dollar suit want with a cat burglar?"
"Information. Training. Connections." I sipped my espresso. "I'm new to the less-than-legal side of New York's economy. I have money and… other resources. What I don't have is knowledge of how this world works. The players, the rules, the dangers."
"And you think I'm going to teach you?" She laughed, but there was curiosity in her voice. "Why would I do that?"
"Because I'm offering you something you want: a partner. Someone with resources who won't try to control you or use you." I met her eyes. "I've done my research, Felicia. You work alone because you don't trust anyone. Everyone who's gotten close has either tried to cage you or gotten you caught. I'm not interested in either."
Her expression shifted slightly. I'd struck a nerve. "You don't know anything about me."
"I know you're one of the best thieves in the city. I know you've tangled with Spider-Man more times than I can count. I know you value your freedom above everything else." I leaned forward. "And I know that even the Black Cat sometimes needs help on bigger jobs. Jobs that require more than just skill—they require resources, planning, and someone watching your back."
She was silent for a long moment, her fingers drumming on the coffee cup. In her mind, I could sense the wheels turning. She was tempted but cautious. That was good. It meant she was smart.
"What kind of 'other resources' are we talking about?" she finally asked.
I smiled. "Let's just say I have a talent for getting information and making people cooperative when necessary. Nothing that would interfere with your methods—just complementary skills."
"You're being intentionally vague."
"Because trust is earned, not bought." I slid a card across the table. "Think about it. If you're interested, call me. If not, enjoy the consultation fee. Either way, it was worth it to meet you in person."
She picked up the card, examining it. Just my name and a phone number, nothing else. "You're serious about this."
"Completely."
She stood, pocketing the card. "I'll think about it. But don't hold your breath. I work alone for good reasons."
"I understand." I stood as well. "For what it's worth, I think you and I could do incredible things together. No cages, no control. Just two people with complementary talents making the world a little more interesting."
She studied me for another moment, then a slight smile crossed her lips. "You're either very brave or very stupid, Marcus Cole."
"Why not both?"
She laughed—a genuine sound that made something warm settle in my chest—and walked toward the exit. At the door, she paused and looked back.
"Don't make me regret this," she said.
Then she was gone into the night.
I sat back down, finishing my espresso. I hadn't used my powers on her beyond that initial surface scan. I'd meant what I said about trust—and besides, Felicia Hardy intrigued me in a way that had nothing to do with control and everything to do with genuine fascination.
If she called, it would be her choice. And if she didn't, I'd find another way forward.
But something told me she would call.
The Black Cat was too curious for her own good. It was one of the things I liked about her.
She called three days later.
"I have a job," Felicia said without preamble when I answered. "Museum heist. Potentially big score, but it requires two people and technical skills I don't have. You interested?"
I smiled into the phone. "Very. When and where?"
"Meet me tomorrow at noon. I'll text you the location." She paused. "And Marcus? Don't make me regret this."
"I won't," I promised.
The next day, I met her at a warehouse in Red Hook. It was abandoned, or at least appeared to be—the perfect place for a private conversation. Felicia was waiting inside, her street clothes traded for her working outfit, though without the mask.
"Alright," she said, spreading blueprints across a dusty table. "Here's the job. The Museum of Natural History has a new exhibit—rare gems from India, including the Star of Mumbai. Forty-carat ruby, worth twenty million easy. Security's tight, but there's a three-hour window during a private event next week where coverage will be lighter."
I studied the blueprints, my enhanced mind already processing entry points, guard rotations, camera angles. "You need someone to handle the technical side. Security systems?"
"And providing an alibi at the event itself. We'll need someone with connections, someone who can blend in with high society." She looked at me. "That's you."
"I can do that." I pointed to a section of the blueprint. "What about the laser grid here?"
She grinned. "Leave that to me. You just focus on getting us in and out clean."
Over the next hour, we hammered out the details. Felicia was brilliant—her mind worked three steps ahead, anticipating problems before they arose. And she noticed my contributions, the way I could see patterns and solutions that impressed even her.
"You're smarter than you look," she said at one point.
"I've been told I have hidden depths."
"I'm starting to believe it." She rolled up the blueprints. "Alright, partner. One week to prep. Think you can handle your end?"
"Absolutely."
She extended her hand. "Then we have a deal."
I shook it, and this time I allowed myself a deeper scan of her mind. Not to control, just to understand. What I found surprised me.
Felicia Hardy was lonely. For all her confidence and independence, she craved connection—real connection with someone who could keep up with her, who wouldn't try to tame her. She'd been hurt before, betrayed by people she'd trusted. But beneath the walls she'd built, there was a part of her that wanted to trust again.
She wanted to trust me.
I pulled back before going deeper, respecting her privacy.
"One week," I confirmed.
As I left the warehouse, I couldn't stop the smile on my face. This was it—the beginning of something bigger. Felicia was the first piece of my empire, but she'd also become something more.
She'd become someone I genuinely wanted in my life.
And that made all the difference.