Peter had absolutely no idea what Felicia Hardy was actually doing in Eastern Europe.
"Are you absolutely sure there's nothing, JARVIS?" Peter asked, hanging upside down from the ceiling of his bedroom.
"I have accessed all available international surveillance networks that the Avengers are authorized to monitor," JARVIS's crisp, British voice echoed through the suit's comms. "No priceless artwork was reported stolen in Vienna or Budapest. Furthermore, no individual operating under the alias 'Black Cat' has appeared on any intelligence database."
In fact, according to JARVIS, the only documented "Black Cat" was a legendary cat burglar active in New York decades ago. That thief had completely vanished.
Peter let out a heavy sigh, dropping to the floor. He had fed JARVIS a half-baked lie about his "Spider-Sense" warning him of a cat-burglar hitting the city tonight. He couldn't exactly tell the AI that he possessed meta-knowledge of Felicia's secret identity. If I hadn't left my suit's recording on during my last dimensional trip, I could have just made up a better cover story, Peter grumbled internally.
"Wait," JARVIS interrupted. "Abnormal behavior detected. The measurement matches your vague behavioral parameters."
A high-resolution satellite feed flickered to life on Peter's mask HUD.
A figure was sprinting across the rooftops of Manhattan. It was a woman with long, silver hair, wearing a sleek, black tactical suit. She moved with terrifying, fluid speed, completely ignoring the sheer drops between buildings. Peter tracked her trajectory across the digital map. She was heading straight for the tallest, most resource-rich skyscraper in her path.
Oscorp Tower.
Peter pinched the bridge of his nose through his mask. Norman. You really need to sit down and ask yourself why it is always your building.
Across the city, the Black Cat came to a sliding halt on the edge of a high-rise. The wind whipped her silver hair across her face. She stared across the massive, fifty-meter gap separating her from the sheer glass face of the Oscorp building.
She took three steps back. She exhaled, her breath pluming in the cold air. Then, she bolted.
Her boots slammed against the concrete edge as she launched herself into the empty air. Her superhuman agility carried her an impossible distance, but physics eventually demanded its toll. Gravity caught her. She fell short of the rooftop, plummeting toward the street below.
Felicia didn't panic. She twisted in mid-air, slamming her boots and hands against the Oscorp glass. The specialized micro-claws in her gloves shrieked against the reinforced panes, carving deep grooves into the facade as she slid down ten meters. She ground to a violent halt.
Clinging to the glass, she pulled a heavy, modified grapple gun from her hip. She aimed up and fired, the cable pulling her silently toward a maintenance window.
If the cable on this antique was just a little longer, I wouldn't have to make suicide jumps, Felicia muttered, glaring at the grappling hook. Her father's old gear desperately needed an upgrade.
She reached the window ledge. Extending a single, razor-sharp claw from her index finger, she carved a perfect circle into the glass, popped the pane out, and slipped silently into the darkened Oscorp corridor.
"Phew," Felicia whispered, dusting off her shoulders. "That was pretty easy."
"For a dedicated cosplay enthusiast? Absolutely."
Felicia froze.
Spider-Man was dangling casually upside down from a web-line directly in front of her.
"I just watched you clear a fifty-meter gap," Peter said, tilting his masked head. "Were you bitten by a radioactive tabby?"
Felicia didn't flinch. Up close, Peter realized her suit wasn't spandex. It was a highly advanced, lightweight tactical armor—similar to Christian Bale's Batman suit, but significantly more streamlined. It offered heavy ballistic protection while still tightly contouring to her athletic frame.
She placed her hands on her hips, blowing a stray strand of silver hair out of her eyes. A smirk touched her lips. "I've heard the rumors about you. Are you always this annoying?"
"Actually, most people find me charming," Peter said, casually firing a web-line to pull the cut glass pane back into place. "Only criminals and supervillains hate me. Do you hate me?"
"That depends," Felicia purred.
Before Peter could ask what it depended on, Felicia whipped a small cylinder from her belt and slammed it into the floor.
A blinding, magnesium-white flashbang detonated.
Felicia didn't wait to see if it worked. She bolted down the corridor, her boots completely silent on the tile. She reached the reinforced door of a high-security genetics lab. She slapped a decrypted keycard against the reader. The lock sparked violently, disengaging with a heavy clank. She slipped inside and slammed the door shut behind her, throwing the manual deadbolt.
She let out a breath. That door was rated to withstand a direct strike from the Hulk. Even if Spider-Man recovered from the flash, he wasn't getting through that steel anytime soon.
Felicia walked to the central control terminal. The screen glowed red, demanding biometric authorization. She pulled a transparent polymer rubbing from her belt—a perfectly lifted palm print belonging to a senior Oscorp executive. She pressed it against the scanner.
The terminal chimed. The overhead lights snapped on. Across the room, a row of heavy vault doors slowly began to rise.
"Is it right here...?" Felicia murmured to herself, tracking the opening vaults.
"What? Right here?" a voice asked casually from over her shoulder.
Felicia violently twisted, dropping her center of gravity and driving a brutal, sweeping kick directly at the voice.
Smack.
Peter caught her shin with his forearm. The impact sent a heavy shockwave through the air. Peter's lenses widened under his mask. That wasn't a normal human kick. That was super-soldier kinetic force.
"Seriously," Peter asked, pushing her leg away. "Did you actually get bitten by a radioactive cat?"
Felicia stumbled back, her blue eyes wide with genuine shock. "How did you get in here? I didn't see you at all."
Peter crossed his arms. I can't exactly tell her my lenses auto-filtered her flashbang and my suit turns completely invisible. "Who knows?" Peter shrugged. "Maybe Oscorp has a terrible cleaning staff and I crawled through a vent. Anyway, what are you looking for?"
"I'm looking for—"
Before Felicia could finish her sentence, the laboratory lights violently snapped from white to blood red.
Peter's spine tingled. The hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up. "I'm not sure what you just triggered," Peter warned, his stance dropping low. "But we need to leave. Now."
A cold, synthesized AI voice echoed from the ceiling speakers.
[WARNING: ILLEGAL INFILTRATION DETECTED. INITIATING LOCKDOWN.]
Heavy titanium blast doors slammed down over the exit, sealing them inside the vault room. Felicia swore under her breath, her eyes darting across the walls, desperately searching for a ventilation shaft or a secondary exit.
Suddenly, the blaring alarms cut off. The red emergency lights flickered, instantly reverting to a calm, welcoming green.
[AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL DETECTED: SPIDER-MAN,] the AI voice announced cheerfully. [SECURITY COUNTERMEASURES DEACTIVATED. WELCOME.]
The titanium blast doors smoothly retracted into the ceiling.
Felicia stood frozen. She slowly turned her head, staring at Peter in absolute disbelief. "You have maximum security authorization at Oscorp?"
Peter stood completely rigid, staring blankly at the ceiling speakers.
"I have maximum security authorization at Oscorp?" Peter repeated, his voice cracking slightly. He looked back at the Black Cat, throwing his hands in the air. "How am I just finding out about this?!"