* CRIMINAL INTENT

#𝑷𝑼𝑹𝑹𝑮𝑳𝑨𝑹𝒀 ; 𝐈'𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐌, 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐌𝐄 ! private, independent, highly selective felicia hardy / 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐂𝐀𝐓 of marvel comics & games. nsfw themes present. minors and personals DNI. written by 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡. [ 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 ] ✧ [ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 ] ✧ [ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐎 ] ✧ [ 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐆𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐂 ]

a study in: : 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑓𝑎𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑒, crime & punishment, the thrill of the chase, 𝙗𝙖𝙙 𝙡𝙪𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨, playing hard to get, and getting what you want by any means necessary.

all graphics made by @/hyruleshop !

the thief couldn't remember the last time she'd spent an evening without looking over her shoulder. most nights were spent chasing the next score or waiting for the heat to cool after the last one. tonight, though? tonight there was champagne, girl talk, and the rare luxury of having absolutely nowhere to be. it was nice. between the dancing and the catching up, one bottle of champagne became two, and now felicia is draped across the musician's couch, heels abandoned long ago. a half - empty flute of champagne dangles lazily between black nails threatening to spill, as laughter erupts through plump lips─

“ ─worst ? ” the feline repeats the question, head turning lazily towards the popstar, her platinum waves spilling over the armrest, “ ─easy . . . , ” a slow grin tugs at the corner of her mouth, almost anticipating the other's reaction. “ ─stark, ” he was a terrible idea, but those had never stopped her before.

felicia dismisses with a wave of her glass, “ ─it was one date and. . . , ” there's a beat, a moment where the slightest fond smile creeps across her lips, quickly suppressed by the rim of her glass, “ ─he made up for it in other ways. . ., ” a brow quirks, that smile lingering just a second too long to be innocent, before it's chased by her drink. “ ─your turn, al. . . you're gorgeous, internationally famous. . . baby, you're dazzler. there's no way you haven't left a trail of broken hearts. ”

her connecting flight wouldn't leave until sunrise, which meant eight hours in gotham city. felicia had heard the stories of gotham. every thief had, of course. a city run by crime families, haunted by psychopaths, and cursed by an asylum with an open-door policy. if she was being honest, gotham seemed a little more trouble than it was worth. still, there was always something worth stealing in a city like this. felicia knew money had a funny way of congregating wherever old families built old fortunes. every city has families like these. gotham has wayne, kane, elliot - the names that carry weight in boardrooms, newspapers, and political campaigns. these dynasties reached far beyond gotham's skyline. of course, their wealth trickled down into museums, private collections, and heavily insured vaults. which meant only one thing to the cat burglar: opportunity. and with eight hours to spare, the least she could do was stretch her legs , right ?

an emerald necklace rests alone beneath a glass display, the stone reflecting the warm museum light with shades of green across the feline's face. beautiful, and definitely worth the layover. with sensors deactivated, the glass surrenders with ease against the cat's prying, and moments later, the emerald necklace is within her claws. the cat takes a moment to admire her handy work, lifting the necklace into the light just right to see the deep-green rippling through the stone like fire. just as she begins to lower it into her bag, something fast hisses through the air. a crossbolt flashes between the tips of her claws, jerking the necklace from between her fingertips with precision before burying itself deep into the wall, pinning the necklace in place. the feline doesn't flinch, instead she turns as her eyes follow the bolt to its source: the skylight she had used for entry.

perched on the edge of the skylight, a silhouette stood against the gotham sky, crossbow already leveled for another shot. a thin brow rises, “ careful, ” she warns dryly, eyes drifting back to the necklace swaying gently off the crossbolt, and then back to the caped figure above, “ ─one-of-a-kind. ” she tilts her head innocently, “ ─would hate for it to end up in the wrong hands. ”

──super sneaky starter call !

wilson fisk's guards had nearly spotted them moments ago, and diving into the nearest maintenance closet had left them in very close quarters. black cat was backed up against cold metal shelving, practically chest-to-chest with the webslinger. around them, shelves lined the walls with spare wiring, dusty binders, and electrical panels humming softly in the dark. only the sounds of them trying to catch their breath filled the silence as the pounding of footsteps and flashlight beams cut beneath the door. the thief held perfectly still, a smile threatening to pull her lips w i d e. this. this was why she did it. not the jewels, not the money. . . well okay, maybe the money, but it was also the impossible razor-thin edge between success and disaster, life and death. where every moment in the whole world is narrowed to movement, timing, and nerve. . .

another flashlight beam, and the cat watches as the wallcrawler instinctively moves closer, his hand bracing against the wall beside her head to shield her from sight. even when he's annoyed with her, he's protecting her, and she can't help the small smile that creeps onto her face. she was close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his suit, could almost feel the disapproving look behind those narrowed white lenses. ❝ ─think they'll let us walk through the front door ? ❞ a half-joke whispered dryly, an attempt to downplay how complicated this mission just became now that the guards were searching for them, but the spider doesn't bite.

❝ what are you really doing here ? ❞

she had been waiting for that question since they made it through fisk's r&d department, but truthfully, she wasn't expecting him to send his personal army after them for glancing at some files. just wait til fisk finds out how much they're worth, but by the time he does, she'll be on a boat off the coast of italy. cat takes a moment to build the lie on her tongue, but when nothing comes, she decides to pivot her approach to something she knows works. the feline angles her head, nose bumping against his own ever so, voice low and hushed, ❝ so maybe. . . ❞ she admits as her hands begin to wander, slowly ghosting claws up the contours of his torso and chest to hook around his neck, ❝ ─maybe. . . i exaggerated a tiny detail. . . ❞ almost naturally, her body presses softly against his, ❝ ...in my defense. . . i didn't know any better. ❞ she's being cheeky and she knows it, and all but hoping its enough to dodge the question. ❝ who knew wilson fisk was this possessive ? ❞

it was a successful night. the police sirens had already peeled away in the opposite direction, and she had managed to escape with the blue regency sapphire from oscorp's charity event fundraiser. black cat slips  unseen  into  one  of  her  safehouses  stashed  around  the southside of the city.  she  had converted  the  back  office  into  her  workspace,  stripped  down  to  utility  and  habit.   scattered  around  the  place  were  lock  cylinders  in  various  stages  of  disassembly,  empty  food  take-out,  and  enough  emergency  passports, international currency,  and  climbing  gear  to  disappear  before  sunrise. it wasn't her penthouse, but it'd do.

the  sapphire  that  earned  her the  nypd  manhunt  sat  in  her  palm  now,  catching  the  low  light  as  she  leaned  over  a  workbench.  a  smear  of  soot  clung  stubbornly  to  the  diamond  setting,  refusing  to  give  way  no  matter  how  gently  the  thief  worked  the  cloth  with  her  hands . . .

click.  

the  sound  was  almost  imperceptible,  but  for  felicia,  it  was  unmistakable.  click.  the  cat  burglar  doesn't  move,  doesn't  look  up,  just  listens  as  the  outer  lock  to  her  hideout  completes  its  final  turn.  how interesting.  there  was  maybe  six  people  alive  capable  of  opening  that  lock  without  triggering  the  secondary  catches,  and  only  one clever  enough  to  track  her  down.  the feline's mouth  curves  slightly,  almost  fond,  as  the  secret entrance  to her safehouse eases  open,  and  the  familiar  silhouette  of  the  cajun  saunters  through. she keeps her attention to the sapphire, ❝ ─if you're here for a souvenir, labeau, this one already has a buyer. ❞

❝ ...Naw I can' be stealin' from you chère, but I come visit leastways. 'Less you wanna trade? Got an uncut diamond wit'cho name on it. ❞

at the offer of a diamond, felicia finally looks up from the workbench and turns toward the other thief, her eyes drifting to the stone he pulls from his coat. the diamond was large, clean, and had excellent clarity, even without polishing. surely it was worth a low six figures, enough to disappear for a bit. her smile widens more and she rises from the workbench and strays closer to him to get a better look.

blink and you may miss the satisfied curve of matte black lips, almost delighted, as the museum fell into misfortune around them. sure, she was expecting an easy job, but nothing in this town ever was with the spider involved. the cat would have to leave this escape up to luck. as if on cue, red emergency lights flood the main museum exhibit hall as overhead sirens scream awake. something heavy shifts in the rafters above the exhibits, and then suddenly, an oscorp security drone drops from the ceiling with a mechanical stutter. the drone attempts a routine security sweep before sputtering with malfunction, immediately veering off course and slamming into a sprinkler main, busting a pipe. water begins to spew across the ceiling in a sheet, raining down over the museum exhibits, electrical systems, and marbled floor. the cat burglar doesn't move from her dry perch, doesn't smooth the arrogance from her features, and even allows a low hum of appreciation to settle behind her devilish grin, savoring the unruly mess she's made. that pesky bad luck, afterall.

❝ you really know how to bring out the best in me, spider~ ❞ the thief muses to herself dryly, her steel-tipped claws tucking the artifact she came here for away nice and safe in her bag. ❝ this was fun-- we'll have to do it again sometime. ❞ for only a moment, black cat lingers, watching her favorite spider thwip away to correct the chaos without a second thought, always the hero. with the prize stowed away and every eye focused elsewhere, the thief slips into the shadows, leaving the webslinger alone to clean up her mess. and like that, she was gone.