The air had a chill. It was late evening, and the streets were looking deserted. It was a sharp contrast to safer areas of the city, where people could freely leave their homes even at late midnight. But here, no one knew whether they would be unfortunate enough to become tomorrow's news headline.
The alleys were even darker, with the light from the streetlights on the roads barely reaching them. The floor was littered with trash bags, newspapers, bottles, and other trash. The walls were covered with grime and graffiti drawn over each other.
Somewhere down the way, two dogs traded barks, a window-unit AC rattled like it was coughing up its last breath, and the only other sound was the faint hiss of a busted EXIT sign flickering above a steel door that hadn't opened clean in years.
The lonely alley welcomes an uninvited guest. A hooded figure covered head to toe in black appeared in the alley. Not a piece of skin was visible. The clothes were too baggy to discern the body shape, so it was difficult even to tell whether the person was male or female.
The person walked unhurriedly toward one of the walls. The wall had graffiti from the 110th Street Gang, since the location was on its turf, albeit at the edge.
The unknown person pulled out a spray can with their black-gloved hand. They started spraying over graffiti, drawing a new one, belonging to the neighbouring gang.
The person was halfway through drawing graffiti on the wall when they heard footsteps from multiple people coming down the alley. But the person acted as if they hadn't heard anything and continued tagging.
Five gang members finally emerged from the shadows. At first, they didn't notice the lone figure. But as they got closer, they saw the vandalism clearly:
Someone was tagging over their turf.
"Yo, mask-boy! Back the fuck up from that tag!"
"Nigga, you blind? That's OUR wall."
"Yo, you know where you standin'? This Tombstone turf, stupid."
The gang bangers were instantly furious that someone was painting over their gang sign.
But the masked figure behaved as if deaf and kept drawing on the wall. The spray can was painting a red bird talon on the wall.
The leader among them took another step forward, his eyes narrowed dangerously as he recognized in the dim light what the masked person was drawing.
"Yo, you tryna die or somethin'?!" The lead thug pulled his machete. "Crimson Talon ain't claimin' THIS turf. You trespassin' on Tombstone's shit right now."
But the masked figure once again ignored the silent threat and continued spraying. The lead thug finally couldn't take the disrespect any longer. For any gang, painting over their gang sign in their own territory was a declaration of war.
"Why are you wasting so much time on this motherfucka?" Another thug who was watching from the side couldn't help but speak.
He walked menacingly towards the hooded person, a baseball bat in his hand. He extended his hand towards the hood, intending to pull it down. But the masked figure caught his hand mid-air. Then, before the thug could say anything, the hooded figure punched him in the stomach. The thug keeled over on impact.
The gang members were stunned. They never thought a single unarmed person would dare to fight back. The hooded figure took advantage of their hesitation and ran.
The lead gangster immediately came to his senses, seeing the hooded figure running away, and roared, "Chase that fool!"
"Aye! Don't let him get away!" Another gangster shouted, and all of them ran after the hooded figure.
The masked figure sprinted across the border of the 110th Street Gang's turf.
The gang members paused for a moment at the edge.
"What are you fools afraid of?" The lead thug shouted. "If we let that bastard from Crimson Talon go like that, then it would only show that we are weak and that anyone can come and stand on our heads."
He continued, "Moreover, Tombstone will definitely skin us alive. Move!"
The gang members all nodded and crossed over to the Crimson Talon's territory. Soon, they caught up with the masked figure. But they immediately increased their pace, leaving the gangsters behind again. It looked as if the masked figure was deliberately luring the gangsters somewhere.
The gangsters chased for another block before entering an alley. They noticed the masked figure running towards another group, all dressed in different shades of red.
"Help me, 110th Street Gang clowns have followed me to our turf," the hooded figure finally spoke. But the voice sounded distorted from multiple layers above the mouth, though it sounded roughly feminine. However, no one was sure.
The four members of the Crimson Talon Gang, who were sitting on the stairs drinking, frowned and got up.
The leader among them squinted his eyes but couldn't recognize the masked figure. Then his gaze fell upon the five members of the 110th Street Gang.
On the other hand, the five gang members were furious when they saw that the masked figure had led them to the Crimson Talon group. They understood that those Crimson Talon gangsters were the ones who ordered that person to tag their gang sign.
"So that's it," their leader, Markus, growled. "You Talon bastards send someone to tag our wall? You tryin' to start a war?!"
Mitch stepped forward, rage snapping across his features.
"Markus, are you brain-dead? Or does workin' under Tombstone make you think you're bulletproof too?"
The tension thickened until the air felt combustible. One wrong breath would set it off.
Both groups advanced slowly, weapons drawn, stopping just a few feet apart. Eyes narrowed. Muscles tensed. The alley swallowed their silence.
"So you think you can send clowns to hit our tag on our turf?" Markus growled.
Mitch was confused; he didn't send anyone to do that. He knew what tagging some other gang's sign meant. Unless their gangs were already at war, he wouldn't do such a foolish thing.
'Did a dumb rookie do it to prove himself?' Mitch thought darkly. Then he suddenly remembered the masked figure ignored by all. 'Is that masked person a new member? Then why cover the face?'
Mitch suddenly connected the dots.
'Fuck, these fucking rookies. Always trying to show how tough they are. They believe once they join a big gang, they are above the rules.' Mitch thought, frustrated.
'Wait. Is that idiot even one of ours?' Mitch again thought, confused.
Best option? Deny everything.
If the masked figure were not part of the gang, they were not obliged to clean up an outsider's mess. Even if they were part of the gang, for such a big job of tagging a rival gang's turf, they would surely be notified because of the proximity. If they weren't, that meant the rookie had taken unauthorized actions.
Just as he was about to deny any involvement with the matter, he was interrupted by the hooded figure.
"Boss, why are you wasting so much time?" The figure urged. "I have lured them here as you have asked; let's kill these gravestone assholes."
Mitch's blood ran cold.
Across from him, Markus wasn't shocked—he looked annoyed, almost expecting this.
Before Mitch could salvage the situation, everything went to hell.
The masked figure moved like lightning. One second, Markus had a machete, the next—his hand was empty. He didn't even register the emptiness in his hand before the blade was already buried in his chest, the tip punching clean through his back.
The figure released the handle.
Markus staggered, eyes wide, coughing blood as he stared at the steel jutting from his torso. He collapsed instantly, dead before he hit the ground.
"Markus?!" one of his boys screamed. Rage twisted his face.
"Fuck you, you Talon bastards!" he roared, slashing the throat of the nearest Crimson Talon member. The man grabbed at his neck as blood poured through his fingers. He choked, gurgled, and went still within seconds.
That was it.
The final straw.
And the alley erupted into chaos.
Steel clashed. Bats cracked bones. Knives tore into flesh.
The alley devolved into a frenzy of screams, curses, and wet impacts—each swing ending a life or crippling one.
Bodies dropped fast.
Soon, only Mitch and one of Markus's men remained. Both were bleeding, panting, barely standing. Mitch's vision swam as he tried to piece together how the night had spiraled into hell.
'A rookie? An imposter? Why—'
A blunt impact exploded against the back of his skull.
Mitch staggered, eyes veering sideways. The world dimmed.
Through the blur, he saw the masked figure step into view, holding the blood‐slick bat.
"You… you—" Mitch choked, hatred flashing in his fading eyes.
The figure didn't respond.
Another swing.
The bat cracked down, and Mitch's body went still.
The last remaining thug stared in horror.
"You… you ain't with them…" he muttered, voice cracking. "Stay back! Don't—don't come near me!"
Panic made him turn and run. But exhaustion slowed him.
He didn't get far.
The masked figure caught up effortlessly and slammed the bat into his spine. He collapsed with a strangled scream.
"No, no—please—" he begged, crawling weakly.
The only answer was the bat descending once more.
Silence returned to the alley.
The figure dragged the last body over and positioned him beside the others—a perfect crime scene framed as mutual slaughter.
After confirming every pulse had stopped, the figure walked away calmly, blending into the night.
A few blocks later, under a flickering streetlight, they pulled out a phone and dialed.
The line clicked.
"Hey, Kev, it's done," the figure said.
"Thanks, Jes."
The call ended.
Jessica tucked the phone away and vanished into the darkness.
…
— Kevin —
Dinner with May went better than expected.
I was steadily getting closer to her. And today was a significant step in that direction.
Initially, I had anticipated a few more weeks before she would soften further toward me, but the Eromancy magic tome I had unlocked drastically reduced the difficulty.
The reason for that was a spell I had learned from the tome.
Touch of Warmth
Type: Spell
School: Eromancy
Rank: Novice
Description: Creates a soothing, tingling sensation on contact, easing tension and fostering intimacy without overriding free will.
I had used this spell on May when I touched her hand on the dinner table.
Love is just chemistry.
Heat, hormones, subconscious pattern-linking.
All I did was give her body the illusion of those signals — a faint tingle just strong enough for her brain to associate comfort with my touch when I touched her hand.
Of course, I couldn't just use it continuously, and there were many reasons for that.
First of all, I would be labelled a creep if I touched her for a very long time or touched her too many times, even if I would only touch the "safe" locations.
Next, I had just started magic; my mana was pitiful, certainly not enough to support such extended usage.
And last but not least, if I use it for long, it wouldn't be special enough. It would only be special if used sparingly but regularly.
One application won't flip her feelings, but it lays the groundwork.
Over time, May would start connecting those warm feelings to me. That would be the time to up the game.
After dinner, I had received the call from Jessica, who gave me more good news.
I knew that Tombstone and Captain Robert were thinking of getting rid of me. But, currently, I was nowhere near qualified to challenge them.
I knew Jessica would happily help me against them, but that was more like a last resort option because I didn't know if Tombstone was still human or had gotten his superpowers. If the latter, then Jesscia was not strong enough to defeat him. Even without powers, killing a big crime lord alone was still too difficult for her.
On the other hand, dealing with Captain Robert was even more complicated. He was a respected police captain. Killing him would at least shake the entire state. Cops, Feds, Internal Affairs, and many other agencies would jump in to find the culprit.
Within two days, max, Jessica would be caught, even if they had to call in the superheroes. Jessica wouldn't rat me out, but it wouldn't take them long to connect me to the case. Then, I would spend the rest of my life behind bars, hoping Tombstone wouldn't bribe any inmate to shank me. And Jessica would be sent to the Raft for a lifelong stay.
Direct retaliation is suicide.
But doing nothing is suicide as well.
So if they want to kill me…
I simply have to give them something bigger to worry about.
Something that makes a harmless taxi driver the least of their problems.
—
I finally arrived home. It was a long day, and all I wanted to do now was sleep.
But as I arrived near the door, the faint sleepiness immediately evaporated from my eyes.
The transparent tape I had pasted on the top of the door was not in the same position.
I took a step back and returned to the taxi. I took out the pistol I had kept in the secret compartment and returned to the door.
Cautiously, I put a hand on the doorknob and rotated it slowly.
CLICK
The door was unlocked.
Who was it?
SHIELD? Black Widow? A burglar? Tombstone's people?
No — none of my activities should have drawn SHIELD's eye, but paranoia kept you alive.
Was I robbed?
If I were, then it would be a pathetic irony.
I didn't have many valuables. But I had those manuals and tome I got from the system. If I lost them, then it would be a problem.
I took a deep breath and slowly opened the door. The pistol was in my hand, ready to shoot.
Then slowly I went inside. It was very dark. I turned on the light. The area looked clean.
Then I slowly walked towards the living room. The room was dark too.
I immediately tensed up when I saw a silhouette sitting on the couch. With bated breath, I turned on the light.
It was Black Cat sitting with a grim expression.
I relaxed immediately and plopped down on the couch in front of her.
"Well, well, kitty. A heads-up would've been nice. I could've at least bought snacks."
No response. Black Cat just stared at me, eyes unreadable.
I ignored her behaviour and instead continued in the same tune. "By the way, I don't remember telling you my address," I said with a mock confused expression. "Though I think it wouldn't be a big deal to find with your skills."
Black Cat stayed silent, but then finally spoke and asked with a blank expression, "Where were you?"
Interesting.
"Me?" I said with a playful smile. "Just a dinner date with a beautiful woman."
"Do you know, she makes amazing lasagna?"
Black Cat looked like she was having a nervous breakdown. She looked like she was about to jump and start scratching my face any second.
"Why?" Black Cat asked with a heavy voice.
"Why?" I tilted my head in confusion. "What do you mean by why?"
We both knew that I understood the question and was just messing with her.
"Why are you dating another woman when you have me?" she asked with a bitter tone. "Is she the reason you are ignoring me?"
Sigh.
I just wanted to push her buttons a little when I told Marko my plans, knowing Felicia was nearby, observing me, and hearing our conversation.
Who knew she would come directly to my home to demand an explanation?
Oh well, it was better. Let's finish this game once and for all. It had gone on for too long.
"What do you mean by ignoring you?" I asked, looking baffled.
"Did you forget so soon what I had said earlier?"
"Didn't I say that even if there's another girl, I wouldn't ignore you?" I said with a relaxed expression.
"So even if you're with me… you'll still chase other women?" she whispered angrily.
"Of course."
My immediate reply took Black Cat aback. She stayed silent for another few moments.
"…Kevin… what are we?" Black Cat asked with a bitter tone, but there was a faint sense of anticipation in her expression.
Huh, so she wants to put a name on the relationship? Cute.
"We are fellow thieves who sometimes rob together," I answered with a smirk. "And sometimes have fun with each other."
Black Cat clenched her fists tightly as she heard that. A lone tear fell from her eye.
"That's all you think we are…?" she choked out.
"Of course," I agreed. "What else do you think we are?"
"Can't you… reconsider us?" There was desperation in her eyes. And a tiny, trembling hope.
I showed a confused expression to show I didn't understand her question. Then, as if something clicked in my mind, I showed a serious expression.
"Wait a minute. What do you mean by 'us'?" I asked with narrowed eyes. "Are you misunderstanding something?"
"Our arrangement is strictly professional," I continued, tone flat. "With some added benefits. That's it."
"Professional?" Black Cat's voice rose in disbelief. "You think what we had was just—business? You didn't feel anything?"
My face turned emotionless at her outburst. I didn't join in the screaming match with her.
"I don't tolerate clingy women," I said, ice-cold. "And you're starting to sound like one. If you can't handle the rules, you can leave."
Her face drained of color.
And then I delivered the cut meant to break her completely:
"In fact… it's better if we stop going on heists together. And stop contacting each other at all."
Black Cat sat there like someone had kicked her ribs in; breathless, shocked, wounded.
Perfect.
"You… You are joking, right?" Felicia asked, her face pale.
But I didn't say anything, and just looked at her with the same emotionless gaze I looked at Felicia.
That broke her further.
The only reason she was holding on till now was that, as Black Cat, she still hadn't gotten that gaze. She thought she still had a door open, but now I ruthlessly shut that door too.
"Why… why are you doing this to me?" Black Cat sniffled, her expression looking like a wounded kitten. "Why are you torturing me like that?"
Instead of answering, I just said, pointing towards the door, "I think you should leave. It is time for me to sleep. I still have classes tomorrow."
Tears fell from Black Cat's eyes. She couldn't believe this was happening.
"Why are you being so cruel?" She cried. "Don't you feel anything about me at all?"
She lunged towards me, grabbed my collar, and pulled me to my feet.
"Tell me," she screamed at my face.
"Is being with more than one woman so important that you are willing to let me go?"
"Are they so important that you behave unfaithfully in our relationship?"
"Or is this what you want, huh? An open relationship?"
"You want to sleep around with others. Should I sleep with other men, too? You want your women to sleep with other men, too?"
I calmly yanked her hands off my collar. Then, looked her dead in the eye.
"You call me unfaithful, but I see myself as loyal to my ambition."
"My ambition is above all. You either lend your strength to it… or be irrelevant."
"What is important is not to have multiple women, but multiple women who can stand behind me and follow me in my ascent."
"As for whether they want to fuck other men? I have absolutely no problem with that. They are modern, independent women who can do whatever they want. Who am I to say anything against that?"
Black Cat's eyes widened. She looked too shocked to speak after hearing that.
"Of course," I continued with a cold voice. "If any of them ever did that, then she can forget ever coming back. She will be free to fuck as many men as she wants."
After a brief pause, I ended:
"Once mine, always mine."
Of course, if something like that ever happened, that woman wasn't just walking away. She would be walking away from her life. However, there was no need to mention that.
Black Cat was once again stunned, but it quickly clicked in her mind what I meant.
"You are selfish," Black Cat said through gritted teeth.
"I am," I accepted simply.
She became even angrier hearing that. "Do you have women other than me?" she asked.
"I do," I accepted once again. There was no need to lie at this point. "More than one."
Of course, among them, only one was considered entirely my woman. But the rest were on their way, so there was no problem counting them, too.
"If you are done, then leave," I said, once again back to the emotionless tone.
But she just hung her head, not listening to what I said. Then the spiral began.
"Why others? Why not me?" she whispered.
"Why don't you look at me like you look at Gwen?"
"Why May Parker?"
"Why… why am I less?"
Her voice cracked over every question. I waited until she ran out of breath.
"Why?" she asked again, almost pleading.
Looking at her like this, I finally decided to give her a bone.
"Why? Because they trust me without demanding anything. You only trust me when it suits your feelings," I said slowly, while still maintaining the emotionless expression.
"Trust?" Black Cat whispered and looked up. "I trust you. What are you talking about?"
"Nothing," I shook my head.
"Leave." I once again showed her the way to the door.
More tears fell from her eyes, but with heavy steps, she started walking towards the door.
She had taken a few steps, then I noticed she stopped in the middle and started mumbling again.
"Trust?"
"Trust?"
"I trust you, then why?"
Then she stopped mumbling and suddenly turned towards me.
"You know," she said, her face no longer as pale as before, and tears had stopped. Her tone had a sense of surety.
"What do I know?" I asked calmly.
Black Cat didn't say anything; instead, she took off her domino mask.
Seeing that I didn't look surprised, she understood I knew her secret.
The previous sadness and grief left her face, and all that remained was pure anger.
"Since how long?" she asked, suppressing her rage.
"What do you think?" I asked, looking directly in her eyes.
"So, you knew. You knew from the beginning. Why didn't you tell me? Was my struggle till now a joke to you?" Felicia screamed.
My eyes turned cold. I took a step towards her.
"Never talk to me in that tone ever again," I said coldly. She flinched.
"And do not twist this into being my fault. It was never about me knowing or not knowing your identity."
She tried to speak but choked. Rage and despair tangled in her throat.
"Whatever, I have wasted more than enough time," I said with a dismissive tone. "Leave. And stay away from me from now on. We are strangers from today onwards."
She looked at me with a broken gaze.
Then after a few moments, she whispered, "…I was scared."
"I was scared," Felicia repeated.
"Scared that you'd like Black Cat… but despise Felicia."
Her voice shook.
"Black Cat was exciting. Dangerous. Someone you'd chase through the night."
"But Felicia? She's just a normal student. I thought you'd lose interest the moment you knew she was me."
Her hands curled into fists.
"I really liked the time when we went to the heists together. I always looked forward to going on a job with you. To feel that rush with you."
"I was addicted to that rush before, but before I realized, I became addicted to you. Without you, even those crazy, difficult heists didn't feel fun."
"So, I decided to keep the mask so that I wouldn't lose you. I could keep that rush… keep you."
"But at the same time, I really wanted to get close to you as Felicia. I thought maybe I could become your friend, as Felicia, and then Felicia may have a chance as well in the future."
"But then we fought, and you stopped talking to me altogether. I was heartbroken, but I thought, at least I still have Black Cat. At least I can still see you. But even that started slipping away."
Her lips trembled.
"I was so scared there'd be nothing left—no version of me you'd want. I was then even more afraid to tell you my identity. Felicia had lost her chance. I didn't want Black Cat to lose her as well."
Tears gathered in her eyes again.
"It was never about trust. I trust you with my life. I always did. And I will always do."
Her voice broke.
"I'm sorry, Kevin. I'm really, really sorry."
"I love you."
She hung her head like a scolded child waiting for punishment.
I sighed.
Listening to her feelings, I realized that this Felicia wasn't much different from her canon counterpart.
Felicia in canon liked Spider-Man. It was not wrong to say she was in love with him. But what she wanted was the mask. She loved the Spider-Man persona. But the man behind the mask was just a boring nerd to her.
It might be because of having a similar thought process, she thought that I was attracted to the mask, the Black Cat persona, and wouldn't be attracted to the real face behind the mask.
I took a step towards her and lifted her chin to make her look me in the eyes. Her eyes were blurry with tears.
"You should have told me this before," I said calmly.
"I-I'm s-sorry…" she breathed.
"You were honest with me today," I said. "So I'll give you one last chance."
Her breath caught.
"My expectations haven't changed. If you can't accept them, you can walk away. We'll part on good terms."
I paused.
"But if you choose me… then both Felicia and Black Cat belong to me."
Her pupils widened.
"So," I began, "what have you decid—"
But she didn't let me finish.
Felicia surged forward and crushed her lips against mine.
Name: Felicia Hardy
Relationship:
Affection: 100
Loyalty: 100