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Guess I should start with my name, right? That’s how this kinda thing is supposed to go?
I’m May. May Parker.
Well, there’s more to it than that. But I like to keep things simple. That’s a bit of a problem when you’re the daughter of a superhero and a super thief. Nothing can be simple. And nothing can be enough. No matter what, you’re gonna disappoint somebody.
“She can’t keep doing this superhero shit!”
You get one guess at which parent I disappointed.
“I was younger than her when I started.”
“She only has half your powers! And that still got you killed! Ten times!”
“Fourteen, actually.”
“I swear to God…”
They’re fighting again. They’re fighting over me again. They were never like this when I was growing up. They never fight like this over anything. Not anything except me. It’s always my fault. And I really screwed up this time. I was stupid enough to get hurt on the job. Three-inch knife wound in my forearm. Of course Mom is freaking out.
And she’s right. I only have a Spider Sense and the kind of balance that would make an Olympic gymnast jealous. No proportional strength of a spider. No accelerated healing. No wall climbing. Hell, I still need glasses. Contacts hurt my eyes, so I only get by as a superhero because my Spider Sense is that good. Way better than Dad’s according to him. But that just makes me a subpar psychic. What the hell kind of superhero can’t even see ten feet in front of them?
Even so, Mom made due with less. And I have a responsibility, all the same.
Things get quiet. I don’t know if Dad’s stupid comment calmed her down or pissed her off enough to get her to storm off, but…
No. I hear footsteps. Heavy ones. Angry ones. And then a pounding on my door.
“Felicity!” It’s Mom. She’s the only one who calls me that. “Open up!”
I hate this. I’m sixteen, I have superpowers. And I’m terrified of my own mother.
“Felicia, calm down!”
Don’t tell her to calm down, Dad.
“Don’t tell me to calm down! Felicity, open this door or I’ll...”
“You’re scaring her!”
Mom stops.
“Good,” Dad says. “Let me talk to her. Okay?”
“Fine.” Mom turns the knob of my unlocked door and opens it, a breeze blowing through my open window and across my empty bedroom. “Then go get her, Spider.”
The web-shooters Dad made for me feel like they’re gonna pull my arm out of its socket every time I use them. This workout is nothing compared to basketball. Or baseball. Or cheerleading. Or gymnastics.
I’ve tried so many different hobbies, sports, trends, fields of study and so on. Heh, I even tried to be a devout Catholic for like a week. Made Gram-Gram happy, at least.
I wanted to find my “thing.” The thing I could devote myself to. The thing I could find myself in. There was a time where baseball was that thing. But one day it just didn’t feel like “me.” I cut myself off entirely when my powers came in. I told myself I didn’t want to cheat. And that’s kind of true. But more than that, I knew I had to use these powers for something more.
But who the fuck am I kidding? I can’t even make it a quarter of the way across Brooklyn before I run out of breath. Dad could’ve swung his way to Staten Island by now. Don’t know why he would want to, but he could. I know he could because I had a head start by a few minutes and I already feel him coming close as I stop to rest on top of a building.
I look back and see him coming. Son of a bitch even had time to put his mask on. He pulls it off as he rushes over to me, kneeling by me like I’m a little girl again. “FM! Are you okay?”
FM. Felicity May. That’s what they called me on BVA’s baseball team. FM Parker: All the hits, all the time. But that isn’t me anymore. I’m not FM. I’m not Felicity. I prefer May, but… Am I even that anymore?
“I’m fine, Dad,” I say it like I’m not having an identity crisis. “Mom’s right. I’m not any good at this. I should quite while I’m ahead… Or, while I’ve still got a head.” I laugh it off. The most pathetic laugh of my life. I can’t even put on a brave face for someone I love. I can’t even stop the tears from spilling over and trickling down my cheeks. “I’m not like you. I’m not cut out to be a hero.”
“May. Stop.” He says it firmly, but with a kindness in his voice. He stands. He’s not that much taller than me anymore. And by the look in his eyes, I think he realizes that for the first time. Even so, I’m still his daughter. Part of me is always going to be his little girl. Deep down, I know that. He accepts it without question. “You have to be brave when you put on the mask. You don’t have to be brave for me. Please don’t try to be brave for me.”
That’s all it takes for my armor to shatter, and for me to hold him tight and cry into his shoulder.
I cling to his back and shoulders as he takes me back home. My body remembers this feeling. The cold of the wind and the warmth of a father’s love. My mind holds the faintest memory of being plucked from Dad’s back mid-swing. But I don’t remember being afraid. Not of gravity. Not of being pulled from my father’s warmth. I remember the brief weightlessness I felt in transition from one embrace to the next. And I remember the most beautiful emerald eyes.
When Dad and I get back home, we know exactly where Mom is. I head up to her and Dad’s bedroom, open the walk-in closet and flick the lights on. I can see her feet sticking out from beneath a row of fancy women’s suits. When Mom’s upset, she surrounds herself with luxury.
I step forward and part the row of hanging clothes. Sure enough there she is—knees against her chest, fingers buried in her hair, and her back against a nest of her old plush toys.
“Wow. I’ve seen Emo Dad. Never thought I’d see Emo Mom. Hope you dance better.”
She sputters and laughs. “Fuck you!” She says it the same way she does to Dad when he manages to make her laugh while she’s upset. As if to say “how could I love this idiot?”
I settle in beside her, grabbing a little blue cat plush. It’s easier to pretend I’m talking to that thing than Mom. Even if I don’t like cats all that much. “You know what I’m gonna say, right?”
“Great power, responsibility, blah blah blah. You’re as dull as your Dad.”
“I know you wanted me to be more like you. But I-”
“Hold up. I never wanted you to be like me.”
“Right. That’s why you taught me how to zip open a lock when I was five.”
“It was fun. I wanted to do things together. Are you mad at your Dad for buying you a chemistry set when you were four?”
“You suggested my superhero name be Crimson Cat.”
“Cats are cool.”
“They shit in sandboxes, lick their own assholes and put said asshole right in your face at four in the morning.”
“They do other stuff!”
“What about my name? Felicity?! You might as well’ve just called me Felicia Jr.!”
I hate my name. I hate the weight it carries. I never felt the weight of being Spider-Man’s daughter. There’s a hundred other spider-themed superheroes who can be his successor. But Mom? Everyone knows she’s the Black Cat. The ideal woman. The greatest thief to ever live. She punked-out Spider-Man, the Avengers, and a fucking alien god. And I’m just some frumpy girl with mediocre superpowers. I can’t even come up with a decent costume or superhero identity.
“I’m just a loser. I’m not like you, Mom. So stop expecting me to be.”
Mom is quiet for a long time. When I move to get up, she places her hand over mine. I let go of the cat plush and Mom took a hold of it, looking at it much like I had.
“Hey Bloopy.”
“Bloopy?”
“Shut up, I didn’t name him. And I didn’t fucking name you after me, okay? I… I was kinda checked out while I was pregnant with you.”
“What?”
“I hated being pregnant. I couldn’t drink, I couldn’t do heists. I didn’t want to have a kid, because I didn’t want to bring you into this shitty world. But your dad wanted you and I went along with it because I was stupid and in love and afraid he’d leave me again.”
“Again?”
“Again. I fucked up a lot. Your Dad fucked up a lot. The world fucked us over a lot. But I was always able to find the beauty in the world. Whenever I challenged myself, whenever I chased the thrill of a heist… That was when the world was beautiful. But then… then you were born. And suddenly the whole world was beautiful.” Mom stops to pad the corners of her eyes with her thumb.
“I fell in love with you the second I saw you. I felt like I finally understood why my dad gave up the glamour and excitement of thievery to have me with Mom. Your dad wanted to name you May up until then. But when you were born, he saw how happy I was despite how much pain I was in. They couldn’t use painkillers on me. So I was in the most pain I’ve ever been in my life. I was angry and scared. I’ve been beaten half to death and riddled with bullets, and all that was nothing compared to squirting you out into the world, kid.
“Can you phrase that literally any other way?”
“Heh. But then I held you in my arms. And I was smiling from ear to ear. So your Dad suggested I name you. And the only thing I could think of was how happy I was. So I named you Felicity.” Mom set Bloopy aside and looked at me with those big green eyes.
“You’re the best score I’ve ever snagged, kid. I stole you from the best hero in the world. I stole the right to name you without even trying. I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you.”
She’s not lying. I’m one of the few people who can tell. “No. You won’t. I promise.”
Mom sighed and leaned her head back, bonking the back of it against the wall behind us. “Wish I could say you’re as stubborn as your old man, but you’re worse than that. You’re as stubborn as me. Promise me you’ll take a break to heal?”
“...Okay. I can do that much.”
“Good. And I’m sorry I was such a bitch.”
“I’m used to it.”
Mom promptly hurls Bloopy into my face.
Worth it. Especially to see that smile.
Two months to heal. Guess that healing factor really isn’t coming in. I’m still just a subpar psychic and kick-ass gymnast. Still, I’ve got power, and that means I’ve got the responsibility to use it and protect people who aren’t subpar psychics or kick-ass gymnasts.
The elevator doors open, and I make my way across the foyer to open the door to our penthouse. I feel it coming. Some kind of projectile. It’s red and it’s coming right toward my left eye. It’s the same side as my injury, and somehow I know that’s not a coincidence. They’re taking advantage of my injury, but that doesn’t help them. I catch it. It’s a… stick? A red stick?
There’s a guy sitting on our couch. Fancy looking guy in a brown suit and red sunglasses. He’s sitting innocently, sipping coffee, but I know he was the one who threw this thing at me.
“Sir, I think you dropped this.” I hurl the stick right back at the guy who deftly catches it without looking. With a flick of his thumb the stick extends into a cane.
“Thank you, young lady.”
“Where’s my Dad?”
“You don’t know? You don’t feel him?”
“...He’s upstairs, working.”
“Good. Seems Felicia was right about you. She called and said she was running late, as well. A shame, since she really wanted to be here for this.”
“Swear to God, if you’re here to tell me you’re my real father…”
“I’m Matt Murdock, a friend of your father and mother. Felicia invited me over to meet you.”
“Yup, here we go.”
“You are definitely and thankfully your father’s daughter.”
I stepped forward. Mr. Murdock’s not looking at me. At first I think he’s being an ass, but… “You’re blind.”
“You noticed?”
“I feel it. Your eyes aren’t focused on anything. But you’re still ‘seeing’ me, aren’t you?”
“Interesting… Peter said his Spider Sense is limited precognition, but you’re different. You feel something between us, don’t you?”
“I’m not nuts about that phrasing, but… Yeah.” Whatever this guy’s got going on, it’s… melding with my Spider Sense. Our powers are compatible. “You’re not just Matt Murdock, are you?”
He stands and steps forward. I can sense him sizing me up. He stands before me, cane in hand.
“They call me the Man Without Fear.”
“Kind of a mouthful.”
“Daredevil works, too.”
“That’s… Yeah, that makes more sense.”
“And you? Who are you?”
Who am I? How do you answer that question when you’re the daughter of a spider and a cat? When your dad is the world’s greatest hero and your mom is the world’s greatest thief?
“I… I don’t know.”
“Well, then. Shall we find out?”
He offers his hand. And I take it without question.
I’m Felicity May Hardy Parker. But I need to be more than that. And if I have to make a deal with the devil to become something more, something that can protect the world?
Then that’s a fair deal to me.