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"So? What do you think?"
Peter landed softly on a gargoyle on the edge of the Chrysler Building. He straightened up, the lenses of his mask narrowing in sheer confusion as he took in the sight in front of him.
Felicia was perched on the adjacent gargoyle. She was wearing her usual Black Cat suit: tight, black leather, white fur trim, the whole package. But wrapped snugly around her throat was something entirely new.
It was a thick black velvet choker with a small circular pin resting right in the center. Engraved into the silver metal was a very distinct, very familiar spider logo.
"Cat," Peter breathed out. "Is that..."
"Do you like it, Spider?" She reached up, tapping the silver pin with a razor-sharp claw. "I had it custom made. Cost me a small fortune, but I think the symbolism is worth it."
"You're wearing my logo."
"I'm wearing your brand, lover. Right on my throat." She leaned forward, a wicked smirk playing on her lips. "I figure, since we're making this whole 'official couple' thing work, I should probably mark my territory. And let everyone else know I'm off the market. Plus, it looks hot, doesn't it?"
"It looks... yeah. It looks really hot." Peter rubbed the back of his neck, completely flustered despite the mask covering his face. "I just didn't expect you to do something so... permanent. You know, with my face, well, my emblem."
"Oh, I'm very passionate about this, Peter." Felicia hopped down from the gargoyle, strutting over to him. She wrapped her arms loosely around his neck. "In fact, I actually thought about crafting a matching collar for you. You know, a nice heavy leather one. Maybe a leash to go with it."
Peter stared at her. His mouth opened, but no words came out. He actually felt his face heat up, a sudden flush of panic and... well, other things, rushing to his cheeks. "Wait, you... you want to put a collar on me? Like a literal dog collar?"
Felicia stared at him for three agonizing seconds before she totally broke character and burst out laughing. She threw her head back, the sound echoing off the brick walls.
"Oh my god, look at you!" she wheezed, grabbing his shoulder. "You're actually terrified! Relax, Spider. I'm joking. I'm not gonna put you on a leash." She paused, her smirk returning. "Mostly."
Peter let out a heavy sigh. "You're evil. You know that, right?"
"I'm devoted," she corrected, pressing a quick kiss to the chin of his mask. "Now, we have a city to patrol. And since I'm officially embracing both sides of Peter Parker: the broke college kid and the spandex boy scout, I figured we should actually hit the streets together."
Peter crossed his arms, looking down at her. "Okay. But if we're doing this together, as a couple, we're doing it my way."
"Your way is boring."
"My way is heroic. Which is exactly why I'm making this interesting." Peter tapped his chin in mock thought. "You always need an incentive to do standard hero stuff, Cat. You hate the friendly neighborhood routine."
"I don't hate it. It's just tedious. I prefer high-stakes heists. Not retrieving stolen bicycles."
"Exactly. Which is why we're making a bet. A point-based heroism contest."
Felicia's eyes narrowed instantly. Her competitive streak flared up. "I'm listening."
"We patrol for three hours. Whoever gets the most points wins. If I win... you have to wear one of my nerdy science shirts to your next class on campus. The one that says 'Never Trust An Atom, They Make Up Everything'."
Felicia visibly recoiled. "That's social suicide. That's a fashion war crime."
"And," Peter continued, ignoring her horror, "you have to sit on my couch and watch Star Wars with me. The whole thing. No complaining about the special effects. No trying to distract me. No touching me. Just pure, unadulterated cinema."
"You're a sadist." She crossed her arms. "Fine. But if I win... you're at my complete and total mercy for the rest of the night. No rules. No objections. Whatever I want, you do."
Peter swallowed hard. "Define 'at your mercy'."
"Oh, you'll find out, lover. Deal?"
"Deal. Here's the point system. Memorize it." Peter held up a finger. "One point for stopping a standard mugging or bike theft. Basic street crime."
"Easy. Child's play."
"Five points for saving a civilian from physical harm without traumatizing them."
"Traumatizing is subjective."
"No dangling people off roofs. No threatening to break their arms. No screaming in their faces. You have to be nice."
Felicia groaned. "Fine. What else?"
"Ten points for pure, unadulterated Friendly Neighborhood stuff."
"Which means what?"
"Giving directions to tourists. Helping an old lady cross the street. Carrying groceries. Getting a cat out of a tree."
"I'm not getting a literal cat out of a tree. That's demeaning to my brand."
"Ten points, Fe. It's the big money." Peter held up a final finger. "And here's the catch. Minus five points for using excessive force, flirting with the victims, or stealing from the criminals we just beat up."
"What?! I can't loot the bodies?!"
"They're not bodies! We're not killing them! And no! No pickpocketing the muggers!"
"That's just bad economics, Peter! If they're unconscious, they don't need their wallets!"
"Minus five points, Cat! Do you agree to the terms or not?"
Felicia glared at him, a hyper-competitive fire burning in her blue eyes. She reached out and shook his hand. "You're going down, Spider. I'm going to out-hero you so hard your head is going to spin."
"We'll see about that. Clock starts now."
Peter immediately shot a webline, launching himself off the Chrysler Building. Felicia was only a split second behind him, firing her grappling hook and swinging fiercely into the neon-lit skyline.
Ten minutes later, Peter spotted it. An alleyway down in the financial district were two guys were crowding a businessman, waving a switchblade.
"Target acquired," Peter yelled over the rushing wind. "One point coming my way, Cat!"
Peter dove down, aiming a web perfectly at the guy with the knife. He hit the trigger on his web-shooter.
But nothing happened. Peter looked at his wrist in shock. His web-shooter jammed. He hit the other wrist. Jammed.
"What the-"
Suddenly, a flock of extremely aggressive pigeons erupted from a nearby dumpster, flying directly into Peter's face. He flailed mid-air, entirely blinded by feathers, and crashed clumsily into a pile of cardboard boxes on the fire escape.
Down in the alley, Felicia dropped silently behind the two muggers. She grabbed them both by the backs of their jackets, slammed their heads together, and let them drop to the pavement.
The businessman stared at her in absolute terror.
Felicia dusted her hands off and put on her most brilliant, charming smile. "Good evening, sir. The streets are safe once more. Have a wonderful night."
Peter untangled himself from the cardboard, spitting out a pigeon feather. He leaped down into the alley. "You hexed me!"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Felicia said innocently, inspecting her nails.
"You used your bad luck powers to jam my shooters and summon attack pigeons! That's cheating!"
"You didn't say no superpowers, lover. One point to the Cat."
Peter pointed an accusatory finger at her hand. "Wait. What's in your hand?"
Felicia quickly hid her hand behind her back. "Nothing."
"Cat. Show me your hand."
Felicia rolled her eyes and tossed a wallet onto the unconscious mugger's chest. "Fine! But the guy had like three hundred in cash! It's a waste!"
"Minus five points! You tried to steal from him!"
"I didn't steal it! I gave it back! My hand was just resting near his pocket!"
"That puts you at negative four points, Fe!"
"You're a tyrant!" Felicia snapped her grappling hook and launched herself out of the alley. "I'll get those points back, Spider! You just watch!"
Peter groaned, turning to the trembling businessman. "Are you okay, sir?"
"Y-yeah. Thank you, Spider-Man."
"No problem. Look, you really shouldn't be walking down these dark alleys. Especially with your briefcase out like that. You need to stick to the well-lit avenues. Have you considered taking a self-defense class?"
"I... no?"
"There's a really great one on 4th street. You should look into it. And maybe carry some pepper spray."
By the time Peter finished lecturing the man on urban safety, five minutes had passed. He swung out of the alley, frantically scanning the rooftops for Felicia, when he checked his phone. She had sent him a text.
Just stopped a bike theft. Zero points. Catch up, slowpoke.
"Dammit," Peter muttered, swinging faster.
He found her three blocks down. She wasn't fighting anyone. Instead, she was standing next to a group of completely bewildered tourists wearing fanny packs and holding a massive paper map.
Peter dropped onto a lamppost, watching in sheer disbelief.
"No, no, no," Felicia was saying, her jaw clenched so tight she looked like she was in physical pain. "You're walking the wrong way. Times Square is north. You're facing south. You see that big building? That's the Empire State Building. Walk away from that."
"Oh! Away from it! Thank you so much, young lady!" the older woman in the group beamed. "You're so polite! What's your superhero name?"
"I'm the Black Cat," Felicia forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. "I'm a friendly neighborhood... cat. Have a spectacular evening."
As the tourists waddled off, Felicia immediately slumped against a brick wall, letting out a tortured groan.
Peter swung down, hanging upside down in front of her. "Ten points. I can't believe my eyes."
"I hated every single second of that," Felicia growled. "They smelled like sunscreen and confusion. I wanted to steal their fanny packs just to put them out of their misery."
"But you didn't. Which gives you ten points. You're in the lead."
"Damn right I am." She pushed off the wall. "I'm going to win this bet, Peter. I am not wearing that atom shirt."
"You still have two hours to mess this up."
Over the next hour, the patrol devolved into absolute, petty chaos.
Peter tried to stop a purse snatcher, but Felicia purposely caused a fire hydrant to explode right as Peter swung past, soaking him completely. Felicia casually tripped the purse snatcher, handed the bag back to the woman, and claimed another point.
"Stop hexing me!" Peter yelled, wringing out his wet mask.
"Stop being so slow!" she yelled back.
Then, Peter found a carjacking in progress. He swung in, ready to web the guy to the door. But the car suddenly sputtered, backfired violently, and died right in the middle of the intersection. Felicia dropped onto the hood.
She ripped the driver's side door, grabbed the carjacker by the collar, and hauled him out. She pulled her fist back, ready to shatter his jaw.
"Minus five points if you use excessive force!" Peter yelled from the streetlight.
Felicia froze. The carjacker was whimpering, his eyes wide. Felicia grit her teeth, slowly lowered her fist, and gently placed the carjacker flat on the asphalt.
"Stay there," she ordered through gritted teeth. She turned to the terrified driver inside the car. "Are you physically harmed, sir?"
"N-no. You saved me."
"Excellent. Did I traumatize you?"
"I think I peed a little."
Felicia whipped her head around to glare at Peter. "Does that count as trauma?!"
"It's a grey area," Peter yelled back, laughing. "I'll give you the five points! Good job!"
"I'm a saint," Felicia muttered, webbing the carjacker to the ground using one of Peter's spare web-cartridges she had stolen earlier. "I'm literally a modern-day saint."
As the night wore on, Peter stopped fighting her for the takedowns. He actually just started following her, hanging back in the shadows.
It was fascinating.
He watched her stop a mugging and actually pat the victim on the shoulder to comfort him. He watched her retrieve a stolen skateboard and hand it back to a teenager without asking for a cash reward. He watched her walk past three different incredibly wealthy looking men with Rolex watches and she didn't even reach for their wrists.
She was actually doing it. She was trying. For him.
It was nearing the three hour mark. The bet was almost over, and Felicia was obliterating him in points. Peter was perched on the edge of a water tower in Hell's Kitchen, watching Felicia patrol the street below.
Suddenly, she stopped. She tilted her head and changed direction, sprinting down an alleyway and leaping up a fire escape. Peter quickly followed, swinging quietly to the rooftop above her.
He looked down into the alley.
There was a little boy, maybe seven years old, standing on the pavement in his pajamas. He was crying, looking up at the fire escape. Sitting on the very top railing, meowing pitifully, was a small orange tabby cat.
Felicia was standing on the second-floor landing. She looked at the kid, then at the cat.
"You've got to be kidding me," Felicia whispered to herself. "A literal cat in a tree. Well, a metal tree."
Peter held his breath, watching from the roof.
Felicia sighed heavily. She climbed up the rusted metal stairs, moving with absolute grace. She reached the top landing, crouching down slowly so she didn't spook the animal.
"Come here, you silly furball," she muttered softly. "Come on, we practically speak the same language."
The kitten meowed, shivering in the cold wind. Felicia reached out, scooped the tiny animal up with one hand, and tucked it securely against her chest. She leaped down the fire escape, dropping lightly onto the pavement right in front of the little boy.
She held the kitten out. "Here. Next time, keep your windows closed."
The little boy grabbed the kitten, hugging it tightly. He looked up at Felicia, his eyes wide and filled with absolute awe. He stopped crying entirely.
"Thank you," the kid sniffled. "You saved him."
"Yeah, well. Cats gotta look out for each other." Felicia shifted uncomfortably, crossing her arms. She clearly had no idea how to talk to children. "Go back inside. It's past your bedtime."
"Are you an Avenger?" the boy asked.
"No, I'm a thief. I mean, I'm the Black Cat."
"You're a hero," the boy said firmly. He looked at her white hair, her leather suit, and her bright blue eyes. "And you're really beautiful."
Felicia completely froze. She literally bluescreened. The untouchable, unflappable Black Cat just stood there in the dirty Hell's Kitchen alley, completely disarmed by a seven year old in Spider-Man pajamas.
A deep blush spread across her cheeks. She reached up, nervously touching the choker at her neck.
"I... uh. Thanks, squirt," she stammered, completely out of her depth. "Just... stay in school. Don't do drugs. Drink milk."
The kid giggled, clutching his cat, and ran back into the open door of his apartment building.
Felicia stood in the alley for a long time, just staring at the door.
Peter dropped down from the roof, landing silently behind her. "Ten points."
Felicia jumped, whirling around. "Spider! How long were you watching?!"
"Long enough to see the Black Cat melt into a puddle because a second grader called her pretty." Peter walked over to her, grinning under his mask. "Drink milk? Really? That's your superhero catchphrase?"
"Shut up," she snapped, though her face was still incredibly red. "I panicked. He was very small and very sincere. It threw me off."
Peter laughed, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. "You did good, Cat. Really good: you didn't steal anything all night, you didn't break any bones, you gave directions, and you saved a kitten."
Felicia rested her forehead against his chest, letting out an exhausted sigh. "It was exhausting. Being a good guy takes so much emotional energy. How do you do this every single day?"
"It gets easier." Peter kissed the top of her white hair. "So. How did it feel?"
Felicia didn't answer right away. She wrapped her arms around his torso, holding him tight.
"It felt... nice," she finally admitted, her voice incredibly quiet. "When that guy thanked me for saving his car. And when that kid looked at me like I wasn't... like I wasn't a criminal. It felt nice."
Peter's heart swelled. He squeezed her tighter. "I'm proud of you, Fe."
Felicia pulled back, pointing a razor-sharp claw directly at his nose. "If you tell anyone about this, Peter, I'll deny it. If you tell your superhero friends that I rescued a kitten and told a child to drink milk, I will actually murder you in your sleep."
"My lips are sealed."
"Good." The embarrassment faded, replaced immediately by that familiar, dangerous smirk. The competitive fire was back in her eyes. "Now. I think I scored at least fifty points tonight. And you spent twenty minutes helping a guy change a flat tire on 8th Avenue for a measly ten points."
"Hey! That guy was very stressed out!"
"And I stopped three muggings while you were looking for his wrench," Felicia countered. "So. I win."
Peter sighed, dropping his head back in defeat. "Yeah. You win by a landslide."
"Which means," she purred, tracing her fingers up his chest and hooking them under the edge of his mask, pulling it up just enough to expose his mouth. "You're at my complete mercy for the rest of the night."
Peter swallowed hard. "Right. So... what does that entail, exactly?"
"Well," Felicia whispered, leaning in so her lips were barely brushing against his. "Remember what we talked about earlier?"
"The choker?"
"The matching collar."
Peter's eyes widened again. "Felicia, you said you were joking."
"I was." She kissed him, a deep, slow, possessive kiss that made Peter completely forget about the cold alleyway. She pulled back just enough to look him in the eye, her eyes flashing with mischief. "I'm not that evil, lover. But I'm definitely going to be incredibly bossy tonight."
"I can live with that," Peter breathed out.
"Good." She grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the edge of the alley. "Now swing me home, Spider. You have a lot of losing to make up for."