Special thanks to Rufus, of course - for those not familiar with his chapters, they can be read here (viewtopic.php?f=234&t=8827) and then here (viewtopic.php?f=234&t=8855). Also thanks to BlackLancelot12 for suggesting a Black Cat perspective in the first place.
Hope you enjoy. And please note, the Felicia in this story has no connection to the Felicia in my "Spacesuit" series.
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It's a cold evening. But that's just the way I like it.
When it's cold, people stay indoors. They find a nice, cozy spot to hang out with friends. Maybe a bar or a diner where they can drink some beers and watch a game. And talk. And maybe talk a little too much.
People tend to get more chatty after they've gotten a few beers in them - and not just ordinary folks. Super-powered folks are the same way - superheroes and supervillains alike. I would know - in my line of work, I've hung out with both.
My name is Felicia Hardy, but friends and enemies know me as the Black Cat. I'm a professional thief (or, more appropriately, a cat burglar). Or at least I was, before I got tangled up in Spider-Man's web. We dated for a while, and he helped convince me that my skills and techniques would be put to better use working on the side of law and order. (Eventually I broke up with him; he was clearly pining for some bubble-headed redhead - Mary Jane what's-her-name.)
Nowadays, I tend to stay on the good side of the law... usually. I'm not above committing the occasional theft when the mood strikes me. (What can I say - old habits die hard. Besides, I'm a practical woman. If an emerald brooch or diamond necklace catches my eye, I can't just look away.)
Besides, if I may say so myself - I look good on the job. (I spent some time working as a model before I realized it doesn't pay as well as being a thief.) I'm a tall woman, late twenties, with light skin, green eyes, and long platinum-blonde (almost white) hair. When I'm on the prowl, I wear my Black Cat costume - a sleek black leather catsuit and black eye mask, with decorative white fur along the gloves and boots and around the collar, plus a black choker with a teardrop pendant. Wearing the costume is half the fun of the job.
Of course, sometimes my job requires wearing some other women's costumes... but I'm getting ahead of myself.
Like I said, it's a cold night. I've zipped up my catsuit almost to the collar. (A little cleavage isn't worth the chills, you know.) And I'm perched on a rooftop, discreetly watching the building across the street. The Bar with No Name.
For those of you not familiar with New York City (apparently there's a lot of different versions, but let's table the whole multiverse discussion for another time), the Bar with No Name is a secret lounge where supervillains kick back and hang out when they're not busy fighting Iron Man or Captain Marvel or my web-swinging ex-boyfriend. It's a secret spot - or at least it's supposed to be, but I'm aware of it from my days as a criminal.
I haven't been there in years, but it's just the place I want to be tonight. I've heard whispers through the grapevine of a major supervillains' gathering somewhere in the city. Any place where New York's most wanted are congregating has to be showcasing something valuable - certainly something worth stealing. And hey - it's not so wrong if I'm stealing from bad guys, right?
Only problem is I have no idea where in this big city the meeting is taking place. But I'm betting at least one C-list villain in the Bar with No Name might. Just gotta eavesdrop at the right table.
Unfortunately, I was banned from the bar years ago - as you might guess, they weren't exactly thrilled by my career as a quasi-superheroine. (I prefer "anti-heroine," but they don't seem to care for that either.) If I step one foot into the bar, things could get ugly real fast.
So in order to avoid attracting any undue attention, I'll need a change of clothes.
Peering through my cat-eye binoculars (would you expect me to use any other kind?), I can see that the bar is fairly crowded. I can glimpse some familiar faces through the window - Absorbing Man, Tarantula, Bullseye. A waitress is serving them a fresh round of drinks.
I tuck the binoculars away; time to go into action.
A few acrobatics, and I'm skipping across rooftops with all the grace and skill of my namesake. Once in the alleyway behind the bar, I drop to the ground - landing on my feet, naturally.
The alley is empty at the moment, which suits me just fine. I pick the lock on the rear door and slip inside.
Even back here, in the employees-only sector, I can detect the strong whiff of day-old beer. And the loud, jabbering voices from the main hall.
Footsteps. I quickly duck into a nearby broom closet, out of sight.
Peering out through a crack in the door, I spot the newcomer - a tall, slim young woman in a light blue midriff-baring tank top, dark blue jeans, and white sneakers. She has light skin and long sunny-blonde hair, and is balancing a tray of empty beer glasses in one hand. Guess she's a waitress.
The girl sets her tray down on a nearby stand and wipes her hands. I catch a glimpse at her name tag - it reads "Timber."
An interesting name, but I don't spend much time thinking about it - what really interests me is the fact that she's just about my size.
Timber turns her back to me and starts touching up her makeup. Well, I know an opportunity when I see one...
I quietly open the closet door and step out. No one else is around, and Timber is too preoccupied to hear anything.
In a flash, my hand is over her mouth, and my arm is around her neck, gripping her in a viselike sleeper hold.
The blonde is shocked, but can't say or do much of anything, other than struggle helplessly as I drag her back into the closet.
"Time for you to take a little 'cat-nap,' darling," I whisper, tightening the grip of the sleeper-hold and shutting the closet door with my boot.
She probably doesn't get the pun - without getting a good look at me, she has no idea she's being mugged by the Black Cat. It's always a shame when my humor goes unnoticed! Oh well...
Once Timber is unconscious, I lower her to the ground and start stripping her. The waitress uniforms at the Bar with No Name aren't particularly elite or extravagant - this isn't the Ritz, after all - but they're distinctive enough against all the costumed clientele that I'll need Timber's clothes to blend in.
As expected, her clothes fit me well enough. The jeans are a little tight around my buttocks, but knowing the proprietors of this bar, that's probably intentional.
Timber, meanwhile, is down to her grey triangle bra and pink bikini panties. I feel a little sorry for her. Sure, she's working at a bar of criminals, but she's probably not a criminal herself - just working this gig to pay off some college loans or something.
In any event, I can't have her alerting anyone about the shift change. I find some white cable cords in the closet and use them to tie her up. As a finishing touch, I gag her with two strips of grey duct tape.
Leaving poor Timby under a tarp in the corner of the closet, I step out, slightly adjusting my new tank top. (Something I've picked up from years of wearing disguises: A little extra cleavage is a good way to ensure that people don't look too closely at my face.) Then I head for the bar.
As expected, it's pretty crowded. None of the heavy hitters in town, but some familiar faces. Melter and Steeplejack are seated at the first table; they beckon me over.
"Hey, toots! Another round for me and my buddy!" Melter says.
I grimace at the nickname, but I ignore it and head for the bar. On my way, I pass Hydro-Man watching a livestream video on a tablet.
"Alright Screwball fans, it’s time to get this party started!" comes a bright, girlish voice from the tablet.
I roll my eyes, immediately recognizing both the voice and the name.
"One of you subscribers sent me a parkour challenge, and I’m here to take it up," the woman on the screen continues. "Remember, you can do the same if you buy a Premium Membership on my page."
Screwball, one of the dumber villains my ex-boyfriend has tangled with. A viral video star who will do any stunt for clicks, no matter how crazy. Supervillains used to have class...
"And remember to stay tuned. Because after that, I’ve prepared a surprise to all of you guys!" Screwball continues.
The surprise is that she hasn't ever broken her neck jumping from the Chrysler building. Anyway, I've got better things to do than watch a C-list YouTube celebrity play gymnast.
I fill up a pair of beers at the bar and head back to the table.
"Here you are, gents," I say, setting the drinks down before Melter and Steeplejack.
"Thanks, babes." Melter gives me a sudden pat on my rear.
For a moment, I consider breaking his nose with my elbow. But that would probably not help me keep my cover. I maintain my cool and do my best to smile.
"Should you be drinking so much?" Steeplejack asks Melter. "We gotta be heading for that big... you-know-what soon."
My ears perk up. This could be the break I was looking for.
"I'm fine," Melter scoffs, downing the glass. "Just need to get in shape for the Kingpin. Besides, it's not that far a trip... Just over at the warehouse complex by the river."
I grin. No question they're talking about the big supervillain meeting. Looks like my hunch is paying off.
"Waitress!" The Absorbing Man calls to me. "Get me a double!"
I bustle around serving drinks for another few minutes, glad that no one seems to recognize me. Not that I was ever much of a team player, even in my supervillain days, but I have encountered some of these guys before. Still, without my costume and eye mask, I'm just the pretty girl who serves the beers.
I occasionally pass by the table with Melter and Steeplejack, as well as some of the other tables, and catch an occasional tidbit of information. Apparently some big names will be at the meeting. No doubt they'll be bringing some valuables with them. The dollar signs dance in my eyes...
I quickly shake myself out of it and glance at my watch. Nearly fifteen minutes since I've started waitressing, and I've amassed pretty much all the info I need. Probably best to be on my way, certainly before poor Timber wakes up.
As I sidle toward the rear of the bar, I pass by Hydro-Man's table again. He's grumbling about a lost signal, but then suddenly brightens. "Hey, she's back!"
Screwball appears onscreen again, grinning beneath her white helmet and gold sunglasses. "Sorry for the interruption, folks. Screwball is back online, and back on live."
Something about her voice makes my ears perk. For a moment, she sounds... a little different.
I admit my hearing is a bit more sensitive than most people's. Years of safecracking has helped me develop my ears beyond the usual norm. But it could just be my imagination...
"Next stop, bad guys' gathering!" Screwball declares.
I frown. So Screwball was invited to this meeting too? Guess they have some pretty low standards.
Anyway, her change in voice is probably just my imagination. Probably the way it comes through over the livestream...
"Hey, what happened to the parkour stunt?" Hydro-Man wonders.
I don't have more time to waste on Screwball and her fans. Time to crash a villains' meeting.
********************
Once in the back alley outside the bar, I change back into my trusty black costume. Then I take to the rooftops, sprinting across town towards the river.
It's a clear night, fortunately. Easy enough to navigate without too easy to be spotted. I'd rather not be seen by the police right now; our last encounter wasn't on the best of terms.
As I near the river, I spot another costumed woman a few roofs ahead, sprinting in the same direction. Wonder of wonders - it's Screwball.
She's babbling away on what must be the live-streaming camera on her helmet. Talking all about the super-cool, super-secret meeting she's about to attend. Girl, it won't be a secret if you spill it to all your online fans...
Screwball pauses and glances around. I quickly duck behind a stone cornice before she spots me.
After a few moments of silence, Screwball shrugs and resumes moving. "Anyway, folks, we're getting close... I can feel it! Gonna shut off the livestream for a minute, but I'll be back once we're at the meeting!"
An idea comes to me as I continue to follow Screwball's path. I need a way into the villains' gathering... a costume that would cover most of my face. She's about my size... It could work.
But no, I tell myself. There's no way I would ever stoop so low as to wear the costume of an attention-hungry idiot like Screwball. A girl's gotta have some standards.
Two minutes later, the warehouse comes into view. Screwball jumps down from the rooftop onto a dumpster, then drops to the ground. I gotta say, she's a little less agile than I remember. Could be she sprained something in one of her nutty stunts.
I alight on the ground myself, sticking to the shadows. Can't risk being spotted by anyone as I approach the warehouse.
Screwball approaches the front entrance of the warehouse. A cluster of thugs are standing around the area. One of them is dressed as what looks to be a giant playing card. A couple other men are dressed as Tweedledee and Tweedledum.
I grimace as I make the connection. Alice in Wonderland characters.
Sure enough, standing in the center of the group is the underworld expert on all things Lewis Carroll - White Rabbit.
She looks a little different than I remember from the last time we tangled - her red hair is dyed white, and she's got white makeup on her face. She sports a green flannel shirt with a red bowtie, a white leotard with bunny tail, and white boots. Of course, she's still got the stupid bunny ears atop her head.
I see White Rabbit and her goons have blocked Screwball's path. White Rabbit does not look happy to see Screwball. Guess they've got some bad blood from the past.
I'm a little too far away to catch their whole conversation, but the argument quickly turns heated. White Rabbit sounds very mocking and condescending. Screwball is pouty and annoying. I can't say I'd be upset to see these two come to blows...
Finally, White Rabbit rips the camera from Screwball's helmet. Screwball protests, but White Rabbit and her goons clearly have numbers - and guns - on their side.
"Now, I suggest you leave," White Rabbit says in an accent that's too British to be real.
Screwball walks away, pausing to yell something about the Walrus and Frog-Man (we have such weird villains in this town) before turning the corner.
I suppose it's a good thing I didn't mug Screwball for her costume - looks like they wouldn't have let her into the meeting anyway.
Still, there's definitely something strange about the way this Screwball is acting - could be the intonation in her voice, or the way she's performing her gymnastics. Something seems... different.
I decide it's worth taking a minute to investigate. Keeping to the shadows, I head towards the direction she left in.
Screwball isn't there when I turn the corner, and the local warehouses provide multiple alleys for her to have entered. I walk cautiously forward, wondering where she went. If only I had a Spider-Sense like...
"What are you doing here?"
I whirl suddenly, coming face-to-face with a woman who must have been patrolling the perimeter. She's pointing her gun at me. Judging by her costume, she's another member of White Rabbit's team - pink-and-purple bodysuit with a purple tail and lavender gloves and boots, plus a purple mask of a grinning cat.
Funny, I though I already saw another of White Rabbit's henchmen dressed as Cheshire Cat in front of the entrance... Guess she's got to replicate costumes to accommodate all her workers.
"What are you doing here?" the Cheshire Catwoman demands again, not wavering from her gun-toting position. Judging by her tone of voice, she's not nearly as happy as the dumb grin on her mask would presume.
I play it casual. "I'm here for the meeting, of course. Big supervillain gathering? I wouldn't miss it."
The woman's eyes narrow suspiciously behind her mask's eyeholes. "I've seen you on the news. You're Black Cat, aren't you?"
"Guilty as charged." I manage my best smile, though not nearly as wide as Cheshire's. "Here to connect with my fellow baddies."
Cheshire leers at me. "Didn't you reform? I heard you're one of the good guys now."
"Who, moi?" I feign shock and hope it looks genuine. "Of course not. I'm the best cat burglar in New York. The cops have been after me for years."
"Weren't you dating Spider-Man?"
I bristle. "Don't believe everything you read on the Internet. That's a place for nerds... and screwballs." (Sorry, I couldn't resist.)
Cheshire glares at me silently, as if trying to discern if I'm telling the truth.
"Come on, can't we trust each other?" I give her a pleasant smile. "One cat-girl to another?"
Cheshire thinks for a moment. "I'll need to check if you're on the list."
"Sure, go ahead. White Rabbit will clear everything right up."
Cheshire reaches for the radio strapped to her belt, and in that moment absent-mindedly lowers her gun.
Big mistake, dear! In the next moment, I tackle her into the nearby alley.
In the ensuing struggle, she drops her gun - which suits me just fine. A lot of thugs feel pretty brave with their weapons, but don't know how to handle themselves in hand-to-hand combat.
Sure enough, Cheshire isn't much of a fighter. Twenty seconds later, I'm dragging her unconscious body to the back of the alley.
It's obvious that I can't keep slinking around in my Black Cat costume, since I certainly was not invited to the big event. I need another change of clothes.
Fortunately, dear Cheshire looks just about my size.
It takes a while for me to undo the zipper on the back of the stupid costume. Why do supervillains wear such inconvenient outfits? (Then again, my Black Cat costume isn't exactly winning any Comfort of the Year awards.)
Eventually, I manage to peel the outfit off of her, and take the mask to go with it.
With her costume off, I can see that Cheshire is a young woman with tan skin and chin-length dark brown hair. Under her costume, she sports a pink underwire bra and white bikini panties. I'm relieved to see there are no cat designs on her underwear - look, I obviously love cats, but even I know when things get too tacky.
I change out of my own costume, stowing it in a bundle behind a trash can, and slip into Cheshire's costume, gloves, and boots. I grimace as I reach for the mask - that grin looks so idiotic - but it's a necessary part of the disguise.
Once I'm all done up in Cheshire's costume, I use some spare cables from the bar to tie her up, and gag her with a kerchief. Had I known I'd be adopting so many disguises tonight, I'd have stocked up on binding materials.
I leave the ex-Cheshire Cat in a corner of the alley; with luck, it'll be a few hours before anyone finds her.
Stepping out of the alley, I pick up Cheshire's gun and resume "her" patrol.
A minute later, another guard approaches from the other direction - a woman in a blue dress with white apron, long blonde synthetic-looking hair, and a creepy-looking plastic face mask. Clearly, she's dressed as Alice. I grimace slightly as I look at the creepy mask - whatever White Rabbit pays these thugs, it isn't enough.
Thankfully, she doesn't give me a second glance as she passes by. Score one for the disguise.
I still want to find Screwball - maybe figure out what she's up to. She doesn't seem like the type to just give up and walk away.
For the moment, though, I need to resupply myself with binding and gagging materials. It's quite likely I'll need to disguise myself again soon - there's no way this Cheshire disguise will let me walk all through the supervillain meeting.
A minute later, I spot my opportunity - a nearby tool shed, door unlocked. With luck, it'll have the supplies I need.
I push the door open quietly, relieved at hearing no response. It's dark inside, but I've got my trusty catlight. (Okay, it's just a flashlight with the head in the shape of a cat's-head. I admit I may get a little self-indulgent.)
Much to my satisfaction, I find some cables lining the shelves, plus a few rolls of package tape. I help myself and stock up.
As I turn to leave, my light spots something peculiar on the ground, just underneath one of the shelves. Something that looks like a white costume.
I reach under the shelf and pull out the costume. It's a bit dirty, but there's no mistaking it - this is Screwball's outfit. What is she doing, leaving it here?
I shine my light around, half-expecting a naked Screwball to jump out and surprise me (it's just the kind of thing she would do for a viral video, I'd bet). Instead, I catch sight of something in the corner. A tarpaulin, covering something that looks large enough to be a person.
I approach cautiously, not knowing what to expect. With my free hand, I lift the tarpaulin and yank it away.
Seated in the corner of the shed, in what appear to be a deep sleep, is a young woman with light skin and short raven-black hair. She's wearing a black t-shirt bra and matching cheeky panties, both of which are decorated with drawings of skulls. That, plus the piercings and black eyeliner, give her an instant goth vibe. I assume she's also wearing black lipstick, but it's heard to tell, since her mouth is heavily covered in packing tape. The tape also covers her limbs, which have been wrapped in thick cables. Someone really did a thorough job of binding and gagging this girl.
But who is she? Certainly not Screwball - I've never seen her without the mask off, but that gal does not strike me as the Goth type. I glance at the discarded costume on the floor - did Screwball mug this woman and change outfits? It would make sense - heck, she could have even been that Alice girl I passed a few minutes ago!
Too many questions suddenly swirling around my head - I wasn't even sure if the Screwball I had followed to the warehouse was the real Screwball. All I could say for sure was that there was more going on at this meeting than met the eye. Something tells me I'm not the only one trying to infiltrate the bad guys' shindig.
Well, that Alice guard I passed is probably gone by now... No chance of knowing which way she went in this labyrinth of warehouses. But I'd better stay focused and on watch.
******************
The Cheshire Cat costume allows me to make my rounds about the warehouse district with no further hassles. I scan the outside area, getting a good sense of the perimeter. I watch as more villains enter - quite a lot of them over the next few minutes. Clearly, this place must be bigger on the inside than it looks from the outside.
Wandering the area, I can see there are quite a lot of White Rabbit's goons stationed around, more than I'd expected. There are a Mad Hatter and a Doormouse stationed at the side exit. Up on an elevated platform some distance away from the main warehouse, I catch a glimpse of two female guards dressed as the Red Queen and the White Queen.
Looks like White Rabbit's guards are paid to stay on the outside of the facility. Which means if I want to get inside, I'll need another costume change.
I position myself some distance from the main entrance, watching the new guests arrive. Melter and Steeplejack show up, as anticipated. Shortly after, I see Scorpia and Trapstr approaching. They both look about my size, but they're walking together - would be too much for me to take out on my own. I need to find a villainess who's entering the party alone. And preferably one who wears a mask.
From above, I hear the faint whirr of metallic wings. I glance up to see Lady Beetle (or just Beetle to her friends, a group I am certainly no part of) flying overhead.
There's an idea! She's just about my size, and she wears a full body-covering outfit, complete with mask. Should be easy to take her out and impersonate her.
Unfortunately, I can see Lady Beetle alighting on the elevated helicopter platform at the far end of the docks, too far for me to reach in time. There are the two bodyguards there to meet her. It's a little hard to tell in the darkness and the distance, but it appears that instead of the Red Queen and the White Queen, the platform guards are now a pair of women dressed as Alice and the Queen of Hearts. Did they do a shift change in the past ten minutes?
I wonder... is the Alice I see on the pad the same as the Alice I passed earlier, the one near the shed where I found that bound-and-gagged woman? If so - if that Alice is indeed an imposter - Lady Beetle could be flying into a trap.
Well, that's her problem. Currently, I have priorities of my own.
Unfortunately, there don't seem to be too many guests left to arrive - the newcomers have slowed to a trickle, and outside mingling has almost entirely died down. I need to find a disguise fast, or this whole night will have been for nothing.
Then I hear a voice grumbling nearby - "Stupid phone, how am I not getting any bars..."
I turn to see a woman approaching the area from behind a dilapidated side warehouse. She's tall, light-skinned, slim but muscular, with long platinum-blonde hair. She's dressed in a scaled yellow one-piece leotard with black shoulder straps, with matching yellow elbow-length gloves and thigh-high, high-heeled boots, both with black rimming. She wears a metal visor over her eyes, thus obscuring about half her face. On the wrists of her gloves are a pair of black bands.
It takes a moment for me to recognize her from the NYPD's supervillain archives - Coachwhip. She's a member of the Serpent Society, a gang of snake-themed villains (hence her name and the scales on her costume). Those wristbands are where she keeps a pair of stinging electric whips, sure to provide a jolt to anyone who crosses her.
She doesn't notice me, being too busy glaring at her phone. But I certainly notice her - she's about my size and quite similar to me in appearance, straight down to the hair color and style. And that visor over her eyes would certainly help hide my face.
But... that costume in general won't hide much at all. My goodness, lady, have some pride. That outfit looks skimpy and extremely uncomfortable, and that bright yellow color belongs in middle of a stoplight.
Still, I'm running low on options here. Guess it's Coachwhip or bust.
Taking a deep breath, and hoping there aren't any fashion police roaming around, I step out of the shadows and stride towards Coachwhip.
"Good evening, Miss Whip," I say politely. (Her real name is Beatrix Keener, but I don't think White Rabbit's henchpeople are on a first-name basis with the supervillains around here.)
Coachwhip looks up, tucking her phone into her cleavage. (Well, where else is she supposed to put it?)
"Where is the entrance to the meeting?" she says irritably. "I'm running late as it is, and my phone has lost all signal."
"Not a problem, ma'am," I tell her. "Just follow me."
I walk over to a door at the side of the dilapidated warehouse and open it. "Right this way."
Coachwhip approaches the door, eyeing it with suspicion. "This is an entrance? It looks dark and empty."
"Of course," I say, thinking quickly. "It's been enchanted by Baron Mordo to look like an ordinary warehouse. The better to fool any pesky superheroes who may come snooping around."
This explanation seems to satisfy her. She steps inside.
"I can't see anyone else here," she says. "How do we get this place un-enchanted?"
"Right now," I say behind her, "I'm more focused on getting you undressed."
Before she can ponder these words, I pounce with the tenacity of my namesake, wrapping an arm around her neck. "Time for a cat-nap!"
This time, the pun works - Coachwhip doesn't know I'm the Black Cat, but the joke still makes sense thanks to the Cheshire Cat costume I'm wearing. Unfortunately, she does not seem to appreciate the humor anyway, as she is too busy trying to fight back.
I hold on tight, but Coachwhip is a fair deal stronger than the waitress I pulled this trick on earlier tonight. She bucks and struggles, trying to throw me off. I'm strong, but this woman may be stronger. And any moment, she might bust out her electric whips. If that happens, I'm toast... literally!
So I do the unexpected - quickly letting go, then hitting her with a sharp neck chop. The sudden shift between fighting techniques successfully jolts her nervous system. She gives a brief groan, then slides to the floor, unconscious.
I pull off my Cheshire Cat mask. "Okay... believe it or not, that was the easy part."
The hard part, of course, is getting Coachwhip out of her impossibly tight and ridiculous outfit. I don't understand how supervillainesses can parade around in costumes like this! After tonight, I should start a movement for female baddies to start having some self-respect in their uniforms.
After several minutes of trying, I finally manage to wriggle Coachwhip out of her leotard, gloves, and boots. I'm surprised to see she's wearing underwear - a slim golden-yellow bralette and matching G-string. I guess no supervillainess wants to get caught going commando in the event she gets her outfit stolen! They all remember what happened that one time with poor Joystick...
Changing into Coachwhip's costume is an adventure all on its own. I'm very glad I've been pushing myself to diet these last few weeks; otherwise I might never be able to squeeze into this outfit! After more strength and effort than I put in battling Sandman or Hammerhead, I'm finally dressed in the leotard, gloves, and boots. I adjust the reflective visor over my eyes; my hunch proves correct that it works as a one-way mirror. I can see perfectly from my end, but no one else can perfectly see my face. Besides, it's not like Coachwhip is a widely recognizable villain; with a little luck, no one will ask any questions.
I consider testing the wristbands, but think better of it. I have no idea how she activates her electric whips, and I might risk barbecuing myself trying to find out. Will hold off on that, for now.
I use some spare cables I obtained from the shed earlier to bind Coachwhip, and some duct tape to gag her. I hide her in a corner behind some handy wooden crates.
"Buh-bye, Beatrix. Here's hoping your costume doesn't asphyxiate me."
I step out of warehouse, shutting the door. Then I head for the main building.
The entrance is largely unguarded by now, thankfully - even White Rabbit is nowhere to be seen. The two guards stationed there let me in, no questions asked.
And now it's time to see what this meeting's all about...
