**************
It's a warm evening. Not my favorite, but I’m not complaining either.
My line of work – so to speak – often involves being outdoor, and there’s only so much winter I can take.
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 order. (Eventually I broke up with him; he was clearly pining for Mary Jane at the time. Though their relationship was also short-lived. They broke up a few months ago - amiably. I don't know who he's dating currently - if he's dating someone at all. Peter's love life is hard to follow without a chart.)
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 considered 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. Lately, I decided to add a bit of fur on the catsuit’s elbows. A little whim, you can call it.
Now, you may be asking why I’m currently waiting outdoors. You may even think I’m in the middle of a heist. An astute guess, but for once a wrong one.
Truth is, I’m waiting for someone.
(No. Not that kind of date. The ‘let’s go do vigilante stuff together’ kind of meeting. Though in hindsight, maybe this is a 'sort of date' for people like me.)
The rendezvous point is an old warehouse. Just my kind of place. Problem is, my partner isn’t showing up.
I groan to myself.
Always fashionably late…
I grab my phone to make a call.
She picks up immediately. She always answers my call immediately.
“Yeah?”
“MJ, what are you doing? Those disturbances won’t investigate themselves! I snagged the files, the portal probably leads to an other universe.”
To some people, things like alternate universes, portals tearing through the fabric of reality, and accesses to other dimensions would sound like straight sci-fi. Not to me.
“Going to be late. I got into a scuffle with a bunch of punks. Need to fix something in my costume.”
Mary-Jane Watson has always been bold. But now that she’s wearing the Jackpot outfit, she’s gotten even bolder – somehow.
Not to say I dislike it.
(That form-hugging costume...)
“What? Did your dump truck ass rip your outfit?”
“Ha, ha. Very funny. Shall we remember the time I wore your spare costume? I recall I looked better than you.”
“In your dreams maybe.”
“In Peter’s, actually.”
“… touché? I guess you got me there! Be quick.”
I end the call, pocket the phone in a holster of my equipment belt, and stretch.
Investigation should be a fun change of pace. I’ve been stealing – borrowing – too much stuff lately. (Which also means a couple of women have found themselves stripped to their undergarments, trussed up, and stashed somewhere.) I need to lay low for a couple of weeks, and…
Something grabs my Vagus nerve.
… GARK?!
**************
I don’t give Felicia any chance. No drug. Too risky. Any Black Cat worth their title is immune to a good chunk of them. No sleeper-hold either. I know better than anyone how dangerous Black Cat is in close combat.
One swift nerve-pinch, and the platinum blonde is down for the count. Completely out cold. She crumbles into my arms like a rag doll.
“Hush now… I know this must be hard for you…” I coo in her ear.
I lay Black Cat’s limp body onto the floor.
“You’re used to being the best. It’s not like you to be outperformed so easily. But I assure you there’s no shame in losing against me...”
I take off my hood and ski mask. Because while I’m at it, at least I can be a little dramatic.
“… After all, who other than Black Cat could upstage Black Cat?”
I’ll let you picture the scene: Felicia Hardy (Earth-USB) grinning at her unconscious lookalike from an other universe.
Ambushing my literal counterpart is a surreal experience. It’s like one of those ‘twin replacement’ scenarios. The other Black Cat share my height, my size, my green eyes, my long platinum-blonde hair color, my skin tone, and even my curves. The only difference is that my hair is currently tied up into a tight neck bun
At least, I know in advance the costume will be a perfect fit... That’s a plus. I’m tired of compressing my breasts half of the time.
Still, there’s also an element of pride to it. The satisfaction to know I’m the stronger version of myself. I did manage to sneak into her back, and get in nerve pinch range without her noticing me.
“No hard feelings, fellow Felicia. I’m sure you’re good. I’m just better.”
Removing the costume is also eerily easy. It is indeed almost the same as mine. The zipper works exactly the same. (The fur on the elbows may be a little too much though, if you ask me.)
Once I’m done peeling off the tight catsuit, ‘Other Felicia’ is left clad in black boyshorts and a matching sports bra. Plain and comfortable, not hindering the limbs when doing acrobatics. A perfect fit for a cat burglar. Wouldn’t have picked anything different.
“Good choice. I didn’t expect less from a professional.”
I grab zip-ties and rolls of tape in my backpack. I anticipate she’s a mistress of escape. Zip-ties are the best start – rope knots would be too easy to loosen, and handcuffs would literally be easy pickings. She’d probably be able to remove the zip-ties if they were on their own, but hopefully the additional layers of tape will prevent her from doing that.
“I apologize in advance. But I know first-hand how slippery you are. Can’t have you running around and ruining everything.”
I begin by zip-tying her wrists and her ankles. I then wrap a few layers of sturdy package tape around the legs, the wrists, and the shoulders to immobilize her main limbs. I also make sure to fully cover all the zip-ties with a few layers of tape. To conclude, I wrap a few layers of tape around the lower face and over the mouth to gag her.
Once my counterpart is properly restrained, I temporarily leave her on the floor, drop my dark clothes, and get dressed in her costume. The outfit even feels familiar against my skin. Such an odd experience... I finish by putting on the Black Cat mask.
Then I go to the door of the maintenance closet.
I knock three times.
“Okay, Red. I’m done.”
Mary-Jane exits the broom closet in which she has been hiding all this time.
Earth-USB Mary-Jane Watson – also known as ‘Pixie Cut MJ’ to differentiate her from all her long-haired counterparts – glares daggers at me. She’s been her usual moody self ever since we’ve walked through the inter-dimensional portal – and her time in the closet didn’t improve her disposition.
“Why did I have to wait here?” she complains.
I grab my counterpart by the armpits, and begin to drag her. “I couldn't trust you to restrain yourself. An opportunity to strip and truss up a Felicia Hardy, even if it’s not your Felicia Hardy?” I shake my head. “Temptation would’ve been too big.”
Mary-Jane notices my counterpart is only wearing her underwear.
“Did you have to steal her costume?”
I lay my burden inside the broom closet. “Of course! Didn’t you notice the differences with mine?”
“They look alike to me.”
I pause the time to check Other Felicia’s restrains. I decide to wrap a few layers of tape around her thighs and calves, to make sure she remains seated. I'll spare her the hog-tie, a favor from one Black Cat to an other.
At the same time, I answer MJ: “That’s because you’re a former performer, not a former model. The devil is in the details.”
Mary-Jane raises an eyebrow to show she’s unconvinced.
“Look. The white fur on the collar is longer. And there’s some on the elbows. The cleavage is also one centimeter longer. And…”
“Okay, fine, I got it, whatever. What now?”
I close the door to conceal Other Felicia, then I eye Mary-Jane’s plain clothes. She’s not wearing second-hand garments anymore, thanks to the ‘salary’ Kate Bishop paid her. But years of struggling to make ends meet have taught her to be thrifty, and old habits die hard.
I smile. “Now? We give you a change of costume. It’s on its way, actually. We just need to part it from the girl currently wearing it.”
“You better not send me back in the broom closet…”
“Of course not.”
“Thank God!”
“You’re hiding in the crate over there.”
“FUCK!”
**************
Jackpot enters the warehouse through a window, using some cable to show off all the way to the floor.
This version Mary-Jane Watson feels at the same time very similar and very different than mine.
Same height. Same facial features. Same skin tone. Same chestnut brown eyes and red hair which veers on the slightly auburn-ish.
Yet, her demeanor and general style both ooze confidence. She’s clearly a girl who’s comfortable with herself, with her looks, and with her superpowers (or lack thereof). Her hair is armpit-long and smooth. She doesn’t cut or tie it up. The Jackpot costume highlights her figure, and actually looks quite expensive.
It’s a bright red bodysuit with a black V on the cleavage area. The upper-part of the costume, above the V and around the collar, as well as the long sleeves, are white. There is a pattern of yellow card-shaped rectangles around both thighs. She’s wearing black boots, and one little grey bracelet on each wrist. Big orange reflective glasses conceal her eyes and face above the nose. Finally, around her right forearm, there is a thick golden metal bracelet with three slots, the source of her costume's power.
Also, is it me or is she a bit curvier?
“I almost waited.” I mock-complain. "This portal won't investiage itself."
If there’s one good thing with mugging and impersonating your counterparts from other universes, it’s that it makes it easy to get in-character.
Jackpot walks towards me, dusting herself. “A proper lady is always fashionably late.”
“True. But I don’t see one around.” I teasingly retort.
She chuckles. “Someone’s feeling a bit crabby today. Did you get up on the wrong foot? You look a bit… disheveled. Had trouble getting dressed?”
Jackpot casually brushes the shoulder of my cat suit. Her fingers linger on me a few more seconds than necessary.
Is it me, or is she flirting with me?
Oh, oh… I deduce my counterpart’s love life is even more complicated than mine...
I decide to test my hunch.
I enter Jackpot’s personal space, making sure my lips are closer to hers than a normal conversation would entail. “Careful. Those might be fighting words.”
She doesn’t pull away. Looks like I’m right.
“Quite the contrary. I think it suits you. Gives you a wildcat look.” Jackpot whispers back.
I play along. “Oh… You wouldn’t want to see me wild…”
“And what if I do?”
Okay. Scratch that. Playing along was a bad idea. Things are getting out of hand, and I certainly don’t want to steal the kiss she’s been saving up for my counterpart – who’s currently trussed up and thus in no position to receive any love confession.
I better bring this conversation back on more familiar waters…
I pretend to see something behind her. “Oh, hi Gwen!”
Jackpot reflexively turns her head.
I knock her out with a neck-chop.
She grunts, and crumbles onto the floor.
Phew! That's better! Knocking her out, stealing her outfit purely for a disguise purpose, and trussing her up. A lot less awkward (somehow)!
I grin at the unconscious woman. “Jackpot.”
MJ kicks the lid of her box away, and exits her hiding spot like some humorless jack-in-the-box.
“Oh no you didn’t…”
Her face alone makes it worth it.
**************
After I stop Earth USB-MJ from strangling me (really everybody fancies themselves a critic nowadays), we drag the unconscious red-haired heroine in a blind spot of the warehouse. I don’t exactly want somebody to see us through the window. Given the high number of people who can fly or swing from building to building, the likelihood is way higher than you think...
Mary-Jane is glancing at the Jackpot costume she must steal. On her face, there’s a mixture of horror and resignation. But also a faint twinkle of envy – the twinkle of a non-powered human who has to contend with super-powered individuals all the time, and no matter how much she tries could never not feel frustrated by her plainness.
Everything she lacked, everything she secretly envied, the Jackpot costume could give it to her. But she would only be allowed a brief taste of its power. She couldn’t bring it back home.
“A bit too flashy for you, if you want my opinion.” I intervene.
There! I did my good action of the day. Hopefully, it will cheer her up. Or at least take her mind off her inferiority complex.
It seems to work. MJ drops the topic. “So what’s her power anyway? Does she get to be super-lucky?”
“Not exactly. She has these Power Slots on her bracelet. It works as a slot machine for superpowers. She can activate the device and a random superpower would be bequeathed unto her.” I shrug. “In a way, it IS luck-based. So I guess you’re technically correct.”
MJ looks at her counterpart’s arm, and nods to herself. “So, you’re like her number 1 weakness.”
I roll my her eyes. I’ve never been much fond of the rumors I possess ‘bad luck powers’. Sure, it’s a useful way to intimidate petty criminals. But I dislike how it diminishes my accomplishments. I rely on my skills alone, thank you very much!
“Actually, that would be you.” I reply.
“Me?”
“You’ve got to be the unluckiest MJ of the Multiverse. You’re like a walking talking kryptonite for your counterparts.”
“Krypto-what?”
I sigh. How lonely I feel sometimes. “It’s from a comicbook. Forget it. Just take her outfit.”
Mary-Jane grimaces, and once more looks at her counterpart's face. “This is freaky.”
Still, she complies.
We work together to take off the boots, reflective glasses, and bracelets, then to unzip and peel off the bodysuit itself.
Under her superheroine costume, Jackpot is wearing underwear with some dual-themed coloring. The full-cup bra is red while the hip-hugging panties are black. Both have the same pattern of clubs, spades, hearts, and diamonds (the card motives) – black for the bra, red for the panties. Her white socks also have a black-and-red card motives pattern. The undergarments are at the same time comfortable to not hinter movements, but also designed to be sexy – with decorative lace.
You want my honest thought? I prefer my Mary-Jane, with her surly demeanor, plain appearance, and cheap clothes.
MJ slips into the outfit.
To give her some privacy, I restrain the unconscious Jackpot in the meantime. This version of Mary-Jane also has no superpowers by herself, but since she hangs out a lot with her version of Black Cat she’s most likely an accomplished escape artist. Best not take any chance.
“A part of me is tempted to leave you with your Felicia. You two clearly have some pent-up feelings to sort out. But I’m sure you’ll find a way to free each other if I do, so… Sorry girl, but kinky bondage roleplay will have to wait for an other time.”
I zip-tie then tape her limbs. Next, I wrap her shoulders and upper-arms with tape. Finally, I gag her with tape, wrapping a few layers to make sure she can’t use her mouth to loosen her bonds somehow.
Then I leave her lying on the floor, and I ask my partner: “Are you done?”
“It’s the right height, but it does feel a bit… baggy.” Mary-Jane remarks with a pout.
Feeling annoyed, I groan to myself. “Are you SURE you’re a Mary-Jane Watson? Or have you been Betty Brant in disguise all this time?”
The redhead blushes madly.
I then notice why my partner is sounding so uncomfortable. The Jackpot costume is indeed a good fit – except around the breasts and the butt, where it’s indeed too baggy.
Feeling merciful, I drop the subject.
Instead, I drag Jackpot to the crate MJ used as a hiding spot, and leave the superheroine inside. No need to further restrain her, the crate is small enough to hinder her movements. I don’t fully close the lead, to let some light and some air enter.
"Don't forget the wig." I tell my partner.
My Mary-Jane thus keeps doing what she does best – complaining.
“Now remind me why exactly we needed to steal their identities?”
I look her dead in the eyes. “April 1st.”
“What?”
“April 1st.”
“But- But it’s June!”
“So what?”
MJ’s face turns an interesting shade of red.
“You-”
**************
Mary-Jane Watson (Earth-USB) woke up screaming and panting, and almost fell off her bed.
It took her several seconds to calm herself.
"A dream... It was... just a dream..."
She groaned and rubbed her face.
“What a nightmare… I dreamed I was Felicia…”
More groans.
More face-rubbing.
“No more Diet Pepsi before bed.”
**************
As the last part SUBTLY indicates, the bulk of this draft was actually written during the last weeks of March.
So don't look too much into it. I just got the drive to finish it today.Basically, just because I came across this panel while wasting time on Reddit threads:
https://www.spidermancrawlspace.com/wp- ... 4/04/7.jpg
I swear, comicbook artists just don’t even try being subtle sometimes…
Jackpot / Mary-Jane Watson:
https://www.reddit.com/media?url=https% ... 2k7d1.jpeg
https://www.comicsblog.fr/images/editeu ... ackpot.jpg
Black Cat / Felicia Hardy:
https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Felicia_ ... Earth-616)
