Chameleon

2

"Ghosts"

…earlier at night…

“We’ll take care of this, girl,” Officer Monroe, one of many corrupted cops that Fisk planted inside the NYPD, reassured her after he and his partner, Officer Yang, loaded the body of the Ravencroft's employee into the backseat of their unlicensed car for later disposal. “Is there anything else from the scene? We can’t leave anything behind for the Pigs to sniff about.”

Felicia contemplates, thinking about the weird skin mask she found, but dismisses them with a shake of her head. Both corrupted cops leave the back alley of the Zenith Club soon after, leaving her alone with the faint thumps of the blaring EDM inside the building.

Felicia fished the body-horror-inducing object out of the back of her jeans, inspecting it thoroughly, and came up with a mild headache. “Maybe Mason knows what to do with it.” She mumbled to herself, fishing her phone out next and dialing Isabella’s number.

“Bella? Something comes up, I gotta run.” She tucked the object back into her back pocket and started making her way out of the area, heading for the warehouse where the bootleg tinkerer of the criminal world resides. “Sure. See you later.”

“Do you have to keep me in this?” The silver-haired woman demanded with an annoyed tone, while the vigilante crouched in front of her cocoon body with squinted lenses.

“You are cuter when you are not punching me, so, yes.” Spider-Man bopped her nose a bit in teasing, “Now, talk.”

She sighed deeply, accepting the humiliation of it all, and started answering his question “I am in pursuit of a defector; one of my soldiers, simply put, betrayed us and fled to this city.” She offered, as vaguely as possible, and Peter was disappointed. He tuts at her elusiveness and lack of elaboration, wiggling his finger while doing so.

“I’ll have to give you a D or at best C for such a low-effort essay like that, miss,” Spider-Man said, “Who is this defector? Why are they here? And what is this Ethan Hunt’s mask?”

“What’s it to you, Spider-Man? I am here so that I can take care of the defector before she can do any damage to YOUR beloved city and its denizen; there’s no reason to meddle in matters that do not concern you.” She reasoned, but the vigilante was having none of it.

“It concerned me because your defector had already hurt an innocent,” Peter hissed lowly, creeping closer to her with seethed malice “This thing was found in the crime scene where your girl shot someone; someone who didn’t deserve any of it.” Spider-Man offered her as much as he could without giving away the connection between Gwen and himself in the matter, “So, either we work together, or more innocent people suffer,”

They kept a moment of silence between one another stretched for a while until the woman agreed with the conviction of NYC sentinel. “…We called her the Chameleon within our ranks. Specialized in infiltration and espionage.” The woman explained, “Recently she was to dissolve a conflict over the Symkarian and Latverian border, until out of nowhere she deserted without an explanation or notion in advance. Dropped off the radar, until I heard about that mask inside the police’s evidence locker; I know it was her.”

“I thought the conflict was solved years ago?” He had, from time to time, caught up on the international news like everyone.

“That's what the public knows about; in actuality, Doom never left us alone in peace as he has constantly incited civil wars and slaughters to strengthen his power.” She clarified his confusion. “Symkarian government did nothing to retaliate, allowing Doom and his forces to destroy and rob the lands from our children; steal their futures.” She spoke with a burning passion, her teeth grinding against one another at the mere mention of the Monarch’s name. Peter still remembers the smug air of superiority the man exudes when they first met.

“I could not see your face, but somehow I sensed a doubt in your…posture.”

“Can you blame me? You just told me that a warlord runs rampant, and nobody knows about it; I mean, this is a huge rock and all, but at least, the World Council should have been aware of something like that.” He countered, referring to the authoritative figure of the UN that has been controlling the Avengers since the formation of the Sokovia Accords in 2017.

“Information and influences, Spider-Man, is the currency of power; it can make a person more powerful than any superhero.” He knows, even if he hoped that at least the World Council would be different in this regard. Victor Von Doom might be a small country’s monarch, but no one can confidently claim to know the extent of his reach in the shadows.

“Okay, back on topic,” he convinced himself and his conversation partner “This Chameleon, who is she? And do you have any idea why she left your crusade to be here?” Peter sat down to drop the dynamic of superiority he’d impose on his captive, throwing a shocker at the cocoon to dissolve it while doing so. The formula required a specific tuned electrical discharge that differed from the one that Doctor Octopus managed to get out of and almost killed him.

“All I know was that she escaped from a HYDRA facility at a young age and wound up under my father’s care. She has no name, or at least did not feel compelled to let us know.” She started with a bit of returning comfort and her limbs could move again. “I enlisted her in a service to my country, as one of my elite soldiers,” she then gestured her head instead of her still webbed hand to the mask between them, “that was a technology she’d been utilizing; some kind of polymorphic polymer film that can be molded into the likeness of others.”

“Huh, neat,” Peter commented while inspecting the object again with more general knowledge about it now; he might need to take it back to the lab, there are some possibilities to be explored about this kind of technology. “Mind if I keep it?”

“I’d rather you don’t—”

“Thanks!” he tucked the mask into himself with a thin spray of his webbing. The woman scowled at him for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh. “Now, the motivation?”

“Not many would deter a person from their duty,” she concluded after a while, having stretched out her knotted muscles, and pacing around while Spider-Man kept his watchful eyes over her; he started admiring her strong and athletic figure, clad under layers of black did little to hide it.

If there are Lucy Lawless’s Xena the Warrior Princess cosplayers out there, this woman would be the de facto IRL one.

“Maybe it was a family affair?” She offered and Peter shrugged in reply.

“Possible; I would have booked it home from ongoing war as well if my family needed me,” not that he got any left to do a comparison, but still.

“Hmm…I can’t recall any relatives of hers, but there was a man who visited her once in a while.”

Peter perked at the information “Oh? You know who he is?”

“No,” she lamented for a bit “He comes and goes before anyone outside of the Chameleon can interact. I’ve overheard their conversation once; it sounded like Germanic.” The woman shrugged, at the end of her rope.

“Don’t tell me he wears a trimmed mustache,” Spider-Man joked, eliciting an amused chuckle from the serious woman.

“No, he did not.”

“…thanks, buddy. Take care of her for me, okay?” Peter said into the phone to Howard Stacy at the other end, locking the door to Susan’s apartment after himself. There’s a sound of something sizzling on a hot pan accompanied by a strong scent of aroma seasonings and cooked beef greases. “Hmm? Oh! Yeah, I’ll be there tomorrow…Yes, Gwen, I remember…Ha ha, funny…Love you, too.” He hung up after reaching the proper area of this luxurious apartment of his girlfriend/colleague/boss/lab partner.

“Oh, you are a bit early!” Susan’s voice came from the kitchen, and he navigated his way through the area to reach her from behind and gathered her into an embrace, burying his nose into the bundle of gold donned into a messy bun. Susan giggles at the tickle spot he discovered there and melts into his strong arms. “Gwen seems to be recovering fast.” She said, referring to earlier that she visited the younger blonde at the hospital.

“Thank you for checking up on her,” Peter said after planting a soft kiss on the side of her exposed neck, he enjoyed watching the meal preparation while resting his chin on the crook of her neck. He leaned into her touch when Susan withdrew a hand from cooking and placed it lovingly on the side of his face.

“She is my girlfriend as well, now, isn’t she?”

“We can work with that.” Peter smiled and kissed her shoulder one last time before detaching himself from the mature blonde. “I’ll set the table,”

“Don’t bother, dear. I was planning for us to eat on the sofa anyway,” Susan turned around for a bit to inform him.

“Oh? Alright. Guess I will take a shower, then,”

“How are you feeling, truly?” Susan looked up from laying her head on the constant rise and fall of his chest, relishing the warmth of his arms covering her as both lounged on the furniture with a quiet Doctor Who episode playing on the TV.

“…a bit angry…” he shrugged it out after a while, gathering her body a bit tighter.

“A bit?” Susan pressured, wanting him to fully understand the emotion within himself in this type of situation. Her hand plays with his knuckles tentatively, soothingly.

“…I’m pissed,” Peter admitted through a heavy sigh, burying his nose into the crown of Aurum on her head as if to center himself using her scent. “I want to find the person who did this as fast as I can, but so far I came up with nothing,” he added, and Susan shifted her body a little to get comfortable. She said nothing for a while, analyzing his admission while calming his nerves with her weight on his body. Looking over to the object of a disturbing sight he deposited onto the coffee table between the couch and the TV; an uncanny mask that almost perfectly resembled human skin.

“If your visual observations are correct, this kind of technology is exclusive and specific in origin. We might be able to isolate isotopes of particles within to identify possible locations it had been at?” she offered with a high brow, watching his expression turn from excitement to confusion.

Peter sported a confused grin before speaking, “We can…do that? That sounded a bit too advanced for my brain,”

“Quit selling yourself so short, Peter; but yes, we can. It might prove to be a long shot, yet having half-baked options is better than none, don’t you agree?” she beamed at him, and contended in the kiss placed on top of her forehead.

“I adore you, Doctor Storm.”

“The feeling is fully reciprocated, Mister Parker.” She reached up to capture his smiling lips, delving into their warmth and texture.

“So, what are you up to? Anything new about your mutations?” he asked as Susan straddled his lap, obscuring the sight of the TV. He holds her in place with each hand on either side of her snatched waist, caressing a sensual pattern into the tender flesh. He still questions himself at the sight of this woman and Gwen Stacy wrapped around him every morning.

“Hmm, If I recalled…” Susan sported that cute furrow of her eyebrows, “Mister Richards managed to differentiate the properties of mine and Johnny’s powers,” she did an air quote on that, “They stem from the ability to manipulate electromagnetism, obviously, but Johnny’s was more…limited in utilization than mine, theoretically.” She calls up a thin layer of compressed atoms the size of a notepad and has it hovering above her hand; the faint shimmering characteristic of it was the only visible aspect of the force field as far as human retinal capability is concerned. “It’s quite draining to sustain an applicable sized one, but it is fantastic nonetheless.” Susan smiled and was delighted as she felt the ghost of Peter’s stubble grazing the valley of her breasts.

“So, about that FemField name—” he started with a smirk.

“Not a chance.” Susan shut him up by pressing his face into her mounds. He tries to protest through mumbles, but Susan keeps holding him hostage and despite his superiority in physical strength, he lets her have her way.

...continues…

“Why have you done those things?” Teresa asked, still mindful of the cameras and the microphones planted around the area for monitoring as she directed the question to her father, in chains and on the opposite side of the bulletproof glass.

“Psychologically? Or are you lookingfor a logical explanation to make acase?” Richard coyly responded; they have been in this type of situation more than once.

Teresa pursed her masked lips to sell the façade and peruse the document that the institute managed about her dad “It says in here that you are inflicted by—”

“Severe scarring around the Hippocampus and nearby areas inside the brain; Yes, I’ve heard. I also find the explanation of my…progressiveness to be a split personality and failed repairment of the brain to be laughable, Johnson.” Richard shifted in his seat to lean forward, “But anyways, let’s chat; shall we?” Teresa nods, falling into a more comfortable posture.

“Why, you ask? Well, I’ve always been a strong believer in the betterment of mankind; whether organically or artificially.” Richard started with a subtle smile, signaling the person underneath the face of a man across the transparent barrier. “You see, Mister Johnson; Humanity as a singular entity has been in a…downward spiral, shall we say, due to our excessive obsession with securing our place as an apex species without competition or obstruction.” He continues “For example, we invented medicines in defiance of natural selection. It breeds a weakened and stunted, evolutionally speaking, genetic pool for future generations to draw upon. A few less fortunate individuals might be saved, stroking our needs of validations and the illusion of virtue, but the chainreaction stemming from that had ruined our chance to be strengthened.” Richard feels like sharing, and he knows that despite the brutality and vulgarism surrounding his words, the truths inside can be seen by many.

“What I have done, Mister Johnson; is preparing for them a step, a leap of faith into what lies beyond the shrouded sight dictated upon many in the name of safety and security. Chaos is the herald of progress; war, famine, pestilence, and death, all contribute as fuel and the weak lay as stepstones.” Richard finished with a malicious smile, seemingly satisfied with himself to prying eyes.

Teresa discreetly jotted down the emphasized words exchanged, disguised them as a psychological profile note as her mask should be doing. “You seem quite familiar with religion or mythology of one, however, I would like an elaboration on that.” She averted her eyes from the notes and to her father’s relaxing form.

“It’s truly so simple, Mister Johnson; God threw a rock at Earth when he wanted a new playground for humanity to thrive,” Richard replied, “And now is the time for the flood to bring about the better humanity, one born from a sea of water to populate the cleansed lands.”

“Did any of that make sense to you?” a warden asked as she was escorting Teresa/Johnson out of the facility.

“Frankly, Miss Hudson; I haven’t a clue.” Teresa shrugged with a sarcastic smirk. “Clearly; the man is deranged, yet his actions and meticulousness suggest a high form of intelligence and sanity. So, it’s hard to definite him to one or the other, technically speaking.”

“Seems to be a theme around here, huh?” Warden Hudson snorted, “One crazy motherfucker after another.” Teresa chuckled along with the woman’s comment. “Well, good luck, Mister Johnson; I hope for a full report soon.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Teresa answered and made her way towards the borrowed vehicle.

“Okay, pal, you just need to take a deep breath,” Peter advises the very frustrated Johnny Storm, as this marked the fifteenth attempt to use his power in the testing chamber Reed Richards rigged up after the Siege. Peter himself was in a protection suit; a fireproof, in-development, suit that RAC planned to release in about a year. “Don’t be Book 1 Zuko about it,”

“What?”

“Fire bending came from the breathing, not the muscles.” Peter offered with a nod to himself, while Johnny sported a look of confusion. “I meant; calm yourself down and let it out, don’t brute-force it.”

“You did not just Uncle Iroh-ed me, Parker,” Johnny crosses his arms with squinted eyes.

“It works for my man Zuko.” Peter shrugged with a smirk. “Come on, give it a try!” Spider-Man egged the mutated British man on, “Follow my lead; in…hold it…and out.”

Johnny Storm followed the instructions, feeling his racing heart slow down and clarity formed. Then, he closes his eyes as Spider-Man encourages him to do so and recalls the moment when he first ignites the flame.

After a moment of quietness, Johnny starts feeling the warmth gathering at both of his clenched fists and slowly loosens them while maintaining the sensation.

“The energy exchange ratio is steady, EMF around his body is in fluctuation.” Reed Richards narrated to the occupants inside the chamber and into the recording system. “I will increase 30% of charged particles into the chamber,” the super-genius announced and looked at his new hire, sporting a thumbs up as an acknowledgment. They must experiment with Johnny Storm inside a controlled environment and barren chamber to get an accurate analysis for further study and utilization.

Johnny, with his eyes still shut, feels the increase of energy in the air and how they obey the demand of his body to be absorbed as they rush inside. He felt the heat rising in both his hands, trying to dampen the instinctive fear of fire lest he might have to start again.

“50%,” Reed Richards announced again, and Johhny immediately felt the energy in the air.

“Let it out,” Peter commented as he saw the stunned breathing of the brother of his lover. “Visualize it, control it,” Peter noted the slight glow of both hands; like when you obscured a flashlight.

“90%” Reed Richards skipped a step and got a worried look from Susan Storm. “It’ll be fine, Sue,” he assured her, but his conviction is less than the arrogant curiosity in his voice.

Flickers of flame started manifesting on the glowing skin of the blond, so thin and almost incomprehensible if not for the mirage effect of heated air around them, but they were there. Johnny slowly opens his eyes and inspects them with excitement.

“Concentrate, don’t lose it,” Peter advises and signals Reed Richards to keep going. The Smartest Man Alive complied as he overloaded the chamber with 120% of the average charged particles normally found in an open environment, simulating the ordinary situation the Pyromancer will have to contend with in general. All of them witnessed the flame grow increasingly visible, giving off a hue of red indicating the temperature and energy intensity of it.

After a moment of exposure and constant exertion, Johnny Storm managed to nurse a decent amount of fire from his hands and stabilized it after two more tries.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Peter applauded and gave the man a thumbs up.

“How did you figure it out?”

“What?”

“How to use powers?”

“Umm…” Peter contemplated for a bit, then jumped towards the ceiling and stuck himself to it using the tips of his gloved fingers. He dangles in the bulky fireproof suit effortlessly, alternating between his left and right hands, and maneuvers around in a small circle to demonstrate his super-adhesion power. He dropped down after a while and approached Johnny with a reassuring grin. “Superpowers can rarely be explained in scientific terms, but one thing I know about mine is that the will to do it is the most important thing.” Peter then takes one of his gloves off and uses both hands to tug at the prototype adaptive suit on Johnny Storm to show off his infamous stickiness, “I can stick to any surface that I want to. So, I kinda theorized that it functions in tandem with the electrical signals from the brain; or our thoughts, to simplify it.” Then he let it go from his hands, easily. “I thought that your power might operate similarly to what I know; so, I decided to give it a shot.”

“Interesting observation, Mister Parker,” Reed commented from his station, trying to control the rigidity and elongation of his body while doing so; it proved to be more difficult than just ‘willed it so’ as the vigilante explained, but now he has the foundation to work upon based on the younger man’s words.

“We should start a group meditation?” Johnny Storm teased, half in jest and half in actual consideration.

“Heavens know you needed it since young age, dear brother,” Susan teased her brother after she was certain that he suffered no negative effects.

“Very funny, Sue,” Johnny flipped her off and Susan responded in kind with their identical smirks. “Can we take this further, Reed?” Johnny turned towards the inventor with a curious expression.

“Yes.” Reed Richards replied with a nod, looking through the terminal in front of him again, “I want to see how you absorb fire and maybe plasma in the future,” Reed opened the airlock for Spider-Man to get out and locked it again. “Nathaniel, disengage the hazard control system inside chamber F04,” Reed ordered the AI.

“Any surfaces?” Susan inquired as she helped take the outer layers off him. Peter nods and sporting a confident smirk.

“Glasses. Metal. Concrete. Teflon. Etcetera. I got it all figured out; sometimes in a…non-fashionable way.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. This one time my webs kinda snapped and I plummeted into the Chrysler; I reached my hand out in a panic, and it stuck to one of the windows. Some residents weren’t so thrilled about their cracked viewports, but I learned something that day.” He recalled the early days when he was in that homemade suit, brushing with death too many times.

“Are you certain you don’t want to rebrand as ‘Sticky Man’?” Susan teased him and giggled as his eyes bulged comically with a dramatic gasp. “Karma, dear,” the blonde bombshell smirked.

“Hey, Jules! Hey, Mister Grimm!” Peter announced his arrival as he entered the modified chamber that turned into Ben Grimm’s private apartment. Spotting his senior engineer taking notes while having the stone giant try several types of fabrics on his skin to find the most comfortable option.

“Hi, Peter,” Julia replied with a smile, gesturing for him to join them.

“Hey, Spidey,” Ben greeted him, seeming to be more in tune with moving around.

“How are we doing?” Peter alternated his questioning eyes between Grimm and Takeda, and it was the former pilot who answered him with a ‘meh.’

“There are some promising candidates,” Julia indicated to the separate tray of a couple of compatible samples; varied in weave combinations and elasticity to accommodate Grimm’s pseudo-chitin skin. “Never thought I would become a fashion designer with double engineering degrees, but here we are.” Both engineers cackled while Ben just snorted.

“It’s hard to hide all this handsomeness, eh?” Ben Grimm gestured to himself with a masking smirk; the man is resilient and optimistic, but everybody has a limit and his is burning fast judging from the damages shown on the furniture.

Peter ignores the sign of mental breakdown around the room and refocuses “There are some ointments and chemical composites that Mister Richards and Sue came up with, but your…unique mutations might require a longer period of exposure for them to take effects; that’s why Jules and myself suggested to make you a suit to help with it.”

“Like a full body band-aid,” Julia added with a snort, recalling the atrocious nickname that Peter came up with.

“Bod-Aid sounds cooler, I’m tellin’ ya!”

“You should be banned for life from naming anythin’ at all, kid,” Ben chuckled a bit.

“I made one mistake calling them thwippers instead of web shooters, and everybody never let me live it down!” Spider-Man spread his arms dramatically.

“Nope, you made more than a dozen, mister.” Julia snorted mockingly at him.

“What on earth possessed you to come up with FemField? If Sue didn’t like you so damn much, she might have walloped your head sideway for that.” Ben cackled and shook his head in amusement.

Peter and Susan reached the hospital around noon, wanting to spend their lunch break with the injured blonde. As they were ascending the stairs, Peter turned towards the woman who held his hand with a worried expression, which Susan sensed and looked at him with a quizzical expression, “Are you and Mister Grimm close?”

“What brought this about?” Susan tightens her grip a little.

“I’m worried about him; his mental state, I mean.” Peter offered, “I think he needs someone to talk to, but is afraid or refuses to reach out.” He, of all people, should know the feeling of an outcast.

They reached the floor where Gwen’s room was situated, “I knew him through Jonathan and Mister Richards, he was a pilot and one of the first few to invest in the contract with NASA if I recall.” Susan explained and the revelation got Peter a bit excited.

“He was an astronaut?!”

“Two tours to the ISS, and one of the best in the Air Force before that.” Susan elaborated using the information she got from the man.

“Wow, he’s cool!” the excitement died off when he recalled the current state of the affliction on the former pilot, “we have to do something about his condition; humans can only take so much until we break.”

The genuine compassion warms her heart.

“Why are you being mysterious?” Peter crept up from behind Felicia, maintaining a reasonable distance between them as her presence oozes hostility. Black Cat glared at him silently, a barely visible pout adorned her face that was illuminated by the moon.

“Cat…” he started, unsure of how to phrase the apology he had wanted to give her since his conversation with the Symkarian last night “I know I was a jerk.”

“Shocker,” Black Cat cut in sarcastically, making Peter wince at the biting wit.

“Yeah…I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said those things to you.” He presented to her a peace offering of a chicken Shawarma, still warm and very aromatic “And I’m sorry for hurting you.” He tugs his mask up halfway to shoot her an apologetic smile. He noted the scrunches of her nose when the salivating smell reached it, but the platinum-haired woman still refused to accept the olive branch.

He kept wiggling it near her, spreading the scent around them until Black Cat tutted with an annoyed look and snatched the wrapped goodness off his hand. She squinted her eyes at him while tentatively taking a bite, Peter rolled his eyes at the overdramatic show of skepticism.

They sat in silence, but the tense air around them was thinner. Black Cat stopped after the Shawarma in her hand got about half of it left and turned her head a bit to look at him, still munching.

“How did you know I am here?” Felicia inquired with curiosity.

“Jingles of the bell?” Peter teased, taking chances to see if she was less angry with him or not.

Felicia sported a look that said ‘really?’ and continued with her rooftop dinner.

“I was actually gonna meet someone else here; that Shawarma was for her, but it’s fine.” He explained while looking at the city lights, and listening to the sounds of traffic and life. He heard a hum of acknowledgment from her direction but wasn’t keen enough to notice a tinge of disappointment within.

“Another addition to the household?” Felicia asked, half in jest, and finishing the last bite.

“Is it a public knowledge or something?” Peter, baffled by the implication of how well-known his private love life is, inquired with his lenses squinted into almost the normal dimensions of human eyes.

“Doctor Storm is a famous name, both for her career and her looks, Parker.” Felicia explained, recalling the small charity event Mayor Harris hosted after the Siege to raise funding and strengthen his seat for the next election, “You two slow dancing and kissing was a very effective way to tell everyone to ‘fuck off’ from her.” Felicia now allowed a smirk to form, “And seeing that you and Stacy are still together, it’s just easy math.”

Peter sighed but regretted nothing.

“So?” Felicia pressed.

“No. We met last night, while I was looking for Gwen’s shooter.”

“There is someone who tolerated you enough to have a second date?”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that insinuation, but no, it was…something else.” He is adamant about keeping the fact that he was committing a crime last night away from the conversation.

“…suit yourself.” Felicia lamented with a sigh, crumbled the wrapper into a ball, and dropped it behind her. A silent ‘thwip’ sounded and Peter snatched it into his hand, then threw it with impressive accuracy into a trash can further away.

“Spider-Man?” a voice came from behind, causing both balcony-sitting enthusiasts to turn in the general direction of the newcomer. Peter, having his mask still half-revealed, smiled at the silver-haired woman.

Felicia, however, widened her eyes as if seeing a ghost.

A ghost of a woman that was taken from her.

Hair of the same shade.

Eyes identical.

The shape of ears.

And some unique features on her face.

It is as if her late mother appears in front of her.

“How was your day?” Peter started, gesturing for the newcomer to join him and Cat on the balcony.

“I am not here to exchange pleasantries,” the phantom of her mother replied to the vigilante, “and who is she? I never heard about you having a sidekick before.” The Symkarian inquired with a raised eyebrow, noting the beautiful emerald green of the woman’s pupil where light touches it.

“She’s more like a side cat,” Peter quipped, indirectly at the burping woman beside him on the balcony, who tossed a pebble nearby at his back. “A friend…I think?” Spider-Man shoots a quizzical look at the thief and gets a rolling of her eyes as an answer, “Acquaintances, then!” he announced proudly, a bit deflated but still chirpy.

“Well, are you certain that your ‘acquaintance’,” the older woman made an air quote “should be here as we discuss the matters at hand?” she stopped at the middle area between the two, hands on her hips, and look intently at the beanie woman.

“It’s not like I would listen to what he says, Broody,” Felicia smirked, hearing a groan from Spider-Man at the fact that she had definitely stolen the chance of nicknaming this one from him. She waited for that satisfying twitch of those eyebrows at the name before continuing, “I’m just here, enjoying the night when that webhead showed up. I’m staying.”

The Symkarian made an impressed face, looking at the vigilante, and saw him shrugging his shoulders as confirmation. Then she took out a manila folder from…somewhere inside her trench coat, and let it be yanked away from her hand by a line of webbing. “That’s all I could dig up about Chameleon using my contacts; her records were erased from most of the clandestine agencies, and what was left are crammed in there.” She heard Spider-Man hum along with her explanation.

“Chameleon?” Felicia questioned both with a look of confusion.

“A person under investigation.” The Symkarian answered.

“She’s Gwen’s shooter, maybe,” Spider-Man added the context for Black Cat. His lenses squinted as he focused on the information presented to him. Not long after, a presence drew near, and he caught a whiff of her fragrance then shifted a bit to allow Black Cat access to the document in his hands. “Which one is the real face?” Peter inquired at the page with around a dozen candid shots.

“The center.” The Symkarian answered, eyes scanning the sea of lights and ongoing normal lives; a sight lost to the Symkarians since Victor Von Doom’s coronation.

A picture of a young teen, maybe taken in her 16s at the very least, labeled with ‘Sep 2, 2021: Tarrytown Police Dept, Westchester County.’ With a comment scribbled down as ‘Xavier is dropping charges’ under the photo itself.

She was a short-haired brunette, with eyes the same shade as Peter’s; Felicia mentally noted, and a very disturbingly similar smirk as the Arachnid-themed vigilante.

“She’s almost you; but as a girl, Spider.” Felicia teased him with a smirk.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Peter protests despite coming to the same conclusion regarding the physical features of the Chameleon's true face; he shaved enough time to recognize some distinct features about himself, and some of those appear on this girl as well, which could be a total accident unless he got a little sister he did not know about by his already dead parents.

“No, I’m not. Look at those,” Felicia points at the picture “Those are exactly how I remembered yours back in your 17s.”

“Obsessed much?” Peter squinted his lenses at her playfully, relieved that they seemed to fall back to their usual dynamics around each other.

“Too dorky to not make fun of,” Black Cat grinned.

“Why was she arrested in Tarrytown?” Peter inquired to the Symkarian, noting the shift in her stance a bit at the question.

“A recon mission; gathering bits of intelligence about a secret facility.” That was as far as she was willing to depart with, but Spider-Man chided her with a tut at the fact that a minor was sent to do something dangerous; kinda like when he was illegally recruited by Tony Stark.

They look over the next few pages together, while commenting about the information among themselves; Peter asks her to find some connections with the criminal community of Manhattan while Felicia recognizes some small-timer names associated within.

“This was the man you mentioned?” Spider-Man pointed at a disguised figure covered from head to toe in black coloring clothes, but another glance at the hem of the coat revealed something he wouldn’t be able to forget anytime soon. “You’ve gotta be shitting me…” Peter groaned as he was 75% sure the man in disguise was none other than Doctor Octopus, or at least someone with the same octopi-inspired antics for prosthesis design…yes, this must be Doc Ock.

“A family?” Felicia noted the closeness shown in the discreetly taken photo, akin to that expressed by normal dads to their daughters or kids.

“It’s possible, but we do not have any possible ID for any of them.” The Symkarian offered with a sigh.

Peter memorized the case number for a moment before connecting a line with The Black Widow. “Yel? Yeah, sorry about interrupting your unnecessary nap time…of course I want something…oh! That’s great...yeah, he tends to overstuff himself sometimes…no, let her sleep, she needs to let the nanites do their work properly…Okay, I need you to look up a case numbered…” he relayed the information to the Russian spy and listened to her briefly perusing the case for a minute before adding, “She goes by the Chameleon…of course, you of all people should have heard of her, Bond with tits,” Peter sarcastically replied, “I want her name…alright, thanks Yel.” Peter ended the call.

“Bond with tits? Seriously?” Felicia asked with a look of mild disgust on her face. Peter shrugged, omitting the history of himself and Yelena Belova’s ongoing shit-talking each other.

“You found anything more on your…mom?” Peter, who had relocated himself and Black Cat to one of the eagle heads on the Chrysler, asked as she adjusted her position.

“Very little,” except the fact that the silver-haired woman from earlier could pass for her mother’s twin sister, “Kraven’s confession just pointing me away from him,”

“It was very noble of you to let him go; you know?” Peter commented, nudging his elbow on hers as they sat side by side.

“It’s the only way to shut you up,” Felicia snorted, harboring a tiny tinge of a smile on her lips.

It was almost calming and peaceful, if not for the truth that she’s a criminal and he’s a hero. The picture itself might look strange to anyone; Spider-Man and Black Cat sitting together, enjoying the night.

“I mean it, Felicity,” Peter turned his face to her, sporting a genuine smile, “I’m proud of you for doing the right thing.” Felicia loved the sound of her name spoken through his voice, even if it was a fake name.

But that’s the problem; he shouldn’t be friendly and supportive with her, not after what she’d done.

He shouldn’t be the one who makes her feel this pang of loneliness all over again, not after years of shutting them off from her mind.

He shouldn’t be the one who she wants to talk with, to joke around, or to enjoy just sitting near him in silence.

Shouldn’t be the one she was afraid to lose.

He shouldn’t be the one who makes her want to lay her head on his shoulder and just close her eyes.

“…thanks…” Felicia trailed off, scooted closer to him, and did what she wanted just like she always had; she slowly covered his flattened hand with hers and lowered the side of her head tentatively onto his tense shoulder, resulting from the sudden show of vulnerability and the uncertainty of the actions. She paused for a heartbeat and fully rested on his shoulder when she felt him relax.

He took their touched hands out front, gathered her closer, and held her hand in his bigger one with a comforting squeeze. Contrasting to the suffocating grip at the hospital.

She was always a selfish cat, and to take his oblivious kindness by withholding a lie made her feel disgusted; but she just wanted to feel loved, again, even just for a night.

“…wanna be friends?” Peter whispered into her ears. He sported a smile when he felt the nod of her head on his shoulder and kept looking over the city beneath them.