Lost
Chapter 2
Felicia Hardy sips the expensive tea in her hands, looking down from her small apartment window at the (not exactly beautiful) city. It was truly hard to find a connection to sell the diamond, but back in Queens, she had connections, all of which kept her identity safe. It was heartbreaking when she gained internet access via the phone she purchased; this was not her world. Whatever those thugs were working on at the warehouse was something that neither she nor Peter should’ve dealt with. Black Cat and Spider-Man did not work with interdimensional crap; it was something they both wanted to stay away from considering Peter's past with the Avengers.
Speaking of the Avengers—people Felicia Hardy preferred not to know personally—it seemed this universe had an equivalent to that, the Justice League. Despite Peter absolutely hating magic and dimensional sh*t, he was a scientist at heart. The thought of him fangirling right now brings a pain to her heart.
Peter had truly been her little brother. They worked together so well that she is honestly glad she's in this situation and not him. He didn’t have the guts to push aside his morals to steal to survive; he most likely would’ve been homeless.
Felicia knows she was cheated out of money when she sold the diamond. It was definitely worth more than fifty-five thousand dollars. She couldn’t bring herself to care. So now as she stands looking over the city in her small apartment, everything from the past two days hits her.
Her hands tremble around the cup, and she’s sure she’s going to drop it from the sheer amount of her sobs, so she sets it down on a nearby table and crumples to the ground. Her heart aches.
Sadness and grief are nothing new to Felicia; this is a familiarity that many like her wish wasn’t something she was so close to. Her hands grip her hair, and she questions if she's even taking in air. By the way her lungs burn, she's sure she's gasping. Her vision leaves her as the dim lights fade.
Her back aches when she wakes up, and her head throbs. She can only sigh as her healing process is restarted.She knows it won’t go away, but she will live to see another day. Only now, she doesn’t have her little brother and his stupid pop culture quotes. This world is not her world, not without him.
Peter truly was her only remaining family member—or at least the only ones she knew. Felicia’s father, Walter Hardy, passed away years ago. Lydia, her mother, was unheard of. Felicia was initially scared to consider him family because, with her past and dysfunctional family, it was difficult for her to get close to anyone and even be considered a friend. But she had grown to care for the boy, and pushing him away only hurt her more.
For the time being, Felicia simply gets up, stretches (Peter would have commented on her acting like a cat, sleeping everywhere, stretching, etc.) and tries to figure out what to do.
Batcave 6:06pm
"Master Bruce, it’s been three hours, will you take a break?" a soft, posh British voice asks. Alfred Pennyworth stands just behind the seat at the batcomputer; the figure in the seat is none other than Bruce Wayne, better known as Batman during his crime-fighting nights.
He’s been working on tracking down and doing justice to whoever stole the diamond from D'angelo's. He blames himself for not expecting this. The diamond is one of America’s best; he just hadn’t assumed someone would’ve gone for it the day it came in. Obviously the person knew about it beforehand, and was just waiting for the correct time. He just doesn’t understand why they wouldn’t try to make a move on it when it was shipping.
"Master Bruce." His heart may have stopped at the statement.
"Yes, I do need some sleep." His voice comes out all rough from not speaking for a while. Unlike his son, Tim Drake, who mutters about when he’s on a case, speaking of him,
"Is Tim sleeping?" Alfred looks on knowingly. Gods that man knew everything. "Master Tim should be in bed, but he is most definitely up working on this same case on his tablet. "As for Master Grayson, he is out with Damian."
Bruce hesitates before asking, "Has Jason called?" It's spoken with a twinge of hopefulness; anyone who didn’t know the big bat himself wouldn’t have caught it.
"Yeah, I did, old man. I have a lead on the diamond." A gruff voice sounds from the elevator.