CAT SCRATCH FEVER | PETER PARKER

The Spider Will Play

Using the friction from her fingers, the cat burglar slowly lifted the unlatched window and stepped inside the high-rise apartment. Not waiting for her eyes to adjust to the inky darkness, she removed the black duffle bag strapped to her back and dropped to her knees, starting to go through tonight's loot.

"Ooo, now these are super cute!" She grinned, holding up a pair of black lace-up stilettos. "And they will go so well with this dress."

"Not sure they'll let you wear that in prison." A voice spoke out from the corner. "It might clash with the orange."

Black Cat snapped her head to the side, her green eyes lighting up with glee. "Oh, I like the new suit. Red and black suit you much better." She rose up off her knees and sauntered over to the plush black divan against the wall. "I was wondering where you were earlier," she purred, lying down over the sofa in a seductive pose. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long."

Peter moved out of the dark corner, his arms crossed over his chest, and his eyes narrowed into white slits. "Not at all. I kept myself entertained. You've got a pretty nice place here."

She laughed from behind her white fur-covered glove. "By snooping around through my drawers? I would have never thought you were so naughty, Spider." Black Cat crossed her legs as she leaned her head against the palm of her hand. "But I'm sure there was plenty in there to keep you entertained."

"Actually, what I found more interesting was the price for a place like this." He gazed around the room, studying each piece of furniture closely. "It's roomy. It's in the middle of Manhattan. Must be costing Dahlia Cryfie a fortune."

The smile on Black Cat's face grew wider. "Dahlia Cryfie?"

"Yes, that's who the apartment's leased under." Peter kept his arms pressed against his chest as he turned to her. Even though he knew he had nothing to worry about, he could still feel his heart pounding in wild, rapid bursts.

This seemingly caught Black Cat's full attention as she shifted her position and leaned over the divan. A wicked glint twinkled in her eyes. "Is that your final answer?"

Peter gave a dramatic shrug. "What else could it be? Except for an anagram that spells out Felicia Hardy." His eyes suddenly glared into her widened ones.

Black Cat's lips parted in a soundless gasp. "What? I do not know who you are talking about!" she exclaimed in the worst British accent Peter had ever heard.

"Oh, c'mon, Felicia." He shook his head at her attempts to throw him off. "I know that's your name."

"Felicia?" Her accent morphed into an even cringier Russian one. "Who is this Felicia? I–I am not Felici–Okay, yeah. I am," she admitted as her voice reverted back to normal.

"But there's no way you could have known! How did you figure it out?!" She pouted, stamping her heel against the wooden floor.

"I don't know. Maybe I just got lucky for once." He winked.

With a low growl, she swung her legs off the divan and sprung to her feet.

"Tell me how you knew!" Felicia shrieked, charging forward with both claws raised towards Peter's face.

But the web-slinger was ready for her. As her hand swiped for his mask, Peter ducked his head, catching her arm and flipping her over his back. Before she had a chance to regain her footing, he tightened his grip on her wrist, twisting it behind her back as he pushed her against the wall.

"A deal's a deal. I solved your little puzzle, so fix this!" he hissed into her ear.

"You forget, Spider." She wrapped her heel behind Peter's leg. "Luck is still on my side."