characters i write for (taking other marvel characters but these are my speciality) -
MARVEL - peter parker (raimi, mendes, mcu, insomniac), harry osborn, johnny storm, bob reynolds
MISC - angus tully (the holdovers) , dps boys, steve harrington (stranger things) , sherlock holmes + james moriarty (young sherlock), jimmy olsen (DC), luke skywalker (star wars)
CW/TW: swearing, mild violence, sedatives, mentions of prison
Another night, another heist.
There's got to be a way out of this.
You'd been scouring the data Spider-Man gave you since the end of dinner, huddled in your blanket, with an empty glass of Harry's infamous chocolate milk beside you. He wasn't exactly 'fine' with you just yet, but he'd certainly been warming up.
The obvious connection was K!NGP1N, but you couldn't help feel like there was something else. It was all too simple. Far too simple.
And Fisk wouldn't be that stupid. He was subtle with these things. You respected that about him. Besides, he's the only person in New York that seemed interested in helping you. A few more jobs and he'd secure your father's release. That's what he'd said. That's what he'd promised.
You yawned as the alarm on your phone went off. 2:15 AM.
Showtime.
You slipped your mask on and slid open the window. The cool breeze hit you and you exhaled. The stuff that Fisk had you testing recently had made heisting easier. Maybe not easier. Harder for everyone else. Something with psionic probability. You'd get Harry to explain it properly another time.
The warehouse stood at the edge of the river, rusty steel and flashing lights. More guards than you'd anticipated. From your vantage point on the roof you could see half of Manhattan. And Rykers. You wondered if your father was sleeping.
There was a guard directly below you. The painting was being held on the third floor, waiting for a private buyer to come and collect it in the morning. The guard stumbled as you dropped down beside him, momentarily dazed. You covered his mouth, whispering an apology before sticking a sedative into his neck.
You didn't want to hurt him, just keep him out of the way.
Clambering along the ledge inside, you could see the painting. There was a 30 foot drop, with approximately 6 motion sensors.
"Okay.", you muttered. "Easy."
You stepped off the ledge. There was nothing beneath you for half a second.
Until - you landed neatly on a narrow railing 10 feet below. You hadn't aimed for it. You hadn't even seen it. You'd been testing the limits of Fisk's little enhancement the last few heists. You didn't fully understand it. Things that could happen seemed to become things that did.
You swung off the railing and landed by a door. And a security guard. He stared at you, reaching for his gun.
"Having a good night?", you grinned at him. He stared back, hand twitching. He couldn't have been much older than you, and he looked more nervous than anything. You almost felt bad, placing your hand over his own as he gulped. Then jabbed him in the neck with a sedative. You broke his fall as he dropped to the floor, sleeping.
You typed in the code for the door that Fisk had given you.
0779
It swung open and you walked in, glancing around for traps. A small painting in a glass box stood at the centre of the room. You stared at it.
The ethics of theft were something that you didn't tend to dwell on. Stealing art from rich people didn't have much impact on the majority, and you'd grown a taste for the excitement of it. Besides, you weren't sure how you felt about personal art ownership anyways.
There was an art to theft. Patterns. And you were good at patterns.
You started to cut the glass with a retractable claw. The whole cat persona felt gimmicky at first, but Fisk had insisted on it, and you'd begun to enjoy the stupidity of it. The retractable claw sliced against the glass and a thin white line appeared beneath its tip. The cut reached the final corner.
“See? Easy.”
The panel gave way but you grabbed it before it could fall, placing it on the floor. You leant your hand into the box to pick up the painting. And triggered an alarm.
"Fuck!"
A bell screamed around you as you grabbed the painting and tucked it under your arm. Doors slammed somewhere downstairs and you could hear boots rushing towards you.
“You've got to be kidding me.”
A laser swept across the room. You ducked on instinct. "C'mon, lasers too?"
You rushed out of the room, slamming the vault door shut behind you. The alarm kept wailing as three guards poured into the room.
"Wait, this doesn't seem fair.", you frowned at them, gesturing to yourself. "Three Vs One?"
The nearest guard lunged for you. You ducked, kicking his feet out from under him. “Sorry.”
Another guard tripped over his own feet, knocking his head against the concrete. You winced. The third raised his gun, pointing at you.
"Enough of your games, Cat."
"What? You don't think this is fun?"
You held the painting in front of you. He couldn't shoot without damaging it. His eyes widened. "Drop it."
"Drop it? Dude, isn't this like super expensive?"
"Final warning."
"Sure, then, whatever you say."
You flung the painting in the air. He reached for it, abandoning his gun. You slipped underneath his arm, grabbing the weapon, catching the painting before it hit the floor, and drove your elbow into his ribs. He winced as he doubled over. You slammed a knee into his forehead. “Definitely sorry.”
You looked toward the window, coming your head. One of the guards was still sleeping by the door. Something about him reminded you distantly of Harry, who was probably tucked in his dorm bed back at school, and a pang of guilt thrung through your stomach. That didn't matter right now. There were more guards coming, and you'd place money on Spider-Man making an appearance.
"Okay.."
The window shattered and you jumped, landing in the shallow end of the river. You held the painting high, clambering to the shore. You could hear guards shouting in the warehouse. And you ran.
You were on a distant rooftop by the time Fisk got into contact. His voice echoed down the phone.
“Status?”
You grinned. “Got it.”
“Any complications?”
You paused, glancing at the direction of the warehouse, where sirens were still blaring.
“Define complications.”
Silence. Fisk wasn't exactly big on humour.
“Get to the extraction point.”
“On my way.”
You skipped between the rooftops, and far below, a siren wailed. Somewhere across the city, your father slept. You wondered, briefly, what he would think if he ever found out what you had become. He'd be proud, surely.
in which harry osborn is dating mary jane “mj” watson, who is peter parker’s lab partner. peter is not quite sure what is going on, but he might be a little too worked up to care? mj’s perspective! no pictures, but you know what harry was asking for. thinking about making a little series of these if y’all like
Harry Osborn @/osbornhaz
@/mjwatts you busy pretty girl? send something for me to enjoy before my meeting ;)
Peter Parker @/pparks
@/mjwatts Hi, MJ! I don't mean to bother you, but I was just wondering if you could send me the notes you took for our experiment? I spilled coffee on mine lol. No rush. Thanks!
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Harry Osborn @/osbornhaz
@/mjwatts um why am i looking at ur homework?
Peter Parker @/pparks
@/mjwatts oh my god that was so much better than science homework what
