It was hot. Really hot. And even at night, with the clouds covering the stars, the haze made Felicia want to stay in, purchase an expensive milk bath, and soak up yummy feelings with champagne and Cocktails playing on her TV.
But she'd committed to a theft, and Walter Hardy's daughter was nothing if not professional. She was wrapping up the Jackson Pollack (her employer had no taste), and preparing to drop it off so she could rush back to the safe house Aunt Selina's hooked her up with, peel off her costume, and curl her toes to central air and a younger, less insane Tom Cruise.
Then she looked out the window and saw the Spider-Signal dancing off the clouds that, like a tease, promised rain but delivered none, and the Black Cat smiled eagerly. Someone had turned on her signal!
Well, not her signal. But Spider's. Maybe he was getting his wish and cops were there to ask for his help. More likely, because she did read the paper, they were there to arrest him. Like they stood a chance. But Spider might need help.
Dashing out of the high-rise apartment, Felicia brought out her grapple claws, and was soon near the signal's point of origin. Landing stealthily on the neighboring rooftop, painting wrapped in wax paper and tied to her back (making her perhaps less stealthy, but she wasn't about to part with her responsibility). She squinted her eyes when she saw a decidedly feminine shape, covered in eggplant and a black mask that kind of resembled Spider-Man's... she realized it was another vigilante...
Was that preening purple hussy making a move on her man?
Black Cat crouched down as much as she could and watched the pantomime unfold. She flexed her fingers, the springs in her gloves bringing her claws out, and retracting them, and repeating the gesture. Responsibility... forgotten.