She stood atop the giant skyscraper, gazing into the bright lights of the bustling city below. The cold air chilled her skin, sending a slight shiver down her spine. Dressed in her sleek black outfit that left little to the imagination, the Black Cat was on the prowl. While she may not have been equipped for the weather, she was definitely prepared for something more devious. Taking a quick glance at her digital watch, she noted that the green display read 7:29. Within the next minute, she loaded her harpoon gun with a grappling hook and had it aimed straight at the rooftop entrance of the adjacent building.
With an audible "swoosh", the compressed air from the gun sent the grapple slicing across through the night sky. It reached its target with precision accuracy, planting itself deep into the brick wall. She attached the other end to a pipe, checking that the rope was taut. The shadowy figure gracefully slid down the fibers, never losing her balance. Upon reaching the building, she quickly launched herself onto the roof of the entrance. Five seconds later, the door sprang open and an armed security guard dashed into action. He searched the rooftop, looking for the possible intruder that had set off the sensor.
The Black Cat remained perched above the entryway, smiling as the guard wandered in circles. With an insignificant flick of her wrist, she knocked the unsuspecting guard's hat off and sent him chasing after it. Now that guard was occupied, she dropped into the echoing stairwell. Prior to this little escapade, she had memorized the entire layout of the building from the architect's blueprints. She knew every hallway, office, and secret that the building hid---and she was about to unearth a few. On the twelfth floor, an old cleaning lady was pushing her squeaky cart down the abandoned hallway. The intruder heard the approaching cart making its way around the corner and went flat against the wall. Reacting instantly, she kicked a bucket of cleaning solution into the poor woman's face. The old woman screamed, instinctively rubbing her burning pupils and making it worse for herself.
Sprinting through the hallways, the Black Cat noticed a security camera directly under the office she needed to enter. She pulled a small bottle from her belt and coated the camera lens with black paint. Now she no longer had to fear being spotted. However, a new problem quickly arose. The lock to the door was encrypted with the latest security software. Lucky for her, she just happened to have the digital "skeleton key" for such a device. Detaching the small display device from her wrist, she slid it into the card access slot of the lock. Within seconds, the display flashed "approved" and the door clicked; she was in.
The old office was decorated with a modern motif. It was simple--not the place you would expect to find anything more valuable than a stapler or some file folders. Behind the desk hung a dreary looking picture of what the owner must have considered "art". It was such an obvious hiding place for what the infamous Black Cat was looking for. She inched up to the painting, assuming that it was probably surrounded by infrared trip wires. With a quick spray of some unknown solution, the laser lines became visible to her masked eyes. The only way she would be able to pull the picture off of the wall was to put her hand through the lasers. However, the cunning thief had a solution to this problem. She dug into the compartments of her belt, removing a shiny "L" shaped contraption. Moving ever so gently, she inserted the gadget between two of the lasers. They lasers instantly bounced off the mirrored surface, completely changing course and allowing the young woman access to the mounted frame. She removed the frame from the wall and was greeted to the sight of a steel plate.
Unsure of how to open the safe, she haphazardly touched everything on the desk. She dug through all of the drawers in hopes of finding some type of switch. There wasn't much to the room, so it had to be somewhere in plain sight. She decided to pry into the filing cabinet next, which was filled with several empty file folders. She flipped through the files and eventually struck gold. The young woman noticed that one of the files was attached to some sort of mechanical wire. When she pulled up on the file, it triggered a switch that opened the wall safe. Anxious to examine her loot, the thief grasped at the items with her clawed hands. What she pulled out, however, was not what she had expected. Wrapped in a shroud, she uncovered what appeared to be some kind of ancient tablet. Foreign writing was scrawled all over its rocky surface-- undecipherable by any human language. Without warning, she felt a stiff blow slam against the back of her head and everything went pitch black.
The Black Cat awoke in a daze with the back of her head pounding. The bright light in the center of the room made it difficult for her eyes to focus. She felt around, hoping to regain her bearings. All she could feel was the cold floor beneath her sprawled body and what she believed to be the leg of a metal table. The clanking sound of a chain echoed throughout the chamber as she tried to rise up.
The spots began to fade from her vision and the dull features of the room invaded her retina. All of the walls were a shade of grey, with an imposing steel door to her right. She noticed that it was without a handle, meaning that the door could only be opened from the outside. The woman rose to a crouching position and noticed that her left leg was chained to a table.
Her first thought was to lift the table, but she soon realized that it was bolted to the floor. Her next idea was to use the pocket torch in her belt, which she soon discovered had been removed. She grew nervous as she fiddled with the metal clasp that tightly secured her ankle. There had to be a way out.
Moments later, the metal door swung open and the Black Cat was able to see her captor.
"I doubt you'll be able to get that off," he said with a smirk. "It's magnetically sealed."
An overweight man stood before her, dressed in a security uniform that seemed a size too small. His gut spilled out over his pants and he looked to be incredibly out of shape. She noticed that he had on a belt with a holster, but she became disheartened when she realized that it was empty—that could have been her quick ticket out. The guard let the door slam behind him, keeping his distance from the prisoner.
"How are you kitten?" he asked, positioning himself as far from her as possible.
"You think you've caught me, but you haven't," she bellowed. "If you or any of your goons come close to me I will kill them. That's your only warning."
"Do you actually believe I haven't considered that?" said the guard wryly. "If I was concerned with you hurting me, I would have restrained your hands."
She thought it strange that her leg was the only restraint that had been put into place, but she chalked it up to the inexperience of the security team. After all, she was sure that none of the guards had ever dealt with an intruder of her prowess.
"Do you know who you're stealing from?" the guard asked, clearing the phlegm from his throat.
"Of course I do," she barked back. "Wilson Fisk, better known as the Kingpin. He owns every office in this part of the city."
"So you're acquainted with his power and you've heard the stories of what happens to those who try to take from him."
"I know more about the Kingpin than anyone else in this city," she exclaimed, drawing her hands into a tight fist. Just the thought of that fat bastard made her blood boil.
The guard continued, "Then you know that when we hand you over to him, you can expect a very long and painful death. With a body like that, you'll probably become his personal servant for several months. He'll have his way with you, and then pass you around to all his billionaire friends. When all is said and done, he'll torture you until death is what you crave."
She had been researching Wilson Fisk since the age of fifteen, and had discovered that he ran New York's largest crime syndicate and had his fingers dipped inside every racket the town had to offer. She knew that prostitution was a big part of Fisk's income and he wouldn't hesitate to use her as a sex slave.
"What do you want?" she asked while keeping a stern composure. She didn't want to appear afraid, but a meeting with the Kingpin would be her end.
"For starters, I want to know your name. I read all about you costumed freaks in the Bugle, but I've never been this close to one. What do they call you?"
"I'm known as the Black Cat," she answered with a grin.
"The Black Cat? There was an article about you in the paper last week. The curator at the Metro said the cameras caught a glimpse of a woman stealing some priceless piece of art; coined her as a cat burglar. Was that really you?"
"Do you think I'm going to admit to something like that?"
"Unless you'd rather tell it to Mr. Fisk," he harshly responded.
The Black Cat considered what her captor was saying and uttered a barely audible "yes".
"I am inches from New York's famous cat burglar," said the enthused guard. "Now what do we do?"
She stood in silence, crossing her arms and tapping her foot lightly against the slate floor. Her goal was to give the impression that she was in no way interested with what her captor had to say. After thirty seconds of listening to the hum of the ventilation system, she spoke up.
