Cat's Cradle
I stand on the edge of the rooftop, the city stretching out beneath me. The wind tugs at my hair, and for a moment I just let myself feel it.
People think what I do is carefree.They don’t see the nights I sit in the dark afterwards, counting my luck. Luck isn’t free, it always bills someone else later.
I used to believe the universe owed me. That if I took enough, stole enough, danced close enough to the edge, I could rewrite the story my father left unfinished. Now I know better. The universe doesn’t owe anyone.
Spider-Man… Peter. He still believes in second chances the way others believe in natural laws like gravity. I envy that. I also resent it. Every time he looks at me like I’m more than the sum of my heists, I feel the old itch to run. Because if I’m not the villain in someone else’s story, who the hell am I?
MJ is the same way. Always trying to offer a form of redemption.
Maybe that’s my real greatest theft. The moments I steal from myself. The moments where I almost stay. Where I almost trust.
Tonight the city is quiet. No sirens chasing my shadow. No web-lines cutting the sky. Just me.
Black Cat doesn’t get soft. She doesn’t get sentimental. She gets even, or she gets gone.
But Felicia…
Felicia is still deciding who she wants to be.