Joe's Note: With the announcement that Spider-Man will be properly and fully integrated into the Marvel Cinematic Universe, this chapter among others promises to be problematic come May 2016… to say nothing of when Spider-Man: Homecoming releases on July 28, 2017. But with the Black Cat being an integral part of Cordelia's story, I really couldn't play 'wait and see'… and my decision to include my own Lehnsherr clan means that pretty much anything after Age of Ultron is going to be a pain in my ass anyway. The second scene is even worse, though, because doing anything with Carol Danvers is just as problematic as Wanda and Pietro from a long-term plotting perspective. Considering that I'm not sure I'm even going to use her in any real capacity, ruining my ability to adapt the events of Captain Marvel is probably a terrible idea… but I'm gonna do it anyway. Mostly because it gives me a new perspective to use for stories set within SHIELD. Enjoy.
Dedications & Thanks: To Nicholas, Alexander, Howard, MJ, Daniel, Christopher, Invernos, Ken, Wil, Koby, William, Leigh, Thyatira, Chris, George, Timothy, Jason, Noh, Crusifikz70, Jack, Pat, Chris, Mitch, and Jess for sponsoring me on P-atreon, and making it easier for me to spend more of my time writing.
November 1, 2013
Random Convenient Rooftop
New York, New York
Perched atop the wall that ran along the edge of the setback at the eighteenth floor of Nelson Tower, Gwendolyne Stacy let the radio chatter of her teammates wash over her as she watched the traffic roll by on Seventh Avenue. It was interesting, she mused, that the media always portrayed law offices as having… someone… working late. The lawyers themselves if they were the dedicated do-gooder types, or their overburdened paralegals if they weren't. But the law offices of Sim and Park were always abandoned when she arrived, even now on the first day of November with sunset coming at a mere 5:52 PM. Then a warm body pressed against her back, right arm wrapping around her waist tightly as the left hand came up to cup one of her breasts, and Gwen found herself very glad that these particular lawyers tended to end their days on the early side. "Mmm, and a very good evening to you too, Leesh. I take it you approve of my new look?"
Felicia Hardy - dubbed the Black Cat by city's rather unimaginative media - let out a throaty chuckle as she slowly ran her right hand over Gwen's stomach, her other hand still idly groping the blonde's right breast. "You could say that, yes. I don't think either of us has to, though, considering that I helped Red design your new suit… and I paid for ten of them for you… and you brought those atrocities you used to wear out in public over to my penthouse last night so that I could burn them in the fireplace…"
Letting out a noise halfway between a chuckle and a moan, Gwen leaned her head back against her girlfriend's shoulder. "Atrocities, huh? Is that why you bought one of those red and blue corsets that Leg Avenue was selling for Halloween this year?" She still couldn't decide what the most surreal part of that situation was: that she was being merchandised, that said merchandise included trashy Halloween costumes that were sold at adult stores, or that Felicia had bought herself a trashy Spider-Woman costume from an adult store. In front of Gwen. While they were both in costume.
Smartphone pics of that adventure were still popping up on both of their Facebook Pages, much to their publicist's dismay…
"I bought that thing because at some point…" Felicia slid her left hand up, tugging down the hood attached to Gwen's costume before pulling the blonde's mask up and off. "I'm going to stuff you into it just long enough to make you pose for all sorts of naughty pictures, and then I'm going to throw you down, tear it off you, and fuck you until you can't move anymore." Leaning in, she gave a long, slow lick up Gwen's neck and then nipped the blonde's earlobe playfully. "Sound like a plan?"
Before Gwen could formulate a response much less vocalize it, someone coughed loudly in her other ear. "…just out of curiosity, you two do realize that your radios are on, right?"
"Of course, Dexter. I figured that you wouldn't mind because this is the closest you get to action these days."
"Wow. Woooow. Mock the paraplegic. That's cool, Felicia."
"Keep complaining and I'll shoot down that drone you have hovering nearby watching us…"
"Shutting up. You do you. I'll just chill back here at the base and… keep abreast of the situation."
Twisting in her girlfriend's arms, Gwen hooked one leg around Felicia's waist for added stability before raising an eyebrow. The white-haired woman smirked and shot a look off to her right; following her gaze, Gwen spotted one of the group's matte black Parrot hovering about a hundred feet away with its upgraded camera pointed straight at them. "Peter, sweetie… you do know that my guilt over getting you crippled is going to run out eventually, right?"
Peter Parker let out a soft chuckle over the radio, navigating the drone over to hover in front of Gwen and Felicia. "Considering that you broke up with me while I was in the hospital with the broken back I got because someone wanted to use me to get to you… I think I've earned the right to enjoy myself a little bit, don't you?"
Rolling her pinkish-red eyes, Felicia ejected the claws embedded in her right glove and drove them into the belly of the hovering drone. "If you want to enjoy yourself, I'll go buy you the new Axel Braun film about us. And maybe someone to check if you even can enjoy things these days." As it plummeted toward the street, Felicia turned her head and offered Gwen a shrug and an impish grin. "I bought them. I can destroy them if I want to."
While that was technically true, dropping drones out of the sky onto innocent bystanders probably wasn't the best idea. Especially since they could be traced back to Felicia at a minimum, and possibly the group as a whole. Slipping out of Felicia's embrace, Gwen leaned over the edge of the roof and thrust her arm out… only to spread her middle and ring fingers at the last second, barely missing the trigger for her web shooter. Below her, a dark figure went shooting through the night air, grabbing the crippled drone mere feet above the heads of unsuspecting pedestrians. "Thanks, Recluse."
"Not a problem. I enjoy a bit of a challenge every now and then." Pulling up sharply, Jessica Drew raced up the side of Nelson Tower before cutting off whatever gave her the ability to fly. After a few more seconds of unpowered ascension, gravity took over and she did a backflip, landing neatly on the edge of the roof a few feet away from her teammates. Dropping the dead drone - easily the size of her tiny torso - onto the roof, she tossed her head to get her hair out of her eyes as she made her way over to join Gwen and Felicia. She looked Gwen up and down slowly, and then one corner of her mask inched upward as she arched a brow. "I like the new look. It's very… us."
Gwen frowned as she glanced down at herself, and then back up to take a closer look at Jessica. Gone was their youngest member's predominantly red and yellow costume, replaced with a black and white affair that looked like a simplified version of what Julia had recently taken to wearing as Arachne. With the underarm webbing added to help Jessica glide, of course. "It is, isn't it? What happened? Weren't you the one who said you'd die before you gave up the costume you designed?"
Silence reigned as Jessica and Felicia exchanged glances, and then Felicia began chuckling softly even as Jessica blushed almost as red as her original costume. As Felicia's laughter grew louder, the diminutive Asian sniffed and turned away, striding off down the wall toward the intersection of Seventh Avenue and 34th Street. "I had a change of opinion."
Following the retreating girl with her eyes, Gwen reached out and squeezed Felicia's hip with enough pressure to make the white-haired girl gasp. As the laughter died, the blonde reached up and thumbed off her radio, shooting her girlfriend an accusing look as she waited for Felicia to do the same. "I know we agreed to an open relationship, Leesh, but really? She's fourteen."
Felicia did her best to look innocent as she brought one hand up to her chest. "What? All I did was give her a little… hands-on assistance… with designing a more suitable costume." As Gwen continued her narrow-eyed stare, Felicia flinched and looked away, glancing back over her shoulder at Jessica before peering down at the street below them. "And are you really going to complain? Her old one was almost as big an eyesore as yours."
"Leesh… Felicia. Look at me." When her girlfriend refused to obey, Gwen reached out and fisted a hand in the albino's hair, giving several rough tugs before using it to reel Felicia in until their noses were touching. "I know that our lives don't give us nearly enough time together, and that's why I agreed to an open relationship when you asked. And I'm okay with it for the most part; I'm not going to interrogate you about where you are or who you're with when you're not with me. But for fuck's sake… keep it legal and keep it outside of the team. Or you can find yourself a new girlfriend and a new team. Understand?"
After a few rapid nods, Felicia tilted her head and pressed her lips against Gwen's hungrily. When they broke apart, the taller girl licked Gwen's cheek playfully before shooting her a sultry look. "Treat me like this more often and I'll do anything you want, sweetie."
Gwen shook her head at that before pulling Felicia back in for another fierce kiss as she let her free hand slide around the taller girl's hip to rest on her ass. After a few seconds, they broke apart and Gwen pushed up onto her toes, licking the tip of Felicia's nose. To be honest, Gwen had no idea whether her girlfriend actually had a predilection for licking and being licked, or whether she was just taking her 'cat' motif a bit too far as of late… but since it seemed to make Felicia happy? Gwen was willing to humor her. "If you want me to be more dominant, tell me. Don't act out to try and get my attention, especially not like that. Again, it's a really good way to find yourself single and teamless."
Even as Felicia gave a slow nod of understanding, a pair of soft thumps heralded both the arrival of the last members of their team and the end of their private time. Because unlike Jessica, neither Astrid Jansen nor Julia Carpenter was known for their consideration or their discretion. And sure enough, Astrid came bounding up from behind Felicia, sidling up on the albino's right side before looking Gwen up and down and grinning. "So, Felicia finally completed her collection, huh? Know what I mean, know what I mean? Nudge nudge, nudge nudge, know what I mean?"
Taking a step back, Gwen shook her head before shooting Felicia a look that was equal parts incredulity and disdain. "Please tell me that she isn't saying what I think she's saying." On a related note, she was going to punch Peter for introducing Astrid to Monty Python's Flying Circus. Not terribly hard, but she was still going to do it.
"Don't worry, she's not. Astrid's just baiting you because she's still hoping that you'll dump me so that she can be my rebound girl." Felicia shot an irritated look over at the young blonde, shrugging Astrid off before closing the renewed distance between herself and Gwen. Leaning down, she pressed kisses to Gwen's forehead and nose before pecking her on the lips. "All it took to get her out of her old costume was convincing Julia to trade up to a new design. Honest."
Gwen stared into Felicia's pink eyes for several seconds before leaning to the side, peering past her girlfriend to where Astrid had draped herself all over Gwen's favorite non-Felicia member of the Spider-Clan. "And how much… convincing… did Julia need?"
The lecherous grin she received in response told Gwen all she needed to know before Felicia opened her mouth. "She opted to defer payment." That brought Gwen up short. What the hell did that mean? "Next Friday, we're going on a date and a half. Us and her. Dinner, a movie, and then… dessert."
"Surely you can't be… don't you dare. Seriously, though? What did I just tell you?"
"You're the one who said you'd love to have a threesome with her."
"I was drunk! She's sixteen!"
"And there's a four year near in age exception, which means it's perfectly legal for one or both of us to be with her."
"But what about… wait, really?" Gwen looked from Felicia to the more distant Julia and back in disbelief. How had she not known about that, especially given her late father's profession? Fuck, she'd taken a pass on not one but two different girls who'd asked her out during her visit to ESU's campus in December of her senior year of high school. One of whom had been a really, really cute redhead with amazing… eyes. Forcing herself back to the here and now, Gwen shook her head. "We'll talk about this back at the warehouse. Then I'm going to talk to Julia, and Jessica too. If you're lucky, you'll still have a girlfriend in the morning. If you're really lucky, I'll let you scramble to make last minute reservations for three at a nice restaurant. And get us tickets for a play. If we're going to seduce her, we're going to do it right, damn it." Stepping past a gobsmacked Felicia, Gwen reached up and flipped her radio back on. "Okay, Recluse, you're the one with the eidetic memory here. What's on the agenda for tonight?"
Holding up one finger, Jessica continued to stare down at the street below her. "Warehouse on City Pier A. Drug and weapon smuggling. At least two Charlie Sheens worth of cocaine, along with some Stark tech that Iron Man hasn't scooped up yet and enough assault weapons to outfit a small army. Tell you more in a minute. Arachne, Chelicera, to me. White sedan headed southbound, four cop cars in pursuit. Safe to say that they don't want to talk to him about a burnt-out taillight." Without waiting for a response, she tipped forward over the edge of the roof and disappeared from sight.
Astrid swore under her breath as she peeled herself off of Julia, four bony white spider legs erupting from her back as she ran toward the edge of the roof. Bending her human legs, she launched herself out and across the gulf between buildings, spinning in midair and hitting the wall of Macy's Herald Square feet-first. Gwen let out a whistle of admiration as the younger blonde pushed off and plummeted to the street, landing on the trunk of the last police cruiser involved in chase; she would have been hard pressed to replicate such a precise jump. As big of a pain in the ass as she was, nobody could deny that Astrid had talent. Looking up, Gwen met Julia's eyes, and then raised a brow as the strawberry blond teen shook her head. "Three-on-one is a bit of overkill in my book."
"Recluse seemed to think otherwise."
"Recluse also thinks she's allowed to give orders, so it won't be the first time she's wrong tonight."
The corner of Gwen's mouth quirked up at that; Julia was her favorite for numerous reasons, her sense of humor chief among them. "Right then. Why don't we go scout out City Pier A, then? The others can meet us there." Julia nodded and turned away, only to pause when Gwen cleared her throat loudly. "I've gotta know… Felicia and I are a pretty new thing. You could have asked either of us out back when we were single. Why… this?"
Peering back over her shoulder, Julia grinned widely. "Who said I was ever interested in only one of you?"
November 1, 2013
Triskelion
Theodore Roosevelt Island, Washington D.C.
Special Agent Carol Danvers, formerly Second Lieutenant Carol Danvers of the United States Air Force, sighed as she stood with her arms out away from her sides, letting the aircraft maintenance technicians fuss over her. Or at least that was what she assumed they were most of the time, given that she'd seen them working on the Triskelion's complement of assorted F-35 variants. Maybe that was why she was feeling strangely akin to a twenty-four-ton fighter at the moment.
Except she wasn't a two hundred and twenty-million dollar fifth-generation multirole fighter. She was - at least as far as they knew - a mutant capable of self-propelled flight, who was durable enough to ascend into low Earth orbit if she so chose and survive there for hours at a time. Sure, she enjoyed being the center of attention as much as the next woman, but didn't these people have something better to do? She could almost understand the necessity of her personal hair stylist and the makeup artist: after the Battle of New York, people knew superheroes existed and expected them to be suitably photogenic. SHIELD wanted her looking good when she represented them and she couldn't style a fauxhawk right to save her life, hence the necessity of an entourage. But seriously, she literally had a young woman whose job responsibilities had been expanded to include inspecting, cleaning, repairing, and sometimes replacing her red gloves. Who was separate from the woman who did the same for her matching boots. Who was in turn separate from the woman who maintained the black catsuit that Carol tended to tear, burn holes in, or otherwise damage on a regular basis, as well as inspecting it on Carol before each 'launch' to ensure its integrity.
Okay, maybe the last one made sense, considering there were a few spots that were hard to see in the mirror or reach with her own hand to check. The others, though? It was the sort of bloat that explained why the government needed a three and a half trillion dollar budget to keep itself running these days. But hey, if this is what SHIELD wanted of her? She was game. It was certainly better than the alternative…
Carol did her best not to fidget as she stood rigidly at attention, staring at a spot over the head of the man seated in front of her. While she had no clue exactly who this 'Nick Fury' was, the fact that he had the clout to pick up an officer sitting in the brig pending the conclusion of an investigation regarding the spontaneous explosion - and total loss - of a T-38 meant he was important and therefore deserving of her respect.
"At ease, Lieutenant Danvers." Carol shifted position and looked down at Fury, who was closing the folder in his hands as he stared up at her with his one remaining eye. "I suppose congratulations are in order. Thirty minutes from now, you're going to be granted an honorable discharge from the United States Air Force and the official investigation into your little… accident… will be closed. Well, assuming you'd rather come work for me than sit in the brig while they try to figure out how you managed that particular feat, that is?"
Jaw working, Carol tried to articulate a coherent thought but couldn't. She was out of the Air Force? Four years at the Academy, along with a bit more than half of the year-long JSUPT program… gone. Then again, considering how she'd come to this man's attention, she likely wouldn't have been allowed to finish out her training and go on to a combat posting. Or any posting, for that matter. But still. Wanting to buy herself some time to think so she wouldn't say anything that might come back to bite her at a later date, Carol turned her attention to the panoramic window behind Fury, slowly looking from left to right as she took in the gorgeous view of the Washington D.C. skyline. She'd seen the base on approach in the chopper: a massive brutalist edifice smack in the middle of the Potomac River, just shy of the border with Virginia. She'd had questions about it then, questions she still had now. Excellent delaying tactic, if she did say so herself… "Exactly what is this place? Sir?"
Leaning back, Fury spread his arms. "This? This is the Triskelion, soon to be home to our nation's first, last, and only line of defense against whatever genetic curveball Mother Nature chooses to throw at the American people next. Most of our world's leadership would be dead right now if not for the fact that there's a mutant out there who likes us as much as Magneto hates us. I don't know about you, but that's embarrassing as hell from where I'm sitting. We shouldn't have to cross our fingers and pray someone comes along to save our sorry asses from mutant terrorists or lunatics who turn themselves into lizard men. So from now on? We're not. If you see a bank getting robbed, you call the cops. If you see a bank getting robbed by an angry green monster, you call us."
"Oh." Carol waited for a moment but when Fury offered no additional information, she gathered her courage and asked the big question. "So that's why you came and… helped… me? You want me to be Officer Danvers of the Superhuman Police?"
Fury arched the brow over his remaining eye for a moment before opening the folder again. "You were up for a tandem flight in a T-38 Talon training aircraft with Major Roy Thomas. Major Thomas ejected after the plane began to nosedive following a - and I quote - 'blinding flash of light' from your portion of the cockpit. According to both him and the recovered black box, you failed to eject and the jet exploded with you still inside. Soon after, Major Thomas spotted you 'floating buck naked in midair but otherwise all right'. You then proceeded to utilize an unknown method to control your descent and touched down near Major Thomas before proceeding to tear off a piece of his parachute so you could fashion a garment similar to a toga from it." Closing the folder, he set it on his desk before leaning forward to rest his elbows on his desk, chin in his hands. "Do you really need to ask why we're interested in you, Lieutenant?"
"At first, I was a little upset because I thought Director Fury was trying to replace me with someone younger and blonder. Then I realized that if he did, I wouldn't get sent on errands like the Culver University mission or dragging Banner out of Calcutta… and suddenly I wasn't so mad anymore." The AMTs abruptly decided their work was done and rushed off to find better things to do, leaving Carol to turn and find Natasha Romanoff walking towards her. Stopping a few feet in front of Carol, the redhead tilted her head to the side. "Aren't men supposed to wait until you're at least thirty before they replace you, though?" That was followed by a soft chuckle and a shrug. "Well, actually, I turned thirty back when your mother was your age. But I don't look it, do I?"
Well wasn't that the mother of all loaded questions? A reply that wasn't properly complimentary might leave Romanoff feeling insulted, and insulting one's superior was hardly conducive to a long and happy career in the military. Paramilitary. Whatever SHIELD technically was. On the other hand, being overly complimentary might give Romanoff the impression that Carol was a brown noser… or worse. Granted the repeal of DADT meant that expressing homosexual tendencies was no longer a career-ending offense, but certain things were still no-nos under the UCMJ. Being rung up on sexual harassment charges involving another woman when she wasn't even a… not that there was anything wrong with… best to avoid the matter entirely, Carol decided. "I'm not sure how I could possibly be a replacement, ma'am. Unless you have powers that I'm not cleared to know about yet. Although if that's the case, then you're hardly going to tell me now. Or are you?"
Romanoff blinked a few times before comprehension dawned and she laughed again. "Sometimes I forget how literally you tend to take things. No, Warbird, I'm sadly lacking in both the self-propelled flight and bulletproof categories. And energy blasting and super-strength, for that matter. I was referring to what the Public Affairs division decided was a good costume for you."
'Warbird'? Well, at least that one made more sense than some of the other potential names that various members of the Triskelion's staff had been trying to sell her on for the past few weeks. After all, warbirds were military aircraft that were no longer in military service. Granted the 'aircraft' part wasn't quite accurate, but Carol could fake it well enough. And it was definitely better than 'Miss Marvel' - a suggestion that Doctor Lawson had been unwilling to explain the reasoning behind - or the AMTs' favorite: 'Power Girl'. The latter especially, since she was terrified that DC might actually be willing to license the name and likeness to SHIELD, and she had no desire to fly around in a white leotard with a hole cut into the chest so guys could ogle her cleavage.
The blond bob didn't really appeal to her either.
Actually… did the fact that Romanoff had nicknamed her mean that discussion was at an end? Carol had noticed that the redhead's nicknames had a habit of sticking: she was supposedly the originator of Agent Barton's 'Hawkeye' moniker, and Agent Morse was planning to use 'Mockingbird' if she ended up operating as part of the public team in the future. Carol shook her head, forcing herself to focus on the present, and the statement that had sparked her introspection. Looking from her catsuit to the one Romanoff herself was wearing and back, Carol furrowed her brow. "Erm, well, they're not entirely similar, ma'am. I mean, mine's black with red boots and gloves. Yours is almost entirely black. And I have the golden lightning bolt, while your only real bit of color is the belt buckle… and you have belts and holsters and other straps." Romanoff merely raised an eyebrow at that, and then Carol scowled as she realized something. "No offense, but they didn't exactly ask me for my opinion when they were putting together this for me. And even if they had, there's only so many ways you can dress up a basic black catsuit. Ma'am."
"I shot you in the back once with a M107. You didn't even blink; just kept talking to the director as you reached back and scratched the spot. You could fly around in a black bathing suit and pretty red sash if you felt like it, Warbird, and be none the worse for wear after a mission. It'd probably be better for our budget, too; you're especially hard on the legs of your catsuits. Just something to think about." Reaching behind her back, Romanoff pulled an iPhone out of… Carol wasn't sure where, nor was she sure she wanted to know. Her iPhone, it turned out, as Carol pushed the home button to wake it. How had the redhead… oh, right, super spy. "Your orders for tonight. Please don't enter your passcode until I've left; the Captain and I have temporarily been demoted to Level 3 pending the conclusion of the investigation into last night's incident. And for the record? While Public Affairs encourages you to use your social network accounts, FAR 91.21 does apply to you while in the field."
Carol racked her brain as she tried to figure out what Romanoff might be referring to; considering Federal Aviation Regulations consisted of a lot of common sense things that evidently had to be spelled out because common sense was no longer common, she'd never put much effort into rote memorization of them. Part 91, Section 21… "Portable electronic devices?"
Nodding, Romanoff pulled out her own iPhone and opened up the Twitter app, navigating to… Carol's account? The redhead tapped on one tweet in particular, bringing up the attached selfie that Carol had taken while cruising over Pennsylvania Avenue. "Mmm. As amusing as your followers might find posts written while in mid-flight, SHIELD would be considerably less amused if you managed to fly into the side of a building while typing. Vy ponimaete?"
"…yes ma'am." As Romanoff turned to walk away, Carol bit her lip for a moment before calling out to the redhead. "Ma'am? What did happen last night? Buzz around base is that you and Captain Rogers collapsed while sparring, but-"
Romanoff glanced back over her shoulder for a moment before shaking her head. "That's classified, Agent Danvers. Level 7."
Crossing her arms over her breasts, Carol scowled as she watched Romanoff walk away… and then glanced down at her chest. While she might be stuck at Level 6 clearance for the time being, she could think of someone whose clearance probably rivaled Director Fury's, albeit not by legitimate means. Someone who had just gone through a very public breakup and seemed to be ruled by his baser instincts… and Carol was a buxom woman wearing a black catsuit that unzipped down the front. And if Tony Stark had been willing to dig up a fully declassified copy of her own file 'just for the fun of it', then chances were that he'd love to help her untangle the Triskelion's latest mystery.
Carol floated up off the deck, unzipping the top of her catsuit just long enough to tuck her phone into her cleavage before wheeling around and flying off into the darkness. In just under a minute, she'd reached her effective cruising altitude and accelerated past the speed of sound, racing northeast toward Manhattan. As she flew, she found her thoughts drifting back to her last visit. Following Tony's - admittedly medically unsound - advice, she'd managed to dodge almost a week's worth of the 'vitamins' that SHIELD provided her with… and her skin had started to turn blue. Maybe after they'd solved her current mystery, they could dig a little deeper into her past and figure out why…
