I can't say that I've never committed a B&E before, that I've never stolen anything, that I've never hurt anyone, but I can say I've never broken into a multi-billion dollar companies headquarters in order to steal something from their labs.
That was the plan tomorrow night. Chameleon's employers were after some kind of experimental serum that Oscorp has gotten their hands on recently. They aren't entirely sure what it does, but I'm guessing this is some corporate espionage type deal. They wanted the formula as well as a sample of the serum, along with any research data we can gather off of their servers.
This was well beyond my capabilities. I'm not that much of a computer science nerd. I know a little about coding, but it's not something I'm well versed enough in to hack into corporate computers. I can be pretty stealthy, having had a troubled childhood, hanging with the wrong crowd for a while. So like I said a minute ago, B&E, being sneaky and taking some guards with minimal noise made isn't beyond the realm of possibility, but not on some super spy level and I haven't done anything like that in years.
Honestly, I think I'm just fodder. Maybe even a patsy. I would say muscle but there are already three guys in the team that could cover that role on their own as individuals. Which brings me to the next thing that is blowing my mind.
Mutants are a thing. No, I don't mean deformed monsters, I'm talking enhanced human beings that were born with their abilities. Apparently, Daken and Viktor Creed, who I now know has the alias Sabretooth, are mutants with similar powers. Animalistic senses, you know like blood hounds tracking a scent, or the hearing of a dog or cat, meaning they could probably hear the whispered convo between Black Cat and myself, as well as enhanced taste and sight. If that wasn't wild enough, their claws are capable of shredding through most materials, and bone. Their strength, speed, and stamina are greatly enhanced due to their mutation, which explains the grip Daken put on my shoulder last night. More importantly, was their healing factor.
This one through me. None of use had ever met or heard of these guys before, except Lester. Apparently, Creed's reputation was something of an urban myth in Canada. Myths that haven't been spoken about since the 70's. Which shouldn't be possible due to the fact the guy looks like he is in his mid to late 20's. When I mentioned this he grinned, showing his fangs, and I realized there was a whole world out there we just weren't privy to yet. I mean seriously, what's next? Vampires and Werewolves? Wizards? I mean, Loki is a sorcerer of some sort according to the few things spread around on the internet about what he can do, but he and Thor are aliens that are worshipped as gods... shit Magic may as well be real. Not to mention Iron Fist seems to claim he's got a mystical aspect to his abilities, though he is for the most part a master martial artist.
Honestly, aliens, gods, monsters, why couldn't it all be true at once? Secrets forgotten to time, only revealing themselves after Bruce Banner became a raging green monster, Tony Stark made a suit of armour and Spider-Man started web-swinging around Manhattan. Let's not forget WWII was the birth of super soldiers like Captain America, Red Skull, and The Winter Soldier. When Jessica Jones and Luke Cage revealed themselves to the world, there was a lot of speculation on how they got their powers. I for one think somebody was messing with the same serum that gave Cap and the others their powers. In fact, I'd be hard pressed not to believe that Dr. Banner didn't just absorb a shit ton of gamma radiation. The fact that he was wanted by the military screams secret experiments, but hell if I wouldn't be labelled a conspiracy theorist if I ever voiced that opinion too loudly.
Thinking about it, I've got a bad feeling that this serum we're after is just going to be more of the same. The implications are terrifying with that prospect. What are these employers of this Chameleon, and Oscorp, going to do with such a thing.
What am I going to do?
"Want another, Tommy?" Looking up from my near empty glass of whisky, I come face to face with Delilah. She was currently bartender at Joey's Place, a bar that I worked for. I had the night off, and Cindy was visiting with Cousins for the next few days in New Haven.
Initially I was going to go, but I lied, again, to the love of my life that I needed to pick up extra shifts or work in order to do some catching up. She offered to stay, but I told her to go relax and have some fun with her family. Speaking of, she just sent me a snapchat of her and her cousins playing pictionary. I smiled at the photo, and swore that I'd get this shit show over with as soon as possible, so that I don't have to miss out on any more time with her.
Looking back to Delilah, I quickly down the rest of my glass before placing it in front of her.
"Sure thing, D. Thanks."
"May I join you for a drink?" From my left came a sultry feminine voice sounding a bit familiar. I turn to look at the woman in question.
She stands about 5'9, with ivory skin. She's got long, wavy, platinum-blonde hair, tied up in a high-ponytail with a some lose hair framing her face. Her eyes are, admittedly, a beautifully, natural, green and is wearing a light coat of dark purple lipstick. She is wearing a black, leather, crop jacket, that stops around her abdomen, that has a belt around the bottom of it, that currently hangs open. There are studs along the collar and going down the hem of the jacket. She has a choker collar around her neck, with a red shirt underneath that showed quite a bit of cleavage. She had black ripped jeans, tight enough to accentuate her muscular legs and a pair of black healed boots. Her fingernails were manicured and painted black, and she had on a pair of gold mini-hoop earrings in each ear. Her wrists, partially visible due to the split style sleeves, are wearing a silver bracelet on her right, and a white gold watch on her left.
This woman was gorgeous, and was clearly well off. What she wanted with me I had no idea. I appreciated that she wore a small amount of make up, considering she clearly didn't need it. If I was single, I'd definitely give it a shot. I gesture to the stool next to me.
"I'm taken, but if you want to have some company for a drink, sure." I turn back towards Delilah who gives me a wry smile as she hands me my fifth whisky. I give her a playful glare, knowing full well how much of an instigator my co-worker can be. She doesn't mean any harm though, so I don't take it seriously.
The platinum-blonde rocker chick takes the stool next to me and orders a strawberry vodka. As Delilah starts making her drink, she turns to me and starts speaking.
"Names, Felicia by the way." I'm mid sip as she introduces herself, so I quickly swallow and place my glass down to extend my hand in greeting.
"Thomas." We shake hands and as soon as she let's go I return to my drink. I note that she has a strong grip however, for a woman of her size, and chalk it up to her probably being an athlete or something.
"Strong grip you got there, Tommy. Work out?" People calling me Tommy when they didn't know me always struck me as somewhat rude. Making the assumption that I was chill with them to that level when we just met used to grind my gears to the point of giving people shit for it when I was a teenager. That's what I got for hanging out in rough crowds. Led to needless fights sometimes. I have grown up, mostly, so even though it can be annoying at times, I can handle it.
"Thomas, and yeah, you can say that I work out. You're grip ain't half bad either. You work out?" Dumb small talk. I had a feeling by the way she was looking at me with that Cheshire smile that she was up to no good. Not sure what she was after though. Nor did I really care. I just wanted some piece before the inevitable chaos I had invited into my life blows up in my face.
"Oh, I have a lot of practice gripping things. Helps that I like climbing, and used to do gymnastics." I ignored the sexual implication in the first line. Really, I swear I didn't get this much attention when I was single. Ever since Cindy and I got into the really good stages of our relationship, women seem to just be hounding me now.
It's like they smell her on me and realize I'm material for whatever it is they want with me. I'd say I'm an average looking guy in the face, and I don't really wear form fitting clothes that often, so half the time you wouldn't see how good of a shape I'm in. So maybe it's a confidence thing. I'm not sure.
"That's cool. I do a bit of climbing myself. Urban exploration, parkour, whatever you want to call it. Mostly MMA training though. It's a good work out, definitely more fun then picking things up and putting them down. Although, I occasionally do that as well. Just more functional strength training than anything." Felicia cooed at my response as Delilah placed her Strawberry Vodka in front of her. The platinum-blonde woman gave thanks, as my mischievous co-worker gave me a wink and a smirk as she went to attend other customers. I groaned under my breath as I took another sip of my drink.
"I got into martial arts when I was in collage. Kept it up ever since. Good way to stay flexible and bendy... and being capable of Mike Tysoning some pervert that thinks he can just touch you uninvited." I noticed the venom as she said that last bit and figured that her training was probably a direct result of some drunken goobers that forget their manners when they've had a few too many. I've put plenty on the floor for that before, and not all of those instances even involved Cindy.
"True. I've had to remind some assholes about chivalry a few times myself." She giggles at that, takes a sip of her drink and responds.
"Well from what I can tell you probably have a cute butt, so I'm not surprised if some guys want to touch it." I laugh. Can always appreciate a joke based on the 'misunderstanding your meaning' concept.
"I mean, I never skip leg day. I do plenty of squats and lunges. As well as other work outs. So my ass is pretty supple." She nearly spits out her drink before containing herself enough to swallow the fluid and then give a small chuckle before sighing.
Despite my constitution I was get a bit more than a buzz at this point in the night. On top of that, having seen the shape of her ass before she sat down, I couldn't help but make a comparison to my own.
"It's nothing compared to what you probably squat though. What do you use for weights? The moon?" Felicia gives me a playful smile and flips her hair a bit.
"Actually, I do some urban exploration myself. It's nice when I have a date that's up for some adventure and wants to have some alone time on a roof together. Plenty of reasons to do squats once we're alone up there." Okay, time to steer the convo away from the sexual talk. Don't want to give her the wrong idea. Probably shouldn't have made that comment about her ass.
Taking a sip, I think about what subject to transition to. Careers. Ah, there we go.
"I'm sure. So, does your work involve any climbing, or did you keep your hobbies separate from your job?" Smooth. Well done Tommy-boy. Hopefully she'll play along.
Felicia grins after taking another sip of her strawberry vodka.
"Actually, I ended up incorporating most of my hobbies into my work. Not only has it kept my interest and training in such things alive and up to date, but it's made me damn good at what I do." I take another swig of my whisky, almost finishing the thing. Maybe two sips left. After that I'll probably call it.
"So what do you do that involves climbing, fighting, and gymnastics. Wait, don't tell me. You're a pro-wrestler." Felicia gives a sarcastic 'ha' and rolls her eyes.
"I don't think there's enough money in the world to make me jump off of ladders, fall through tables, play fight, and mud wrestle in that 'sports entertainment' crap." I chuckle. I actually didn't mind the spectacle of the physical soap opera that is pro wrestling. My grandfather was really into it, and he and I would bond over watching it every week.
"Okay, noted. I suppose that scratches being a masked hero. Vigilantism tends to involve putting yourself in harms way. Though I'm not sure how well it pays." Her smile falters for a moment as she seems to be remembering something unpleasant.
"It's a scam. You are the only one paying when you try to be a goody two shoes. All that sacrifice and for what? Have to be an idiot to..." she stops herself, letting out a heavy breath before shaking her head. Suddenly I'm wondering if she's either dated somebody in the life or if she is an ex-hero.
My thoughts think to all the super-heroines that have appeared in the public eye in the last decade and the only ones I can think of are Black Widow, who's identity is no longer secret since she's apart of the Avengers, effectively eliminating her ability to be an undercover spy, and Jessica Jones. Again, somebody who's identity is known. My money was on that she probably dated somebody that was a vigilante and it didn't end well.
But then she locked eyes with me and her smile came back. Things were starting to click but I wasn't sure what yet. I feel like I already know this woman, but how?
"Never-mind that. What about you? You keep work separate from your interests?" I recollect my thoughts, still trying to figure out who this chick is. I was starting to realize I was a bit more drunk than I had intended on getting.
"Oh, uh, not anymo- I mean. Yeah, I do. Sorry little drunk here. I used to be a pro-fighter." She smirks, as if she knows something. I get this sudden nagging at the back of my head and a chill crawls up my spine. It isn't entirely unpleasant, but I figure something is off here.
"Thomas the fighter. Hmm. Oh! You're Thomas Doyle, right? I remember you. Undefeated, 12-0, until your last match. You retired. Was the injury that bad?" I sighed, all my attention returning to that fateful day.
"I couldn't remember anything that had happened from the time I woke up, to the day previous. My mother and girlfriend were extremely concerned for my health. It made me take stock of what I had to lose if I took another hit like that. Doc said it was a miracle I wasn't turned into a vegetable or cripple that needed assisted living. My reaction speed and cognitive functioning was affected for a few months, but now I'm back to normal... mostly. But that was years ago. The risk of my life ending and leaving behind those I love with grief wasn't worth it." Old feelings begin to swell up from deep down and I immediately hate that I'm feeling any of it. I down the rest of my drink and decide it's time for me to leave before I start indulging in self-destructive behaviour. Something my family seemed prone to do.
"You miss it?" Felicia's takes another sip of her drink. Huh, I didn't notice her second one get put down.
I think about the fun I've had fighting in the past months. Testing my skills and my body's limits. After all this time, I still had the fought work, the hands, movements, strategic thinking, hell, I had the appreciation for the challenge rather than the hope for an easy win.
"Yeah, I did. It was my outlet. I could work off a lot of shit in the ring. Some of it could be dealt with in sparring or training, but in the actual match up, I was able to just let go. All that mattered was that battle, that struggle, for survival. For Victory. It also made me feel like I was capable of utilizing a skill that I was forced to develop out of necessity, for something other than just wanton destruction and mayhem. That I wasn't just using it to get what I want, or to defend myself from a hostile living environment. Fighting in the ring had it's draw backs and limitations but it was still a home away from home. I don't know if you can understand-"
"I do." My gaze goes from my glass to focusing back on Felicia's green eyes. She's looking at me with what I think is understanding, and likely some form of adoration? Lust? Not sure. Clearly taken by my words though. I am a bit too drunk. Where the hell is my wallet?
"Why deny your true nature than? Isn't it worth the risk to pursue the things you want? That bring you peace or happiness? The adventure. The fight. Whatever it might be." I chortled in the middle of my search for my wallet at her words. She had no idea what I was talking about after all.
"I'm not sure it ever brought me true peace. I don't think it ever would. Not sure. Doesn't matter now. Delilah. I'm sorry, but I can't find my wallet. Leave my tab open and I'll come pay tomorrow. I'll make sure to give you a great tip the next time I see you okay?" Delilah walks over to me and puts her hands on her hips.
"Damn it Tommy. You know Greg hates it when we do that." Our manager, Greg Noble, was anything but. The dude was a dick-head. Why Joey put up with letting such an asshole for a general manager, run his bar when he wasn't around, was beyond me.
"You tell Greg I said he can eat a bag of dicks if he gives you grief." Delilah just smiled and shook her head.
"I seriously don't know how you keep your job while talking to him the way you do." I laugh heartedly.
"It's because I do all the dirty work none of you want to do. Remember when that guy projectile vomited all over the men's washroom, and Pat was just going to leave it in the middle of summer?" Delilah's nose scrunched up at the memory of what I assume is the smell that was permeating at the front of the bar where the bathrooms were.
"That sounds disgusting." Felicia's face has a less than pleasant look on it.
"Oh, it was. The guy started puking the minute he opened the door. As a result, he got it on the door, the wall, the mirror, the sink, the wall, the stall door, on the toilet, and around the toilet, but nothing got in the toilet." Felicia's face goes from disgust to horrified shock as Delilah actually starts laughing. I remember her laughing at my face, wearing a look of utter disbelief at the lack of anything making it into the toilet.
"How?!" Now I was laughing.
"Those were Tommy's exact words when he came out of the bathroom." At this Felicia joined in the laughter.
"I don't get paid enough for this shit." I move to get up from my seat before Felicia pulls out a card from her jacket.
"I'm sure that'll change sooner than you think. I'll cover for your drinks this time stay and have a few more with me. You don't intend on letting me drink all by myself do you?" Felicia pouts at me, giving me the puppy dog eyes. I look over to Delilah, and see that she has this cheeky grin as she starts pouring me another whisky.
"Hot damn Tommy. It's not often you get a girl willing to pay for your drinks. You'd be an idiot to pass that up." I glare at her, for she knows full well what this chick is up to.
"I second that notion." pipes my apparent drinking partner for the night.
I sigh as I relent and sit down, earning myself a cheer from the ladies. I pick up my glass and take another sip.
What's the worst that can happen?