July 14, 2009
Silver Sable moved with practiced precision, a whisper in the darkness as she dismantled Morozov's security. Each step was calculated, every takedown efficient—one moment a guard stood watch, the next, he was crumpled on the cold pavement, his radio silent.
She stalked through the maze of shipping containers, her mind fixed on the prize. The mission was progressing smoothly. Too smoothly.
A shadow flickered across her periphery.
Silver Sable ducked behind a stack of crates, pressing her back against the metal as she steadied her breathing. Someone else was here.
Then came the sound—a slow, deliberate click of heels against concrete.
Silver Sable tensed. That wasn't a guard's walk.
From the far end of the dock, a woman emerged as though she had just stepped onto a stage, bathed in moonlight and mischief. All in a flash her leather-clad fingers flicked a stray lock of white hair, the light catching the curve of her smirk, the silver zipper of her suit gliding down ever so slightly.
She pirouetted past an unconscious guard, hands on her hips as she took in the scene. "Wow. Someone's been busy."
Silver Sable raised her gun instantly. "Identify yourself."
The woman gasped in mock surprise, placing a hand over her chest. "Oh, sweetheart, you don't know who I am? That hurts." She strutted closer, boots clicking with each deliberate step. "Let's fix that."
She extended a gloved hand, smirking.
"Black Cat. Professional thief, expert escape artist, and all-around delight." She tilted her head. "And you must be the competition."
Silver Sable's eyes narrowed. This was a problem.
Black Cat winked. "So... do we fight first or flirt first? I'm good either way."
Silver Sable didn't lower her gun. Instead, she let a smirk tug at the corner of her lips.
"If I wanted to flirt, I'd find someone who doesn't make a living running away."
Black Cat's grin widened. "Ooooh, I like you." She folded her arms, shifting her weight onto one hip. "But something tells me you're not here for fun either."
Silver Sable's gaze remained steady. "No. I'm here for the shipment."
Black Cat arched an eyebrow. "Oh? That's funny. I'm here for the shipment."
A brief silence.
Then, as if on cue, both women tensed. The realization struck at the same time.
They were after the same prize.
Silver Sable's trigger finger twitched. "Stand down."
Black Cat clicked her tongue. "You first."
The dock exploded into motion.
Black Cat lunged first, fast and unpredictable, aiming to disarm. Silver Sable sidestepped, twisting her body to avoid the swipe of Black Cat's claws. She countered with a sharp kick—Black Cat barely dodged, flipping backward with effortless grace.
Silver Sable aimed her gun, squeezing off a shot—Black Cat moved before the bullet even reached her. She twisted mid-air, flipping onto a stack of crates with feline ease.
"Whoa now! Is that any way to make friends?" Black Cat called, leaping from one container to the next.
Silver Sable fired again. The shot cracked through the night—Black Cat twisted, the bullet grazing the air where she had just been.
"You're going to run out of ammo before I run out of luck," Black Cat teased.
Silver Sable scowled, keeping her gun trained as she advanced.
Black Cat vaulted over a metal beam, kicking it loose in the process. The beam swung down toward Silver Sable—she barely rolled out of the way, coming up in a crouch.
Black Cat landed a few feet away, grinning. "This is fun."
Silver Sable fired again—Black Cat flipped, twisting through the air as the bullet missed by inches.
She landed on a crane's support beam, dangling effortlessly. "But I really hope you've got more tricks than just shooting at me."
Silver Sable holstered her gun, rolling her shoulders. "I do."
Black Cat grinned. "Good."
They lunged at each other at the same time.
Blades met claws. Bullets dodged shadows. The fight became a whirlwind of acrobatics and precision strikes, neither gaining the upper hand, neither giving an inch.
A perfect standstill.
The shipping yard was quiet—too quiet. The workers tasked with overseeing the latest shipment kept their voices low, their glances sharp. This wasn't just another batch of weapons or stolen artifacts. No, this was different. This was important.
A hiss of hydraulics cut through the air as the container doors slowly creaked open.
From within the shadows, a team emerged. Their movements were methodical, precise—not just soldiers, but something more. Their bodies gleamed under the flickering industrial lights, revealing sleek cybernetic enhancements resembling spider limbs coiled along their backs.
They moved like predators.
One of the dockworkers swallowed hard, stepping forward. "We—uh—we weren't told there'd be extra security on this one."
The nearest operative turned their head in a sharp, unnatural motion. Eight crimson-lit eyes flickered to life across their visor, scanning the dockworker. The man stepped back immediately, holding his hands up.
Then came the distant sounds of battle.
The rhythmic pop-pop-pop of gunfire. The metallic clang of something heavy being kicked into crates. The sharp crack of a whip-like weapon snapping through the air.
The leader of the strike team stood at the forefront, taller than the others, their mechanical augmentations more pronounced. Their voice came distorted through their helmet, cold and deliberate.
"Do not be distracted."
The others hesitated, glancing toward the escalating chaos just beyond the shipping yard.
The leader's red optics narrowed as they turned back to the open container. Inside, something gleamed—a metal harness lined with pulsating wires, its sleek design resembling an intricate spider's web.
They stepped forward, running a gloved hand over the surface of their prize.
"The Iron Web is all that matters."
The leader stepped forward, boots clanking against the steel container floor. His fingers traced along the smooth, metallic frame of the harness, feeling the raw power humming beneath its surface. The Iron Web—Oscorp's most classified military-grade cybernetic hacking system—was finally in his hands.
He reached up and unlatched his helmet. With a hiss of depressurization, the mask detached, revealing Alistair Smythe. His scarred face twisted into a smile as he admired the device.
"Years of R&D, stolen, hidden, and forgotten," Smythe muttered to himself. "Now, it finally belongs to someone who can put it to proper use."
He turned to his strike team, who stood at attention, their mechanical augmentations twitching in anticipation.
Smythe lifted the harness from its containment, feeling its weight settle in his grasp. It was sleek yet dense, lined with nanofiber circuitry capable of interfacing with any electronic system. The neural uplink would allow him to override security networks, vehicles, and even cybernetic enhancements—if it worked as designed.
And what better way to test it?
The sounds of battle between the two intruders had grown louder, echoing across the docks. Gunfire, the shattering of crates, the occasional grappling hook snap and whiplike crack of a weapon slamming into metal.
Smythe smirked.
"Let's see how well they handle a real surprise."
Sliding the Iron Web onto his back, he let the neural interface connect. His pupils dilated as the system integrated, feeding data directly into his mind. He exhaled sharply, feeling a rush of control spread through his nervous system.
Then, with a simple thought, he activated the pulse.
A deep, resonant hum built up within the Iron Web's core. The air vibrated as a powerful electromagnetic pulse erupted outward.
Across the dock, the effects were immediate.
Felicia Hardy, mid-leap, suddenly felt her grappling line cut out. Her claws, her infrared lenses, her shock-absorbing boots—everything shut down at once. She barely had time to let out a curse before she plummeted, crashing into a stack of shipping crates below.
Silver Sable's equipment flickered—her comms died, her HUD scrambled, and her custom firearms momentarily jammed. She adjusted quickly, dropping low and pulling a knife from her belt, going purely analog.
Smythe chuckled, watching the chaos unfold.
"Now," he mused, flexing his fingers as he tapped into the Iron Web's full potential, "let's see what else this beauty can do."
Silver Sable leveled her pistol at Black Cat, the barrel unwavering as she lined up the shot. Felicia lay sprawled against the cold pavement, her suit dark and unresponsive. No energy dispersal, no shock absorption—she was grounded, vulnerable.
Felicia's breath was ragged, but she still managed a smirk. "So, this is how it ends, huh?"
Sable didn't answer. This wasn't personal—it never was. The mission came first.
Her finger tensed against the trigger—
CLANG!
A sudden impact against her wrist sent the gun flying from her grasp, skidding across the dock. Sable spun on instinct, catching a glimpse of one of Smythe's cybernetically enhanced soldiers, their spider-like limbs retracting from their latest strike.
Another lunged from the shadows, their augmented speed giving them an unnatural fluidity. Sable barely ducked in time, rolling back into a defensive stance.
Felicia took her chance. She kicked upward, forcing distance between them as she flipped onto her feet. "Okay, guess we're putting that little death match on hold," she muttered, shaking out her arms.
Sable's eyes darted between the incoming enemies. She didn't like surprises—and this? This was an ambush.
Felicia's focus snapped toward the docks. The sound of heavy, methodical footsteps filled the air. Then, from the shadows, he stepped forward.
Alistair Smythe.
The cybernetics along his back pulsed with eerie, artificial life, glowing veins of power surging through the Iron Web strapped to him like a second spine. He looked at them both with the satisfaction of a chessmaster watching his pieces fall into place.
"Well, well," he mused, his voice smooth but laced with condescension. "I was hoping this little operation would draw out a few opportunists, but to think I'd get both Silver Sablinova and Felicia Hardy on the same night?" He exhaled, mock-impressed. "Ladies, you've exceeded my expectations."
Sable clenched her fists. "This was a setup."
Felicia crossed her arms. "Yeah, I hate when that happens."
Smythe chuckled. "You're both highly resourceful, unpredictable, dangerous. But you see—" he gestured to his men, their cybernetic limbs extending in perfect synchronization, "—I don't deal in unpredictability. I prefer control."
At his signal, the strike team rushed forward as one.
A cacophony of metal limbs and booted feet thundered across the docks. The spider-enhanced strike team surged forward in eerie synchronization, their glowing cybernetics cutting sharp lines through the dark. Silver Sable and Black Cat exchanged a quick glance.
This wasn't just bad—this was Smythe-level bad.
"Split or stick together?" Felicia called, her feet already shifting into motion.
Sable's response was swift. "We move. Now!"
Then they ran.
Felicia ducked a sweeping metal leg, flipping over a crate as a cybernetic soldier lunged. She landed, grabbing a chain hoist and yanking the lever. A rusted cargo net swung down hard, scooping up two of Smythe's goons in a tangled heap.
Sable vaulted over a supply rack, twisting midair to kick a soldier square in the visor. As he staggered back, she snatched his sidearm and emptied two rounds into his leg hydraulics. The servos sparked, sending him toppling.
A spiked limb shot toward Felicia. She caught sight of it last-second and dove onto a conveyor belt, surfing along as crates tumbled behind her. She twisted a valve mid-slide, steam blasting into the face of her pursuer.
Sable, ever the tactician, used the chaos. She grabbed an oil drum and rolled it into a pair of advancing goons, forcing them off balance long enough to plant a well-placed grenade under their feet.
Felicia somersaulted onto a docked forklift, hotwiring it in seconds. She slammed the accelerator, using the prongs to send one of the strike team sailing into the bay.
Sable took note. "Efficient."
Felicia smirked. "I have my moments!"
But Smythe wasn't done playing.
The Iron Web hummed with power. Tendrils of crackling blue energy began to arc between its conduits.
Felicia's gloves flickered. Silver Sable's earpiece shorted out. A low pulse filled the air—a magnetic snare.
"Move—NOW!" Sable barked.
Felicia didn't need to be told twice.
Thinking fast, she leapt onto a swinging crane, using the momentum to launch herself toward Sable. "Hold on!"
Sable barely caught Felicia's outstretched hand before the two went tumbling—right onto the back of a nearby flatbed truck.
Felicia's fingers flew over the ignition. "I hope this is hotwired..."
The truck rumbled to life.
Smythe's eyes narrowed. "They won't get far."
He raised a hand.
The Iron Web pulsed—
BOOM!
A cargo tower behind him toppled, a chain reaction of explosions sending flames across the dock.
Felicia grinned. "Okay, maybe I planned some of that."
Sable exhaled. "Just drive."
The truck peeled away, engine roaring as they barreled toward the city streets, leaving the docks—and Smythe's trap—engulfed in chaos.
The docks lay in shambles. Smoke curled from the wreckage, the distant wail of sirens echoing through the night. Smythe stood motionless, his cold gaze sweeping the ruined battlefield. His spider-enhanced soldiers—those still standing—were already regrouping in disciplined silence.
"Sweep the area. Make sure nothing was left behind." Smythe's voice was void of emotion, but his mechanical fingers clenched against his palm. The Iron Web pulsed on his back, its energy still stabilizing.
The mission had been a success—technically.
Yet, the fact that they had escaped gnawed at him.
As his men dispersed, a faint, almost imperceptible chime resonated through his earpiece. A private channel. One reserved for only the highest authority in this operation.
Smythe stiffened. He was being watched.
He turned from the wreckage and activated his wrist communicator. A holographic interface flickered to life—staticky, distorted, unreadable. A shadowy silhouette shifted within the feed, their voice an elegant purr wrapped in static.
"Mister Smythe. I trust the package is secure?"
Smythe's jaw tightened. "The Iron Web is in my possession."
A pause. Then, smooth and unfazed:
"And the thieves?"
Smythe exhaled sharply through his nose. "The Black Cat and the mercenary escaped. It was... unexpected."
The figure's response was not anger, not frustration—only amusement.
"Was it?"
Smythe's cybernetic fingers twitched. The Iron Web glowed faintly, as if sensing his tension.
"It does not matter," the voice continued. "We have what we came for. The interference was accounted for."
Smythe's eyes narrowed. "You knew they would be there."
Another pause. Then: a chuckle.
"That will be all, Smythe. Prepare for the next phase."
The transmission cut off. The hologram dissipated.
Smythe stood in the dark, his face unreadable.
His superior had never once mentioned their name. Never revealed their face. But the way they spoke, the way they knew things before they happened...
He had his suspicions.
And if he was right—if he was truly working under her—then this was only the beginning.
July 15, 2009 – 2:32 AM
A fire escape rattled under the weight of two very exhausted but very determined women.
Felicia Hardy, the Black Cat, swung herself onto the final landing and peeked over the edge. Silver Sable landed beside her, barely making a sound, already scanning the alley below for pursuers.
"Okay. Let's recap," Felicia huffed, rolling her shoulders. "We just escaped a death trap built by a guy who looks like a rejected Terminator action figure."
Silver Sable wiped a streak of dirt off her cheek. "Correct."
"Barely dodged a small army of cyber-assassins?"
"Also correct."
"Oh, and we pissed off at least two different criminal overlords who both probably have access to attack drones, private militias, and offshore bank accounts the size of small countries."
Silver Sable finally glanced at her. "Your point?"
Felicia grinned. "My point is—I love this job."
Silver Sable exhaled sharply, almost a laugh. Almost.
The sound of sirens in the distance made them both tense up. They weren't out of the fire just yet. Felicia turned to her partner-in-crime-slash-very-annoyed-mercenary.
"Okay, real talk, we need to lay low. Figure out who Smythe is working for, why they want us dead, and how we can ruin their day before they ruin ours."
Silver Sable folded her arms. "And where do you propose we do this? I doubt you have a luxury hideout somewhere."
Felicia smirked and waggled her eyebrows. "That depends—how do you feel about seedy, neglected motels?"
Silver Sable didn't even blink. "I feel nothing about them."
"Great! Because I happen to have a safehouse in one." Felicia stretched her arms. "It's got everything we need—bad lighting, suspicious stains, and a mini-fridge full of expired whiskey coolers."
Silver Sable sighed and shook her head. "Fantastic."
Felicia grinned, then started climbing down. "Come on, mercenary. Let's go plot some revenge."
Silver Sable followed, already mentally preparing herself. Something told her this was about to get way worse before it got better.
The flickering neon of a busted motel sign buzzed faintly outside the window, casting a faint red glow over the cramped room. The air smelled of stale cigarettes and cheap cleaning products—not exactly a safehouse, but it would do.
Felicia Hardy sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, her boots still on, absentmindedly rolling a stolen silver coin between her fingers. The tension from the night's chaos hadn't entirely left her system, but exhaustion was slowly creeping in. Across the room, Silver Sable stood rigid, arms crossed, eyes sharp as ever.
Neither had spoken much since their escape.
The silence stretched.
Finally, Felicia sighed, tossing the coin onto the nightstand. It landed with a crisp 'clink.'
"Well… that was fun," she drawled, leaning back on her elbows. "I mean, aside from the electromagnetic pulse, the cyber-spiders, and the homicidal freak show in the exosuit."
Silver Sable didn't react. She was studying a map she had spread across the table, piecing together everything they knew.
Felicia raised an eyebrow. "You gonna keep ignoring me, or should I start talking to the walls?"
Silver Sable didn't look up. "We were set up."
Felicia smirked. "No kidding. I thought secret militarized Oscorp tech was just lying around for anyone to steal these days."
Silver Sable's fingers pressed against the map. "This was a trap designed to flush us out. They knew I would be there." Her silver gaze flicked to Felicia. "And they knew you would be there, too."
Felicia's smirk faltered.
Silver Sable turned fully toward her. "You have enemies. So do I. But this? This was coordinated. That means whoever is behind this isn't just after what we tried to steal—they're after us."
Felicia exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck. "Alright, so let's say you're right. What do we do? Lay low? Skip town? Change our names and start a bakery in the middle of nowhere?"
Silver Sable shook her head. "No. We infiltrate."
Felicia stared at her for a beat before letting out a short laugh. "You're serious?"
Silver Sable's expression was unreadable. "I do not 'skip town.'"
Felicia's lips twitched. "Yeah, figured you'd say that."
Silver Sable returned her focus to the map. "We need to find out who is behind this and what they plan to do with the Iron Web. If we do not, they will come for us again."
Felicia sighed, running a hand through her platinum hair. "And let me guess—you want to team up?"
Silver Sable glanced at her. A rare, small smirk. "We already have."
Felicia rolled her eyes, but she couldn't quite suppress the grin tugging at the corner of her lips.
"…Fine. But if this goes sideways, I told you so."
Silver Sable nodded once. "Understood."
Felicia sat up, cracking her knuckles. "Alright, then. Let's get to work."
The clock on the motel nightstand flickered 3:14 AM as Silver Sable and Black Cat stood over the cluttered table, maps, burner phones, and scattered notes between them. The room still carried the tension of two people forced into an uneasy partnership, but survival had a way of making priorities clear.
Felicia tapped her fingers on a torn city map, her nails clicking against the paper. "Alright, we need to get some leads before this thing disappears into the void. You do things your way, I'll do things my way."
Silver Sable didn't look up as she methodically scanned an encrypted device, scrolling through a list of mercenary contacts. "Agreed. The buyers of high-grade stolen tech don't keep their treasures for long. They'll move the Iron Web soon—if they haven't already."
Felicia smirked. "Then we better move faster."
She reached into the nightstand drawer, pulling out a sleek, untraceable phone—one of many she had stashed across the city. A few quick swipes, and she was already cycling through names. Informants, fences, people who owed her favors. The black market was loud with whispers, and if something this big was in play, someone somewhere had to know something.
"I'll start with the underground," Felicia said, leaning back against the table. "Guys like The Owl, Hammerhead, and all those lovely lowlives—they love shiny things. If the Iron Web has passed through their hands, I'll hear about it."
Silver Sable nodded, closing her own device. "And I will hunt from the other side."
Felicia raised a brow. "Oh? You mean the more legal side of crime?"
Silver Sable's lips barely twitched. "Hardly." She adjusted the silver gauntlet on her arm, securing a hidden blade. "Weapons dealers. Rogue PMC units. Ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. assets who sell to the highest bidder. If Oscorp lost control of their project, it did not go to street-level criminals—it went to those who can weaponize it."
Felicia let out a low whistle. "So you'll be talking to the charming psychopaths of the world. Good luck with that."
Silver Sable pocketed her device. "I don't rely on luck."
Felicia grinned. "No wonder we get along."
The two women exchanged a look—not quite trust, but something close to understanding. Different worlds, different methods, but one goal.
Felicia turned toward the door, stretching. "I'll hit the streets first. See what Gotham's worst have to say."
Silver Sable secured her sidearm. "And I'll make my way to my first contact. We reconvene in twelve hours."
Felicia winked. "Try not to get yourself killed before then."
Silver Sable smirked. "The same to you."
Without another word, they split in opposite directions, stepping out into the cold, dark city—both on the hunt, both knowing that whoever got to the truth first would determine their next move.
A crumpled map of New York City slammed onto the dashboard of Silver Sable's motorcycle. A red marker traced through the boroughs, circling a district known for its lack of laws and abundance of regret.
An observer would see several familiar sights in this seemingly abandoned part of the vast city. A switchblade flicking open, slicing through duct tape around a package. A burner phone lighting up, numbers dialing fast. A wad of cash hitting a table, slid across to an unseen figure. A cigarette ember glowing in the dark, the smoker exhaling with a smirk.
Leaning against a rusted fire escape, Black Cat adjusted her gloves, her grin lazy but her eyes sharp. "Alright, Sable, I'm heading into Owl territory. I've got people who owe me favors, and I've got a feeling that those debts are about to pay off."
Silver Sable, standing beside her sleek black motorcycle, adjusted her comms. "You trust them?"
Felicia rolled her eyes, stretching. "Trust? No. But I know how to cash in at the right time. The Owl's crew? They're greedy, but they talk if you scratch the right itch."
Inside a dimly lit bar—**neon flickering, a jukebox playing something from the '70s—**a greasy-looking man checked his phone. A text lit up:
BLACK CAT'S COMING. OWL PAYS FOR PRETTY BIRDS.
His eyes darted around before he leaned in to whisper to the man next to him, who in turn whispered to a woman at the bar. A ripple effect, like a slow-moving infection.
Felicia pulled her hood up. "I'll be in and out before anyone even knows I was here."
Silver Sable crossed her arms. "If I hear gunfire, I assume you need my help?"
Felicia grinned. "Please. If you hear gunfire, assume I'm already halfway out the window."
Silver Sable exhaled, rolling her shoulders as she reached for her gear. "Fine. I'll review my approach."
Felicia gave a two-finger salute, stepping into the night as the music continued to play. The streets ahead were dark, but she moved with purpose—unaware that somewhere in the city, someone was already making plans to sell her out.
"Barracuda" by Heart could be heard in the background as a stack of bloodied cash exchanged hands beneath the dim glow of a flickering overhead bulb. The underground market beneath New York's streets hummed with life—illegal weapons, stolen tech, and enough contraband to make even the Kingpin nervous. Silver Sable moved through the crowd, her sharp eyes scanning for anything that resembled a lead on the Iron Web.
She'd been following whispers—names passed between smugglers and mercs like a ghost story. The kind of deal that got people dead if they asked the wrong questions.
That didn't stop her.
A muscular man in a cheap suit stepped into her path. His nose had clearly been broken more than once, and the bulge under his jacket told Sable he wasn't just here to admire the merchandise.
"Lady, you're asking too many questions," he grunted.
Sable barely lifted her head. "I wasn't aware curiosity was a crime in New York."
A second goon, taller, thinner, grinned with gold-capped teeth. "Depends on who you're askin'. Lucky for you, we know someone who pays for answers."
Hammerhead's men. That was trouble.
Before either of them could get the jump on her, Sable struck first—a quick jab to the throat of the tall one, sending him stumbling. The brute reached for his gun—she twisted his wrist, snapped his fingers back, and sent him crashing into a table.
The entire market reacted—conversations cutting short, heads turning as chaos erupted.
Sable on the move.
She vaulted over a table stacked with black-market tech, grabbing a stun grenade and hurling it behind her. The concussive pop sent a few men to the ground, but more were coming.
Her earpiece crackled as she sprinted past stalls, ducking under swinging fists and dodging stray bullets.
Black Cat's voice slid in, casual as ever.
"Y'know, I think I actually like this game of 'who's in more trouble.' How's Hammerhead's welcoming committee?"
Sable gritted her teeth, ducking into an alleyway, slamming a metal door shut behind her. "Find. The. Location."
Felicia's smirk was almost audible. "I am finding it. Turns out, when people are terrified of a cybernetic arms dealer, they don't exactly leave breadcrumbs."
A thug burst through the door—Sable fired two silenced shots into his vest, knocking him flat before breaking into another sprint.
Felicia continued, unfazed. "But good news! I'm about to meet someone who's got the golden ticket to the Iron Web's auction."
"Get it done."
Felicia chuckled. "Geez, bossy. Keep running, I'll keep digging."
Sable dashed through a metal gate, slammed it shut behind her, and finally found a moment to breathe. The market behind her was a mess. Hammerhead's men would be on alert now, but they wouldn't stop her.
She adjusted her gloves, exhaled, and reloaded her pistol.
This mission just got a lot more complicated.
Author's Note: Hello everyone, so here's the official first meeting between Black Cat and Silver Sable resulting in a fight between the two of them before they are forced to realize what they have to work with. This ultimately marks the beginning of their working together now that they have had their first meeting with the enemies who will want to pursue them. Hopefully an enjoyable start and you can expect to see Black Cat and Sable make their way further into the notorious underground where they will really begin to be tested. I hope to hear from you all again soon.