"You're pretty ruthless, aren't you?"
A smug laugh echoed through the phone.
I paused for a moment.
"Did you perhaps dial incorrectly?" I replied flatly.
"Nope," he chuckled. "Even I got a little scared watching those bikers' mangled corpses on my drone feed."
"I think you have dialed the wrong number. If there is nothing else, goodbye," I said with a tone of finality.
I didn't bother waiting for his reply and hung up.
How did he get my number? I don't think Reina shared my number. However, she might have shared it with other members of her cartel, and this person might have obtained it from one of them.
I was suddenly pulled out of my thoughts as I heard new notifications from my phone. That guy sent me some images.
The first few were from the compound, likely from the cameras installed in it. It showed me killing the Iron Serpents' members in HD. Of course, I was wearing a hood and mask, so my face wasn't visible in it.
The other showed the aftermath of the collision between my van and the bikes, which I had already seen the day before. They should be taken from a drone, as he said.
Alone, none of this could bury me in court. But seeing myself through those compound cameras made me want to strangle past-me.
Taxi driver, martial arts, first aid, heists, cartel jobs, world domination schemes—I'd been dabbling in everything like a drunk gambler spreading chips across the table. But the one edge I should've sharpened from the start, I ignored.
I was a programmer in my past life. I could've leveled that skill fast — but I never even tried. Even if I had the same major in college, course books don't make anyone a hacker.
What if my mask slipped one day? What if another camera caught me? Sure, I'd taken precautions, but luck is a terrible shield.
So thank you, mysterious idiot. You've pointed out my biggest blunder.
I don't know whether I will kill you or not in the future, but if it ever comes to that, I promise it will be painless.
My phone rang again—the same unknown number.
"So, how do you like those images?" The guy's obnoxious voice oozed through the phone.
"The cops will be thrilled," he went on, laughing at his own brilliance. "Once I hand these over, your criminal career will be over before it even begins."
He's not very bright, is he?
"Dude, what do you want?" I asked, flat with annoyance. "If you actually planned to hand them over, you wouldn't be calling me first."
"Oh?" He sounded surprised. "A smart one, ain't you?"
"And here I thought this line of work was full of barbarians," he added smugly. "But every now and then, I suppose, you find a smart one who almost manages to scrape up to my level."
I rolled my eyes. Either he's ignorant or just drunk on his own ego.
"And?" I prompted, deadpan. He thought such low-level insults would rattle me.
"And here I thought you were a smart one," he said, almost disappointed. "Guess I'll have to explain it to you like a toddler."
"And?" I repeated, cutting him off again.
"Ugh, you're as idiotic and annoying as the other muscle-brains," he snapped. "Now shut up and listen. I'll only explain this once."
I didn't respond. He took my silence as a sign of submission and launched into his grand plan.
"I'm sure you don't want these images reaching the cops, right? Then you'll do as I say, or they're gone."
I stifled a yawn. This clown should've taken lessons in blackmailing from Captain Robert before trying this routine. Right now, he sounded pathetic.
"And how long exactly am I supposed to dance to your tune?" I asked, curious what nonsense he'd spew.
"You only need to do fifty jobs for me," he said, like a king granting mercy.
I almost laughed. Fifty jobs? Really?
"Will you delete the images after that?" I asked, layering on fake hope.
"Delete?" His smirk was audible. "Maybe. If I feel like it."
That's his leverage?
"Now, your job—"
"No," I cut in.
"Wh-what?" He stammered.
"I'm not interested. Send the images to the cops if you want." My tone was final.
"You what?" He sounded genuinely shocked.
"Why should I agree?" I asked calmly. "Even if I do everything you say, you can still screw me in the end. Worst case, I'm screwed either way. So no—I'm not interested."
He became quiet, unable to process the shock of my denial. Then, suddenly, he thought of something and started talking gibberish.
"No, wait… wait a minute… Ahaha, so that's your plan!"
"Hahaha—are you fucking serious?"
"You think you can just walk away like that?"
"Hahaha, no, I was wrong. You are not smart. You are a fucking dolt just like these barbarians."
More laughter. More raving.
I leaned back, half-irritated, half-entertained.
He really should try for stand-up comedy. He can make a killing.
"Oh, man. I never had such a great laugh," he finally wheezed. "You are a halfwit if you believe Reina can protect you from the cops."
Seriously? That was his theory for my refusal? Despite my explaining it to him?
"Of course," I said arrogantly. "La Madrina won't let one of her own fall into police hands."
This was a good way to pass the time on the way to college.
He took the bait instantly. "Ha! I knew it. But what if I show these to her rivals? The Iron Serpents would love to see who butchered their men."
"Do you think they'll believe you?" I asked, letting just a hair of doubt creep into my tone. "You're a nobody. They won't take the word of some random clown against their rival."
Technically, gangs don't need proof. They work off suspicion and revenge. They don't sit around cross-examining photo evidence like a jury.
If he walked in waving pictures, they'd put a bullet in his head first just for the fact that he knew.
"You think I'm a nobody?" he barked, offended.
"Yes."
He sputtered curses, then stopped, trying to pull himself back together.
"I'll let that slide," he said stiffly. "You're ignorant of my greatness. Once you know, you'll be in awe of me."
"Please," I drawled, "educate me."
He didn't even catch the sarcasm. He took it as flattery.
"Fine, since you are begging so desperately," he said. "Do you know about the fight between Spider-Man and the Vulture?"
"Of course, I know. I don't live under a rock," I said as if he asked the dumbest question in the world.
"Then do you know who created those mechanical wings?" He asked, ignoring my earlier reply.
I played dumb. "I don't know, maybe the old bird himself?"
"Close, but you are only half correct," he said in a tone as if holding in a big secret.
"Mind enlightening me about the other half?" I asked.
"I like your attitude. Since you asked so nicely, I will tell you," he said. "Yes, that guy built it, but he had the help of someone."
Then he paused. We both stayed silent for a few moments.
Sigh. This wasn't going anywhere. In the end, I asked, "Who?"
"Phineas Mason, or better known as in relevant circles as Tinkerer," he said proudly. "He helped Adrian Toomes in improving the wings."
"And?" I said, feeling deja vu. Did we do this before?
"What do you mean and?" He asked incredulously.
"What does that have to do with you?" I asked, once again feeling annoyed.
"Everything," he barked. "I am one of his apprentices."
Oh? Now that was news to me.
"I am Daryl Stone. But you can call me Fix," he announced dramatically. "Now you understand the greatness before you."
Nope. Never heard of him.
"Can you make similar mechanical wings?" I asked curiously.
A pause. "…No. But I can make gadgets. I just need parts—Stark, Oscorp, Hammer, you name it. I can turn scraps into miracles."
That's it? He sounded this arrogant about being a recycling center.
"Awesome," I said. I cringed at how fake I sounded.
But Fix ate it up. "That's the proper reaction to me," he said, pleased.
Wait—parts? So that's what this gig was about.
I slipped into my act. "Oh no… I'm doomed. The Serpents will believe you without question. They'll hunt me down."
"Heh. Now you get it?" Fix sneered. "But I'm merciful. I'll give you another chance."
"Please," I said, mock-desperate.
"Fine. But since you angered me, it's a hundred jobs now."
"Anything," I said gratefully. "What kind of jobs?"
I already had a faint idea.
He puffed up. "Nothing major. Just… relieving certain companies of their tech and parts. Deliver them to me, I'll handle the rest."
Knew it. That was the only reason I humored this idiot.
I was seriously behind in both my burglary and delivery missions.
Doing the smuggling job for Reina actually increased my delivery mission count. That meant smuggling missions could count towards delivery mission progress. The more sources I had for such missions, the faster I could complete them.
Likewise, "relieving" items could count toward my burglary mission progress. There were only so many houses I could rob without being caught by the cops.
"And if you did an exceptional job, I don't mind equipping you with some of my gadgets," he added, as if he were blessing me.
"Thanks, Fix. You're a great man."
"I am," he agreed, satisfied. "I'll contact you soon." Then he hung up.
I stared at the screen.
I am still confused. Should I kill him after completing my missions or not?
Empire State University:
— 3rd Person POV —
Peter tugged his locker open, juggling a stack of books that looked as though they were ready to collapse.
MJ leaned against the locker beside him, one eyebrow arched, looking at Peter take out books after books.
"Seriously, Tiger, are you planning to carry the entire library with you?" MJ asked with a playful grin on her face. "I swear you're one bad step away from becoming a walking disaster."
"Yeah, well… midterms. Someone's got to study," Peter said with a nervous chuckle.
Liz flicked her hair back. It was the kind of effortless move that drew attention without her even trying.
"Most guys would bluff their way through. Not Peter. He actually does the work. That's what makes him stand out," Liz praised him.
Peter shifted uncomfortably, not used to such blatant praise, no matter how many he was listening to from her nowadays.
"Stand out, or just boring," he muttered, though he couldn't help but smile.
"Boring? No way. You're nerdy in a heroic sort of way. Give it time, you'll probably be running the place," MJ smirked, leaning in.
"Or building it," Liz added, laughing. "Peter Parker, the next Tony Stark or Reed Richards."
Peter's face flushed red. "Let's just focus on surviving physics first, okay?"
Their laughter overlapped, easy and bright, drawing the attention of those in the hallway. Some guys looked at Peter like they'd trade places in a heartbeat, while a few girls eyed the girls around him, wishing they could slide into that girl group. They sighed. If Felicia also joined the group, it could really become a girl group that ruled the university food chain.
From just behind the two laughing girls, Gwen tightened her grip on the notebook she carried. She opened her mouth softly, the laughter almost swallowed her voice, barely above a whisper.
"You're already really good at physics, Peter," she said softly. "You don't have to stress too much."
But Peter listened to it with his enhanced senses. He glanced at her and offered a small smile, "Thanks, Gwen."
Her chest warmed at the smile, but before the moment could grow, MJ tapped Peter's shoulder.
"Don't forget—you promised to help me with chemistry. No backing out," MJ said with mock sternness.
Liz leaned in, teasing. "Careful, MJ, don't hog him all to yourself. Some of us are still waiting in line."
The two girls laughed again, Peter caught between them, awkward but grinning.
Gwen was part of the circle, but looked like a stranger to the circle. Her lips pressed together as she stood awkwardly, her notebook tightly hugged to her chest. Present, but unseen.
Liz smiled faintly as she subtly looked back and watched Gwen drift further from Peter.
For years, a quiet truth had gnawed at her: Gwen wasn't just pretty. She had poise. Grace. Potential. Liz knew her own fate—at best, some rich man's trophy wife. But Gwen Stacy? She could be important.
That's why watching her stumble felt so sweet. Every inch Gwen lost with Peter was an inch Liz gained. For once, the flawless Gwen Stacy faltered—and Liz savored every second.
MJ and Liz linked arms with Peter, tugging him toward the cafeteria. Their laughter rang out, effortless and bright.
Gwen stood awkwardly behind; no one even asked her. She gave a self-deprecating smile. She almost followed, but a voice stopped her.
"Hey," a boy's voice said from the side.
She turned and found it was Kevin whom Peter had protected from Flash a while back. She felt that his presence was too low, so much so that she didn't even notice him before the incident.
"Hi," Gwen returned with a polite smile.
Kevin studied her face and frowned, "Is something the matter? You don't look so good."
Gwen blinked, caught off guard. "No, nothing like that. I'm fine," she answered quickly, forcing a smile. Inside, though, she noted how sharp his observation was.
"Really?" He sounded unconvinced but let it drop. Then his tone shifted, becoming steadier and more serious. "But if there ever is a problem, you can come to me. Peter's a great guy—he stood up for me against Flash. I owe him. If he ever needs me, I'll be there. And since you're his friend, that goes for you too."
Gwen's smile softened. "Thanks, Kevin. But you don't need to feel obligated like that."
"Obligation? What are you talking about, woman?" Kevin snorted and said with a serious voice. "We are now friends. Friends help each other. No strings attached."
The bluntness stunned her. But it didn't feel bad. In fact, it warmed her.
She laughed, and as she continued, Kevin joined in as well. Their laughter was natural, not forced.
She felt how different it was from what it had been before. She felt like a stranger with her friends, but with this unexpected stranger who became her friend, she felt seen.
"By the way, Gwen?" Kevin asked, looking oddly shy.
"What is it?" she tilted her head.
"I was wondering if you could… maybe help me with maths," he said, hesitating. Then he grinned. "I am a little behind in it, so I figured I should learn from the best."
Gwen laughed. "Sure. After class?"
"Perfect," he said quickly, relief in his voice.
They stood in silence for a moment, the pause oddly comfortable. Then Kevin added, dead serious:
"In return, I'll protect you from bullies. Male bullies, at least."
Gwen blinked. "Only male bullies?" She laughed. "And how would you manage that, when you needed Peter's help with Flash?"
Kevin flushed. "Nobody knows this, but I had it handled. I've got… a secret move."
Her curiosity piqued, Gwen leaned in. "Secret move?"
"Yeah, it is an ancestral secret technique," Kevin said proudly. Then, he showed dejection, "Unfortunately, it works on men only. That's why I said male bullies."
"Ancestral technique?" Gwen echoed, her voice dropping even more. She wanted to hear it more.
"You wanna know?" Kevin whispered.
She nodded before she realized it.
Kevin thought for a few moments.
"Since you are my friend, I can tell you," Kevin agreed. Then his voice turned serious, "But you must never tell it to anyone."
Gwen hurriedly shook her head to promise him.
"The secret is simple," Kevin paused. Gwen couldn't control her curiosity; each moment felt like a century to her.
Finally, Kevin continued before she erupted.
"Always aim between the legs," Kevin said seriously, as if telling a cosmic truth.
Gwen looked stunned as she looked at him in silence. She couldn't process what happened.
Kevin cracked first, breaking into uncontrollable laughter.
Her shock melted into outrage. "You jerk!" She punched his chest.
Kevin doubled over coughing, but still managed a weak thumbs-up. "Nice punch."
That broke her rage. Gwen laughed too, harder than she expected. Together, still chuckling, they headed toward the cafeteria.
A few meters behind, Marko and Felicia watched Kevin and Gwen laughing their way toward the cafeteria.
Felicia's lips pressed into a thin line. Marko caught the sour look on her face and gave a helpless smile.
"Why don't you go talk to him?" Marko suggested lightly.
"Why should I? We don't have anything to do with each other," Felicia snapped.
Marko chuckled under his breath. "Right. Totally unrelated. That's why you look ready to claw Gwen's eyes out."
Her glare shot daggers at him.
"Relax," Marko raised his hands. "Just saying—aren't you worried he might… replace you?"
"Replace me? Please." Felicia tossed her hair, her tone sharp. "I already have a boyfriend. And I love him very much."
Felicia tried to act as if she didn't care, but her clenched fist behind her back suggested otherwise.
Marko smirked. "Sure. But does Kevin care about that?"
Felicia's jaw tightened. "Why would I care what he thinks? He can do whatever he wants."
"Funny," Marko said casually. "Because you ask me about him almost every day."
Felicia's expression darkened. "You got a problem with that?" she asked, voice like a blade.
"No, ma'am," Marko answered meekly.
Felicia huffed, lowering her voice. "It's not like Gwen has a chance anyway. She's into Peter."
Marko snorted. "Into Peter, sure. But between MJ throwing herself at him, Liz hovering, and him being too shy for his own good? Gwen's odds are trash. MJ's got the upper hand. Liz, maybe, but less. Gwen? Forget it."
Felicia's eyes narrowed. "What if that nerd surprises you? Maybe Peter wants all three. Isn't that every guy's dream?"
Marko laughed. "Maybe. But Peter? He doesn't have the guts. If he ever got one girlfriend, he'd push the others away. That's just how he is."
Felicia nodded, agreeing to Marko's comment.
"Even if Peter actually likes them all and wants them to become his," Marko laughed. "He doesn't have the guts to say that to their faces."
Felicia nodded despite herself. She hated that kind of toxic, greedy behavior—collecting women like trophies. And yet… she couldn't help comparing it to Kevin. At least he said what he wanted, plain and unashamed.
Marko was right. Few men had the guts for that.
"So you see," Marko continued, "your position's shaky with Gwen in the picture. You're both gorgeous, sure. But she's got brains on top of it. That makes her the full package."
Felicia clenched her fists even harder, hearing that. She suddenly started comparing herself to Gwen.
She wanted to scream that she and Kevin had chemistry Gwen could never touch. Night jobs together. The thrill, the rhythm they shared. Even if Kevin didn't know Black Cat was her, they had a bond.
Or… they had previously.
But, since that incident, she had never gone on a heist with him.
Yes, she didn't invite him on one herself, but couldn't he call her himself?
She thought even if there was some temporary sourness between them, she could still spend time as Black Cat with him.
She thought she might play hard to get for a while, to make him realize her importance. Maybe even withhold sex. Even though they never did it, they still did everything else. She thought she would let him beg for her forgiveness to let him touch her.
He would have to ask for he forgiveness, and beg and coax her. That way, she could at least let out some of the bad breath of her Felicia persona.
But he never called. Not once.
'Am I really replaceable for him?'
'Would he trade me for Gwen… or someone else?'
Felicia shuddered while having such thoughts.
Felicia shook her head to remove such thoughts from her brain.
Felicia shook her head hard, as if she could throw the doubts out of her skull. "Whatever," she muttered, striding toward the cafeteria.
Marko looked at her and, with a wry smile, followed behind her.
They reached the cafeteria. Gwen had already rejoined her group, sitting in her usual spot.
Marko looked at Kevin and nodded; he nodded back from their usual table. Then suddenly, Kevin's eyes turned blank. Marko followed his line of sight, and as expected, that expression was for Felicia.
Felicia's jaw clenched. She gave a sharp little harrumph and turned away, pretending to be engrossed in something else.
Marko quickly came and joined Kevin at their usual table with his food.
"Dude, why don't you just already talk to her?" Marko said the first thing after sitting down. "That girl is making me mad with her almost constant daily enquiries."
"Not my problem," Kevin replied, calm as stone.
Marko groaned. "She cycled through four boyfriends in four weeks just to get a rise out of you. If you won't make up with her, fine—but at least stop looking like a corpse when she parades them around. Show some damn emotion."
"Nope." Kevin didn't even blink.
Marko slumped back, defeated. They'd been over this conversation too many times to count.
"Didn't you also have a crush on her? Why don't you try? Maybe she will make you her fifth boyfriend," Kevin suggested.
Marko gave him a flat look. "Don't be stupid. We both know she only cares about you. And as your friend, I'm not touching that minefield."
He lowered his voice, dead serious. "Besides, I'd rather not find out what you'd do to me if I did."
Kevin laughed, shaking his head.
"Speaking of her four boyfriends," he said casually, "isn't it about time she dumps the current one?"
"I hope so," Marko muttered. "That guy's been strutting around all week like a peacock in mating season. Irritating as hell."
Kevin chuckled. "Kind of expected. With his reputation in ruins, landing Felicia was the only ego boost he had left."
"Hey, Felicia, why didn't you wait for me?" a loud voice came from the cafeteria entrance.
There stood Flash, looking like he owned the entire university. With an arrogant expression, he walked towards Felicia.
Before Felicia could answer, he grabbed her and kissed her in front of everyone, his hands gripping her hips possessively.
The students looked at them with envy, whispers and murmurs filling the cafeteria.
Felicia kissed back, her hands wrapped around his neck. But her eyes weren't on him.
She was looking at only one guy, Kevin. She thought maybe he would finally show some emotion. Jealousy, hate, longing, guilt, regret, anything. But his face was blank.
He gave her a bored look and then went back to eating as if the scene in the middle of the cafeteria had nothing to do with him.
Felicia's chest tightened. Rage flared. She shoved Flash away.
"Babe, what—?"
"Let's break up," Felicia cut him off flatly.
The entire atmosphere in the cafeteria suddenly shifted. The students had expressions as if they were watching a good show. The boys had a gloating expression as they looked at Flash.
"But why?" Flash demanded. He finally felt he was back on top. But the breakup might push him back down. He didn't want that.
"No reason," Felicia said.
"We are the perfect couple. The most popular boy and the most popular girl, we are meant to be together," Flash shouted.
"Not interested," Felicia said. "It's over, Flash. Learn to accept no."
Flash looked around and saw the mocking, gloating expression on the other students. Especially, his ex-girlfriend Liz had a particularly cruel smirk on her face.
"No… no, no. This isn't happening," Flash muttered, voice shaking. "I'm the best. I deserve the best."
His face twisted into fury. "No one says no to Flash Thompson!"
Then his glare landed on Kevin.
"It's you. This is your fault! You turned her against me!"
He stormed toward Kevin's table, steps heavy, fists clenched.
Marko looked tense, but this time he didn't freeze. Maybe the incident with Vince and his buddies gave him a confidence boost.
Kevin looked at Flash walking towards him with a bored look. He was debating in his mind whether he should use his ancestral secret technique on Flash or not.
"Stop right there, Flash."
Felicia's sharp voice cut through the tension.
Flash spun toward her, face contorted. "You want to protect him? You think that nameless nobody is better than me?"
Felicia's voice was calm. "What I do has nothing to do with you. Sit down before you embarrass yourself further."
"Bitch," Flash spat. "You think you can—"
Felicia answered with her fist, with a right uppercut; she clocked him. With a single move, Flash fell and lost consciousness.
The students looked at her with wide eyes, stunned. No one could have thought that she was strong enough to defeat Flash in one move.
This time, Flash's reputation really went down the drain.
Felicia looked up to Kevin, hoping that he might finally give her some emotions, but he still showed her a blank look.
Her lips pressed into a thin line. Without a word, she walked back to her table and sat down, eating alone while the cafeteria buzzed with whispers.
*********************
My apologies for the delay.