They were being escorted. Yep, escorted. Honestly, Felix had to pretend he wasn't as giddy as Miles.
'This is awesome.'
Through the crowd towards the exclusive entrance for VIP ticket holders, past clusters of fans wearing Black Cat merchandise—shirts emblazoned with her feline logo, light-up headbands, and black leather jackets reminiscent of her stage style. The anticipation was contagious. Felix seriously couldn't help but feel a thrill.
"Dude, can I ask how much these tickets cost?" Miles asked, walking directly by his side.
"Better if you don't know," Felix retorted.
"Like a thousand?"
"Way more."
"Jesus! You mean it's more than we pay rent!?"
"Probably."
"Probably or definitely?"
"Definitely."
They were led up a long, long fleet of stairs until finally, the door opened and they were here.
"Wow."
Inside, the VIP suite was an oasis of comfort in the otherwise rowdy stadium. Plush velvet seats lined the small, elevated section with an unobstructed view of the vast stage below. Glass panels ran along the edge, offering a panoramic view of the stadium.
"My friends are going to be so jealous." Miles ran up to the glass, face and palms pressed to it. "Can I take photos?"
The door behind them closed. The person that had been their attendant was gone.
"Dumb question," Miles said, immediately whipping out his phone. From here, the main stage seemed close enough to touch, and the crowd below was a sea of flashing lights and colorful outfits.
Felix smiled, got a bottle of soda from the stocked minibar, and returned to settle into his seat.
"How many people can fit in this thing?" Miles asked.
"Seventy thousand, give or take."
"Sheesh!"
More and more entered.
Miles gulped.
As the crowd below grew louder with excitement, Miles sat down with his arms crossed. "Man, I hope she opens with 'Shadow Games.' That's her best song. You know it's her best, right?"
Felix laughed, sipping his drink. "I know, I know. If she doesn't play it, we'll be writing some strongly worded letters, I guess."
Miles let out a breath, his gaze was fixed on the stage. "I'm so ready for this. I've been waiting forever to see Black Cat live!"
The minutes ticked by until finally…
The lights dimmed.
A hush fell over the massive crowd. An ocean of cell phones lit up, the tiny screens flickering like stars in a dark sky. The huge screens positioned around the stadium went black, and a deep bass hum vibrated.
Felix could feel it in his heart. His senses were super sensitive after all.
The stage filled with a thick, swirling fog that spilled over the edge and drifted toward the audience. The crowd erupted into cheers, the roar so loud it seemed to shake the walls of the stadium itself. From somewhere behind the veil of smoke, a single spotlight cut through the darkness, illuminating a slim, confident figure in the center of the stage.
There was a remote nearby that let him control how much the glass in front of them should be. Felix decided to roll it all the way down.
Now, they could hear and see everything authentically.
Slowly, she emerged from the fog, one step at a time.
Miles sprung to his feet. He didn't say a word, he merely smiled.
Standing there was Black Cat—her famous white hair cascading down her shoulders in waves. She wore a corseted top, fitted and metallic, paired with a flared skirt that flashed with silvery hues. Her heels clicked on the stage, and she moved with a feline grace that lived up to her name, as though each step was choreographed to hold the audience captive.
The moment she stepped into the spotlight, the crowd erupted into deafening cheers. Her dark contrasted beautifully with the stark white of her hair. She was a statement—bold, sexy, and unmistakably Black Cat.
Black Cat brought the microphone to her lips, her voice low and rich, carrying through the stadium with ease. "Bonsoir, New York!" she purred, her French accent giving the words a sultry, exotic edge. The crowd went wild, cheering, screaming, a wave of adoration surging toward the stage.
The music swelled. The song began.
The opening notes of her first song echoed through the stadium, the screens above the stage flickered to life, showing close-ups of her every movement, every sultry glance she cast toward the crowd. Felix felt the bass vibrating through his body as the music swelled.
All good stuff. All great. But…
The facial recognition software in his glasses kicked up.
The NYPD had something on her. It was classified SHIELD intel and accessible only via SHIELD authorization.
So unless Felix suddenly gained access to SHIELD servers, researching her background would be impossible.
And so, the concert went on.
Black Cat's energy on stage only seemed to increase, feeding off the crowd's wild enthusiasm. Miles was dancing and singing in his seat. Fun stuff to see.
He turned subtly and had his Advanced Glasses record. 'Rio is gonna love this.'
Miles wasn't the type to dance crazily. He was snapping his fingers and grooving to the tune.
The lights changed to a deep blue as Black Cat transitioned into a more upbeat number. A group of masked dancers emerged from the shadows, each one dressed in sleek black latex costumes.
They flipped in and out of the shadows around Black Cat as she sang. All of them were the same: pale, white-haired women in spandex.
It was interesting to see.
White hair, pale skin...
Felix couldn't find it in himself to be too happy. Every time he did, he was reminded of Kate. Kate who was kidnapped and struggling. Maybe even getting tortured by that sultry, miracle-working thief.
His hands balled into fists and his lips set into a flat line.
The song ended in a wave of cheers, and Black Cat stepped to the center, smiling and waving to the crowd. The dancers melted back into the stage. No one cared for them, not really. The dark-skinned French woman held the microphone, smiling.
"Merci, New York! You have been incredible tonight!"
Felix glanced across the stadium, adjusting his Advanced Glasses. Despite the distance and the low lighting, the lenses gave him an incredibly clear view of the opposite side of the massive stadium. Through the crowd, tucked away in another VIP box, sat…
'There he is.'
Alistair Smythe, reclining comfortably in his wheelchair with a drink in his hand. Zooming in, Felix could make out the faint smirk on his friend's face as he enjoyed the show.
'Alistair really did come. Should I talk to him?'
He was about to look away, thinking it was pointless, until he picked up his phone. Someone was calling him.
He didn't want to but the Advanced Glasses automatically did. The ID on the phone was Dr. Octavius. Interesting, albeit intruding and eavesdropping was, well, morally wrong.
So he didn't listen and elected to stay quiet. Maybe later, they would bump into each other.
'Or maybe…I'll bump into him.'
***
The concert ended with an electrifying finale, and the crowd roared with cheers. Black Cat took her final bow on stage. Felix could feel the bass still thudding in his chest as the lights began to dim and people started streaming toward the exits. Miles looked like he'd just had the night of his life.
"Hey, Miles," Felix said, patting him on the back. "Here's my phone. I called a taxi for you. It'll be here in a couple of minutes."
Miles blinked, his post-concert glow replaced with a bit of confusion. "A taxi? Wait, you're not coming?"
"Nah," Felix replied with a grin, eyes darting to the opposite side of the stadium where he'd spotted Alistair Smythe earlier through his Advanced Glasses. "I've got something I need to take care of. Work stuff. But, uh, don't tell your mom."
"So lie for you?"
"If you have to."
Miles raised an eyebrow but shrugged it off and laughed. "Alright, just text me when you're free, man."
With a nod and a casual wave, Miles and Felix parted ways. As soon as the boy was out of sight and hearing, Felix took off. The halls between the VIP sections were connected afterall. He ran until he reached the opposite side of the stadium.
'Alistair. Good to see.'
Just as planned, he saw the wheelchaired man.
Felix kept it casual, strolling and stopping some feet away from his co-worker with a surprised expression plastered across his face. "Alistair? Hey, I didn't expect to see you here."
Alistair's usual guarded expression softening just a fraction. "Ah, Felix."
"You know, with how many people here, I thought we'd never see each other."
"You could have texted me." Alistair said while adjusting his glasses, faint traces of the concert's lights still reflected in their frames.
"Ah, my bad. I forgot." Alistair rolled over and Felix realized that there was an elevator between them. He jogged and pressed the elevator button. "Hey, let me help you out. I'll take you to your car."
"If you insist. My butler will be here in about two minutes."
At work, there were plenty of accessibility routes for him to take. As a matter of fact, from what Felix heard, accessibility doors and pathways had been constructed ten some years ago specifically for Alistair. To get him to join the company.
Here, it was a little tough. Better for Felix to be in the helm then. So after approval from Alistair, Felix went behind the wheelchair and pushed him into the elevator, which opened to a couple people inside already.
"Why don't you come back to the house for dinner? I don't often have guests, but I could use the company."
"Sure, I'd love that." Alistair wasn't the type to invite just anyone over, and Felix had been itching for an excuse to get a better look at the reclusive Smythe estate.
Alistair instructed him to go to the southern section. There, looking as though it had been waiting for hours was a lengthy, lovely luxury car.
"Sick car," Felix remarked.
"Thank you. It's the second latest model."
"Second?"
"The newest one sucks."
"Ah."
It was a Rolls-Royce Phantom, long and silver and kept in pristine condition. The driver stepped out—a sharply dressed woman with short black hair. Felix's Advanced Glasses flickered as her information filled his screen.
NAME: Yuriko Watanabe
OCCUPATION: Butler, Former Cop, Former Detective
GENDER: Female
AGE: 40
MARITAL STATUS: Single
HEIGHT: 5'9" / 1.75 m
WEIGHT: 135 lbs / 61 kg
IRISES: Brown
HAIR COLOUR: Black
EDUCATION: Justice Studies (Berkeley College), Police Studies Certificate Program,
PARENTS: John Watanabe (father), ? (mother)
Note: Although her birth certificate was likely forged, Yuri has been determined to be born around the year 1980 in Astoria, Queens borough of New York City. Her father, John Watanabe, a second generation cop, was imprisoned after it was discovered he was taking bribes from the Maggia. Her father's fall from grace motivated her to join the police force, with the intent of righting her father's wrongs and single-handedly taking on the Maggia.
Yuri started out as a detective at the NYPD's Chinatown precinct, but relocated several times in her career. Over the course of over a decade, Yuri brought down countless Maggia's fronts, earning the ire of Maggia and eventually earning her the rank of captain. She quit for unknown reasons and was hired by Alistair Smythe for domestic and protective services.
Felix blinked, trying not to react to the sudden data dump. Yuri held the door open with a professional nod.
"Mr. Smythe," Yuri Watanabe said, "the car is ready."
Alistair wheeled himself in with Felix slid in after him. Yuri closed the door with a soft click and returned to the driver's seat. The interior of the car was just as luxurious as the outside—soft leather seats, intricate wood paneling, and a faint, expensive cologne lingering in the air.
Rich stuff, you know?
As they pulled away from the stadium, Felix glanced over at Alistair, who seemed to be studying him.
"You didn't tell me you'd be going, Felix," Alistair commented with a raised eyebrow. "Otherwise, we could have sat together."
"It was a little minute thing for a friend," Felix said. "His mother needed some time alone and I was like, 'Hey, you like Black Cat, right? Let's go!' So that was that."
The car continued to glide through the streets, the cityscape giving way to quieter, residential areas, and eventually to sprawling estates.
Felix ended up asking, "So…how's work?"
"Classified. And yours?"
"Also classified."
Great stuff.
"You have a butler," Felix pointed out.
"She's a former cop. Takes cares of all my needs, particularly security."
"Did Oscorp pick her out?"
"No, she was someone I picked out."
Good to know, because getting to Alistair's mansion was among his biggest objectives. The spy…
Yes, the spy.
Forget Kate, forget everything else that happened. For now, he had to focus on finding the spy. The attack on Oscorp was still a priority for him. These couple days, he had been aimless. After killing Crossbones, it was like he was drifting.
Not anymore. Now, for tonight, he was focusing on the spy again.
"Do you live in a mansion or something?" Felix joked. "Where are we going?"
"Ah, yes. You haven't been here, have you?" Alistair smirked. "Prepare to be surprised, my friend."
Soon enough, the Rolls-Royce slowed, pulling onto the lengthy driveway of the Smythe estate. Alistair's home, 1914 Murray Hill. Felix had seen the schematics of this place. It was a massive mansion nestled on 3.75 acres of meticulously landscaped land. With the Advanced Glasses and its X-ray vision, Felix could make out the elegant architecture: a stunning conservatory with Palladian windows, the outline of tennis courts, and, further back, the silhouette of a guest cottage nestled by a small greenhouse.
Everything that he already knew.
As they approached the front entrance, the headlights swept across the garden terrace.
Alistair's wealth was on full display here, yet the estate's secluded location gave it an oddly lonely feel. It seemed almost like a private world, isolated from everything beyond its high walls.
Yuri parked the car in front of the main entrance and stepped out, opening Alistair's door first, then Felix's.
"Wow." Felix stood there and admired the front. "All this for yourself?"
"I like to race around," Alistair said. Whether he was joking or being serious was hard to to tell.
The front entrance alone was built like something out of a palace, with tall, arching doors set in an elaborate stone frame.
His Advanced Glasses went to work, scanning the area. The mansion was sectioned into a left and right wing with three floors. Each wing sprawled across more square footage than an entire apartment complex back in the city. His glasses pulled up a list of rooms: ten bedrooms, eleven bathrooms, two studies, a library, a drawing room, and a grand dining hall. Every square inch screamed wealth.
Indeed, when the front entrance opened and they stepped inside, well, Felix realized maybe he was being serious about racing around. It was just so damn big. Even he was tempted to run.
"Come," Yuri said coolly, beckoning him inside.
Felix followed, trying not to gape at the massive foyer. The floor was polished marble and opened up into an opulent main hall that branched off into the left and right wings.
"I will join you later," Alistair said. "I feel we have much to discuss."
Felix blinked. "Really? Is it about the concert?"
"No, no, something a bit more...classified. You will see," Alistair said.
"Your clothes are in your room, sir," said Yuri.
"Thank you."
Alistair was already rolling toward the elevator—yes, this place had an elevator. He pressed the button and waved Felix off with a casual, "Make yourself at home."
Once Alistair disappeared behind the elevator doors, Yuri led Felix down a hallway toward the kitchen. Even here, the décor was luxurious: rich mahogany cabinetry, granite counters, and an enormous island at the center. Glass shelves held gleaming rows of crystal glasses and fine china. It was the kind of kitchen that felt almost too pristine to be used.
"Apologies, do you mind staying closeby?" Yuri said.
"Oh, sure, no problem."
For security reasons, he presumed. Alistair might have trusted him but Yuri didn't. Fair enough.
'And an opportunity too.'
Now that he was here, he had an opportunity to learn more about Alistair without garnering any suspicion. If someone learned about Alistair in the coming days, no one could point to him. He was always in Yuri's vision, after all.
Felix adjusted his glasses and activated his Advanced Glasses. His goal: hack into any available local computers and security feeds.
Remember the trap he planted for Czarina? He suggested she go to Alistair for analysis of Spider-Man. If she was apart of SHIELD, then SHIELD should have immediately done as he said.
But… nothing.
Not that SHIELD wasn't here but nothing as in…there was nothing to see.
Every camera in the mansion was inactive, save for one facing the front entrance. But even then…
'It's been deleted. All of it, up until three days ago.'
The computers were offline, and there weren't any servers he could connect to. It was as if Alistair had purposefully removed all the tech, leaving the entire mansion as a blank slate.
Nothing about this was normal.
"Hey, do you know where the bathroom is?"
Going to the bathroom was unfortunately something she couldn't keep watch of, so Yuri glanced up from the stove, thought about it, and decided to give him a curt nod. "The closest is next to the elevator."
Good. Great.
Because he was going to check up on Alistair.
Felix backed out of the kitchen and headed toward the elevator. At first walking and then jogging. Something was off.
He didn't bother taking the elevator. See, the mansion's three floors could be accessed through the spiral, blocky stairs that went along the perimeter or if someone could jump forty or sixty feet high. The latter could only be done by Spider-Man, of course. Felix jumped high and landed on the railing, immediately activating a more powerful scan through his Advanced Glasses.
'X-ray vision isn't working. Thermal is weak…'
Whatever these walls were made of, they seemed to be scrambling his sensors. Alistair was a smart, paranoid bastard. Emphasis on smart and paranoid. Felix could barely get any readings on Alistair's whereabouts upstairs and every other system in the mansion was a dead end.
A hand held onto the railing.
"Where should I…?"
Then his spider-sense flared like it never had before.
A sharp jolt of instinct urged him to move. His muscles reacted automatically. He leaped and ran. The second floor had three massive rooms, so which to choose...?
There was no choice. His Spider-Sense guided him and it didn't feel good. The feeling of wrongness intensified with every step, and his legs carried him to a large, ornate door at the end of the hall of the second floor.
He reached for the handle. Almost immediately, his nose picked out the scent of iron and gunpowder.
Alistair Smythe was slumped over in his wheelchair, his head hanging low. His neck bore deep choke marks and a bullet wound marred his stomach, blood staining the front of his expensive suit.
Just a few feet away, on the bed…
What...?
Oh god.
"Eleanor…?"
Eleanor Bishop, still and lifeless and laying on the massive bed. Blood spilled from her mouth. A knife protruded from her chest, driven straight through her heart.
Felix's Advanced Glasses flashed.
ALISTAIR SMYTHE: STATUS — DECEASED.
ELEANOR BISHOP: STATUS — DECEASED.