18529/Descent: The Thief and the Mercenary

Descent: The Thief and the Mercenary
Date of Scene:	08 July 2024
Location:	The Black Market
Synopsis:	Felicia meets with Silver Sablinova at the Black Market to request her services in finding The Lizard, Man-Spider, and the stolen Neo-Genic Recombinator, but that isn't the only job mentioned. Once they put things right, Felicia is set on revenge.
Cast of Characters:	Felicia Hardy, Silver Sablinova
Tinyplot:	Descent

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Felicia Hardy has posed:
In 2007, Walter Hardy, the wealthy New York socialite, made news when he was betrayed by his associates and outed as the notorious and world-famous thief known as 'The Cat.' He was subsequently arrested and imprisoned.

In 2011, Hardy was broken out of prison, but succumbed to illness shortly after reuniting one last time with his family.

His daughter, Felicia Hardy -- now 31-years-old -- lives in an Upper East Side penthouse apartment in New York City. A prominent socialite in her own right (whose total accumulated wealth can only be estimated, as none of it is made public), she frequently attends high-profile galas in the Big Apple and beyond. She's known to have connections across the globe, no doubt at least in part owing to her father's notoriety (both good and bad).

But it isn't just high society functions and art auctions. Felicia's spent the last thirteen years navigating the shadows of the underworld, balancing her public persona with that of the 'Black Cat,' who took over many of Walter Hardy's contacts and business relationships.

Tonight is no different.

Some know her as only one or the other, but those "in the know" have either already had their suspicions confirmed first hand or simply have little doubt that the daughter of Walter Hardy followed in his footsteps. In any case, when accepting a meeting with Felicia, someone like Silver Sablinova would already know exactly who she was going to talk to -- masks or not.

There are surely numerous government agencies out there who have their (albeit tenuous) conclusions between Felicia Hardy and Black Cat drawn as well. A lack of hard evidence is really the only thing keeping most of them from knocking down her door -- that and connections upon connections upon connections that keep most investigators from snooping too heavily into her business.

In a world of full of professionals, only a few are legitimately in a position to be considered 'the best' at what they do. Black Cat, with exploits ranging from international museum heists to stealing artifacts from the Sanctum Sanctorum, is known as one of the best cat burglars in the world. Silver Sable is one of the best mercenaries. And that is what brings them together, tonight.

Dressed in an elegant, long-sleeved white blouse and black slacks that hug her hips and thighs, Felicia fits the "casual chic" dress code of The Black Market perfectly. The top has a subtle shimmer that catches the low lights of the club, giving her both an elegant and mysterious edge, and peeking out from the hem of those slacks are red-soled, black patent stilettos.

Her ears, neck, and wrists are all frosted with diamonds that glints under the flashing lights, and her platinum blonde hair's styled in loose waves that cascade over her shoulders. Tonight, her makeup is kept elegant and flawless, a hint of smoky eyeshadow adding a 'cat eye' to her allure.

The Black Market is an exclusive nightclub known for catering to the most infamous and dangerous individuals in New York City, and it's everything the rumors promised. The two-story club's a sprawling vista of lights and shadows, where the rich and infamous mingle freely. Unbreakable steel walls and floors give the place an industrial chic vibe, and the air's thick with the scent of expensive liquor and the thrill of danger. Music pulses through the space, a mix of electronic beats and live performances on the main stage, where bands play for reputation, money, or under duress.

Felicia's chosen a booth on the upper level, giving her a clear view of the entrance and the entire floor below. She's draped casually upon the dark leather, legs crossed, one arm boredly stretched out along the back while her fingernails pick at a seam. She sips on a glass of white wine, her demeanor calm and composed, but her eyes are sharp, scanning the room for any sign of trouble -- or Silver Sable.

The club's rules are simple but strictly enforced: no costumes, no powers, no killing. It creates a tense yet strangely civilized atmosphere where even the most d

Felicia Hardy has posed:
The club's rules are simple but strictly enforced: no costumes, no powers, no killing. It creates a tense yet strangely civilized atmosphere where even the most dangerous villains can relax -- if only a little -- but Felicia doesn't let her guard down completely. The Black Market's a place where allies can become enemies in the blink of an eye, and everyone has their own agenda.

When Silver enters, she'll be pointed up to Felicia's booth by one of the guards.

Silver Sablinova has posed:
There are not many places that are a secret to Silver Sablinova, generally better know by her professional name. At least in most circles.

The Black Market is no different in that respect. While it might aim for a particular sort of clientel that Silver is not, technically, a part of, she has used the club often enough for a variety of clandestine meetings in the past to know the drill.

While she might be Symkarian nobility, she did in fact turn down the throne almost a decade ago, she is much better known for her leadership of the Wild Pack, perhaps the premier mercenary company in the world. Though these days it generally just goes by the name of Silver Sable International. They have, in truth, become the single greatest source of revenue for her impovrished country and her reputation for getting the job done, no matter the cost has become somewhat legendary in most circles.

Clearly she is not trying to keep any sort of low profile with her arrival, and though she might have forsaken her normal silver jumpsuit and working gear, it seems that Silver does have a preferred motif. That silk blouse practically shimmers with the silver threading laced throughout, catching the flashing lights in the club, and the skirt seems covered in thousands of little silver sequins that do the same, making her stand out.

Just where she keeps the weapons that she almost surely has stashed on her person is a little more of a mystery, but as she enters the club, as she pauses to speak with the hostess by the door, he gaze follows the indicated gesture, locking on to that booth on the upper level.

Offers of drinks, of taking to the dance floor are pointedly ignored. While it might looks like she's out for fun, there is a certain determination in her step, navigating those stairs quickly and wasting no time in approaching Felicia's booth, sliding right into the opposite side of it as if she has known the other woman for her entirely life.

For a moment she simply studies the other woman without speaking, without even blinking. Then, finally, she inclined her head ever so slightly. "I understand that you might have a problem."

Felicia Hardy has posed:
Aquamarine eyes follow Silver's approach, but the only thing the mercenary might find inside them is a sense of relief.

Relief... and fatigue. For, as good as Felicia has always been at smiling through life's trials and tribulations -- as much as she enjoys the thrills that come with her chosen lifestyle and revels in the challenges -- she cannot completely hide the weight in the bags under her lower eyelids.

The faint edge of redness that creeps in just at the corners of the whites of her eyes.

Sleep has not been her friend. But if one was forced to choose a single word for the expression on her face, aside from all of those little tells, it would be 'resolve.' Fatigue be damned. She can sleep when she's dead.

"I have... many problems," comes the woman's sultry purr, something that she just doesn't seem to be able to help, as she gestures vaguely with the glass of wine in her hand. "And to be frank, I'm hoping to be able to pawn at least a couple of them off on you."

There's the faintest curl at the corner of her lips. Not quite a smile. Not quite a grimace. Once more, it seems a little... tired. Worried, even, perhaps. This isn't the carefree party girl that shows up, driving too fast in her Janguar, and jokes about buying someone's entire art collection.

This is a woman that cares about something.

That's had something taken from her.

And intends to get it back.

"What have you heard about the incident on ESU's campus? Anything?"

The news would have had a statement on it. Some lab accident that the police are investigating as a possible break-in because no one was found inside, but there was unspecified 'scientific equipment' missing.

The Neo-Genic Recombinator that Dr. Connors took with him after he was shot in the neck with a dark and subsequently transformed into the Lizard, abandoning her boyfriend in that fucking machine and wrecking all the computer equipment so they couldn't stop it.

There were rumors, after that, of a giant lizard and man-sized spider running through campus, leaving authorities puzzled about whether the 'break in' was actually a science experiment gone wrong or some kind of prank. Rumors of that 'man-sized spider' also include whispers of a ripped Spider-Man onesie... and those accounts only compile on top of whispers on the streets of MAN-SPIDER actively fighting crime -- apparently Spider-Man had actually sprouted four additional arms and was actually terrifying.

Still, rumors.

Her eyes twitch. Another sign of fatigue, and she gestures over towards one of the waitstaff passing by.

"I'm sorry... manners. Would you like something to drink? It's my tab, obviously."

Silver Sablinova has posed:
It would seem that neither woman is entirely what they seem, though they would otherwise seem to blend in well enough with the crowd.

Silver might look like any of the host of young woman in their late twenties or early thirties, populating this particular club. she certainly seems to be dressed to catch the eye, to have fun. But none of that is evident anywhere in those eyes that look assessingly back across the table. Only cool professionalism. A sort of cynical, practiced manner that suggests that whatever Felicia's problems might be, whatever might have driven her to look into acquiring her services, chances are Silver has probably tackled something similar before.

Of course, there is always the possibility that the other woman will surprise her. It has been known to happen from time to time. Even to her.

The offer for a drink is waved aside in rather negligent, even impatient fashion and silver shakes her head, that silver hair flowing down to cover one of her eyes in a veil of near-metallic sheen. "Just water is fine."

She could have sent one of her underlings. They almost would have assuredly taken up that offer. But Silver had a fairly good sens that this job just might interest her. Enough so to coax her out of the Symkarian embassy uptown, into this outfit and to this place.

So far she hasn't been disappinted.

"My people and I keep our ears to the ground," she retorts simply, inclining her head ever so slightly. "Stories about giant lizards in lab coats and spiders that walk upright like men might seem like ludicrous nonsense on the surface, but we have enough experience to know otherwise," she replies quietly.

"I take it then that your inquiry has something to do with these events then?"

While Silver might ask the question, that knowing look in her eye suggests that she already has at least some idea of what she's doing here. One might get the impression that she doesn't go into any meeting without having a good idea of how it will turn out. One would be right about that.

Felicia Hardy has posed:
Felicia's eyes lift to the waitress, who nodded at the order and promptly disappeared. This isn't the kind of club where staff linger to casually eavesdrop on conversations unless they're specifically invited into someone's lap.

There's some of that going on in a couple of places, but not here. Not at this booth. Not with that look of impending doom in her eye. For as social as the environment is, she isn't here for entertainment. This is a business meeting.

She could have asked Silver to the Hellfire Club, but those walls have ears.

She could have invited Silver to her penthouse, to her safehouse... hell, she could have invited her to Starbucks. But she chose here. This place. It was comfortable for her, a known quantity, not inside her 'personal space,' and she knew they would be afforded privacy that she couldn't guarantee other places.

The question about her inquiry brings another of those weak smiles to her lips, and she lifts her glass of wine to take another sip from the glass, nodding. The tip of her tongue escapes for just a moment, gathering up the residue of fermented grape even as she seems to decide how to proceed.

"How are you at tracking? I've been told you're the best in the business..."

Her voice trails off. It's not a challenge or a doubt, but there's a hesitation to continue. Maybe she knows how ridiculous it sounds. Maybe she's expecting the job to be declined out of hand.

And if that happens? If that happens she'll be back to trying to find them by herself... every night.

"But have you ever tracked a giant lizard through the sewers, before? I need him -- alive -- with the piece of equipment he took with him. It's called a..."

Her mouth opens. She actually looks like she might try to say it for a moment, but then a mirthless laugh bubbles up past her lips instead.

"...it honestly doesn't matter what it's called. I need it back. And I need that lizard to turn back into a scientist so he can put Spider-Man back the way he's supposed to be."

She sighs softly.

"Which is the second part of my problem."

Silver Sablinova has posed:
For all that she was born to wealth and priviledge, born to the noble family of Symkaria where royalty still actually matters, rather then just being for show, Silver is every bit as comfortable in any setting that she happens to find herself.

At one of her satellite offices for Silver Sable International? At the United Nations? In some dive bar in a back water hellhole? It is all much the same to her, at least when business is being conducted.

Sure, she can do the whole formal reception thing, make herself look every bit the royal that she happens to be. But she would rather be in the field. That's her father's legacy to her. That is where she is truly at home.

The fashion might change, but the demeanor does not, at least not when she is on the clock.

Silver Sablinova has posed:
"We can find your Lizard for you. We'll get it done. If you need us to find some device too, we can do that," Silver promises flatly, tapping one slender manicured finger against the tabletop."

"And of course, your other problem is that Spider-Man is actually the Spider creature that people saw on the campus of ESU," she speculates.

Felicia Hardy has posed:
"...And I don't know where he is, either. And for the machine to be useful at all, I need Spider-Man _and_ the machine in the same place. At the same time."

Pause.

"And let's not forget Dr. Connors -- the Lizard -- who needs to be turned back into a person again so he can help. As far as I'm aware, he's the only one who knows how to operate a... Neo-Genic Recombinator." There, she said it, but it looked and sounded like she had a little peanut butter stuck to the roof of her mouth when she did.

That arm that's draped so casually across the back of the couch moves a little. Her fingers pick a little more at the seams.

Anxiety.

The hopelessness is there, just behind her eyes.

The hurt. The loss. The _rage_. And so much much more that she's not letting out. That she's keeping barely bottled up except for those cracks that show around the edges.

"And after we're done with this... once we put all of these pieces back together, I'll have another job for you."

She draws in a breath as that rage behind her eyes seems like it might turn them solid red.

"But one impossible task at a time."

And finally the waitress comes back with that glass of water.

Silver Sablinova has posed:
Now those are some long odds.

Find a Lizard in the sewer. Find a neo-genic recombinator... whatever that is, along with him. Track down Spider-Man. Turn Dr. Connors back into a person so he can turn Spider-Man back into a person. But that's it, right? Nothing else?

It is all something of a tall order to be sure. Not the sort of thing that just anyone would take on.

But Silver Sable is not just anyone and he crew is not just any band of mercenaries. The challenge of it all appeals to her, there is no denying that. And of course there is another smal matter.

Spider-Man has helped her out from time to time over the years. That is not something that she is inclined to forget about. Sure, she's a mercenary, sure she is dedicated to guaranteeing the success of her nation's finances. But loyalty matters too.

She got that from her father as well.

"If you knew you wouldn't need my help I'm sure," Silver says simply, taking the water when the waitress arrives, moving it in front of her but otherwise leaving it untouched for now. "We'll find them. We'll find them both," she assures the other woman.

She doesn't even bring up the matter of payment. Yet.

"As for other matters, I'd be happy to discuss other jobs at the appropriate time," she agrees.

Like after she delivers up the Lizard and Spider-Man-Spider.

Felicia Hardy has posed:
She wants to believe it's really that simple.

She wants to believe that it's just like someone coming to her and claiming they're in desperate need of something that's locked away in some impenetrable vault.

_We'll find them both._

That's exactly what Felicia would say if this were a heist. 'No big deal.' The job's as good as done. All we need now is to exchange an account number for the deposit.

But this isn't a heist.

She's tried to handle this for a couple of days by herself, and she's made no progress at all. She's wasted time because she couldn't bring herself to ask for help when she needed it. But this isn't just about her. This is about Peter... and that damnable lizard-scientist-friend of his.

And Kraven.

It's also about Kraven. Because when she finds him, she's going to look into his eyes when she puts the bullet in his brain.

She shifts and pulls a clutch purse that had been tucked between her hip and the arm of the couch out, popping it open and withdrawing a card with all of her contact information.

"I know you can see how important this is to me," she says, her voice barely loud enough to carry over the volume of the club, but her eyes are there on Silver's. And that rage is still there. It's not directed _at_ Silver, but she doesn't seem to be able to swallow back the hate. Not right now.

"Your reputation preceeds you, and I trust you won't try to take advantage my investment in the outcome." It's the closest thing she's said yet to a threat, but even that's not really a threat. That tight, near growl of her voice carries far more threat than her words. And even that's still misdirected. "Send me the figure and an account. You'll have half as soon as I receive it. The other half as soon as I have all three."

It's as close as she could get to offering Silver a blank check.

She sets that business card down on Silver's side of the table, and as soon as she does, her eyes lower. She shakes her head, slowly, like some internal argument was raging inside her mind.

"Call me as soon as you find any of them. Please. Don't under-estimate either one of them. I can help you. I don't know if he'll listen to me, anymore, but..."

Pain slices through her.

"Don't hurt him."

And somehow it seems unlikely she's talking about Doctor Connors.

Silver Sablinova has posed:
There are not very many guarantees in this life. But Silver does her best to try and provide the next best thing.

Can she deliver here? That is certainly the plan. But she knows better to make any promises. She's not really in the business of offering false reassurances either. More to the point, she is fairly certain that Felicia wouldn't offer her any thanks if she did.

As the card is slide across the table towards her, Silver reaches for it, looks it over briefly before lifting her gaze back to the other woman's hate-filled gaze. She doesn't recoil or draw back, does not try to outstare her. Instead she seems to recognize that none of that emotion is for her. Because why would it be?Even the implied threat is allowed to pass under the circumstances.

Besides, it tells her a lot about the other woman's committment to seeing this through. That sort of thing is good to know, ahead of times. For when the going gets tough.

"You know my reputation," she replies quietly. Which is not to say that she has never turned around and rejected a contract after the fact. But always because her employer has chosen not to play it straight with her.

She doesn't have any doubts this time.

So the card gets tucked away casually and she edges out of the booth, moving to stand at one end of it. "Spider-Man has done me a few solids over the years. He seems to be a good man. I owe him," she offers up quietly. Just that, nothing more. She doesn't offer to this all of this for free or anything. Just give that little bit of reassurance that the job is something a little more for her then just a payday.

"We'll track them both down and contact you before moving in," she assures Felicia, starting to turn away.

But she stops, glances back over her shoulder. "I'd like to see him back safely as well."

Felicia Hardy has posed:
"He is a good man."

It's like Felicia can't stop herself from saying it, even though she's cursing herself inside when it slips out. She needs sleep. Just... just a couple of hours to try and get her head back on straight. She was tipping her hand too much, making stupid mistakes, letting emotion lead her around by the nose...

She knows better than this. She can do better than this.

She _has_ to do better than this.

The odds were already stacked impossibly against them.

She's quiet after that, almost as if she were playing it off like she didn't say anything at all. She just nods as Silver rises, starts to turn away.

But when she glances back and offers that last, personal assurance, it seems to redouble the strength in Felicia's own eyes.

She grabs on to it like a life preserver made of hope in a sea of nothingness.

Appreciation shows in her eyes without the need for it to touch her lips. She doesn't smile or let out a dramatic sigh, but it's there all the same, in the stronger glint of that aquamarine gaze and the faint nod of her head.

"I'll be ready."