18606/Glimpses of Then: The Heist for Hope, Prison Bust

Glimpses of Then: The Heist for Hope, Prison Bust
Date of Scene:	17 July 2024
Location:	State Road 17, New York
Synopsis:	Spider-Man follows Felicia's directions to an empty stretch of road where Black Cat, Bruno, and Boris assault a prison transport bus and capture one of the prisoners. Originally skeptical both of Black Cat's motives and methods, Spider-Man's dedication to help her is renewed when the incarcerated David Benson reveals the location of Vincent Marconi's secret human tracking cages.
Cast of Characters:	Felicia Hardy, Peter Parker

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Felicia Hardy has posed:
It's exactly five thirty-seven in the morning on state road 17, a half mile south of Arden Valley Road. The dawn is just beginning to paint the sky with a faint hint of purple and orange, but the dense canopy of trees lining both sides of the empty four-lane highway keeps the road shrouded in darkness. The air is thick with the damp, earthy scent of the forest, mingling with the faint smell of asphalt and motor oil. The only sounds are the soft hum of the police patrol car's engine and the occasional chirping of early morning crickets.

The patrol car is leading a low-security prison bus, its headlights cutting through the predawn gloom. The road ahead is deserted, a ribbon of asphalt disappearing into the shadows. Suddenly, two sharp cracks split the air, echoing through the trees. The front tires of the patrol car explode, the vehicle swerving violently as the driver struggles to maintain control. It veers off the road, crashing into the guardrail with a screech of metal on metal.

Almost simultaneously, two more shots ring out, and the bus's tires burst, sending it skidding to a halt with a groaning protest. The bus shudders and then falls silent, its engine idling as if in defeat. The air is filled with the acrid smell of burning rubber and the sharp tang of gunpowder.

Out of the bushes steps Black Cat, her sleek form a shadow in the early morning light, carrying an assault rifle with practiced ease. Her black catsuit clings to her lithe figure, blending seamlessly with the darkness. Just as the officer in the patrol car struggles to open his door, pistol in hand, she fires a burst of bullets into the hood, sending him scrambling back behind the safety of the door. The sound of the gunfire is deafening, echoing through the stillness.

A moment later, she's on him, her movements swift and precise. There's a pop and a sizzle of electricity as she presses a Shocktac to his neck, knocking him unconscious. The officer slumps back, the tension draining from his body.

Seconds later, two men emerge from the bushes, their sniper rifles slung over their shoulders, assault rifles and pistols at the ready. Bruno, a large, brawny white guy, and Boris, a scrawnier black guy, move with purpose, their expressions grim.

"Knock, Knock," Black Cat calls up to the bus driver, who is frantically trying to radio for help. The driver's face pales as he sees the assault rifle in her hands. When he refuses to open the door, she makes a small gesture with her hand, and Bruno sprays the windshield with bullets. The glass shatters, and the driver, trembling, reaches for the door controls. The bus door swings open with a creak.

"Good choice," Felicia croons as she steps onboard, her hips swaying with confidence. The dim interior of the bus is filled with the stench of sweat and fear. She moves with purpose, her eyes scanning the faces of the prisoners.

"Knock him out," she orders Bruno and Boris over her shoulder, her voice cold and commanding. The two men move to subdue the driver as Felicia walks down the aisle, her gaze locking onto a man in his forties.

"David Benson," she says, stopping beside him. Her voice is laced with mock congratulations. "Congratulations. You're the lucky winner."

In the distance, the faint wail of sirens begins to grow louder, cutting through the early morning silence. Time is running out, but Black Cat's smile is confident. They have what they came for.

Peter Parker has posed:
It was not exactly easy to get out here.

All things considered, Peter Parker is pretty okay with the idea of considering himself a city spider. That's where he belongs darn it. With the tower skyscrappers and plentiful traffic. The bright lights, the big city.

It has been kind of a long night and he is more then a little sleep deprived by now. While he has found that he can get by on surprisingly little sleep since that spider bit him, he does still need some rest. And the tight deadline that he was given by the Black Cat didn't exactly leave a whole lot of time for a nap.

Sure, he could have passed this whole thing off as a bad, terrible, horrible idea. But Spidey is pretty sure that any chance to earn some of her trust won't exactly be coming around again anytime soon.

And for whatever reason -- some of which he is not too comfortable looking too closely at just now -- he finds that he wants that trust from her.

If he had a vehicle of any sort, making it a mere sixty miles or so in the few hours he had wouldn't have been that big a deal. But Peter Parker can just barely manage to scrape up enough for a metro pass. And, unfortunately, as fine as it is, the New York City subway system doesn't run all the way out here, garden spot that it is.

Clearly an oversight.

So it became a matter of playing leapfrog on the vehicles that were running along the highways and roads at these late hours at night, finding the right ones, heading where he needs them to go and then bailing when necessary to find his next ride. Not the most efficient or comfortable way to travel to be sure.

But at least it wasn't raining.

Still, he made it to where he was pretty sure he was supposed to be with probably forty minutes to spare, just before 5am. From there it was just a matter of sequestering himself in a nearby tree, making himself comfortable leaning back against the trunk of it for support as he keeps his eyes peeled on the road.

For about three or four minutes. Then those eyes start spending more time shut then open. Then they stop opening at all.

He's not exactly sure just how long he has actually been aslepe when the those first shots ring out and send that lead patrol car careening into the metal guardrail that lines the side of the road. Maybe it's thirty minutes, maybe it's twenty-five. Either way, Peter's impromptu nap comes to an abrupt and rather shocking end as he snaps back to awareness.

Eyes peer out through the darkness lit up by headlights now, trying to figure out just what's going on, where he is and why it feels like he's straddling a tree branch?

Oh right. He temporarily lost his mind over a very attractive woman in a form fitting cat suit.

From his perch, he watches with an increasingly sinking feeling in his stomach as that prison bus is brought to a halt, as the Black Cat and her two henchmen force their way onboard and he finally leaps over to the rooftop of that bus, landing lightly atop it and crawling down until he can peer through that shattered front windshield.

Rapping knuckles on the busted glass, he calls out, "You're not exactly filling me with confidence here, Cat," he points out.

On the other hand, she seems to have gone to some pains to not actually permanently hurt or kill anyone either. Yet. That's something.

Felicia Hardy has posed:
Black Cat hands her rifle over to Bruno and reaches for the restraints holding David in place, giving them a simple yank with her enhanced strength to break them free of their mounting point. The metal groans and snaps, echoing through the bus's confined space. David gasps, his eyes wide with fear, as Felicia hauls him to his feet.

The air inside the bus is thick with the mingling scents of sweat and diesel, a sharp contrast to the fresh, damp aroma of the surrounding woods. Outside, the sky is beginning to lighten, the first hints of dawn casting a pale glow over the desolate road. The silence is broken only by the distant, ominous wail of approaching sirens.

As soon as Spider-Man appears, Felicia turns, pulling David back against her. One gloved hand, claws extended, rests on his abdomen, while the other, claws also extended, presses lightly against his throat. She peers out from behind the man, her piercing blue eyes locking onto the costumed hero.

"Welcome to the party, Spider," she purrs. "You said you wanted to help. So, you can babysit the rest of these delinquents until the police get here. I'm taking this one with me."

"Wha -- why me?" David stammers, sucking in a strained breath.

Felicia's smile curls in satisfaction. "I'm glad you asked, David," she purrs against his ear. "You're Vincent Marconi's bookkeeper."

"Y -- Yes, but I don't -- "

"Tut-tut," Felicia corrects. "I haven't even asked any questions, yet." Her eyes remain locked on Spider-Man, her voice steady and commanding. She switches to addressing Bruno and Boris. "Boys, out. I'll meet you at the rendezvous."

"Boss?" they both ask in unison, glancing nervously at Spider-Man.

"I said go. He doesn't want you." She pauses, her smile curling a little more purposefully over David's shoulder. "He wants me."

Her eyes meet Spider-Man's masked ones, a softness in them that contrasts sharply with the situation. She'd invited him. She'd given him the time and place. She wanted him here for a reason, and it wasn't likely to be babysitting a bunch of prisoners who were already shackled into their seats. Not just that, anyway.

The sirens are getting closer, their wail a persistent reminder of the ticking clock.

Bruno and Boris exchange a look before nodding and making their way off the bus, leaving Felicia alone with David and Spider-Man. The air feels charged, every second stretching longer as the impending confrontation looms.

Felicia tilts her head, her gaze shifting to David's profile. "Now, David. We're low on time, so I'm going to cut..." She squeezes her hand around his throat, her claws just piercing the skin, causing a thin line of blood to trickle down. "...right to the point. Tell me where he's keeping the girls, or Spider-Man gets to clean you off of the floor, windows, and ceiling of this bus."

"Please! I -- I'm just a bookkeeper... 134 Oakridge Road," David stammers. "In Bedford Hills. There... there are cages in the basement..."

Felicia's eyes flash with triumph. "Good boy," she purrs. She loosens her grip slightly, enough to let David breathe but not enough to give him hope of escape. Her gaze shifts back to Spider-Man, a challenge glinting in her eyes.

Peter Parker has posed:
Of course he knows that they are going to have a different approach to how they go about achiving results.

She has flat out acknowledged the fact that they don't look at things the same way, don't do things the same way. And certainly he has had more then his fair share of trouble with law enforcement. There have been plenty of over-zealous cops that have tried to bring him in. Occasionally they have even taken a couple of shots at him.

It has never really escalated -- on his part -- beyond occasionally leaving a couple of them trussed up in his webbing for a couple of hours. Still, technically assault on said officer, but he doesn't feel that it has truly crossed the line.

He has not, for instance, shot out the wheels of a police cruiser. Or knocked out an officer, no matter how much he might have deserved it.

Still, he doesn't exactly have the best reputation with law enforcement and being involved in something like this isn't going to help.

But she hasn't crossed any hard lines. As she dismisses her henchment, as she exerts a little pressure on her chosen captive, Spider-Man tenses at that little hint of blood that she draws, those claws tightening just enough so that David can't possibly ignore..

No he doesn't like that.

But is there any real difference between this and trussing someone up in his webbing and dangling them off a roof to get the answers he needs? If he's honest, he's not sure that he can claim that there is.

So he lets her two henchmen go, that masked gaze fixing on them just a moment -- maybe feeling the need to make a little bit of a point -- a reminder to them that he'll be watching.

But it doesn't last long. He's not here for them, not this time. He is very much here for her. She's the star attraction. Though he does clear his throat quietly at the 'He wants me' bit. Thankfully that mask prevents any hint of the flush in his cheeks from showing.

So he gives her that rope, lets her go where she will with it, where all this is leading to as she questions the criminal accountant.

And she doesn't disappoint. He is increasingly suspecting that is usually the case.

This isn't about some prison transport. Not about rescuing or killing some convict, not about getting some information about a next score. It is, just like she said it was, about some girls. Ones that are being kept captive by the sounds of it.

It is not the sort of news that makes the tension go out of him to be sure. He is still primed, ready for action.

Just not directed towards her any longer.

So he meets her gaze with his own, those oddly expressive eyelets arches her way as he looks at her from his upside down position on the other side of the shattered windshield.

"Well," he begins simply, directly. "What are we waiting for?"

Felicia Hardy has posed:
Spider-Man had no way to know that this wasn't who Felicia was on a day-to-day basis. She wasn't some murderous vigilante anti-hero. In general, she was content to be a world-class thief who found new and creative ways to steal things which couldn't be stolen. This, however, was much more personal, and if there were anything in her power she could do to stop it, no other woman would ever experience what she did. Much less be trapped in a cage to be sold off.

She didn't like the thought of ripping David's throat out with her claws, but she would have to save those girls. She would have slept fine, knowing that the scumbag had known about Marconi's dungeon and said nothing to anyone about it. He was at least a culpable accomplice, if not just as bad as Marconi himself.

"Oh, it's 'we' now, is it?" Black Cat asks with a pleased curl of her lips. "Maybe you're more of a menace than I gave you credit for..."

It's obvious she doesn't believe it. There's humor glinting in her aquamarine eyes behind that domino mask.

"Absolutely nothing," she answers, reaching into her belt pouch to pull out a narcopatch and stick it to the side of David's neck. He protests, but only for a few seconds before he's knocked out cold. Felicia hefts him up over her shoulder like he weighs nothing and starts to leave the bus, but she pauses to look back over her shoulder at the other prisoners. "The police will be here in a few minutes to get you back on the road. Try not to kill each other until they get here."

The bus is filled with the stench of diesel and sweat, the acrid tang of fear mingling with the earthy smell of the forest beyond. The sounds of the bus's engine cooling mix with the distant, approaching wail of sirens. The inmates shift restlessly in their seats, the creak of metal restraints adding to the cacophony of anxiety.

Then she's walking off, still carrying David's limp body over her shoulder. Each step she takes is measured and deliberate, her feline grace evident even under the weight of the unconscious man.

"Come on, Spider. We'll put David in the trunk, and I'll give you a ride. Maybe some time in one of those cages will do him some good once the girls are safe... at least until someone finds him."

And he'd better hope it's the police. If someone else from Marconi's family stumbles upon him, they're going to know exactly who snitched, and the claw marks on his neck aren't going to earn him any sympathy points.

Felicia strides towards a barely noticeable path that leads off the road and into the trees. The forest is dense, the smell of pine and damp earth overwhelming the diesel fumes from the bus. The path is narrow, flanked by towering trees whose branches interlace overhead, casting dappled shadows on the ground. The air is cooler here, filled with the sounds of rustling leaves and distant bird calls, a stark contrast to the mechanical chaos left behind.

As they reach a small clearing with a large SUV idling in it, the two men from earlier already occupying the front seats, Felicia pauses, adjusting her grip on David and glancing back at Spider-Man.

"Ready, Spider? This is where things get interesting."