Chapter 1 - A BELATED PROMISELate autumn drizzle in New York always carried a bone-chilling cold, seeping through the cracks of towering skyscrapers and clinging to the skin of hurried pedestrians. But for Peter Parker, that cold was nothing compared to the gnawing anxiety tightening in his chest.
Standing in a dark alley, Peter’s trembling hands fumbled to button a crisp dress shirt he had painstakingly ironed earlier that afternoon. In his coat pocket rested a small red velvet box containing a simple silver necklace with a four-leaf clover pendant—a gift to mark his three-year anniversary with Mary Jane Watson.
"No Spider today," Peter muttered to himself, staring at his reflection in a rain puddle. "No rescues, no thefts, no supervillains. Just Peter Parker."
Taking a deep breath, he smoothed down his messy hair and stepped out of the alley, heading toward the warm glow of the Italian restaurant at the end of the block. The yellow neon sign of Bella Italia cast a peaceful light onto the windowpane. Through the glass, he could see MJ sitting at their corner table. Wearing a plum-colored knit dress, her vibrant red hair falling over her shoulders, she was idly spinning a water glass.
She looked beautiful, yet somehow distant.
Peter smiled, quickening his pace. But just as his hand touched the restaurant's doorknob, a familiar electric jolt violently struck the back of his neck.
BZZZZ!
His Spider-Sense screamed. It wasn't a warning of immediate death, but a desperate tugging, an invisible force pulling him directly toward the Manhattan night sky.
Peter froze. He looked up.
Three blocks away, atop the roof of the Metropolitan Museum of Jewelry, a slender dark figure glided under the crescent moon. Moving with the fluid grace of a shadow, she leaped across the gap between two buildings, a grappling hook glinting in her hand.
Platinum hair whipped in the wind. The sleek black leather of her catsuit caught the moonlight.
"Felicia..." Peter grit his teeth.
He looked back at MJ through the glass. She checked her watch and let out a soft, barely perceptible sigh. Peter’s heart wrenched. He had promised her. He had promised on his honor that he wouldn't be late tonight.
But Felicia Hardy was here, and if she was in New York, it meant a heist of the century was underway—or worse, she was in deep trouble with Kingpin’s gang.
"Just five minutes," Peter lied to himself. "I'll stop her, confiscate the loot, and be back before the appetizers are served."
Retreating into the darkness of the alley, Peter stripped off his civilian clothes with superhuman speed. The red-and-blue mask slipped over his head, and Peter Parker vanished. Only Spider-Man remained.
Thwip!
A web line snapped taut, pulling Spider-Man into the sky. The cold wind slapped against his mask, bringing a familiar rush of freedom he could never find while walking the earth. In less than two minutes, he landed on the museum's rooftop, right behind the dark figure tampering with a laser security panel.
"You know, handsome," a sultry, purring voice echoed before Spider-Man could even speak, "if you wanted a date under the moonlight, all you had to do was call. No need for the rough stalking."
Felicia Hardy turned around. Her emerald-green eyes sparkled behind her domino mask, and her red lips curled into a playful smirk. In her hand, she casually tossed the "Heart of New York" necklace—a priceless ruby just flown in for a royal exhibition.
"Felicia, put it back," Spider-Man said, dropping into a defensive stance. His voice was dead serious. "I'm not in the mood tonight. I have somewhere to be."
"Somewhere to be?" Felicia tilted her head, stepping gracefully toward him, the heels of her leather boots clicking against the concrete. She ran a clawed finger slowly along the spider emblem on his chest. "Busy with your little theater actress, Spider? You're wearing a very nice dress shirt under this suit. I can smell cheap fabric softener."
Spider-Man brushed her hand away and stepped back. "Don't talk about her. And stop stealing. You promised you'd go straight!"
"I only promised I wouldn't steal from the poor," Felicia chuckled, catching the ruby deftly. "But these rich folks? They have insurance. Come on, Spider. Catch me if you can!"
Before he could react, Black Cat did a backflip over the rooftop ledge, plunging into the dark abyss below.
"Damn it!"
Spider-Man was forced to leap after her. A breathless chase ensued across the rooftops of the Upper East Side. Felicia moved like a true cat—fast, unpredictable, and teasing. She deliberately slowed down to let him catch up, only to swing away with her grappling gun, her melodic laughter echoing in the rainy night.
"Stop, Felicia!" Spider-Man fired a web cartridge to pin her feet, but she twisted mid-air, dodging it effortlessly.
They landed on top of an old wooden water tower. Suddenly, Felicia lunged at him, the momentum sending both of them tumbling onto the wet wood. Instead of fighting, Felicia wrapped her arms around his neck, pinning Spider-Man down.
"Do you really want me to stop, Little Spider?" she whispered, her warm breath seeping through his mask. Her eyes held him captive, reflecting the distant, glittering neon lights of the city. "With me, you don't have to pretend to be a weak little nerd. You don't have to worry about rent, or nagging, or boring dinners. You're a god of this city, Peter. Admit it, you love this."
Peter's heart hammered against his ribs. Felicia's words were a sweet poison, striking at his deepest longing for freedom. With her, he was Spider-Man at his most complete—no burdens, no responsibilities of a normal man.
But then, the image of the plum-colored knit dress and MJ’s lonely eyes flashed in his mind.
Peter shoved Felicia off him. He stood up, breathing heavily.
"No, Felicia. You don't understand," his voice trembled. "That's not a disguise. That's my life. And I love that life."
The smirk faded from Felicia’s face. A brief flash of hurt crossed her green eyes, so fast Peter almost missed it. She stood up, brushing the dust off her black suit.
"I see," she said, her voice turning cold. "You still choose mediocrity."
Without warning, Felicia hurled the ruby over the edge of the building. Driven by his hero instincts, Spider-Man dove, catching the priceless gem just before it plummeted to the busy street below.
When he looked back up, the water tower was empty. Only a faint trace of jasmine perfume lingered in the air, along with a sharp crimson lipstick mark smeared across the cheek of his red mask.
Peter looked at the ruby in his hand, then up at the water tower's clock tower.
An hour and a half had passed.
"Oh, no..."
Peter swung frantically through the downpour. He didn't even have time to change properly, only throwing his coat over his soaked, half-unzipped suit as he burst into Bella Italia.
The restaurant was nearly empty. Soft jazz drifted through the warm, quiet space, but to Peter, it sounded like a funeral march.
Their corner table was bare.
On the polished wood sat nothing but an empty glass, a paid receipt, and a small paper napkin with a familiar handwritten note in blue ink:
May you like
"I was hoping you'd be Peter Parker tonight. Happy three years, Peter."
Peter sank into the empty chair, the red velvet box in his pocket suddenly weighing a ton, crushing the last bit of hope left in his chest. As he raised his hand to his face, he touched the smudge of Black Cat's red lipstick on his cheek, mixing with the cold rainwater that ran down his face like tears.
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