1963-07-04 - Kept Cat
Summary: Black Cat crashes through Eddie's flop apartment. Things.. probably go downhill from there.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
eddie felicia 

There was a swing from the distance. A flash of white.. something in the darkness that bears a glint that catches the moon just right. And it was coming..

..and closer..
..and closer..


Black Cat curled herself into a ball right before the moment of impact, shredding through the glass window of the apartment, her arms curled over her head as she lands upon the ground in a wrong way that has her rolling and uncurling to a clear, dead stop. Her outfit was torn to shreds in that instant, though the fabric was cheap (something she'd never do again) all because she thought she'd get into something dirty. Turns out she was right. She got into a little mix up with a guard at Tiffany's and he actually had the nerve to take a shot. Then there were the cops.. who.. managed to get stalled by her snapping up to the rooftops and running away that way. They hadn't seen anything like her. And they couldn't keep up.

But now she was there.. she was hurt. Cuts along her thighs and her arm, a deep shard of a glass embedded right in her side that shockingly doesn't bleed. Thankfully, the glass wasn't in a position to damage her innards, but if it's pulled out?

It'll definitely be a gusher..


Eddie had been listening to the ball game on the radio in his shitty flop of an apartment. One room, a hot plate, a mattress on the hardwood floor. The radio, the warm beer and whiskey he brown-bagged from the corner store. A carton of generic cigarettes. A pile of newspapers, half of them crumpled up.

And a stain in the corner, dried burgundy and best not thought about. There are cracks in the walls and waterstains in the ceiling. The wallpaper's begun to peel away. And the man himself fits. A wifebeater and trousers. Arms bulging and oversized on his massive frame as he pushes up to his feet to look down at the bleeding girl who's crashed into his room, his head cocking for a moment.

"Huh." he said. Not exactly expressive. He isn't leaping on her to help either, just…staring.


"Ske….shhhhhhhhhhhhh…" Felicia manages to get out after a moment, her body rocking still, the contents of her bag spilled out along the room.. which.. is something she'd have to get later. She doesn't move, only opening her eyes rather annoyedly as she looks up towards the bigger man, her brows furrowing just a little beneath her mask, her shoulders forcefully twisting and turning so that she could roll over onto her knees with a clawed hand outright to halt his approach.

"I'm fine.." She squeaks out, her voice sultry low still. "I'm so alright.."

One booted heel plants upon the ground, her knee bleeding, visible through the way the glass shorn through her clothing. With a press of that hand to the ground she slowly lifts herself up, staggering a half a step as she tries to focus upon the image of the man right before her. "Wow. You're big.." Says the girl with a VERY HUGE PIECE OF GLASS IN HER SIDE.


Eddie reaches out and grasps her arm, his huge hand wrapping around her bicep. "You're not alright," he says. "Sit."

He guides her to his chair and pushes her down, not entirely roughly, but not exactly with care either. "Mask, huh? You a superhero?' he asks. He turns and walks over to the bathroom, opening the door to the only other room in the place. He rummages in his medicine cabinet for a moment, coming back with some iodine and bandages, "Last tenant left these behind, along with some needles. Junkie," he says.

"You're gonna need to go to a doctor, unless you're the kind of superhero who magically heals themselves." he says. His voice, although rough, isn't as low class as you'd expect. He may look like a big thug, but Eddie isn't stupid."


She looks down towards her arm then back up towards the man.. if he knew or cared about her history.. he wouldn't have touched her. But there wasn't much she could do, the adrenaline was starting to wear off and she was starting to feel the pain. "But.. no.." She protests, stumbling and staggering, nearly falling onto the floor again until she was turned and plopped into the chair. And that's when she notices it. That sharp pain in her side that causes her to hitch her breath, her eyes nearly rolling into the back of her head as her hand reaches down for the shard of glass with the means to pull.. but not having the nerve to.

"Good… dammit!" She hisses out, practically writhing, hearing him but not hearing him.. but Super hero?

Look at the jewels scattered upon the ground, bucko. Not that she'd say that. He could probably beat her to a pulp.

"Hell no.." She hisses out, holding onto the glass. "If I were a super hero, I'd be helping the police. Not running from them.." Though, that gives her pause. "I'm not going to a doctor. Can't afford the cost."


Eddie does notice the jewels at this point, glancing down, "I dunno, looks like you're doin' okay to me. But that's okay. I know how that can be. Not much for doctors myself," he says. "Doctors have a lot of opinions."

There's a flash momentarily from the bathroom and you can see the mirror of his medicine cabinet, left hanging open, is broken, as if it's been hit with a hammer. "Probably better if you don't die, though. We might be able to help," he says, twitching momentarily as he turns his head away from her. He smells good, between her perfume and her blood, the two scents mingling together in the bad wiring of his head.

"But you'd have to…trust us."


"They also tend to make phone calls to people I'd rather not see at the moment.." She murmurs quietly.

The flash was immediately caught, her gaze falling towards the beat-up and ruined bathroom. She didn't peg him as a hump, she was the walking epitome of never judging a book by it's cover. She could probably take down heavily armed men in possibly three moves and a smile. She could also possibly drink this larger man under the table..

But his words catch her, almost immediately. It was a one bedroom flat. Barely even that. She didn't see any women clothes lingering, unless he went the homosexual route. Who else could he have been talking about? Us?

"I.. I didn't see anyone else.." She was breaking out into a sweat. She was going to go ahead and pull that shard out. "..is there someone else here with us?"


Eddie moves down to kneel in front of her, putting a hand on her knee. "Sometimes there's more in the world than what you can see," he says. He puts a hand over her slender wrist as she draws out the shard, helping to hold her steady as he knows her nerves must be trembling. "No calls,' he says.

When the shard comes out, there's a sudden rush of pain and a flood of blood. His hand moves swiftly, then, pushing down on the wound, covering it. And, suddenly, there's something -in- it. Something wriggling and alive, warm and painful. His other hand clamps on her mouth.

"This will hurt very badly." he says simply, "We are sorry." And then the symbiote within him, its semi-solid self unfurling within her flesh and starting to stitch it together roughly, mercilessly but effectively."


She looks to him with a wary gaze as he kneels, her lips pursing tightly, her fingers digging into the glass, the claws wrapping around to create little tinks. She was holding on, but with his strength, the glass moves, her teeth bearing for him then as her eyes immediately squeeze shut, the load groan drawing from her lips as her back arches into the pain. Once the shard was free, there was relief, but the relief was so strong, so painful.. even when he presses upon it, it hurts -so- bad.

Tears immediately fall from her eyes as she draws in a breath, ready to scream, ready to feel the need to lash out. To cut, to slice, to whine, kick and beg for her life to be over.. but her screams were staunched, muffled, her body trembling and shaking as the symbiote within her body seeks to remake her anew so viciously that her legs grow numb and her features pale as white as the hair upon her head.

She was huffing, puffing.. hyperventilating, fading in and out but.. that thing inside of her did not let her sleep. It didn't let her go into that night.. and oddly enough, his hand?

It smelled like pizza.


Eddie holds her through it, feeling her going in and out of consciousness, until she finally passes out against his chest. Easier that way, gives him the freedom to finish the job within her, her body seizing momentarily almost before he finally lays her back, damp and sweaty but mostly mended. She'll have a scar, yes, but he was trying to save her life.

And she was already almost too damned pretty. He felt the Other inside him, the way it wanted to bite and lick at that pretty face, to make it bleed more. It already didn't understand why Eddie had wanted her fixed instead of torn.

Eddie wasn't sure either. But he did. Maybe because he was lonely. Maybe because he liked to pretend, sometimes, that he wasn't a monster. Maybe it just felt good to use his powers for something productive.

Maybe he'd just wanted to be inside her.

When she awakes a few hours later, he has a beer for her and some beef jerky. He didn't have much in the way of supplies. "I have some bread and peanut butter, too," he says.


There.. was nothing after that. Blackness. It was such a finality to it all. She didn't dream or anything. And if she did, she doesn't remember any inkling of one or any feelings that derived from a possible dream. There was nothing..

..then there was pain.

She slowly awakes in his bed, her hands planting upon it so she could slowly push herself upright, the beer right next to her upon the bed, and.. beef jerky on a napkin? Her hand lifts to wipe away at her face, feeling her mask still in tact, the claws still upon her fingers, and her eyes slowly rolling shut as her feet presses against the floor with a swing of her hips. "Nngh.." She manages to get out, her eyes lifting towards the window.

"I'm not hungry.." But she was thirsty, and she was sure beer wasn't going to do the trick.


Eddie considers, "Water, too. City water," he says. "Half the time it tastes like rust. But you take what you can get for fifty bucks a month," he says.

"I didn't take off your mask. Not my business. It could be. I could expose you, make money, maybe get a story out of it," he says and then shrugs. "But I don't much care about that. Not anymore."

"Wouldn't suggest trying to go out soon, though. You might pass out again. You lost a lot of blood. We wouldn't want to see you get hurt any more."


"I'll take it." Felicia was banking on a little bit of good luck, even if it came in the form of water to drink. She presses both hands to the bed, her shoulders rising, her eyes closing as she tries to get used to the dull of the pain, her eyes snapping open to grasp her d-ring to tug the zipper down. Her fingers tug away at the fabric to reveal her stomach, her fingers touching along the new scar there, her gaze lifting to narrow her eyes towards the man..

"I would have killed you as soon as I woke up." How? She doesn't know. Mostly for the simple fact that.. he healed her? It.. was odd.

"You say we.." Felicia groans as she stands, her body at a hunch as she slowly straightens. She felt tight, even as her eyes cast a shadow along the place, still searching for signs of someone else. "Who else is here?"


Eddie shakes his head, "You wouldn't understand," he says, not without bitterness. Even explaining his truth sounded like madness. "You'll think we…that I'm crazy," he says. "Maybe I am. It doesn't matter," he says.

He pulls a chair up to the side of the bed, straddling it as he looks at her. The game is over now, the radio having switched over to quiet jazz, a woman crooning away over a low piano. He meets her eyes directly, though, "You're in our home, though. Who are you? You don't want police or doctors. You have jewels and claws. You ended up in a bad neighborhood," he says.


"Try me." She murmurs, slowly settling down upon the bed again with a little grunt. She was going to take the opportunity to stretch herself out, the languid movement seemingly easy despite the amount of pain she was still in. "Everyones crazy. There's no normal person out there. People eventually leak their shit all over and everyone sees it if they're around. No one cares.." Unless you're a mutant. Then they'd care.

She winces as he pulls the chair up, even looming as he does looks almost unnerving. The jazz did nothing to help the nerves, though she puts on a smile either way.

"I'm Black Cat." She says simply. "Must have taken a wrong turn out of Harlem." She looks around, then nods her chin upright. "You?"


Eddie shakes his head, "Not a mutant," he says. "There's…something else inside me. Another. We share this body. It gives me…gifts. Powers," he says. And hungers. And hatreds. But he doesn't share that. Not yet.

"Harlem's not far off. I like Harlem - they don't pretend there. Everyone else is always lying, but they don't have the luxury," he says. "I'm Eddie. But that's not the only one I am," he says. He gets up from his chair and turns from her, his broad back muscular and rippling. The Other doesn't like him talking so much, trusting her. You can't trust her, you can't, she'll tell, she'll bring them, they'll come for us, stop her mouth, stop it up, make her be quiet.

"nonono," he mutters to himself, shaking his head. Darkness runs along his skin for a moment, crawling, rivulets like oil smearing over him, but alive and wriggling, running down his arms, over his shoulders, "No," he says more firmly, making fists and slowly the black recedes.

He'll have to go out tonight. It won't be happy about being denied.


Felicia was scared. She didn't say much but she was scared. She was grateful that he patched her up, that he's allowing her these few moments of rest, but she was truly frightened. Even as she watches him struggle with.. something.. and how the black ichor crawls alive upon his body then sinks away..

A cold chill crawls around her as she tightens her visage and tries to will her heartbeat to stop beating fast. "Alright.. 'Not A Mutant'…" She quietly murmurs, not gaining a name. "I think it's high time I blow this joint. I don't know how to repay you but best believe I will, but right now? I need to get back into my own.."


Eddie turns his head sharply, looking at her with his intense eyes, "You're not healthy enough yet," he says. "You could pass out walking down the street," he says. "We won't harm you. I healed you, after all. It would be silly to hurt you after that," he says.

"We're only looking out for your own good," he says.


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