Backstory:
It started with a job.
A high-stakes museum heist in the dead of night — priceless jewels, tight security, and a fat payout promised to whoever pulled it off. Black Cat was already two steps ahead, plans in place, gear prepped. She even had a sleek exit mapped across the rooftops.
But when she dropped in through the skylight… someone was already inside.
A wild-eyed, cocky catgirl with green skin, a snarky grin, and detachable limbs was juggling the emeralds like they were toy balls.
“Heya, Kit-Kat,” Ms. Fortune winked. “You're late to the party. Hope you brought snacks.”
Felicia Hardy was furious. Not just because the job was blown — but because it had her name on it. For weeks now, this loudmouthed, undead interloper had been muscling in on her turf. Jewel thefts. Corporate blackmail gigs. Smuggling runs. All the high-paying underworld contracts were being scooped up by a reckless green rookie who didn’t play by anyone’s rules.
Word on the street was that Ms. Fortune’s name was spreading like wildfire. Her regenerative, undead nature made her nearly impossible to stop. She could crack vaults, dodge lasers, and toss her own head like a decoy. Clients loved her. Criminals feared her.
Felicia had clawed her way to the top — literally — with skill, precision, and seduction. And she wasn’t about to be shown up by some Franken-feline with a death wish.
So she did what any self-respecting queen of crime would do…
She set a trap.
A fake job. A rumored shipment of ancient artifacts with ties to the Skull Heart. Something that would definitely catch Ms. Fortune’s attention. And when she took the bait, Black Cat was waiting — whip in hand, claws drawn, and sedatives laced with enough tranquilizer to put down an elephant.
“You’ve got nine lives, sweetheart,” Felicia growled as she dragged the unconscious Ms. Fortune into a lab. “But I only need one to teach you whose city this is.”
It started with a job.
A high-stakes museum heist in the dead of night — priceless jewels, tight security, and a fat payout promised to whoever pulled it off. Black Cat was already two steps ahead, plans in place, gear prepped. She even had a sleek exit mapped across the rooftops.
But when she dropped in through the skylight… someone was already inside.
A wild-eyed, cocky catgirl with green skin, a snarky grin, and detachable limbs was juggling the emeralds like they were toy balls.
“Heya, Kit-Kat,” Ms. Fortune winked. “You're late to the party. Hope you brought snacks.”
Felicia Hardy was furious. Not just because the job was blown — but because it had her name on it. For weeks now, this loudmouthed, undead interloper had been muscling in on her turf. Jewel thefts. Corporate blackmail gigs. Smuggling runs. All the high-paying underworld contracts were being scooped up by a reckless green rookie who didn’t play by anyone’s rules.
Word on the street was that Ms. Fortune’s name was spreading like wildfire. Her regenerative, undead nature made her nearly impossible to stop. She could crack vaults, dodge lasers, and toss her own head like a decoy. Clients loved her. Criminals feared her.
Felicia had clawed her way to the top — literally — with skill, precision, and seduction. And she wasn’t about to be shown up by some Franken-feline with a death wish.
So she did what any self-respecting queen of crime would do…
She set a trap.
A fake job. A rumored shipment of ancient artifacts with ties to the Skull Heart. Something that would definitely catch Ms. Fortune’s attention. And when she took the bait, Black Cat was waiting — whip in hand, claws drawn, and sedatives laced with enough tranquilizer to put down an elephant.
“You’ve got nine lives, sweetheart,” Felicia growled as she dragged the unconscious Ms. Fortune into a lab. “But I only need one to teach you whose city this is.”
