Fandom ˖*°࿐ unmasked by silver pens

[yeehawlovers]

The Black Cat was never concerned about her identity being exposed. She worked extremely quick, and quiet. Though she was infamous, she appeared more as an urban legend. Previously, there hadn't been any documentation of her existence— until now.

Felicia Hardy perched herself at a table in the Meow Parlour, a cat cafe that sat on 46 Hester Street. She peered out the window, before glancing back at the blog post pulled up on her laptop. It was published a week ago. Black Cat in the Flesh— and Latex. Somehow, someone got surveillance footage of her stealing from a low end jewelry store. Worst of all, the author wrote speculations that didn't sit well with Felicia.

It was supposed to be a easy job, with minimal stress. Felicia had her eyes on a few things she had saw from the window earlier in the day, and returned as Black Cat late in the night. Did she ever think a scummy little jewelry store would catch anyone's attention? No, but it did and now she's in trouble. That being said, an email was written and sent. Clicking the author's hyperlink took her to a contact email, in which Felicia invited the writer out to the cafe she was present at now. She thought it was awfully fitting.

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Whereas Felicia was concerned about the recognition of her villain counterpart, Alexis Henslow was downright giddy with anticipation. Or was it nerves? Either way, the short Native woman couldn't help but bounce her legs as she rode in the taxi, taking her to a cat cafe several blocks from her apartment in New York City. She could have biked—that was usually how she went from place to place—but this felt more... professional. Though, she wasn't sure that she needed to be worried about that; someone who suggested they meet at a cat cafe probably wasn't too concerned with how formal something appeared. Smiling, the girl clicked open her phone to reveal an email that had been glued to her screen since receiving it—an invitation to discuss one of her blog posts, about an artifact the Museum of Natural History had just imported from Norway.

Alexis reported on a lot of things like this. Sure, many other folks did too—but Alexis liked the charm of an independent journalist. It was a passion of hers to offer people news, plain and simple, as clear of bias as she could possibly get the information. She felt like she was doing the nation a service! Or, the fifty people that followed her a service. It... it was a slow-going labor or love, to be sure. But one day, hopefully it wouldn't be just a hobby.

The taxi slowed to a stop, pulling into a roadside parking spot to let Alexis climb out. Offering a small, thankful wave to the driver—which was ignored—Alexis took a slow, deep breath, puffing out her cheeks before turning slowly towards the building behind her. She could hear tiny "mews!" from inside. Aw. Cute.

Refusing to allow herself another moment of hesitation, the young reporter went in, paying at the door for an hour of time with the kitties before her eyes inevitably landed on a young woman with white hair, sitting at a table behind a laptop.

Whoa, damn! Alexis' eyes widened, taken aback slightly by how stunning the woman was. There was a twinge of jealousy that pricked her in the depths of her heart—the native didn't consider herself to be blessed with natural beauty, as she had wild curls that were hard to tame, glasses, and a splash of relentless freckles—but mostly, she was impressed. And she suddenly wondered if she should have taken more care with her own attire.

"Um... Felicia Hardy?" She inquired timidly, tilting her head to smile at the woman around her laptop.

 

[yeehawlovers]

Upon Alexis’ first inspection of Felicia Hardy, a few things stuck out. The white haired woman only wore designer clothes, none of which had any wrinkles or imperfections. White blazer, black tanked crop top, and a pair of white slack shorts. Business casual. She was decorated with various jewels; earrings, rings, necklaces. Her hair was in a loose ponytail, with bangs shaping her face as they dangled down, free from the hair tie. Her lips nursed a black matte lipstick, while her eyes supported a sharp wing made of eyeliner. For someone concerned about her alter ego being exposed, she didn’t change herself in any way to throw anyone off her trail. Felicia didn’t believe in doing so.

Miss Hardy had been watching Alexis ever since she stepped foot out of the taxi. Sitting at the window allowed her to do so. Upon seeing the reporter, she got tense. She feared for a moment, but her head cleared when the other woman walked in. Felicia had a feeling her usual tricks wouldn’t work on this particular individual. Upon hearing her own name, she closed the laptop and stood.

“Yes ma’am, that’s me. I’m glad you could make it.” Though Felicia smiled with her teeth, it was forced. She held her hand out, offering a handshake. “I don’t know if you’re familiar with me, but I’m in association with the Hardy Foundation.” Her mother’s organization funded, and donated to Oscorp quite frequently. The foundation also endorsed the current mayor, Wilson Fisk. “I read your article, and was quite fascinated with it. Miss…?” She realized she had forgotten the reporter’s name, despite just looking at the written story.

 

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"Oh! Uh, Alexis. Alexis Henslow." The journalist cleared her throat, somewhat bedazzled by Felicia's smile, before slowly reaching out her head to accept the handshake. Upon further noting the other woman's attire, Alexis could feel her cheeks grow warm with embarrassment—her own clothes boasted of a mustard yellow hoodie with a small flower decor, and a pair of jeans. They were nice jeans, but still. Tucking a strand of curly red hair behind an ear, Alexis nodded further at the woman's words, trying to focus on what she said instead of her own burning shame. Thinking about it now, she was glad she at least took the taxi.

"I can't say I have heard of you, but that definitely doesn't mean anything." When Alexis opened her mouth, she felt like the wrong thing fell out, which further added to her discomfort. Felicia may have been cold and cautious of the young journalist, but the truth was, Alexis was anything but suspicious. Under normal circumstances, she was a shrewd girl who noticed many details, a very observant soul—however, blinded by her own nervousness and the excitement of discussing her works with someone other than her mom, Alexis wasn't exactly on her toes. The knowledge that Felicia looked mildly like the cat burglar she'd caught on the Jess Jeweler's video feed had indeed, flashed briefly in the back of her mind—not every young woman had long, brilliant white hair, after all—but the notion was quickly clouded out with other, far more pressing emotions.

"I'm glad you liked my work," she eventually sputtered out, adjusting her glasses. "It's, uh, it certainly feels good to have someone take interest in it. Reporting is definitely a passion of mine, so I really appreciate you reaching out to me, Miss Hardy."

 

[yeehawlovers]

“Alexis Henslow.” Felicia repeated the name as if it was a widely known fact. The burglar’s handshake was soft and loose, to make up for it she brought her other hand on top of Alexis’. Both of Felicia’s palms were soft; her hands held no calluses, nicks, or traces of her criminal activity. As they shook hands, she took in the other woman’s attire. It didn’t compare to her own high end brand outfit, but it had its own charm.

At the news that Alexis had never heard of her, Felicia felt a queasiness in her stomach. It was always an insult when people didn’t know the family name Hardy, but she decided to let it slide to avoid suspicion. As Alexis continued to speak, Felicia sat down at the table that occupied her laptop, listening intently and ensuring this by maintaining eye contact. Locking eyes with Felicia could bring tension between anyone, something about the icy, cold blue eyes sent shivers.

Before replying, Felicia gave a suggestion that came off more as an order. “Sit.” She held her own hand in her lap, straightening her posture. “I find your work very…” The white hair woman paused. “Intriguing, and I’d like to cut to the chase.”

A cat began to make its way to the table, staring up at Alexis as it moseyed over. “I want to financially endorse your work, tell me about your inspiration.”

 

[Gezellige]

At the command to sit, Alexis could not have complied any quicker. She was across from the other woman before either of them could blink, listening with widening eyes to the words that came out of Felicia's mouth. When the businesswoman finally came to the last point, about wanting to endorse Alexis' work, the native girl had to do a triple take to understand what was being said.

"You—what!?" Alexis' jaw dropped open, and she blinked several times before she dared continue. "Did I—you—you want to, endorse me? Like... with money?"

She really couldn't believe it. It was like all her dreams were coming true. For a brief second, she allowed herself to succumb to a dream-like state, a fantasy of people all over the world hearing her stories. People applauding her for her journalism. Was she crazy? There was no way this was actually happening. It was all so exciting that, for a moment, Alexis forgot one crucial thing.

She'd never wanted to take sponsors.

Her dreams popping over her head like a bubble on grass, Alexis slumped back in her chair, returning to reality with one disastrous realization. "Oh, so..." Clearing her throat, she cast her gaze to the side, nervously beginning to pick at the sleeve to her hoodie. "See, uh—well, this is actually a part of my... 'inspiration,' as you put it. I just want people to be able to receive the news from an unbiased source. Not that I'm unbiased—I mean, not that I am—anyway, what I'm saying is, I only want to report the facts."

Taking a deep breath, Alexis placed her hands on the table, but not before adjusting her glasses. They'd gone crooked in her excitement. "As I'm sure you've noticed from my articles, I offer no personal commentary on what goes on. All I do is offer the evidence. Take this piece, the one on the Black Cat—" Here, she pulled out her own device, showing Felicia the beginning of her article on her phone. "I didn't say anything about it, just that a masked burglar broke into Jay's Jewelry. I gave the details—what she took, for example—and the time, the place... but I don't want to stuff meaningless jargon down people's throats. And taking money from a sponsor..."

Alexis paused. She was a bit too embarrassed to look at the other woman directly, so she contented herself with petting a gray tabby that had approached her leg, picking it up and pulling it into her lap. Scratching between its ears, she shrugged. "I don't know. I always told myself that I wouldn't, so that my readers can really trust me. So they know I'm not pushing stories that some big corporation want folks to hear. Does that make sense?"

Probably not. Putting a hand to her temples, Alexis sighed, before continuing, "Maybe I'm just being paranoid, but I don't really want your money. If you have any questions, go ahead, but... I'm afraid that's all I'm comfortable doing."

 

[yeehawlovers]

At Alexis’ initial reaction, Felicia couldn’t help but to grin in anticipation. It seemed like a foolproof plan. What was someone to do against the press? Pay them off, and control their media. The woman’s exclaimed and surprised stammers brought her to the conclusion that it was an easy job.

“Like with real money.” She affirmed, now leaning towards her, waiting to hear the words of confirmation. Instead of receiving this, she was met with disappointment. Felicia’s face slowly fell as the intentions unraveled, and she leaned back in her chair, practically deflating. However, as the writer spoke, her composure shifted from unelevated to prospective.

After Alexis was done explaining, there was a moment of silence as it was clear Felicia was pondering, but receptive. During this silence, the cat began to make biscuits in the writer’s lap. It began to make biscuits, using its claws to dig into the woman’s lap.

“Integrity is everything, I understand.” Felicia began. “What is a reporter with financial biases?” She asked, hypothetically. She intertwined her fingers, and propped her elbows on the table. “How about we change the topic, I’m not only interested in donating money of course. Tell me about your motivation, I’d love to know more about you.” Her eyes narrowed. “You have a partner, or a family you work hard for?”