Black Cat: Moonlit Daredevil by JadeGretzAI on DeviantArt
***I really appreciate your likes and comments. Thank you so much for your support ***...for more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, catwoman, rogue, samus aran, psylocke, power girl, poison ivy, she hulk, black widow, captain marvel, jean grey, storm, video game fan art, superheroes, comic art, anime and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support Black Cat: Moonlit Daredevil by Jade GretzVelvet Claws at Midnight Midnight settled over Central Park like a held breath, not heavy but attentive, as if the city itself had leaned closer to listen. The lamps along the Mall burned with a tired amber glow, throwing elongated shadows that tangled like loose ribbons across the path. Somewhere, water lapped at stone. Somewhere else, a laugh rose and died too quickly. The park was never truly empty, but at this hour it learned how to pretend. Felicia Hardy moved through the trees with the easy grace of a woman who had learned how to be watched without being seen. Her hair, pale as a winter moon, was bound back beneath a dark hood; her suit drank the light rather than reflected it. The famous luck that followed her had a way of announcing itself at inopportune times, but tonight she had asked it—politely—to be quiet. “Stay with me,” she murmured, as if luck were a flirtatious partner instead of a cosmic prank. “Just this once.” The summons had come folded into a riddle and a dare, delivered through a chain of intermediaries who thought themselves clever. A thing had been called into the park, something old enough to remember when the island was a forest and the forest had names for teeth. The thing fed on attention. It left marks that did not bleed. And it had begun to hum. Felicia paused near Bethesda Terrace, where the angel rose with her wings outspread, serene and blind to the night. The hum slid under the sounds of the city like a bass note, felt more than heard. It tugged at her bones. “Subtle,” she said. “You could have sent an invitation.” The answer came as a ripple in the water, a tremor that distorted reflections. A silhouette gathered itself where the fountain’s basin dipped into shadow, a shape that could have been a man if men had ever been built from dusk and rumor. “Invitation implies choice,” said a voice that had learned human cadence the way a knife learned the hand. “You are already here.” Felicia smiled, a small curve that was half challenge, half promise. “So are you. We have that in common.” The silhouette stepped forward, and moonlight slid across it, refusing to settle. The thing wore a suggestion of features: eyes like ink dropped into milk, a mouth that rearranged itself when it spoke. It bowed with old-fashioned courtesy. “I am called many things,” it said. “Tonight, call me Host.” “Charming,” Felicia replied. “I’m Felicia. People call me Black Cat when they’re feeling unimaginative.” “Cats are imaginative creatures.” “Flattery?” She cocked her head. “Or reconnaissance?” The Host’s eyes shifted, calculating. “Both.” She circled, boots whispering on stone. “You’ve been busy. The park’s been losing its sleep. I’m here to tuck you in.” “You misunderstand,” said the Host. “I am the dream.” A wind rose that was not a wind, carrying the smell of wet leaves and old iron. The lamps flickered. Somewhere, a man cried out, then fell silent. Felicia’s smile sharpened. “I hate spoilers.” She moved then, a blur of black and white, momentum turning fear into leverage. Her first strike was a test, a kick aimed at where a chest would be if chests mattered. The Host yielded, flowing aside, and her heel cut empty air. His laughter chimed, delicate and cruel. “Your body remembers,” he said. “Your bones know how to dance.” “Practice,” she said, landing lightly. “You should try it.” The park shifted. Paths folded like origami. Trees leaned closer, their branches knitting overhead until the sky became a narrow ribbon. The hum thickened into a chorus. Felicia felt the luck tug, a sudden lurch as if gravity had hiccupped. She stumbled—not enough to fall, just enough to invite consequence. A hand like shadow brushed her wrist, cold and intimate. “You feel it,” the Host murmured. “The attention. The hunger.” She twisted, snagged his wrist, and pulled. For an instant, substance resisted her, a sensation like velvet dragged against teeth. She smiled into his proximity, breath close enough to stir the impossible skin. “I feel a lot of things,” she said softly. “You should see my résumé.” The Host recoiled, not from her grip but from her gaze. Something in it unsettled him; predators disliked being appraised. They stalked each other along the Mall, statues looming like witnesses who had forgotten how to speak. The ground shuddered. From the earth rose shapes—half-formed creatures stitched from root and shadow, antlers sprouting where eyes should be, mouths whispering questions that did not want answers. Felicia rolled, came up beneath a charging thing, and sent it sprawling with a grappling line. The line snagged a lamppost, and the sudden tension snapped the post’s glass with a sound like a breaking star. “Amateur summoning,” she called. “You didn’t even bring refreshments.” The Host spread his hands, and the creatures froze, hanging in a tableau of menace. “I did not summon them,” he said. “They came because you came.” “Oh?” Felicia lifted an eyebrow. “I draw a crowd.” “They recognize you,” he said. “The way you steal without touching. The way fortune bends.” “Careful,” she said. “You’re making it sound romantic.” “Everything is romantic to the hungry.” The Host stepped closer, and the space between them warmed. Felicia felt the tug again, stronger now, luck coiling like a cat about to pounce. Her heart thudded, but her voice stayed light. “So what’s the plan?” she asked. “Monologue? Dance-off? We could try honest conversation.” “Honesty,” the Host said, tasting the word. “Very well. I am bound to this place because a human bound me. Long ago. I am fed by gaze and fear, by the ache of being watched. Your city is generous.” “And Central Park?” Felicia gestured. “A buffet.” “Tonight,” he said, “I intend to be seen.” “By me?” “By everyone.” She nodded slowly. “That’s a problem.” “Everything is,” he replied. “Until it isn’t.” He reached out, fingers trailing light like smoke. Felicia did not retreat. She leaned in, her lips a breath from where a cheek might be. “Let me guess,” she said. “You need a conduit.” The Host’s eyes widened, pleased. “You are quick.” “I get that a lot.” “A dancer between chance and choice,” he continued. “A thief of impossibilities. With you, I could step beyond this garden. I could learn new hungers.” Felicia laughed, a sound like glass bells. “Sweet talker. But I don’t share my toys.” She struck, palm slamming into his sternum. The impact rang, hollow and deep, like a bell underwater. The creatures screamed as one, and the park convulsed. Trees bent. Stone cracked. The Host reeled, and for the first time his form wavered, edges fraying. He stared at her, astonished. “Luck,” he breathed. “You carry it like a knife.” “Only when I need to,” she said. The night retaliated. Shadows surged, coiling around her ankles, her waist, her throat. Cold kissed her skin through the suit. Her breath caught. The hum crescendoed into a chant, a thousand mouths shaping her name wrong. Felicia closed her eyes, centering herself. She thought of rooftops and rain, of stolen kisses and narrow escapes. She thought of the city, flawed and ferocious, and of how it loved those who loved it back. “Hey,” she said calmly. “If you’re going to choke me, at least buy me dinner first.” The shadows hesitated, confused by tone if not by intent. In that pause, luck struck like lightning. A branch snapped, falling at precisely the right angle. A chain reaction rippled. The shadows loosened, then tore. Felicia sprang free and ran—not away, but toward the Host, who had begun to anchor himself, drawing power from the statues, the lamps, the watching windows beyond the trees. “Look at them,” he said urgently. “They are already looking.” Felicia followed his gaze. At the edges of the park, phones glowed like fireflies. Eyes peered. The city leaned in. She skidded to a stop beside the angel, stone wings cold beneath her hand. “You want attention?” she said. “I can give you a different kind.” She climbed the statue with acrobatic ease and stood, silhouetted against the moon. Her voice carried, bright and confident. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she called. “Enjoying the show?” The Host hissed. “What are you doing?” “Changing the channel.” She bowed, theatrical, and then leapt, not toward him but past, landing among the watchers. Gasps rippled. Cameras flashed. For a heartbeat, the city’s attention shifted—away from the shadows, toward the woman in black who smiled like a secret. The Host faltered. His chorus stumbled, notes slipping. Felicia felt the luck surge, hot and exhilarating. She spun, drawing eyes, weaving allure like a spell. She moved with the promise of danger and delight, every gesture a theft of focus. “Watch closely,” she said, her voice low, intimate. “You don’t want to miss this.” The Host lunged, desperate. His form stretched, thinning as it crossed the space. Felicia turned at the last instant and hurled a small device that burst into a cloud of shimmering dust—reflective, dazzling. Light fractured. Eyes blinked. The Host struck the cloud and shattered, not destroyed but dispersed, his substance torn into glittering fragments that rained onto the grass and sank, hungry but unfed. Silence fell. The hum faded to a memory. Felicia landed lightly, heart racing. She scanned the park. The creatures had collapsed into mulch and shadow. The paths unfolded, returning to familiar lines. Sirens wailed in the distance. A voice spoke behind her, faint and furious. “You cheated.” Felicia did not turn. “I prefer to think of it as reframing.” “You will be watched,” the Host whispered, diminished. “You invite it.” She smiled. “Story of my life.” The night loosened its grip. People stirred, confused, exhilarated, already reshaping what they had seen into something shareable. Felicia slipped away, boots finding shadow like an old friend. At the park’s edge, she paused and glanced back. The angel stood serene again, wings catching moonlight. Beneath the grass, something old slept uneasily. Felicia adjusted her hood and stepped into the city, laughter threading the dark. The park exhaled, and midnight learned how to listen again.
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