The Marvel Knights Group presents: Cityscapes #1

Felicia Hardy, better known in some circles as the Black Cat, sprang from the top of the Oscorp Building, lithe muscles fluid and relaxed beneath her black suit. She landed lightly on the upper skylight of Fisk Tower, toes and fingers flattening against the glass. It was a slanted skylight, its surface leading to a steep drop that would send her hurtling twenty-six stories to her death if she missed her mark by even a second.

Luckily, that wasn't in tonight's playbook.

She balanced herself delicately on the glass, muscles tensing and releasing to counteract the night wind that whipped around her, nudging her this way and that like someone's playful puppy. She grinned, the tip of her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth. Cats hated dogs. She pulled back a hand with a practiced motion and spread her gloved fingers, the silver-furred ruff rustling in the wind. Adamantium tipped claws slid from hidden sheaths on her fingertips and she brought her hand down, claw tips penetrating the glass easily. Then, with a sweep of her arm she cut a swathe around her body through the glass, riding the falling circle towards the floor.

Gripping the glass tightly, she angled it just right to deflect the latticework of laser alarms Fisk had installed in the roof. Dropping past those, she watched the rooftop swimming pool draw closer. With a silent laugh she braced herself for a wet landing. Cats hated water, too. Best to make it as quick a dip as possible.

Even as the glass touched the water she was leaping towards the diving board. With a bounce she flipped up off the board and landed on the edge of the pool in a crouch, not a silver hair out of place. Hardy stood and swept her arms out, bowing low to an imaginary audience.

"Thank you. Thank you. And for my next trick..." She looked around. The penthouse of Fisk Tower was an atrium. Plants, lush and fibrous grew everywhere and the pool was designed to look like a grotto. Imported stone covered the walls and it was the nice kind. All except for one. It wasn't nice at all.

In point of fact it wasn't stone. Just plastic. Anyone but her would've missed it.

She sauntered towards it, arms crossed behind her back.

Same old, same old, really. Business as usual for the Kingpin. Predictable really. Fisk wasn't worried about anyone robbing him; he counted on his reputation to scare off the costumes and cat burglars. Which it did.

Except for her.

She made it a special point to rob Fisk. Just to claw his drapes. Every week for the past year she'd been hitting one of his properties, stealing a little something. Nothing really valuable. Most of it was too hot to fence anyway. But, that wasn't the point, was it?

Just a tweak of the nose. That was all this was. All it ever was.

Well, that and fun as hell.

She leaned over, one arm still behind her back and knocked lightly on the plastic rock. Then she hopped back, whirled and lashed out with her foot. Vibranium soles absorbed the impact as she kicked through the false rock. The safe that lay behind was old fashioned, even for antiquarian like Fisk. Beautiful though.

And easy to get into.

Peter Parker, better known as everyone's Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man, cut through the air like an arrow, arms flat against his body as he streamlined himself with practiced grace. Abruptly his arms flashed out and he flipped in mid-air, his leg muscles tensing as he landed on a flagpole and leapt off before it had a chance to break under his weight. He twisted in the air, spinning like a top as he came down on the ledge directly across from the flagpole. The ledge, unlike the flagpole, was an old friend. It had borne his weight numerous times. He patted it fondly and gazed out over the city.

His city.

"I love you, New York!" he crowed, arms spread as if to hug the building across from him. The reply was instant.

"Shaddup!"

"Quiet!"

"It's three AM, you friggin' psycho!"

"Sorry! Sorry!" Spidey yelled. "Go back to sleep, good citizens!"

A beer can, hurled from a window opposite, crunched against the ledge, propelling him to leap up and cling to the wall above. He shook a fist at the window. "Why I oughtta..."

More trash spattered the ledge, some of it from above. A banana peel clung to his mask like a fat yellow octopus.

"Fine, I can take a hint. I'm a banana, watch me split," he said, flicking the peel away. "Don't come crying to me if Stilt Man peeks on you people in the shower again," he said, and with swift, silent movements he began to climb the building. Practice makes perfect.

How many years had he been doing this? A while, right?

"So howcum I get queasy every damn time?" he said aloud. He pushed away from the wall, standing sideways, staring up at the spire at the top of the building. "Maybe I should stop eating burritos before I go wallcrawling." He rubbed his stomach and cocked his head. "Nah."

Hands clasped behind his back, he walked up the building, letting the sounds of the city wash over him. New York was beautiful at night. A sea of lights, all different colors, swirling around. Edison's gift to the world. Or Tesla's. Depending on whom you read.

"Tesla. Definitely Tesla," he said after a moment. "Man had style. And speaking of style..." His legs bent and he leapt straight up, springing from ledge to ledge, enjoying the feel of the wind moving around him as he crested the top of the building and landed on the spire. He looked at Fisk Tower, a shimmering glass and steel monstrosity rising out of the shadows. Spider-Man gestured at the building. "You, sir, have none. No style, no grace and a fat faaaaace..." he said in a mock-vaudeville fashion, waggling an imaginary hat and twirling an imaginary cane. He waited for a response. None was forthcoming.

It was sad that this was as close as he could get to the Kingpin these days. Fisk was keeping a low-I said low, son-profile these days for reasons of his own. Either that or he was concentrating on Daredevil. The fat man had a grudge the size of Texas for hornhead, especially for the last year or so. And speaking of grudges...he swung his head and tossed an idle glare at the Oscorp Building. There was the unlovely reminder of his own personal cross to bear. Ghosts and goblins, all in one wacky package.

God he hated this part of town.

He shook his head, shoulders slumping a bit. He perked up a second later as he watched a dark shape leap from the Oscorp Building towards Fisk Tower. There was something familiar about the shape. A nagging spot clinging to his memory. The way it moved. Eyes narrowed behind his mask, Spider-Man shot a webline towards Fisk Tower even as the shape slammed into the slanted roof, crashing through the skylight!

The Black Cat whirled at the sound of shattering glass even as the safe popped open. A massive, brown hued shape hit the water of the pool, setting off the alarms as it came down in a rain of glass. Alarms blared, echoing throughout the massive room. A wide hand, fingers tipped with wicked looking claws rose out of the water and gripped the edge of the pool, hauling a brown-furred form, dripping, out of the pool. It's head was shaped like that of an abnormal wolf and it's body was built like a cross between a gorilla and a dancer. The creature shook itself off and glared about, red eyes blinking, teeth bared.

"What the hell are you supposed to be?" the Black Cat breathed. The creature turned, black lips wrinkling back from its teeth in a parody of a smile.

"Hello, chiquita. My name is Carlos Lobo. I am here to kill the fatman. Where is he?" it rumbled, its voice a stone running across a swordblade. The Black Cat looked around, then shrugged.

"No clue. Not here though."

"Ah, such a shame." Lobo flexed his fingers. "Then I must leave a message, letting him know I was here. Unfortunately, it will be written in your blood." Lobo laughed, pink tongue lolling. Then, with a shrug, he leapt towards the Black Cat, claws extended.

Spider-Man hit the edge of the shattered skylight with a thump, careful to spread his weight and not fall through the cracked remnants. Brown fur and drops of blood that looked black beneath the stars dotted the glass. Alarms were shrieking below. Big Britches was getting a surprise tonight.

"Should I or shouldn't I? Should I or-ah, who am I kidding?"

He leapt smoothly through the hole, like an Olympic diver, hands together, legs extended. The pool rushed up towards him and he cut his wrists, firing a webline towards the opposite wall. He was jerked away from the water and he released the webline as he swung over, landing in a crouch near what looked like a party that had started without him. Two very familiar figures were struggling only a few feet away. One, the Black Cat, he wasn't really surprised to see all things considered. Trouble followed Felicia like her namesake. And she had a mad-on for Fisk that rivaled Daredevil's.

The other, the furry buzzsaw on two legs, Carlos Lobo, he was definitely surprised to see. A few years ago the Lobo Brothers, Carlos and the late, unlamented (at least by your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man) Eduardo had come to the Big Apple looking to settle a score with the Kingpin for a minor disagreement involving the Punisher. That disagreement had boiled over into a gang war that rocked the city. In the end, the Kingpin had just barely held onto power and Eduardo Lobo was dead. Carlos, the more vicious of the two brothers, had vanished.

Probably too much to hope that he'd never come back.

Of course, when it came to old enemies, they always came back.

Even the fairly unmemorable ones.

"Carlos Lobo! Long time no punch," Spider-Man said, rising to his feet, fists clenched. "What are you doing back in town and hitting my best girl?"

"Spider-Man!" Carlos whirled. He had been holding Felicia down with one hand, the other upraised as if to take the top of her head off. She was doing her best, but Lobo was a lot stronger than most people this side of the Rhino. Which is why she obviously felt justified in cheating. While Carlos was distracted, the Black Cat's knee shot up, smashing between his legs. Carlos howled and stumbled back as the Cat flipped to her feet, looking none the worse for wear, despite a few shallow scratches.

"Hello, Spider. How's it hanging?"

"Low and lazy, Cat. How's tricks?"

"Profitable and fun. Who's the puppy?"

"Carlos Lobo. Gangster, drug-dealer, mutant werewolf and quite possibly an illegal alien." Spider-Man glanced at Lobo. "What about it, Carlos? Got a visa handy?"

"Penedejo," Lobo snarled. His claws scrabbled on the floor as he hurtled towards them, slaver whipping from his jaws. "I came for the fat man, but you'll do until I find him, clown!" Spider-Man and the Black Cat leapt in opposite directions as Lobo landed where they had been, claws tearing at them. He lunged at Spider-Man, quicker than the eye could follow. "I will leave your head for Fisk to find. A warning of the coming storm!"

"Looks clear outside to me, Carly." Spider-Man said, bouncing up out of Lobo's reach. "Not a cloud in the sky!"

"Then you are blind," Carlos snarled. He lashed out, claws clenching around Spider-Man's ankle and yanking him down. He hit the ground hard, the expensive tile shattering beneath him. Lobo was on him instantly, teeth clashing together inches from his face. Spider-Man grabbed desperately for Lobo's throat, holding the snarling mutant's muzzle away from himself. Drool dripped onto Spider-Man's mask. "But you've always been blind, haven't you? You could have let us get rid of the fat man for you, but instead you let him kill my brother. Let him drive me into hiding, destroy the organization I and Eduardo built with our blood and sweat..."

"Cry me a river, Clifford." the Black Cat hissed, the fingers of her clawed gloves sinking into Lobo's face as she leapt onto the creature's back. Lobo reared back, screeching as the adamantium spikes drove through his skin. He reached for her as he staggered upright, trying to pull her off. Spider-Man kicked up, feet hitting Carlos in the gut and sending him down. The Black Cat rolled free even as Carlos hit the floor. The wolf man leapt to his feet seconds later, apparently none the worse for wear, wounds already healing.

"Why are you back in town, Carlos? Revenge?"

"Just that? No. I came because I was invited. I've been spending the past few years dismantling the fat man's overseas operations. Japan. China. Germany. Killing his people. Stealing his money." Carlos grinned again, running the back of one furred hands across his muzzle. "But there's another war coming. And this time, the fat man will fall. They paid me to come make it sooner than later. Got me into the country. Got me to the city. Got me here. To the fat man."

"Really. Who, Carlos? Who brought you in?" a deep voice washed over the trio, echoing from hidden speakers in the walls. "I would be quite interested to find out."

"Fisk." Spider-Man and the Black Cat looked at each other. Lobo looked around.

"Fat man! Come out and face me, fat man!" he howled, clawing at the air.

"No. No, I do not believe I shall do that today, Carlos. Nor ever, in fact. I've allowed you to amuse yourself, to keep my foreign affairs employees on their toes. In some ways, you've been a more persistent nemesis than either of the two costumed fools beside you. But you've come to the end of your leash. Who brought you here, Carlos? Tell me and I'll let you live. I will let you leave. You don't have to die as your brother did."

"My...brother." Carlos seemed to hunch into himself, then launched himself at the walls, claws tearing at the wall, searching for the speaker. "Don't talk about my brother!"

"Carlos. You are an exceptional creature. A mutant. With regenerative abilities far beyond the amount of harm most things could deal to you." Fisk's voice continued, echoing eerily. Spider-Man looked around, his senses suddenly flaring, detecting...what? He looked around.

"Oh geez. He wouldn't..."

"Wouldn't what?" the Black Cat looked at Spider-Man. "Spider?"

"I used to have a love of gadgets, Carlos. Did you know that? Before the tiny details of my position made those gadgets impractical. Or unneccesary. But I still make use of them from time to time. Especially explosives."

"Crap!" Spider-Man swept an arm around the Black Cat's waist, picked her up and leapt desperately for the skylight. Lobo ignored Fisk's voice and continued to tear at the walls in a frenzy.

"Particularly shaped explosives. By which I mean explosives shaped to look like stones..."

Spider-Man and the Black Cat cleared the penthouse even as it erupted in a gout of flame. Spider-Man shot a spray of webbing even as the Black Cat fired a grappling hook hidden in her glove. The webbing coated the space between Fisk Tower and the nearby buildings, catching stray debris from the blast even as the Cat's grappling hook caught, jerking she and Spider-Man's fall to a halt. Spider-Man twisted to look at her as he fired several weblines to hold them both.

"Teamwork. Gotta love it."

"What the hell was that?" the Black Cat nearly shrieked. "I mean seriously, what the hell?"

"Booby trap."

"He made his goddamn penthouse out of explosives! That's not a booby trap-that's frickin' overkill!"

"Maybe he just likes big booms. He likes big pants. Big leisure suits. Big shiny heads. He's a big sorta guy, Cat."

"He tried to blow me up!"

"Technically he was trying to blow up Lobo. Looks like he succeeded too." Spider-Man looked around as the two spun in place, dangling above his webbing. "And without tearing up too much of the city's property. Controlled explosion inside a reinforced structure. Got to hand it to Big Willy...man's slick."

"Too slick. Aren't you gonna ask me why I was there?" the Black Cat asked. Spider-Man shook his head.

"Nope. I know better. Besides, it's moot." He gestured at the building. "And I'm kinda sleepy."

"So what now?"

"Now? Now I go home. Crawl into bed-"

"Now you're talking, Spider."

"-With my wife."

"You're no fun."

"I'm plenty of fun. Ask anyone. Except Jameson. Or Osborn. Or Octavius. Or, well, anyone I've punched. Ever."

"So that's pretty much everybody then."

"Yeah, probably." Spider-Man twisted to look at the merrily burning penthouse. "Wonder if Lobo survived."

"Doubt it," the Black Cat said, frowning. "When the Kingpin wants someone dead, they die."

"What about Daredevil?"

"Lucky."

"What about you?"

"Me?" The Black Cat smiled. "I'm magic, baby."

"Sir, was that really necessary?" the thin man in the pinstripe suit asked nervously. The Kingpin watched Fisk Tower burn in the distance, hands clasped behind his back as he stood on the roof of the Fisk Enterprises building. Fisk did not reply. Emboldened, the thin man went on. "That penthouse was a substantial expense that will now have to be replaced..."

"Sparrow?"

"Sir?"

"Whose money is it?"

"Yours sir."

"Then I can spend it as I please, yes?"

"Yes sir."

"I'm glad we agree, Sparrow." the Kingpin said without turning around. "It has been almost a decade since I indulged my enjoyment of a good death trap. Besides, the material in those charges was going bad. It has been a while since I had those walls installed. Waste not, want not."

"Do you think Lobo is dead sir?"

"Of course not. Hurt certainly. Surprised definitely. He will go to ground. Perhaps even return to the person holding his leash. And we will be there. Watching him. And planning accordingly." the Kingpin sighed. He glanced at Sparrow. "There is a war brewing, Sparrow. Hammerhead and Tombstone are mobilizing and the smaller organizations are waiting to see who falls first so that they may pick them clean. And all of it, all of it the work of someone else."

"Sir?"

"A pebble may start a landslide, Sparrow. The question is...who threw that pebble?" the Kingpin frowned. "Rest assured, I intend to make it my business to find out. And Carlos Lobo may just be the key."