Fighting Chance Vol 2 #2

It was said that there were certain things that man was not meant to know.

HP Lovecraft said that, Zain was pretty sure. He was also pretty sure the guy had said some things about his cat, but that was neither here nor there.

If there were things man was not meant to know, there were also definitely a whole host of things man was not meant to do.

And finally, there were undoubtedly things that man was not meant to eat.

It was possible (and highly likely) that three cans of Campbell’s stew nuked in a microwave made in 1972 was one of those things, but Zain didn’t care as he chowed down on the mixing bowl full of meat slop.

Unholy meal or not, Zain shoveled another spoonful in his mouth and let out a groan with every other bite. Food was fuel, and he’d been burning through way too much lately.

“That’s… not normal, you know that right?”

Colleen stood at the counter, still holding the kettle she’d been about to pour, looking like his eating habits had short-circuited her brain or something.

“What?” Zain glanced down at the mixing bowl, then back at her. “I’m growing.”

“Up or out, brat?” She finally poured her tea, the steam rising between them thick and heavy with the smell of jasmine as it fought and lost against the stench of cheap beef. “If I didn’t know you eat like a demon all the time, I’d have a doctor check you for a tapeworm.”

Zain shrugged, stuffing another massive ladleful of thick stew in his mouth, slurping up the thin film of crust that formed atop it in the microwave. “…Just hungry.”

“So,” Colleen leaned against the counter, eyebrow cocked. “You gonna tell me why you’re in my kitchen at 1 AM smelling like gunpowder and cheap Italian cologne, or should I just assume it was another ‘productive night’?”

“Productive.”

“Was it that girl again?” Colleen’s voice sharpened, suddenly all teacher-mode. “The one with the weird headphones?”

“It’s… I… mmm, they’re not headphones,” Zain muttered, already half-regretting bringing up this whole thing with Black Cat. The white-haired brat had been a pain in the blackest part of his ass the last couple weeks and it stopped being cute by like… well, probably the fifth time.  “They’re like… cat ears. They enhance her… hearing… It’s…” He let out a sigh into his bowl of boyslop. “It’s part of her whole… cat thing.”

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

“This your spot, Fighter?”

The voice materialized from nowhere, making Zain whip around so fast his chain nearly took flight on its own. There she was – perched on an AC unit like it was a damn throne, white hair catching moonlight, goggles pushed up to reveal green eyes glittering with amusement.

“Don’t call me that.” His fingers tightened around the chain links.

Her smile widened. “Why not? It fits.”

“I have a name.” And she was already pissing him off, just sitting there all smug like she owned the rooftop. The rooftop he’d been casing for the past twenty minutes, watching the Yakuza warehouse across the street, planning his approach.

“I’m sure you do.” She stood in one fluid motion, stretching like she’d just woken up from a nap instead of materializing from the shadows. “But until you tell me what it is…”

Before he could answer, she was gone – diving off the edge of the roof in a white blur. Zain rushed to the edge just in time to see her slip through a second-floor window of his target building.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me…”

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

“So she stole your score?” Colleen was trying not to smile. And failing.

“Not just that one.” Zain stabbed his spoon into the stew like he was trying to kill it. “It’s like she’s got some weird radar for everywhere I’m planning to hit.”

Colleen’s eyebrows rose. “Maybe she’s following you.”

“No…” he narrowed his eyes for a moment, actually wondering if…”No.” Zain shook his head quickly, dismissing it as too ridiculous. “No, she’s good but I doubt she’s that good. I’d notice by now. I’d definitely notice.”

His expression turned down as Sensei Wing sent him a look of her own. “I would!”

“Uh-huh.” Colleen’s voice was drier than the leftover rice in the fridge. “And that’s why you’re worked up? Because she’s stealing your… what, your heists?“

“I… I’m not worked up! She’s just… a cheating cheater who cheats,,” Zain said, gesturing with his spoon after licking it clean of any possible liquid projectiles. “Like, her parkour stuff is just on a whole other level. Just bull-fucking-shit.”

“Sounds like you’ve been watching pretty closely.” Colleen’s voice had that teasing edge that made Zain’s shoulders tighten. “Real real closely.”

“It’s not like that. She’s just—”

“Just annoying? Yeah, you mentioned that about five times now.” Colleen leaned forward. “So why don’t you just avoid her territory?”

“I don’t know her territory! That’s the whole problem! She’s everywhere!”

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

The rear entrance to the Yakuza counting house was perfect – isolated, single guard, minimal security. Black Cat was already there when Zain dropped from the fire escape, her fingers working the lock with practiced precision.

“Looking for someone?” he asked, unable to keep the smugness from his voice.

She actually jumped and he was eagle-eyed enough to spot it, a tiny flinch that sent a wave of satisfaction through him. Got her.

But she recovered fast, shifting her weight to look casual, like she’d known he was there all along. “Just taking an evening stroll. Nice bandana.”

They both turned at the sound of approaching footsteps – a guard making his rounds. Without a word, they fell into position: Cat sliding into the shadows by the door, Zain pressing flat against the wall. When the guard rounded the corner, Cat let out a small cough, drawing his attention. 

The distraction was all Zain needed to slip behind him, chain wrapping around the man’s throat just long enough to cut off blood flow without leaving lasting damage.

As the guard crumpled, Zain caught Cat’s eyes. For a second, they both looked equally surprised at how naturally they’d worked together.

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

“Sounds like she’s testing you,” Colleen said, folding her arms. “Could be sizing you up as competition… or as an ally.”

“I’m not looking for a partner.” Zain suddenly found his bowl fascinating, avoiding Colleen’s too-perceptive gaze. “I work better alone.”

“Do you? Because it sounds like you two have a rhythm going.”

“It’s not like that,” he insisted. “She’s just there, and I’m there, and sometimes we end up hitting the same places. That’s it.”

Colleen gave him a look that said she wasn’t buying any of it. “Are you sure she’s just a thief? Or something else?”

“What else would she be?”

“Idunno, karate kid, but cat ears and super-soldier level agility sounds more like one of those Wonders than your average criminal.”

Zain pulled a face. “Wonders. Marvels. Enhanced. Gifted. All these weird names, just call them m…”

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

The sunset painted Manhattan in gold and shadow, the wind stronger up here than down in the canyons between buildings. Zain perched on the water tower, eyes fixed on the warehouse two blocks over. Russian mob territory. Risky, but the payoff would be worth it.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

He didn’t jump this time, just turned slowly to face her. Black Cat sat on the opposite edge of the water tower, legs dangling over the side like they weren’t thirty stories up.

“Stalking me now?” he asked, trying to sound annoyed rather than impressed that she’d snuck up on him again.

“Don’t flatter yourself. This spot has the best view.” She stood, balancing on the edge with casual disregard for the drop. “Race you to that construction crane.”

She pointed to a half-built skyscraper several blocks away, its crane jutting into the sky like a giant finger.

“Why would I—”

“Unless you’re scared, Fighter.”

And then she was gone, a white streak against brick and steel, leaping to the next building with a grace that made it look easy.

Goddammit.

Zain was after her before he could think twice, chain whipping out to catch a fire escape, swinging him across the gap between buildings. She was faster, but he was stronger – taking routes she couldn’t, powering through obstacles she had to navigate around.

The gap between two buildings loomed – too wide to jump. Black Cat ran up the wall on one side, pushing off to catch the opposite ledge and flipped over to land perfectly.

Bullshit. Zain knew he couldn’t manage that, couldn’t come close to it. Instead, the teenage vigilante swung his chain across the gap. As it latched onto and wrapped around a satellite dish, he grinned.

“My turn,” he muttered.

He ran forward, booking it from zero to nearly twenty miles per hour in barely a second. His feet met the edge of the roof and he leapt up and out over the edge. He tugged on his chain at the same instant he tugged on it in his head and the thing tugged back, pulling him forward as fast as he could run at a dead sprint.

In half a second, he touched down shakily, shooting Black Cat a grin above his bandana as his chain retracted back to his hand. 

Before he could say a word though, a  police helicopter spotlight swept the rooftops, forcing them both to freeze in the shadows, pressed against a wall, barely a foot apart. He could hear her breathing, quick and controlled, could smell something like vanilla mixed with the city grime on both of them.

The moment the light passed, they were off again. She pulled ahead, throwing a smile over her shoulder that was half taunt, half genuine joy. Zain found himself grinning back, the rush of it hitting him harder than he expected.

When he finally reached the crane, lungs burning and legs trembling from the exertion, she was waiting – arms spread wide, taking a dramatic bow like she’d just finished a performance.

“… yeah, yeah, you’re good, I get it.”

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

“So you race across rooftops with her, fight crime with her—”

“I didn’t say fight crime,” Zain cut in. “I just… happened to run into some Russian guys who were hassling her.”

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

Five Russian thugs had her cornered on a rooftop – all shaved heads and half-broken noses, closing in with baseball bats and chains of their own. She was bleeding from a cut above her eye, backing toward the edge with nowhere left to go.

Zain didn’t think. Just dropped from the water tower above, chain already swinging.

“Need a hand?” he called, echoing her own taunt from weeks before.

The fight was fast, brutal, efficient. They moved like they’d trained together for years instead of just crossed paths a few times. When he ducked, she struck high. When she feinted left, he was already moving right. Back-to-back as more thugs arrived, covering each other’s blind spots without a word.

When it was over, neither acknowledged how seamlessly they’d worked together. She refused to thank him. He refused to admit he’d been worried. They parted to the sound of distant police sirens, neither looking back.

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

“You share stolen snacks with her on abandoned clocktowers,” Colleen continued, ticking off points on her fingers. “She asks about your powers, you ask about her claws—”

“One time!”

“But you keep meeting up with her.”

“I don’t mean to!” Zain almost whined, just barely catching himself.

“Still keeps happening though.” Colleen set down her cup with a decisive click. “At least a couple times a week, from what you’re telling me.”

“It’s a big city, but we hit the same kinda targets. Of course we’re gonna run into each other, you know,” Zain shot back as he pushed his now-empty bowl away.

“Uh-huh. All these… would you call it a meet cute? I’m gonna call it a meet cute,” Colleen leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes narrowing at him again. “You know what I think?”

“What?” Zain’s fingers fidgeted with the chain wrapped around his wrist, eyes staring into the now-empty bowl.

“I think…” She let the silence stretch just long enough to be unbearable. “…you’ve got a crush!”

Zain nearly fell backward out of his chair, hands flying up like she’d pointed a gun at him. “What? No! That’s—that’s ridiculous!”

His denial was cut short by the buzz of the new phone Colleen had gotten for him with his money – the police scanner app alerting him to Russian mob activity downtown. Relief flooded through him as he jumped to his feet, grabbing his hoodie off the back of the chair.

“We’ll finish this conversation never,” he called over his shoulder, already halfway to the door.

“Tell your girlfriend I said hi!” Colleen shouted after him.