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Chapter 5: Black Cat
🕑 Added 2025-07-21 16:06:26 +0000 UTCI was on my way to drop the parcel after dumping that fat fuck Robert somewhere.
Because, of course, he had to make my life harder.
And the bastard didn’t even pay me.
"Consider it adjusted toward your debt," he had smirked before slamming my dashboard like it was some kind of tip.
Fucking fat piece of shit.
I gritted my teeth and focused on the road.
The good thing was that I unlocked the Adept stage for my [Driving] skill after completing fifty taxi rides. Having five years of driving experience forced into my brain surely made things easier. Now, I get tips from most of my rides.
To pass the time, I checked my current unlocked missions.
Missions:
Taxi Driver (60/100)
Vigilante (0/100)
Paramedic (4/100)
Delivery (0/100)
I am making good progress on my Taxi Driver Mission. I should be able to complete it within a month.
There is no way I will touch the Vigilante mission before I have some confidence in my fighting ability. Maybe I will try it after reaching the Apprentice stage in [Martial Arts] skill.
I don’t get many chances to increase the objective count of the Paramedic mission. Moreover, I can only do so much with just some first-aid skills. So, the progress of this mission is as slow as a snail.
The last is the newly unlocked delivery mission. It does not appear as dangerous as the Vigilante mission and does not require a separate skill set, unlike the Paramedic mission.
As long as I get more delivery jobs from Robert, I should be able to complete it quickly. However, I will explore other methods to complete it more efficiently.
After driving for some time, I reached my destination. That fatty certainly did not make it easy for me. Harlem might not be as dangerous as Hell’s Kitchen, but it wasn’t a walk in the park either, teeming with criminal activity.
Many infamous crime lords, such as Cottonmouth, Black Mariah, Diamondback, Shades, and Bushmaster, were the main competitors vying for control, with numerous small-time gangs operating on the fringes.
And me? I was just a nobody trying to drop off a package and not get shot.
I arrive in front of the house and check the address given to me. Yep, that is my destination.
No one outside. Just dimly lit houses and flickering street lamps.
The house is in the better part of Harlem. I exit the car and move towards the mailbox for the house.
I slid the parcel into the mailbox as instructed in the address slip.
The mailbox creaked. Too loud. For a second, I froze. My eyes scanned the street. Was someone watching me?
Nothing. No voices. No shadows shifting. Just my own paranoia.
I exhaled. It’s time to leave.
I had no intention of sticking around Harlem longer than necessary. Last time I went to Hell’s Kitchen, I ended up with a gun to my head.
And today? Let’s not repeat that.
I slide into the taxi and start the engine. The familiar rumble should be reassuring, but a chill runs down my spine.
No. No, no, no. How is it possible? It will not happen again, right?
I take a slow breath, trying to steady myself. I’m just being paranoid. Right?
A quick scan—front, back, left, right. The streets are empty. Not a soul in sight.
I sighed, sinking into the seat. Maybe I’m just exhausted.
The engine's hum and the rhythmic flicker of a distant streetlamp should be calming. For a moment, it is.
Then—
I relaxed too soon.
I saw a figure dressed in black running towards me through the rearview mirror.
BAM
The door slammed open. Before I could react, the figure slid inside, loudly shutting the door.
This motherfucker. Again?!
Am I cursed? Is that it? Did Uncle Roman give me a cursed taxi?
Once. Twice. And now thrice.
“Drive, quickly,” the figure ordered in a hasty, almost desperate feminine voice.
I have had it.
Even a cornered mouse dares to bite a cat.
And I was done being a fucking mouse.
Now, even if I die, I will kick that woman's ass out of my taxi.
Just before I turned back to give the mystery passenger a piece of my mind, something clicked in my mind.
Wait. Kick the ‘woman's’ ass?
I turned to look at the back seat.
Platinum blonde hair. Explosive body covered in a tight, black bodysuit. Eyes covered by a black mask. Curves in all the right places.
She is—
Oh, hello, Black Cat. Or should I say Felicia Hardy?
My bad. You and your tight booty can stay in the taxi.
I might even give you a 1% discount for the ride. Just kidding.
“Quickly drive, or they will catch up to us,” Felicia said, panic creeping into her voice.
I heard it this time. Engines. Tires screeching. Shouting. Shit.
I glanced in the rearview mirror. Headlights flared. Engines roared. Three SUVs were in the distance. Tires screeched as one car swerved aggressively—too aggressively.
I turned back to her. The desperation on her face showed she was still a rookie. The badass Black Cat would never make such a face.
Interesting. She was still a rookie. Still moldable. Still recruitable.
Felicia’s eyes flicked to my face. A small crease formed between her brows. Recognition? No—confusion first. Then, her lips parted slightly, only for her expression to quickly reset, like flipping a switch.
The small sign of recognition was quickly covered as she didn't want to blow her cover.
"Please, drive," she pleaded, her tone softer this time. "They’re dangerous people. They might think you’re my accomplice."
Maybe she felt sorry for involving an acquaintance so she was more mellow than before.
I looked back at the cars racing towards us and returned to the front with a smirk.
Time to finally put my [Driving (Adept)] skill to test.
Felicia better be ready to pay because I charge more as a getaway driver.
The second my foot hit the gas, the taxi shot forward like a bat out of hell. Tires screeched, the engine roared, and Felicia was instantly thrown back against the seat.
The taxi fishtailed slightly before I corrected the wheel, merging onto the road in a blur of neon reflections and streetlights.
Felicia braced herself against the door, her gloved fingers gripping the seat as the first of our pursuers—a black SUV with tinted windows—closed in.
Felicia gripped the door handle. “Please tell me you know what you’re doing.”
I yanked the wheel left, narrowly missing a parked truck. “I’ve played a lot of racing games. That count?”
Her eyes widened. “Are you serious—”
The first SUV accelerated, trying to flank us. I let them think they had me, easing off the gas just enough for them to get cocky. Then—bam—I slammed the brake and jerked the wheel left. The taxi drifted in a sharp arc, tires screaming as I narrowly avoided the incoming streetlamp.
The SUV? Not so lucky. The driver overcorrected, and with a sickening crunch, the side of the vehicle clipped a parked car. Sparks flew as metal crunched metal, the SUV grinding to a halt.
“Ooh,” I muttered. “That’s gotta hurt.”
One down.
I entered an alley wide enough for my taxi but not enough for the SUVs on my tail to enter.
The taxi scraped the alley walls, sparks flashing as the mirror on the side barely cleared the brick.
Felicia hurriedly tied her seatbelt as we barreled down the narrow alley. “Are you trying to get us killed?!”
“Sit back and relax, sweetie. Enjoy the ride,” I said, adrenaline coursing through my veins.
As I emerged from the other side of the alley, the second car was already to the left. I took a sharp right, barely missing the lamppost.
The second car caught up to our right, its tinted window rolling down just enough to reveal a gun's muzzle.
Oh, hell no.
“Duck!” I barked.
Felicia didn’t hesitate. She dove to the side just as the windshield exploded. Glass rained down, the bullet narrowly missing my head.
“Okay, assholes,” I gritted my teeth. “You wanna play?”
I swerved right, ramming the taxi’s side into the SUV. The impact rocked both vehicles, but mine had the advantage of sheer stubbornness.
The SUV veered, its tires catching the curb. It couldn’t turn in time, slamming into a fire hydrant.
Two down.
A second later, water erupted like a cannon blast, drenching the street.
Water slammed against my windshield. For a second—I couldn’t see shit.
Felicia gasped.
"Hold on!" I flicked the wipers on and gunned it forward.
“So, who did you steal from?” I asked casually, as if armed criminals weren’t currently hunting us down.
Felicia’s eyes widened at my question.
“I didn’t st-”
"Stop right there." I cut her off with a deadpan look. "I can literally see the small sack right there."
Felicia gave a sheepish smile. “It was Cockroach.”
“You have some balls trying to steal from Dontrell Hamilton,” I whistled.
Felicia blinked. "You… actually know who he is?"
I grinned. "Of course. And just because his gang is weaker than the big players in Harlem doesn’t mean they’re harmless. They’d kill you just as fast."
All hail meta-knowledge.
Felicia huffed. "In my defense, I only hit a normal house. How was I supposed to know the owner had a brother in Cockroach’s gang?"
She sighed. "Bad luck, really. Just as I was about to leave, I got spotted. One call to his gang, and now, as you know, here we are."
I smirked. "Oh, I know."
By then, the third car had caught up to us. A truck was coming out of an alley from the left. Soon, it would block the whole road.
I didn’t slow down but instead turned up the gear.
“Wait—” Felicia’s voice spiked.
"Hold on to your assets, sweetie!" I drawled with a southern accent.
A split-second judgment call. I gunned it—if I was even a second late, we were dead. The taxi shot through, the left mirror shearing off against the truck's backside with a scream. I didn’t even have time to check if my back bumper survived.
I only hoped that Uncle Roman wouldn’t kill me upon finding the state of the taxi later.
The roar of the SUV engine followed behind us.
Too late.
A delivery truck backed up completely, blocking the gap.
The SUV slammed its brakes, tires shrieking, but it was already too late.
BOOM.
The truck’s back end crumpled. The SUV’s hood folded like paper. Smoke curled from the wreck, the horn blaring non-stop as airbags deployed inside.
The impact sent shockwaves through the air.
Three down.
I kept driving, heart hammering, adrenaline singing through my veins. A quick glance at Felicia—her chest rising and falling rapidly, her mask slightly askew.
I grinned. “That was awesome!”
I drove for half an hour more, ensuring no one followed us. Then, I stopped. The area had low traffic, and the street was practically deserted since it was past midnight.
I took a deep breath of relief. That was enough adventure for one night.
The rush faded, leaving behind the dull ache of tension in my muscles. My heartbeat slowed, though the ghost of adrenaline still buzzed under my skin. I had been inches from death.
But did I regret what I just did? Probably not.
I knew the day would come when I would have to face the danger head-on. It might as well be today.
This would soon be my everyday life, so accepting and adapting as quickly as possible was good.
“You want me to drop you somewhere?” I asked my masked passenger.
Felicia was also taking deep breaths to calm her rapidly beating heart.
I was sure that, even if it was not her best adventure, it should be one of the best she had had to date.
Good first impression, I guess.
“No, here is good,” Felicia said as she exited the taxi. She walked to my window, leaning down with a flirty smile, and said, “Thanks for your help.”
“No problem,” I replied smoothly.
She flashed another playful smirk before turning to leave.
I blinked. That’s it?!
Oh, hell no, bitch. You ain’t leaving without paying me.
Three before you tried it. Two are on my kill list, and the third will have to pay with eternal loyalty. You will be joining her soon.
“Hey, where do you think you are going?” I asked slightly, raising my voice, and exited the taxi.
Felicia paused, her body tensed. She pulled her loot sack closer to her body.
Did she think I wanted to snatch her loot? Or that I wanted to blackmail her?
Well, she was not completely wrong.
She turned back cautiously; her eyes were sharp as knives.
Good expression. It would be fun to break it later
“What do you want?” she demanded, hostility lurking beneath her voice.
As long as I said anything she found annoying or worse, she wouldn't hesitate to attack me, forgetting all about the slight good feelings she had for me for being an acquaintance from the same college and saving her life.
Saying I was not afraid would be a lie.
Just because she was still a rookie burglar didn't mean she was weak. Her tier was F2, the same as the thug who pointed his gun at my head the other night. Achieved by her hard work.
I knew that having the same tier didn't mean being equal. Even in a single stat, having a strength at the same tier didn't equal their strength. The tier merely indicated the range or order of the strength, not the exact measure. Within the same range, there could be highs and lows.
But it didn't matter here. Whether she was stronger, weaker, or equal to the thug, she was strong enough to fold me in half. I was just a squishy F1 tier, no match for her.
But did that stop me? No.
Because at this point? I didn’t give a single fuck.
I was already beyond pissed with the day’s events.
First, a fat bastard blackmailed me into running deliveries for a gang.
Then, Felicia came out of nowhere, dragging me into a high-speed chase with a pack of psychos who wouldn't hesitate to gut me alive if they got their hands on me.
And for what? Because she botched a job and didn’t check who owned the damn house?
Sure, the adrenaline rush was fun. But that’s not the point.
I was tired. Pissed. Past the point of caring. So, to hell with the consequences.
“The best getaway driver in the city just saved your hot ass, and you want to leave before giving a cut from the job,” I said, smirking, keeping my posture relaxed.
Outward, I showed a confident expression, but inward, I was chiding my trembling heart.
Felicia blinked. For a second, she actually looked stunned. Then, just as quickly, her expression shifted. A slow smirk. A tilt of her head.
Danger passed.
Banzai. I wouldn’t be going home with broken bones tonight.
“Oh, do you think my ass is hot?” She asked with a silky voice as she walked towards me seductively. She moved intently, her hips swaying just enough to make it obvious.
As an adrenaline junkie, the earlier car chase gave her the much-needed adrenalin rush. After all, that was one of the reasons she stole, to feel the thrill.
That increased her interest in me, which was further increased by our current conversation.
“Of course it is,” I replied with a straight face. “But that's beside the point. So, don't change the subject; I want my cut,” I said, giving her a challenging look.
Felicia's face became sultry as she heard that. She crossed her hands, pushing up her very generous breasts, and stuck to me. Those bombshells touched my chest intimately.
Due to the way she kept her costume’s zipper down, I could see a significant amount of her cleavage accentuated by her actions.
“Really? Then what do you think about my breasts?” Felicia asked seductively, ignoring the second part of my sentence. She tilted her head up, eyes half-lidded.
Now, I was in a different kind of danger, but my F3 willpower and sheer exhaustion kept me grounded.
I was never so happy about having the F3 willpower.
“Of course, they are great too. Very soft but firm,” I replied, maintaining eye contact.
She had a massive misunderstanding if she thought she could turn me into a bumbling fool like other teenage boys.
Felicia froze at my reply. It once again caught her off-guard.
Too used to bumbling fools. Too used to men melting at the first sign of cleavage. It was a fresh experience for her.
The interest on her face increased. She pressed her breasts further in.
“My, isn't someone being too brazen,” Felicia said. The arousal was practically dripping from her face.
Ooh, the kitty was in heat.
She leaned her face toward my right ear and whispered softly, “Would you like me to pay you with them? I am sure you will enjoy your payment." Her lips softly brushed my ears.
She was testing my patience here.
I leaned in likewise towards her left ear.
“I am sure I will,” I whispered, lightly blowing in her ear. A shiver ran down her spine.
“Maybe I will take you up on your offer some other day. But today, I want some cold hard cash,” I said, pulling back and making some distance between us.
That was a close call. Any more, and I would have bent her over the taxi to punish her naughty kitty. Then, I would've gone home with all 207 bones broken. A close call indeed.
Felicia stared. Like she couldn’t believe what just happened. Like she had just lost a game she didn’t even know she was playing. Her expression twisted as her face covered with frustration and rage at being denied.
But that couldn't mask the increased arousal and interest she was feeling.
“You,” Felicia screamed in anger.
I said nothing and only showed a cocky smile.
"Fine. Here’s your damn cut," she snapped, shoving a wad of cash into my chest hard enough to sting. "I hope you choke on it."
I calmly took it and started counting in front of her.
Felicia huffed, arms crossed, her frustration and irritation almost radiating off her.
Holy shit. One Grand!
More than what the guy who definitely didn't have a body in his suitcase gave.
If she gave me this much, that meant she had more cash. And from the bulge of the sack, there should be jewelry or other valuables in it. There was no way a low-level thug could have that much money. That gang member was likely one of the gang enforcers.
Even after the repair costs, I’d have a solid payday. Fortunately, the back bumper survived, or even this money wouldn't be enough.
“Nice, I didn't know being a getaway driver was so profitable,” I clicked out my thoughts, further irritating Felicia.
“As long as the pay is this good, I don't mind helping you with more jobs,” I said with a smirk.
“Who needs your help?” Felicia scoffed.
“Today was the last time you helped me. I will not need your help in the future,” Felicia growled. Then she turned around and stormed off.
I looked at her swaying backside as she disappeared in the shadows.
My gaze lingered on her backside for just a second longer than necessary.
Yeah, I’d tap that ass soon.
