Eddie Brock — Roleplayer Guild

Featuring: @Retired as Felicia Hardy

Running into an ex can dredge up complicated feelings – doubly so if that ex is someone you've once turned over to the authorities.

Felicia and I have had a… mercurial relationship, to say the least. We haven't always seen eye-to-eye on little issues like morality, property ownership, or the merits of keeping a secret identity, but neither can we pretend that we don't care deeply for each other. For a time, I even thought maybe she was the one. I wonder if she ever felt the same? Somehow, I don't think either answer would make me feel better.

Regardless, that's all in the past now. Last I heard, Black Cat had gone straight. I hope that's true. We've been on the same side of the law before; maybe this time, it'll finally stick. When it comes to looking for the best in others, I'm a glutton for punishment. “Is this for your agency?” I ask, broaching the subject. At a look from Felicia, I explain, “I haven't left the Bugle. Have you seen what teaching pays? Anyway, I hear things.”

She nods, her face a serene mask that I have trouble analyzing. “It's for a case,” she confirms. I can't shake the feeling that there's more to the story, but she's remaining tight-lipped, and I wanna respect her reasons for that.

I pause, waiting for a bleary-eyed postgrad to pass out of earshot. “I think that's great, Felicia. Really.” She doesn't need my approval, I know, but I want her to know she has it, anyway. Lord knows I've given her enough lectures to counterbalance the scales. Maybe I was meant to be a teacher… or maybe it just comes with being raised by Ben and May Parker.

Reaching the laboratory, we find it deserted, as expected. “Alright,” I begin, consulting the clock on the far wall, “we've got a little over an hour ‘til the next period. That should be enough time to get you the beginning of an answer, at least.” I grab two coats, goggles, and pairs of nitrile gloves from the cabinets by the door, offering the extras to Felicia. “It's a teacher thing,” I say with a shrug. And it'll avoid any awkward questions if someone does walk in.

“Not my usual style,” Felicia smirks, turning over the safety goggles in her hand as if wondering the least unflattering way to put them on. Gratefully, however, she does without a hint of complaint.

With the matter of PPE resolved, I can roll up my metaphorical sleeves and get to work. Time is against us, so I decide to prepare multiple samples so I can run tests simultaneously. Whatever Felicia brought me is a nasty, little piece of business. The amber liquid swirls in its vial, not quite as thick as blood but shot through with dark, shimmery particulates. I separate it out into four samples in total, leaving about a thimble’s worth in the original container.

Putting a slide under the microscope, I see just how disjointed this concoction really is. Multiple solutes float half-dissolved in the matrix like the world's worst pharmacological soup. Chaotic doesn't even begin to describe it. When I expose the mixture to UV light, it glows. Could just be fluorescent markers, but smart money's on this stuff being metabolically active. Whatever this is, it was made for a purpose.

I roll my chair over to the next station to check on the solubility tests. “Stable in water, alcohol, and oil,” I note aloud, inspecting each test tube in turn. The last tube gives the results of pH testing. “Slightly alkaline… probably as a buffer to preserve the chemical agents.” I spin to face Felicia. “Whatever it is, it's designed for fast absorption. Some kind of super drug?”

Spectrophotometry starts to paint a picture. I show Felicia the initial readout, pointing to areas of interest with a pen. “This spike here is consistent with anabolic steroids. Plenty of amino acid derivatives spread throughout. And this one here? I've only seen that once before.” I find her eyes, making sure she takes in this next point clearly. “That's the same absorption peak that you get when you analyze Mutant Growth Hormone.”

Concern touches her features – only briefly, and you'd have to know her like I do to catch it. I watch as her eyes trace constellations over the readout. “Same as in same, or same as in similar?” Felicia asks, her voice a little tight. She looks up at me. “Just so I'm clear on how concerned I should be.”

Mutant Growth Hormone – MGH – is the ultimate boogeyman drug. Any Joe Blow who gets their hands on it can give themselves superpowers, albeit without controlling which powers nor for how long. And if a mutant or superhuman takes it, their natural abilities are augmented tenfold. In the wrong hands, the results can be catastrophic.

I can only shrug. “Too soon to say.” I leave the spectrophotometer to consult the results of the paper chromatography tests I had set up. The components haven't had time to fully separate, but there's enough for some broad observations. “Oh, this just gets better,” I laugh joylessly. “That peak is consistent with methamphetamine. Definitely confirmation of the steroids, too, and there's some kind of protein I can't identify… almost looks like testosterone, but that structure’s not human. Primate, maybe?”

Leaning back in my chair, I lift my goggles and rub my eyes. Somehow, I feel worse than when we started. “Chemically speaking, this shouldn't do anything except give the user a massive heart attack. If I had more time and easy access to a mass spectrometer, I might be able to tell you more… All I can hypothesize is that someone is clearly trying to ‘improve’ MGH. Maybe make the effects more predictable? I don't know.”

Felicia nods, and I can see the wheels turning behind her eyes. She slips off her goggles, dangling them from a finger. After another moment, she says, “That confirms my hunch, then. There's no way this stuff is being used for any valid medical purposes. Which means I need to have a little chat with my client.” Then, as if an afterthought, she adds, “After I break into his office and take a close look at his business records, of course.”

I want to press on that, but I've left only enough time to clean up and slip out before anyone finds us. After taking the coat and goggles back from Felicia, I put everything back the way I found it. “Let's walk,” I tell her.

“I need your… expertise on one more thing,” Felicia says while I flick off the lights. It doesn't take the glimmer in her eyes to know that she's not talking about “expertise” of the biochemical variety. “That ghost I mentioned earlier. Have any run-ins with something like that before? Any idea of who or what I might be dealing with?”

Frowning, I consider what she told me of the mystery thief. “There's no shortage of weirdos in my Rolodex, but no one who can walk through solid walls.” I smirk. “Well, not unless Kitty Pryde has taken an unexpected turn into a life of crime, anyway.” Sensing that this guy really got under her skin, I offer, “I can try poking around, maybe get you a better answer. Stories like this tend to travel.”

Once outside, I surreptitiously return the vial with the remaining serum. “If I were you, I'd throw that in the East River.” As we turn a corner onto the quad, I grab Felicia’s arm. “I know you can handle yourself, so I don't want you to think I'm doubting you when I say: I don't like the idea of you flying solo on this. If you want backup, I've just got to make a call.”

She looks not at me but at my hand on her arm. I wonder for a moment what's running through her head, until I recognize the glint of sunlight on my wedding band. I can't know that that's what Felicia is seeing, but I swear she stiffens first before slipping out of my grasp as casual as ever. Her hands find her pockets, and if I didn't know her better, I'd buy that she's unfazed. “That's… tempting. I appreciate the offer, and maybe I'll take you up on it one day, but I've got this.”

I nod. “I know you do.”

Without another word, Felicia turns her back and starts heading down the quad. She only makes it a step or two before spinning on her heel to add, “Besides, I've got luck on my side.”
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I Came, I Saw, I Bought the T-Shirt

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