Felicia Hardy went up to a balcony and grabbed what looked like a bag. Then she dropped lightly onto her feet, her boots barely making a sound on the alley floor. She glanced over her shoulder at Ethan and gave him a casual smirk.
"Turn around," she said, unzipping the small black backpack she'd slung over one shoulder. "Unless you're desperate to see me in my underwear."
Ethan didn't react with more than a dry blink. He turned around obediently.
"I'll pass. I'm not that desperate," he muttered.
He heard the rustling of fabric—leather shifting, zippers undone. Felicia's suit, while tight and tactical, was built to be slipped off quickly. In less than a minute, she spoke again.
"All right. You're clear."
Ethan turned. Felicia now wore jeans, a dark fitted tee, and a leather jacket. Her hair was released and flowing down, and her mask was nowhere to be seen. She looked like any other New Yorker. Maybe a little too perfect as she might turn a few heads, but she didn't look suspicious at the very least.
They started walking.
The early afternoon buzzed with traffic and footfall. Ethan kept his pace leisurely, with no signs of tension on his face. When they passed a hot dog cart, he paused.
"Hungry?"
Felicia tilted her head. "Seriously? You're getting a street dog?"
"They're good," Ethan said, handing the vendor a five-dollar bill and taking a steaming hot dog slathered in mustard with all the trimmings. "And I haven't eaten yet. The same guy's been running this cart for a year. Sanitation rating is consistent."
Felicia wrinkled her nose. "That stuff will kill you."
"Eventually," Ethan replied, taking a bite. "But not today."
She shook her head, amused, as he ate the rest of it quickly and tossed the wrapper in a nearby bin.
Soon after, they reached the hotel. Ethan led her in without drawing too much attention, heading up the elevator to the floor he and his parents were still occupying. His parents were out looking at houses again—he had the place to himself.
Inside the room, Ethan moved like clockwork. His backpack came off first, dropped on the desk. A moment later, his laptop and files were spread out.
"Let's get started."
He handed Felicia a simple folder.
Inside: a newly printed birth certificate, a driver's license, social security card, and bank statements under the name Felicia Harper. There was also a property deed for a condemned laundromat in Brooklyn, already under renovation.
Felicia's eyes narrowed slightly as she flipped through each page.
"Tax records?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. " and a digital presence too?"
Ethan nodded, already moving to open another tab on his screen. "Matching digital footprint with email, archived posts on defunct forums, and two shadowed school transcripts with alumni databases already pingable. If anyone looks her up, they'll find exactly enough to show she is a real person."
Felicia looked up at him. "You did this in a week?"
Ethan sat back. "Time is a funny thing. The government can do most of this in a day or two, but bureaucracy slows it all down. The trick is not hacking the government itself—that's suicide. But the private vendors and outdated systems they outsource to?"
He smiled.
"Much easier."
She gave a slow whistle, clearly impressed.
"This is more than I expected. I figured maybe a birth certificate and a fake license in a month, not… all of this."
"I'm thorough," Ethan said simply.
He handed her a secondary folder, this one containing the blueprints for the laundromat's renovation. The diagrams showed changes to the building's basement—insulation, reinforced supports, independent generators, soundproofing, and a hidden emergency exit leading to a nearby alley.
Beside the blueprints sat a short business plan.
"Front's operational," Ethan explained. "This way, you'll be able to maintain the outer shell as a semi-defunct laundromat. Cash business, no need for digital transactions. Minimal traffic. The back door is your real entry point—camera blind spot, no electrical feed from the grid."
Felicia scanned the plan and glanced back at the property deed. "And this is legally in Harper's name?"
"Fully. Acquired from a property group that specializes in anonymous fast-cash flips. Paperwork's tight. No ties to the real you or me."
She closed the folder slowly. Then reached into her jacket and pulled out a small, sealed metallic canister—about the size of a soda can, but matte black, with containment warning symbols across its cap.
"This is what you wanted."
Ethan took it delicately, examining the external seals. Nothing leaked. It was inert for now.
"Piece of the symbiote?" he asked.
"Split off during a scuffle. I captured it," Felicia said. "It's dormant, but don't let your guard down. I hear things get messy when these things wake up."
Ethan nodded, tucking the canister into a small case in his drawer.
Then he leaned back.
"Well. That completes our first transaction."
Felicia raised an eyebrow. "That's it? No long-winded explanation about how we should work together and the benefits I'll gain by working for you. I'm now part of some grand chess game?"
"You're not a pawn," Ethan said quietly. "You're a queen. I'll call on you when I need someone who can move in any direction."
She snorted. "Cute. And cryptic."
"Well, you started the chess analogy, so I went with it. I think this type of relationship works for the both of us. Take a look at the renovation plans and let me know if there's anything you want to change. It's all part of the service, afterall."
She tapped the edge of the folder. "I'll approve the renovations and tell you so you can send the contractors. You keep your secrets… and I'll keep my alleyways clean."
They sat in silence for a moment.
Then Felicia stood.
"I'll be in touch. Don't lose that canister."
"I won't."
She headed to the door, paused, then looked back.
"Thanks, kid."
Ethan seemed to remember something and stopped her for a second. "Wait, I almost forgot, Peter and I will meet up on Monday evening after school. I'd like for you to come if you can."
Felicia paused and looked back, "A meeting with Spider? I'll see if I can stop by then."
And with that, she exited the hotel room and vanished from the hallway as quietly as she'd arrived.