Chapter 87: The Detective and Her Alien Partner
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The elevator to Trish's apartment building moved at a pace that could generously be called "leisurely." With every floor, it groaned like it was reconsidering its life choices.
"Nah, I think the stairs would have been faster," I said as I leaned against the back wall, still feeling the lingering warmth from our rooftop encounter, both physically and emotionally.
"Just stay put."
"Jessica, your elevator needs therapy," I replied, watching the numbers crawl upward. "It's clearly depressed."
She snorted, keys already in hand. "No shit. Building's from the 1940s. We're lucky it moves at all."
"I could fix it as Upgrade. One merge and this thing would shoot up like a rocket."
"Please don't. Mrs. Kowalski in 4B would have a heart attack," she said, but the soft giggle that left her lips told me that she'd considered it.
The doors finally parted with a reluctant sigh, and Jessica led the way down a narrow hallway to the apartment.
Thinking back, had I ever been inside during daylight hours? I think once, but things were so messy we didn't notice when the night fell.
"Trish is away at some radio conference in Boston for the weekend," she explained, unlocking the door. "Don't judge the mess. That's all me."
The apartment that greeted us was a study in contrasts. There were Trish's carefully curated designer furniture and art pieces provided the backdrop, while Jessica's influence was evident in the functional chaos scattered throughout. Case files were spread across an expensive coffee table. A worn leather jacket hung off a kitchen chair. The walls featured Trish's tasteful art collection, except for one corner that held a single framed photo of Jessica and Trish from years ago.
"My corner of the kingdom," Jessica said, gesturing to the living room area that had clearly become her makeshift office. "Trish keeps threatening to hire an organizer."
"I might agree with her."
"Make yourself comfortable," she said, tossing her keys into a bowl by the door. "Want a drink? I've got… Uh, beer and whiskey. Maybe some expired orange juice."
"You should keep some tea, at least. But water's fine," I replied, wandering toward her desk where more files were stacked beside a laptop that had seen better days. "So this is where the magic happens, huh? Detective Jones' headquarters."
"Hardly magic," she said, returning with two glasses of water. "More like where I waste hours sorting through cheating spouses and insurance fraud. Ugh, it's so boringgg, Ben."
Her reaction made me laugh. She cleared a space on the couch, shoving aside what looked like case notes and a well-worn copy of "Basic Private Investigation Techniques." The domesticity of the moment struck me.
Jessica Jones in her natural habitat, letting this bothersome me see the mundane side of her extraordinary life.
I had half expected her to walk out on me during that rooftop talk, not going to lie. I'd begun the conversation with that in mind.
"So," she said, all business despite all the sweaty businesses that just happened between us earlier. "Professional time now."
"Let's go."
"This Black Cat you mentioned, if that's really who we're dealing with." She pulled out a manila folder from a desk drawer and spread its contents across the coffee table.
Police reports, insurance claims, and grainy security footage formed a mosaic of evidence. Jessica pointed to the first photo, showing a shattered display case. "This was the Peterson Gallery on Fifth. Half a million in diamonds gone in under two minutes. No alarms were triggered, nor any fingerprints left. Nothing on camera except..."
She slid another photo forward. A single frame from security footage showing that same shadow I'd spotted in the park.
I leaned closer, studying the blurred shape. "Whoa. She sure can move."
"We're not sure it's a she, yet, stop staring at their ass."
I shrugged. "Anyways. The movement is too fluid and too perfect. Either this is someone with enhanced abilities or someone with years of professional training. Maybe both."
"My thoughts exactly." Jessica flipped through more photos. "What's interesting is, despite having these skills, this person doesn't do bank robbery or stuff of greater monetary value. It's mostly jewelleries they're after. Four hits in the last month. All high-end jewelry, all pristine jobs. It's like they're not just stealing but performing."
I nodded, examining the evidence while my mind worked through what I remembered about Black Cat.
I knew her from the wiki, from word of mouth, the Spider-Man PS4 game, and from many internet forums, but I hadn't really gone deep into comics to read about her. However, I think I know enough.
Felicia Hardy, cat burglar extraordinaire, sometimes Spider-Man's ally, sometimes enemy, but always complicated. In the comics, she had probability manipulation powers that gave her "bad luck" abilities. It wasn't an active power, it was just there. But did this universe's version have those powers, or was she just extremely skilled?
Better not to make assumptions. "Any patterns to the targets?"
"Besides expensive shiny things?" Jessica pulled up her laptop, showing a map with the robbery locations marked. "All within a ten-block radius of Central Park. All with state-of-the-art security that somehow failed at the exact moment of the theft."
"Aha. Which means either our thief has inside knowledge of each system..."
"Or tech that can disable them," Jessica finished. "Either way, they know exactly what they're doing."
Or power. Probability Manipulation. This exact power worked in the sense that bad luck would strike her "enemies" in a way that was improbable but not impossible. So when she fled, it could just happen to be the exact time when the cameras weren't spinning, or the exact angle the camera couldn't see, or the exact minute when the camera was malfunctioning.
I frowned and picked up one of the police reports, scanning it quickly. Something caught my eye.
"Wait, the system logs at the Cartier store showed a power fluctuation exactly 3.2 seconds before the theft."
"And?"
"The same thing happened at the Peterson Gallery, too. Didn't you notice? It says 3.2 seconds." I grabbed another report. "And here too, at Tiffany's. Huh. That's not coincidence. That's a signature."
Jessica's eyes lit up with that detective fire I was coming to admire. "A calling card."
"Or maybe a technical limitation," I said, my mind racing. "What if their tech needs exactly 3.2 seconds to override the security systems? That's the kind of detail most thieves would vary to avoid detection, but this one either can't or won't."
"So we have a thief with a pattern and a potential technical constraint." Jessica was already typing notes. "Not bad, Ben. That gives us something to work with."
I watched her work, enjoying how Jessica worked so differently from my usual approach to problems.
Typically, I'd just transform and tackle issues head-on. But Jessica's methodical detective work was opening up new possibilities. Maybe I could learn something here. Since this wasn't some crazy murder scene where we were running out of time, I decided not to transform into Greymatter. Sometimes using my own brain was needed.
"Maybe we should check out one of the crime scenes," I suggested. "I've got an idea that might help."
Jessica glanced up from her laptop. "Funny you say that, actually. I was thinking the same thing. The owner of Esposito Jewelers gave me access for tonight. They were hit three days ago."
"Perfect." I tapped the Omnitrix. "Let me introduce Upgrade to their security system, and we might get some answers they missed."
"Upgrade… You mentioned him earlier too. Help me remember, that's the liquid metal one, right? The one that merges with technology?"
I nodded, pleased she remembered. "Galvanic Mechamorph. He can interface with any tech and enhance it. Or in this case, maybe extract data that seems lost."
Jessica closed her laptop with a decisive click. "Then we have a plan. Jewelers at 8, after they close." She hesitated, then added with a slight smile, "Not exactly how I imagined spending the evening after our talk, but..."
"Hey, come on, didn't I come here because you asked for help with this case? I don't mind a crime hunting date night. Solving mysteries with a beautiful detective is just my stuff." I grinned. "There are worse ways to spend a night."
The smile she gave me was worth more than any stolen diamonds.
****
Esposito Jewelers occupied a narrow storefront wedged between a high-end boutique and an artisanal coffee shop that probably charged more for a cup of coffee than I spent on food in a day. The store's facade was modest compared to its neighbors. Still, the subtle security measures, including reinforced glass, hidden cameras, and a door thick enough to stop a truck, told a different story.
"Mr. Esposito?" Jessica called as we entered through the employee entrance, her PI credentials having gotten us past the initial security.
An older Italian man emerged from the back room, his weathered face creasing into a frown. "Ms. Jones. And this is...?"
"My associate," Jessica said smoothly. "Technology specialist."
I offered my hand. "Ben Tennyson. Thanks for letting us look around after hours."
Esposito's handshake was firm, his eyes measuring. "For three generations my family has run this store. Never a robbery. Then this happened... ghost comes in and takes my grandmother's diamond collection like it was nothing." His accent thickened with emotion. "The police, they do nothing. And insurance company asks too many questions."
"You can rest assured. We'll do what we can," Jessica assured him. "Could you walk us through what happened?"
As Esposito led us through the store, I noted the security setup. High quality cameras covered every angle, motion sensors, pressure plates under display cases. State-of-the-art stuff, not the kind of system amateur thieves messed with.
"Everything normal that day," Esposito explained, gesturing to a now-empty display case. "I close shop at six, set alarm, go home to my wife. At 2 AM, police call. Say alarm goes off, but when they arrive there is nothing. Door still locked and windows intact. But this…" he tapped the glass case, "Empty."
Jessica crouched, examining the case. "No signs of forced entry?"
"None! Is like... ghost!"
"Or someone who knew exactly how to get in and out," I murmured.
Jessica nodded toward the security panel. "That's our starting point. Mr. Esposito, would you mind giving us about twenty minutes alone? We need to run some specialized equipment."
I was unsure if such a request would be followed, given a thievery had just happened. But Jessica's reputation was cleaner than I realized. Once the owner retreated to his office, Jessica turned to me. "Alright, show me what Upgrade can do."
I grinned, feeling that familiar excitement build. "One alien tech expert, coming up."
The Omnitrix's familiar weight shifted under my fingers as I turned the dial, cycling through silhouettes until I found what I needed. The green flash enveloped me, and my body melted into something new, a liquid metal form with circuitry patterns and a single green eye.
"Upgrade!" My voice had a mechanical quality now, echoing slightly.
Jessica took a step back, eyes widening despite having seen my transformations before. "Wow. That never gets old."
"Just wait till you see what I can do." I moved toward the security panel, my body flowing like living mercury. "Let me into their systems, and I'll find what our cat burglar didn't want us to see."
As I merged with the security console, the world changed. It didn't take much effort, if any, to take full control over this 2010 Earth Tech. Digital information flooded my consciousness, ones and zeros transforming into coherent data streams. I could feel every connection, every circuit, and every hidden pathway within the system.
"I'm in," I announced, my voice now coming from the speakers. "This is... interesting."
"What do you see?" Jessica's voice sounded distant through my digital awareness.
"The camera footage was compromised, just like the reports said. But not hacked in the traditional sense." I followed the data trail, my consciousness moving through the system like water through pipes. "Someone physically accessed each camera."
"That's impossible," Jessica countered. "There are twelve cameras in this store. No one could access all of them without being seen by at least one."
"Unless they were fast enough to get to each one between frame captures." I focused deeper, finding something odd. "Wait a minute... there's a pattern to the disruption. Every camera experienced a precise 3.2-second loop, but they didn't all go offline simultaneously."
"What does that mean?"
"In simpler words, it means our thief accessed each camera individually, in a specific sequence. Starting with the rear exit camera, then moving clockwise around the store, ending with the display case camera. Oh, they're good." I pulled my consciousness back slightly, processing what I'd found. "The timing is too perfect. Almost like they were dancing through the blind spots."
As I continued probing, something else caught my attention. "And there's more. The alarm system logs show it was disarmed for exactly 47 seconds during the theft, then rearmed. But here's the weird part… the disarm code used was legitimate."
"Legitimate?" Jessica's voice sharpened. "As in, someone had the actual code? Not some hack?"
"Yup. But according to the logs, it was entered from the main keypad by the front door… which means they had to be inside the store already."
I separated from the security panel, my liquid form reassembling into Upgrade's odd humanoid shape. "Someone got in before closing, hid inside, then executed the perfect theft. But how did they leave without triggering the motion sensors?"
Jessica was already moving toward the display case, examining it with new purpose. "If they came in legitimately and had the alarm codes, they must have had inside information. An employee, maybe?"
"Or someone who can extract information somehow." I followed her, my single eye scanning the room. "I'm thinking technology. Some kind of device that can read electronic signals, maybe even clone security cards or extract keypad entries."
Jessica's fingers froze on the edge of the display case. "Ben, look at this."
I knelt beside her, focusing where she pointed. There, almost invisible on the glass, was a tiny scratch. Intentional, precise, forming what looked like a stylized cat's paw.
"A calling card," I breathed.
"She's not just stealing," Jessica said, something like professional admiration in her voice. "She's signing her work."
"Classic cat burglar," I agreed with a scoff. "See? I told you it's the Black Cat. What I don't understand is why leave evidence at all? Why risk a signature? Have you encountered similar situations before in your career, Jess?"
"Yep. They do it for the same reason people climb mountains," she replied. "Because they can." She pulled out her phone, searching something quickly. "Given the thief seems to be doing this for passion rather than pure monetary value, I have a guess what their next target might be."
"Damn."
"There's a major exhibition opening tomorrow night at the Metropolitan Museum. The centerpiece is the 'Twilight Star' diamond, supposedly worth eight million."
"Let me guess. High security, prestigious venue, valuable target?"
"The trifecta." Jessica showed me the screen. It was an invitation to a charity gala coinciding with the exhibition opening. "Based on the pattern we've uncovered, it's practically gift-wrapped for our thief."
I raised an eyebrow. "Looks like we need to crash a party."
"Black tie," Jessica pointed out, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Not exactly your specialty, is it?"
"Don't worry." I grinned, tapping the Omnitrix. "Breaking and entering is mine."
As we left the jewelry store, the city lights reflected off the glass storefronts like stars fallen to earth. My mind raced with possibilities for tomorrow night. Whoever Black Cat was in this universe, she was about to discover that some creatures in the night were even more unusual than her.
And unlike her previous targets, this one would be ready.
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Author Note: 💔Did not meet the goal, quite far from it than usual. Tomorrow's goal is Top 3 too, let's do this!