As the crisp autumn air breezed through the stitching in his mask, the frown etched across Peter's face was already beginning to vanish. Seeing the city come alive around him in glowing shades of blue and yellow was enough to forget the initial disappointment brought on by the day.

Swinging between the endless rows of skyscrapers, Peter navigated through them with ease. At one point he even dared to flip mid-air, much to the applause of the crowd below.

"Yeah! Go Spider-Man!" One guy cheered, giving the web-slinger a fist pump.

Peter chuckled from under his mask, unable to keep himself from grinning. Maybe today wasn't so bad.

A feeling he was all too familiar with suddenly came over him. The prickling sensation tickled the back of his neck, and the hairs on his arms stood up. He turned his head to the side, seeing he was coming upon the massive museum that was the Met. As he swung closer to the park's edge, that tingling only grew stronger.

There was no mistaking it then. Something was going down in there.

With a giant leap, Peter broke from his webbing and landed right on the colossal steps that went up to the museum. After straightening up from his bent knees, he started climbing, awing at the sight in front of him. The Met was already an impressive building during the day, but at night when it was against the backdrop of a twilight sky, was something else entirely. Beams of pale golden light shone between the massive pallid pillars, illuminating the front. At the bottom of the steps, spouts of water danced in hues of neon blue.

Upon reaching the front doors, Peter noticed the museum was already closed despite the early hour. "Oh, right. It's Monday," he muttered, remembering how the Met closed early on weekdays.

He pressed his face against the glass, trying to peer inside the dark lobby. The door shifted forward instantly, making him startle back.

It was unlocked.

The prickling was at its strongest, almost to the point of stinging his skin. Pushing the door open, Peter stepped into the thick darkness and listened for the slightest hint of what might be going on. From deep within the museum, the sound of something heavy falling to the floor echoed through the dark, empty hallways.

Tiptoeing across the tile, Peter went further into the museum. Careful not to alert whoever was there, the web-slinger maneuvered through the various exhibits, using what little light the windows above provided.

As he rounded a corner, his eyes briefly fell upon the immense painting of a man and what looked to be an animal with a woman's head and feathered wings clinging onto him.

Weird.

He passed it, continuing into the exhibit filled with paintings and sculptures. Peter had not gotten far before he heard the sound of something hoisted off the ground and into the air. From up ahead, a black figure moved, creeping towards him with eyes that seemed to gleam in the dark.

"Stop!" Peter jumped out from behind a display.

The figure froze underneath the skylight. In its hand, or rather her claw was a ceramic cat. In the other, was a hefty nylon bag filled with what Peter could only assume was stolen artifacts.

"Drop it," he ordered, beginning to approach her.

Her green eyes glanced between him and the bag in her hand. "I think there's been a mistake," she said. "You see, I'm the janitor."

Peter's outstretched hand wavered. "Wait, what?"

A toothy grin crossed her face as she nodded her head. "Yeah, I'm here to clean this place out."

Before Peter could fully process her words, she rushed past him, knocking him down with the bag. He groaned, pulling himself up on the edge of a nearby case. Whatever was in there must have been made out of metal.

Flicking his wrist, he shot out a web just the woman was rounding the corner towards the exit. It caught on the back of her bag. With a hard tug, Peter yanked the bag out of her hand and pulled it back towards him.

"And what do we have here?" He kicked it open. Inside were glimmering jewels, antique watches, and priceless chalices.

"Oh, you know, just a little income on the side. Nothing that would really interest you." Her long, white hair fell to the side as she cocked her head.

Peter looked up at her, pointing his fingers into the shape of a gun. "Now, that's where you're wrong."

"I thought Spider-Man had bigger things to worry about now than a simple cat burglar. Has the day really been that slow?" Her eyebrows raised dramatically over her black mask.

The whites of his eye sockets narrowed. "The day was, but I think the night's just getting started–Whoa!"

He dodged to the side just in time to avoid the ceramic cat flung at him. It smashed into the wall behind him, shattering into pieces. Peter glanced back, seeing that the woman was already running out of the exhibit.

With the bag.

"What the–!" His eyes widened as he looked down at his feet. "Hey! Come back here!"

Peter immediately began to chase after her from across the ceiling. She might have been fast, but he was faster. As they entered into a new exhibit, he dropped from the ceiling and right in her path, surprising her.

"What?" He noticed her disbelief. "You thought cats were the only ones to land on their feet?"

"No, but we're the only ones to do it with style." She lunged at him, kicking him in the face with her heel. He staggered back, managing to keep himself upright. Just as she was about to kick him again, Peter caught her boot and held her.

"Let go!" She wobbled, struggling to keep her balance.

"Give back the bag first!"

She grinned. "Alright then!" She slammed it into the side of his body, releasing his hold off of her. The end of her boot met his face and he was sent into a nearby mirror, smashing it into shards.

"Ohh, that's seven years of bad luck, Spider-Man." She leered over him before running off once again.

"I'm getting real tired of this woman," he groaned, pulling himself off the shards.

The ensuing chase led him into the Egyptian exhibit where the woman was continuing to fill her bag.

"I was wondering when you would show up." Her back was to him as she examined a statue of a cat. "Thought you might have called it quits."

"I never quit," he retorted.

She turned around, wearing that same smirk. "You should've."

With a grimace, Peter charged towards her, acting if he was going to attack her head-on. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as he leaped over her at the last second, shooting his web at her hand. While he grabbed a hold of her, he failed to notice her other claw reach out over his chest until it was too late.

"Ow!" Peter hit the floor, clutching his chest in agony. He gazed down and saw blood seeping through the fabric. She had cut straight through his costume and broke the flesh.

"Thank you!" She snatched the bag next to him, removing the webbing with her nails.

"Oh no, you don't!" Peter stumbled forward, trying to grab her. But she easily sidestepped his advances, barely having to move at all. Seeing this wasn't working, he shot out a web but instead of catching onto her, it caught on the fire alarm next to her.

"Wait, no!" He jerked his arm back instinctively. The alarm immediately went off, blaring throughout the museum.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Spider-Man." She winked from above the Egyptian temple. "But it's time for me to go."

"You're not going anywhere!" Peter shot another web, but once again it missed and caught onto the temple. Letting out a frustrated groan, he ran forward and climbed onto the temple, starting to close in on her. His fingers had just wrapped around her when she suddenly spun around and shoved him back. He screamed as he lost his balance and fell headfirst into the reflecting pool below.

"Looks like spiders don't always land on their feet!" She called out as she dove out the window.

Peter could only cross his arms over his dripping suit, sulking as the police sirens grow closer.

**

After clearing things up with the police and ensuring he was not the culprit, Peter swung home in his still-partially wet suit. He couldn't wait until he could take this uncomfortable costume off clinging to his skin and crash into bed.

Today had really been the worst.

Seeing his window coming into view was like a wave of relief for Peter. Soon, this day would be over and done with.

But as he swung to grip onto the wall, the webbing snapped and Peter was sent straight into the glass. For a moment, he thought he saw stars floating around him. Shaking his head, he realized that he had been lucky the glass hadn't cracked upon impact.

Sliding the window open, Peter started to crawl inside when the window came slamming down over his ankle.

"Shi–Mmm!" he cried, tumbling onto the floor with a loud crash.

"Peter!" May came rushing through the door. "What happened?!"

"May," he groaned from the floor. "I–I've fallen and I can't get up."

Her mouth quivered into a smile at his joke. "Here, let me help." She wrapped her arm around him and carefully hoisted him to his feet. "Peter, what's that across your chest?"

Peter looked to where she was pointing. The blood had already dried and crusted, but the scratch looked just as fresh as ever.

"That... is what happens when you cross paths with a black cat."