Chapter 1: In The Black

Another night, another punk. Smoke billowed out from the hood of an old rustbucket SUV as its wheels tried to force their way through thoroughly dried webbing. Three robbers with handguns and a pillowcase full of twenty dollar bills were splotchy with the destroyed corner ATM's ink-trap. Spider-man dropped down onto the roof of their getaway vehicle.

"It's the webhead!" Panicked the shortest member from the back seat. Spidey weaved and dodged, eventually flipping to the sidewalk as bullets ripped through the roof of the car.

"Now, now, now, those are not toys," Spider-man admonished. He had landed on his hands and with his proportionate spider strength he rebounded feet first through the back window of the SUV. Thwip, thwip, thwip. He twisted mid flight, breaking through a second window and landing out on the street, with just enough time to leap back onto the roof and out of traffic. The shriek of a minivan's horn followed him. The backseat shooter was pinned down. The front two flung open their doors. The driver side door was clipped by a Ford swerving wildly as it passed by and was sheared from its hinges. The cars began piling up, effectively walling in the driver.

"Don't kill me!" Shrieked the driver as he threw his hands over his head. Three strings of web bound him tightly to the bucket seat. Spidey harrumphed at the driver and turned to the third man. He had his gun and his pillowcase. He weaved around a hot dog stand. It was half a heartbeat before Spider-man swung over his head to drop on the sidewalk next to him.

"A pillow fight and here I forgot my spider-jammies!" Thwip thwip. Spider-man pinned the gun hand to the robber's chest and attached another web to his foot. The man shrieked as he was flipped and strung up from an overhanging flagpole on the building above the street. Spider-man caught the dropped pillowcase of money nonchalantly.

Across the street and several stories overhead perched the Black Cat. She watched the webhead with a thin lipped grimace. With a sneer and a click she shut down the magnifiers in her mask. Two green and orange lens slid away from her blue eyes. For two weeks she had been assessing the Spider-man. She knew how he moved, knew how he joked and how he fought. She knew he was super-powered. The hot desire for revenge had cooled but remained insistent. She had nightmares of her father dying in prison. She had other dreams about the Spider. She played with him like a puppet until one by one his threads broke and he went tumbling to the street below. She was angry but she still knew that she wanted the Spider almost as much as she wanted to hurt him. She had watched him move, he filled that costume beautifully. Cat purred, if she was strong enough, maybe she could have it all.

The police cruiser rolled lazily through Hell's Kitchen. For the first time since the Green Goblin's death, violence and robbery seemed in a lull. Sergeant Stan Carter was bone tired. Officer Jean DeWolff was craving a cigarette, a post-coital cigarette preferably. She had quit smoking almost four years ago. The cravings had never quit, especially not on a night like this. A calm night lately was just holding its breath. A calm night just couldn't last.

The staccato of small handguns sent Carter's finger to the lights and sirens. DeWolff called for backup. A half block from their location were two unlucky teenaged gangbangers slumped up against an old brick home. In the distance a car sped down the street. Four in the morning and traffic was nonexistent. Carter was about to give chase while DeWolff called for an ambulance. Another police cruiser rushed out of a side street and cornered the fleeing car. Brakes screeched and a Daily Bugle paper dispenser was crushed beneath the bumper of the fleeing car as it came to an abrupt stop on the sidewalk. The driver and shooter were quickly subdued with no more gunfire.

Twenty five minutes later and DeWolff climbed into the cruiser. She handed Carter a steaming cup of coffee. "Hell of a night," She said. The two gunshot victims had been rushed to hospital with hopeful prognosis. It was one of their better nights.

"It'll be worse in the morning. All the damned paperwork because some stupid kids were on the wrong damned corner." Carter snarled. "I never thought I'd miss organized crime." He slurped his coffee. Jean wanted to voice her disgust, but she let her partner continue after a moment. "When the Big Man ruled, the punks had someone to be scared of. Someone they had to answer to. During the Goblin's three weeks of chaos you could tell the criminals from the taxpayers by the pumpkin masks. Throw in the webhead and we only had to mop up vandalism and theft and the occasional not-so-wise-guy in the East River." He took another draft. "Now, Goblin's dead, Lincoln's buried in red tape, and Silvermane's too old to be a has-been. With no hand on the reins, these scumbag idiot kids think they're going to make a name for themselves. Midtown's become a battlefield. Brooklyn's all but on fire. Hell's kitchen is running red. It's open goddamned season. Not in my city, DeWolff. By God, not in my city."

"We're doing our best, Stan," DeWolff reproved. "We're half dead on our feet and we're still cleaning up the city. This crime wave can't go on forever, sooner or later the price for these little turds will rise too high. It's going to get better."

"How can you be so sure?" Carter put the coffee cup into the cup holder and reclined back. He never could get a cruiser's seat into a comfortable position with the hard plastic shield behind his headrest.

"The punks might not have the fear The Big Man instilled but they don't have the protection either. They're quickly going to learn how heavy handed the law can be." DeWolff started on her coffee.

"Not heavy enough," Muttered Carter. He pulled out into the street, a cloud of anger settling on his mind. DeWolff drummed her fingers on the passenger door's handle. Stan was getting worse. These conversations had occurred every night for the past six shifts. He had been volunteering for these late night patrols. The pair of them had been afternoon and evening cops for nearly two years now. This was the beat they had when she was still a rookie. She worried, it was written on her face. The foul things she'd have done right then and there for a cigarette.

It was the hour before sunrise and the city that never sleeps was living up to its press. Zipping across skyscraper roofs, a silhouette of a remarkable creature swung swiftly above the city's early risers. Another line was shot into the bottom of window washer's platform. No worker meant no one was startled as it vibrated precariously. Falling into a roll the silhouette rose up undamaged and with little loss of momentum. Thirteen steps and the silhouette dove off the edge of the building. The line shot up after the descent and gripped the ledge.

"Hello Blackie," Purred the Black Cat as she rappelled down in front of the mustachioed bookie.

"Oy, Kitty-Kat," Gaxton squeezed the bridge of his nose, "I was hoping to make my way to bed. Can whatever your fencing wait until sundown?"

"Not quite," Cat reached out and touched her razor tipped claw to Gaxton's o'clock am stubble. "And I'm not selling, I'm buying."

"Buying what?" In spite of his tiredness the bookie raised his eyebrow.

"Power." She purred, it was hard to keep one's eyes off of a determined Black Cat.

"I don't follow, kid," Blackie stepped back. Not out of reach, a kick of her leather clad leg would swing her right into a slash of open throat, but far enough that she'd need more than a lazy flick of her wrist.

"Word about town is that you had your hand in the whole Molten Man incident." Cat remembered the bronze flame thrower from her aggravating attempt to free her father from prison. "I want that kind of power."

"Ah," Blackie settled his gaze on hers, "And even if I have the right connections, why'd I ally myself with Spider-man's pretty kitty?"

The scowl on her face raised the hair Blackie's neck. Black Cat spoke in a lioness growl, "Spider-man, I am through with that do-gooder. The next time he crosses my path, his luck runs out. I need the power to assure that spider gets stepped on."

"Oh, ho ho ho," Blackie drew on a sinister grin, "I'll make a phone call. Meet me tonight at the Curt Connors' old lab. You know where it is, right?"

"I've been there before," Cat recalled her first meeting with Spider-man. Her traitorous blood warmed at the memory, her heart filled with ice. "I'll be there at 10 pm sharp."

"Always a pleasure, Kitty-Kat," Blackie snarled his sarcasm.

"The pleasure's all mine, Gaxton." With a flick of her left hand her grapnel gun's rewind motor kicked in with a high pitched whir. The Black Cat rose quickly into the swelling pink of the rising sun.

"You're to be there at 8pm sharp!" Jolly Jonah's curt orders were followed by an immediate hangup. Peter Parker sighed and slumped against his locker. He was not looking forward to this assignment. Ned Lee had convinced him it was a follow up story to the Green Goblin. An albatross with the weight of the world around Peter Parker's neck. He was due at some swanky shindig where scavengers and backstabbers were going to claw and snap over the scraps left by the death of Norman Osborn. He was going to be taking pictures of the widowed Emily Osborn with all the predators of the corporate world. Worse, he was going to have to watch Gwen with Harry. He loved her, hell, Peter loved Harry. Gwen had chosen Harry to protect him from himself.

Peter was lost and lonely. Neither, Harry nor Gwen seemed to have the time to spend with him and, after his extremely public breakup with Liz, it seemed the whole school had turned on him. Sally's cutting remarks were more verbal, more often. Not that she had showed much restraint during his three month relationship with Miss Allan, but it seemed Peter's first crush believed she had to make up for lost time. Flash and Kenny were resurrecting their juvenile attempts to make him look foolish. Sha Shan's influence tamed Eugene but Glory let loose King Kong's leash as a show of support for Liz. And while neither bully was particularly mean spirited, Peter's spider-sense tingled at least three times a day.

"You're looking morose, tiger," MJ fell into step beside Peter's trudging gait. Her aura as a fun seeking free spirit had become muted since Mark's imprisonment. She seemed to be the only person that had backed Peter after his and Liz's breakup. She and Glory were friends but it seemed pressure was building to sever the cool kid crowd from the redhead.

"Oh, hey Red," Peter greeted in a tone to match his frown.

"What's the matter?" She tugged him down a hallway away from his English class.

"Well for starter's, the best looking redhead I ever met is attempting to make me cut class." Peter smirked. MJ laughed back.

"If that's your biggest problem..." She trailed off with an inaudible giggle. The pair left M3 through the backdoors and out across the teacher's car park. The lot was empty.

"I don't usually cut class," Peter wasn't objecting.

"You miss class all the time, and when you do show up you're usually late." MJ sneered.

"Unavoidable incidents," Peter adopted a falsely sarcastic manner. His life as Spider-man was mostly responsible for his poor attendance, but better to play the miscreant truant than to endanger others with his secret identity. "My life is just that exciting."

"I'll bet," MJ's tone matched Peter's. It was the first true smile he had seen on her since February. She switched to serious, "But the Spider-man picture hunting's got to be fun."

"Except when I get half buried in trash," Peter recalled his first battle with Shocker. It still amazed him that all of this had happened in the last year. In fact the anniversary of his spider-bite was less than one month away. All the memories of Uncle Ben and Norman Osborn flooded back into him. He fell into a depression.

MJ attempted a few more conversations as they marched down to the Silver Spoon. Each one ended in she or Peter's collapsing happiness. Parker's money troubles were legendary. MJ didn't hesitate to order their two cappuccinos with enough whip, chocolate and additives that they were closer to candy bars than coffees. They found a secluded booth in the corner. When they were seated across from each other and out of the view and interest from the rest of the store Mary Jane Watson opened up.

"They won't let me in to visit Mark." She said, the foam on Peter's lip tugged a half smile to her lips before she continued. "His lawyers said they were lucky to arrange visitations from Mark's immediate family, his high school girlfriend," she sneered the words, "doesn't amount to much of anything."

There were several self destructive meanings to her comment and Peter managed a rare moment of insight picking up on them.

"Come on, MJ," Peter reached across and took her hand. She was trembling, unwilling to let herself cry. Spider-man solved problems, Peter wasn't equipped to just be a good friend and listener. He wanted to help but there was no way he could get her in to see Mark. Instead, he just aimed to cheer her up. "I'm sure Mark knows you tried to get in to see him. I'm sure he knows you care." MJ's intensity as she listened was intimidating. Peter would've rather stared down the Rhino but he kept talking. He didn't realize what he was saying. "I have to go take pictures at some fancy corporate shindig tomorrow night. You should come with me, we could dress up, raid the buffets and spreads. Dance. Just have a good time."

"Yeah?" Mary Jane perked up. She had been instrumental in Peter and Gwen's admission of love. It hurt her to see Gwen still with Harry. Not that Harry wasn't a great guy. It seemed to MJ that she was appending too many of her thoughts with "Not that Harry wasn't a great guy." She knew Peter would rather be going to this thing with Gwen. She knew she'd rather be spending the night with Mark. "I'd love to go."

"I have to be there for 8pm, or I could get fired..." Peter explained.

"Is J Jonah Jameson going to be there?" MJ had heard several of Peter's overinflated horror stories of "Jolly Jonah" she was feeling excited to meet him.

"Possibly, but I'm working Ned Lee." It was a follow up to the Goblin story, but Peter didn't want to talk about that. "Harry's going to be there, Gwen too probably."

"Oh," MJ considered. Truth be told she needed this. She was the fun loving girl, the party girl. She knew too many people considered her a flake but Mark hadn't and Peter definitely did not. She needed a night out, to let loose. "I'll go. Pick you up at 7:30?"

"You're picking me up?" Peter asked, realizing only now that taking a date meant he wasn't going to be swinging his way across town to Oscorp.

"You can't drive, tiger," Mary patted Peter's hand this time. Her voice suggested she was explaining something to a senile grandparent. Her smile tugged at her lips as she tried to appear consoling. "I'll have to check if I can borrow Aunt Anna's car. I'm sure she'll let me." MJ suppressed the idea of asking her dad. Her life had enough drama without stirring that pot. "Do we have to go back today? I've got some things I want to do and you're just the guy to do them with." The sheer impishness of her smile couldn't have been matched by anyone. Peter remembered why he always got so fuzzy headed when he lost himself in her green eyes.

"Yeah, I can miss history, but I do have to get to ESU for my intern shift."

"Great, that means I got you for almost two hours. Do you know what we can do with two hours?"

Peter's mental guess flushed his cheeks. MJ smacked his shoulder with a smile. She dragged him by the wrist after he trashed their coffee cups.

"You missed history," Gwen was waiting for Peter on the steps of Dr. Warren's lab. They were both a few minutes early. Peter had bid good-bye to MJ only minutes before. He was wearing an uncommon smile. The lab was one of the few places where he got a chance to talk to Gwen. It made up for the recent loss of the Doctors Connors.

"It's kind of hard to have been there for the fall of Rome," Peter smirked flippantly. Gwen shared a sad smile.

"I got your homework," Gwen told him dutifully. Peter thanked her. The pair pushed in through the door. There were cubby lockers for their book bags and labcoats. They mechanically fell into their coats and routines. First and foremost they had to keep the lab clean. They picked up their spray bottles and cloths.

"Good afternoon Miss Stacy. Mr Parker." Doctor Miles Warren rushed passed them on his way to one of the work benches. The speed at which he walked and the curt, perfunctory, yet present, formality suggested that he was onto something big. He shoved a slide under a microscope and demanded: "Miss Whitman could you bring me another sample."

"Hi Debra," Peter waved as the attractive sophomore strode past him and Gwen with silence. "Guess Doc Connors was wrong, perhaps she just doesn't prefer Peter."

"Oh, Peter," Gwen moaned sarcastically, she squeezed his shoulder and headed over to the lab animal cages.

"Mr Parker," Doctor Warren ordered without removing his eye from the slide, "Two white rats, please."

Parked obeyed, picking one of the portable wire cages. The rodent inmates were both adult females. He said as much as he put them down beside the microscope. "That'll do fine," Warren declared. He picked out one of his rats as Debra arrived and handed him a pink filled syringe. The label surprised Peter.

"Are those the Jupiter Spores that infected John Jameson?" He asked surprised.

"Indeed," Miles Warren ignored or missed Peter's tone and provided an academic, if arrogant, explanation. "They've been desiccated with poor nutrition and electricity. We are now seeing the effects of the weakened growth stimulant on rats." Peter thought the idea dangerous, but stepped back. Miles Warren and Doctor Connors had both taken risks and had both made fantastic discoveries for science and for mankind. The rat squirmed as he was injected with 0.2 cc of the Jupiter Spores.

Warren and Peter stepped back to watch. Gwen Stacy and Debra Whitman continued their own duties in the lab. It was only minutes before the first effects were seen. The uninjected rat was squeaking and clawing at the cage. The test subject was rolling its hackles and snuffling around, it was swelling, growing bigger around the haunches and shoulders. Muscles rippled under short white fur. Peter was on edge, expecting his spider-sense to set off like a fire alarm and the rat to triple in size and leap through the flimsy steel wire that formed the rat's cage. He was overly sensitive.

It was after ten minutes that an equilibrium had been reached. The panicked rat had calmed down and taken her scratched up claws from the bars. The test rat had grown about fifteen percent in mass. It was walking around and acting like a normal rat. Peter let out a breath and Warren excused himself for a giggle of childlike wonder. "This is amazing Doc!"

The control rat approached the test rat and as soon as the smaller sniffed the larger, the test rat attacked. She squealed in something that sounded like glee and killed her cellmate. Peter's heart sank.

"A growth rate occurred at rapid rate..." Unconcerned with the fate of the smaller rat Warren recorded his observations into a small recorder. Peter felt sick to his stomach. " ... and heightened levels of aggression."

"Mr Parker, please, dispose of the sample." Warren walked away from the rat cage and back to his first workstation. Debra walked over with him, silently and instinctually adjusting knobs before Warren asked for it. Peter sighed. He carried the rat cage over to a glass fume hood and closed the window shut.

"This is always the worst part," Gwen stood next to Peter as he released the neo-atropine. She was right.

"That's fine Ms. Whitman," Doctor Warren was washing his hands, "You go on home, I'll be off shortly." His high school interns had left at 8pm. He had made amazing progress today and he was going to make considerable money tonight. Debra waved good night and Doctor Warren was alone.

"Good evening, Doc," Minutes later Blackie Gaxton entered the lab like he owned the place. He was dressed in a three hundred dollar suit and a million dollar grin. "I trust you're ready to receive the lady."

"Things are prepared." Doctor Warren announced, "And where is our guest?"

The beautiful young woman stepped out of the shadows from behind the doctor. "I'm here." Her face was obscured by her mask but her body was all but revealed in her fur trimmed catsuit. The zipper hung low revealing a generous amount of cleavage. Doctor Warren turned without the slightest hint of startlement or surprise.

"Excellent." He grasped his hands behind his back reaffirming the revolver he wore under his labcoat. "You understand the expense of this procedure?"

"I do." She moved like liquid sex, walking around Warren to look at Gaxton. "You can provide the benefits I'm looking for?"

"Of course," Warren assured her, "But I'm looking for more than research money."

"Oy, Doc! This isn't what we agreed upon."

"You'll still get your share Mr Gaxton." Warren kept his eyes on the cat burglar.

"What is it you're asking for?" Cat normally preferred the game and flirtation of negotiation, but she was impatient, heartbroken and in poor company.

"I require you to acquire a sample of Spider-man's DNA. Blood would be preferred."

"It just so happens, Doc," Cat smiled ravishingly, "That I am out for Spider-man's blood."

"Then we have our bargain." Warren offered his hand and Cat shook it. "Mr Gaxton, the woman should have her privacy for the procedure."

"Yeah, well, my brokerage fees are still due." Gaxton shrugged.

"The money's right here." Cat swayed over to where she had appeared so many moments ago and lifted a steel bound briefcase. There was a quarter of a million dollars within. Gaxton took it from her and moved into Warren's office to count it. When the blinds were pulled, Warren turned to Black Cat.

"You'll need to remove your top, I want to check your vitals before the injection." Cat hopped up on the black counter of the cleared workbench. She unzipped down to her navel and slipped her hands from her gauntlets and sleeves. Her skin was fair and gorgeous, her platinum hair fell strikingly around her flirtatious grin. Warren looked on her clinically. She was one of the best specimens of femininity he ever lay eyes upon. The breasts contained within her black strapless bra were unparalleled. He silently thanked that she had opted against his mammalian mutagen.

She shivered as his cold stethoscope was pressed over her breasts and against her back. The thermometer left a metallic taste under her tongue. The bright light in her eyes made her blink. After a few more cursory tests Warren announced that she was a specimen of health.

"So we can move on to the main event?" Cat demanded impatiently.

"Of course." Warren picked up his injection gun and two vials of liquid, the first was a pale pink and labeled Jupiter the second was an effervescent green and labeled nanobots. Cat allowed the gun on her upper arm as the green and then the pink were injected into her. After touching up the rivulet of blood with a cotton swab and a Band-Aid, Warren instructed Cat that she could dress herself once more.

"I don't feel any different," She announced as the zipper rose up higher than usual on her chest. She cricked her neck and rolled her shoulders. She wiggled her toes and arched her back. Nothing.

"The nanobots keep the enhancers suppressed," Warren said with a presumptuous smile. He pulled a small black controller from his pocket. It looked like a garaged door opener with the button painted as red as a rocket's self destruct. Cat let out a surprised howl. Doctor Warren had pressed the button.

Cat leapt to her feet, landing an unexpected twelve inches further from the table. Her body swelled under the catsuit, she grew an inch in height, struggling for breath she had to unzip her breasts. Everything was bigger! She retained her feline slimness but achieved pantheric muscle. Her agility, balance, reflexes and strength were drastically improved. She even looked sexier. Her surprise melted into supreme confidence, she whipped around the lab under the amused grin of Doctor Warren. He pressed the trigger once again. Cat diminished, her body reverting to its original state in only a matter of moments. A feeling of weakness overcame surprise and disappointment. She turned angrily towards Warren. He tossed her the remote. "The control is in your hands. There is only one other remote, an override in essence. It is yours on the delivery of Spider-man's blood."

"Don't lock it up too tightly, Doc," Cat looked as if she had caught the canary, "I'll be back for it very soon." She pressed her button and made a leap for the skylight, thirteen feet above. She reached it cleanly, pulling herself through the window she had earlier opened and disappeared into the New York night. Gaxton came out of the office.

"Always a pleasure, Doc." Blackie smirked. He had a manilla envelope full of fifty grand in his breast pocket.

"Of course, Mr. Gaxton," Warren smirked in pride, "I look forward to when we work together again."

"All we need is a few more backers like Kitty-Kat there." Gaxton waved his good-bye and left via the front door.

"Or better, one more like The Big Man." Warren cleaned up the evidence, set the alarms and turned off the light.

Another stellar day at school. Parker's sock were still soaked from the bucket he had stepped in. With his Spider-sense it would have been easy to sidestep. Secret identities sucked. Parker got on the bus behind Gwen. She had just kissed Harry a melancholy goodbye. Peter had been mostly alone all day. MJ had been around to confirm picking him up at seven thirty, but otherwise the only person who had exchanged words with him, as opposed to at him, was Mr. Aaron Warren, his biology teacher. Hoping for a step away from boredom he sat down next to Gwen.

"Hey there stranger," He said. She looked unimpressed. However, since MJ had dolled Gwen up and convinced her to wear contact lenses, the blonde had been unable to successfully give Peter, Harry, or her father "The Look." It made her feel naked. Not that she'd mind feeling naked with Peter. She couldn't keep the blush from her cheeks so she turned to look at her feet.

"Hey, Peter. How're things with Aunt May?" She picked a neutral topic in the hope that she could calm down a little.

"She's doing well, getting stronger every day. Her cookbook is selling well, which is good because my Spidey versus nobody pics are only getting me page thirteen paychecks." Peter sighed, slouching back in his seat. "But she's doing well and there are no supervillains flying around blowing things up so I shouldn't really complain, should I?"

"I think everybody should be entitled to a good complain once in awhile, even when things are going well." Gwen smiled, she'd have squeezed his hand but contact with Peter just made her feel guilty with Harry. It was the most frustrating thing she had ever lived through.

"Well I've easily gone through my quota these last few months," Peter declared. He fumbled for a topic."Are you going to the Oscorp thing tonight?" It was the wrong question because Gwen looked back to her shoes.

"Yeah, Harry got me a new dress. It's too soon, his dad only died last week! And he has to put up with all these people trying to swoop in to rob a still warm grave." She was livid and so was Peter. Though he was still mad at himself for Norman's death. It was like ice in his veins.

"Well if you need support, I'll be there. Taking pictures." He left out the Ned Lee's Goblin angle.

"Oh?" Gwen perked up a little, "Be sure to say hi to Harry. He needs his friends now."

"Of course," Peter understood. He knew what it was like when he lost uncle Ben. Sometimes the feelings would just catch up to him, shut him down for a few moments. It was Uncle Ben's words that kept him going. Great responsibility was a heavy burden at times but it made him the man he was today.

The afternoon at the lab lazily rolled into an evening at home. Aunt May fussed as Peter settled into his uncle's old tux. May was absolutely ecstatic that Peter was again going out with MJ, to the point that she said a call before 10 would be sufficient to buy him an hour and a bit passed his usual curfew. Peter looked at himself in the mirror, performed all the combing his hair would allow and made sure to clip the press pass on his chest. His bowtie was crooked and his shoes could be shinier but he did look good. The doorbell rang.

"I'll get it!" He shouted to his aunt as he took their thirteen steps in four paces. He opened the door. Mary Jane Watson was a knockout. Her black dress was cut low. The dress came down to mid thigh just over the lacy tops of her dark stockings. Her legs ran sleekly down to her jet black heels. Rubies shined in her ears and a glittering gold chain was looped obliquely on her hips. Her dark painted lips and shadowed green eyes gave Peter's heartbeat a nervous stammer. She had one hand on her hip, the other brushed aside her red bangs. She repeated the first words she had ever spoke to him. "Face it, Tiger, you just hit the jackpot."