6 years later...

Felicia was now 13-years-old, and a lot of things had changed. Her father had convinced her to sign up for weekly karate classes, and she was now a blue-belt, which was three away from black. With every session that she went to, the more she honed her skills. Also, ever since the incident with Flash in Kindergarten, he hadn't laid a finger on her because he seemed to look terrified every time he walked by her. Perhaps this was because she took self-defense classes and he didn't, or he didn't want another two weeks' worth of detention, or something. Whatever it was, it didn't matter to Felicia as long as he stayed away from her.

In addition, she had formed closer friendships with Peter, Gwen, Harry, Mary Jane, and another kid who appeared in the 4th grade named Eddie Brock. They all got along and trusted each other well. Also, Felicia had changed academically, and managed to keep her schoolwork balanced along with her karate classes and other hobbies. As a result, she was ranked as 3rd in their 8th grade class at Midtown Middle (right below Gwen and Peter, respectively).

However, some things never change.

Peter was still picked on by Flash constantly, but Felicia couldn't intervene because of the promise she made to her father about fighting back only when he attacked her and nobody else. It seemed unfair to her, but disobeying her father was the last thing she wanted to do.

Her childhood dream of helping others had not changed once in her mind. While she never expressed it to others when speaking or showing, she kept it as a sort-of private interest. Occasionally, she would pull a sketchbook out from underneath her bed and work on costume ideas, most of them based around Selina Kyle's Catwoman suit.

One day, this dream would become a reality. But for today, she was waiting outside on a beautiful spring day for her mother to come and pick her up from her karate class.

"Where are you?" Felicia quietly said aloud to herself, head facing towards the ground. Class ended at 3:00 every Saturday afternoon, and it was 3:32. She should've been here long ago.

Suddenly, she heard sirens in the distance, and then she looked upward to see an ambulance speed-by up the road a little bit, followed closely by a police car. While the ambulance kept on driving, the car turned and headed towards where Felicia was. When it came to a screeching halt, the officer driving opened his door and stepped out. When Felicia saw his face, she recognized him to be Sergeant Stacy, Gwen's father.

What's going on?

Stacy took off his police-cap and stood in silence for a few moments, looking at Felicia's face with a solemn expression.

"W-what's wrong, Mr. Stacy?" she said, terrified at not knowing what was going on.

Stacy sighed heavily, and he said "I don't know how to explain this to you Felicia, but there's been an accident."

"What kind of accident?" she asked, her voice quivering.

"Well, there was a car accident, and your mother, she..." he sighed again. "I'm so sorry, Felicia."

Felicia felt her eyes burn and tears well up inside her. Her breathing became shaky and her legs felt like they were made of lead.

"No," she said. "No, no, no, no, no, no, NO!"

She started crying heavily, letting thick tears drop to the ground. Stacy walked closer to her, got down on his knee, and let her sob into his shoulder.

"Shh, it's okay." he said "It's alright. Everything's going to be fine."

How? Felicia thought. How is it going to be fine? She's gone, and I can't do a damn thing about it.

Several days later...

Walter Hardy was sitting on his bed, a bottle of beer in his hand. He had been such a wreck from his wife's death that he isolated himself to the confines of his bedroom, away from Felicia and the rest of the world. He went to take another sip, but he hadn't realized that the bottle was already empty, and he threw it at the wall in rage. He wasn't drunk, just distraught. Walter looked over to his bedside-table and saw a picture of himself and his wife as young adults, before they got married and settled down. Picking up the picture, he started to gingerly stroke her face as if she were still there.

"I miss you, Lydia." he said, releasing the tears he was holding back. "I miss you so much. I promise, I promise I'll take good care of Felicia. She'll be safe, free to grow up how she wants to. I'll make sure of it, because that's what you'd want. That's what we want for our child, my love."

After setting the picture back down on the table, Walter buried his head into his pillow, trying his hardest to fall asleep. After about twenty minutes, he found that it was impossible to do so because Lydia wasn't there beside him.

Suddenly, his cellphone buzzed on the table next to him, indicating that someone sent him a text message. Frustrated, Walter picked it up and saw that it was from an unknown number, and the message read:

"Outside. Five minutes. Come alone."

Walter knew there was something oddly suspicious about that text. No one ever sent him a message like this, except for...

No, it's not him. It can't be. I severed ties with him years ago. He has no reason to contact me.

After getting out of bed, Walter got dressed and left his house, making sure that he didn't wake his daughter while doing so. When he walked to the edge of the street, he waited for about two minutes for someone to come, but no one did. Looking at his watch, he saw that more than five minutes had gone by, and he was wondering why he was still out here. Walter was just about to go back inside when he saw a white bag go over his eyes and felt his arms being handcuffed behind his back. He heard the sound of tires screeching to a halt and a car-door opening, and whoever was behind him pushed him towards it. He was initially going to fight back, but he heard the sound of someone cocking a pistol, and he knew that it would be foolish to try. So, he complied, and he was shoved into the vehicle's backseat, whereupon a voice said "Good evening, Walter. How are we tonight?"

As the door was shut and the vehicle began driving off, Walter recognized the voice, matching the elusive text, and he became extremely furious because he broke their agreement.

"I thought the deal was we would never associate or speak with each other ever again. Remember? I don't answer to you or Rigoletto anymore." he said sternly.

"That was fifteen years ago, Walter. Times change." the voice said. "Rigoletto and I had differences of opinion of your usefulness. He wanted to leave you be, and I wanted to bring you home."

"That life isn't my home anymore." Walter said. "I have a family to look after."

"If by 'family,' you mean 'daughter,' then yes, you do." the voice said again. "But you want to keep her safe, no? Want to make sure that she doesn't wind up in any 'accidents' too?"

Walter's blood boiled in hatred at these words. "You son-of-a-bitch! I'll kill you!"

While his hands were cuffed behind him and the bag was still over his eyes, he tried lunging forward at the voice, but he was restrained by two pairs of arms on his shoulders.

"Schultz, Gargan, settle our friend down, please." the voice said again. "Grant him a little self-control."

After calming down, Walter asked "Why? Why did you do it? What purpose did her death serve? What need was there that you had to kill her?"

"We needed to grasp your attention, my friend. We needed something to push you back towards the good ol' life." the voice said again.

"Rigoletto would never allow something of that magnitude. At least he knew the meaning of honor and respect. He wouldn't stand for the murder of innocents like you." Walter said, teeth clenched in hate.

"Well, allow me to bring you up to speed on what's been going on lately. Me and Rigoletto didn't see eye-to-eye on most things over the past few years, so there's been a... change of power." the voice said grimly.

"You bastard." Walter said.

"I am now the sole leader of the largest criminal syndicate since the reign of Al Capone. No old-time mobsters are going to force 'honor' and 'respect' upon me anymore." the voice said menacingly.

"Why bring me here? What's wrong with a simple phone call?" Walter asked with much sarcasm.

"Well, for starters, I wanted you to take a good, personal look at the new Kingpin." the voice said as either Gargan or Schultz lifted the bag from his head, showing that the man in front of him was none other than Wilson Fisk, a large, seemingly obese bald man wearing a white suit with a purple vest and tie.

"Really?" Walter asked. "I think your more like a bowling ball than a pin."

Fisk became frustrated at his snide comment and had Schultz punch him in the stomach. Then, he pulled out an M1911 from the inside of his white jacket and said "That so? Then that just makes it all the easier to knock you down, because you're my pin now."

"What do you mean?" Walter asked.

"You work for me, now. You will do what I ask you to when I ask you to, do you understand?" Fisk asked, pointing the gun at him.

"Or what?" Walter asked. "You're gonna shoot me?"

"That's just the tip of the iceberg." Fisk said. "You want your girlie to be safe, right?"

"If you so much as lay one finger on her-"

"Then you're gonna do what I say. From now on, you work for me. As long as you listen to me, then your so-called 'kitten' will be safe, alright? No harm will come down upon her." Fisk said sadistically.

Walter knew that he had no choice. He couldn't risk the chance of Felicia getting hurt. No matter how much he hated Fisk, he just couldn't. He had made that promise to Lydia that he would keep her safe, and he couldn't break it.

"Fine," Walter reluctantly agreed. "but you better uphold your end of the bargain."

"Don't worry about me, I'll keep my promise. My only concern is you upholding your end." Fisk said.

"Oh, I will. Rest assured, I will." Walter said.

"Good. Because if not, then, well, whoops." Fisk said. "The infamous Cat has returned. Welcome home, old friend."

"Trust me, we're not friends." Walter said as the limousine they were in came to a stop. Gargan undid the handcuffs and Schultz threw him out of the car in front of his house.

"I'll be in touch." Fisk said before the car-door shut and they drove away.

Getting up off the ground, Walter walked back inside his house and went up to Felicia's room, where he saw that she was fast-asleep. Kneeling down, Walter kissed her on the forehead and whispered "Goodnight, kitten. Everything's going to be just fine."

As Walter closed her bedroom door and walked back into his own, he knew that what he said was wrong. He just didn't want to admit it.