Natasha Romanov loved the desert.

Perhaps it was due to the fact that she had grown up in such a different climate. Even the summers in the former USSR were quite mild, and nothing compared to the dry heat of the American Southwest. Or perhaps it was the fact that, no matter how inhospitable it was, life still managed to flourish in the desert. It was a testament to the indomitable will of life.

"Yes," she thought to herself. "I think I like that reason much more."

She had spent the last couple hours of a lovely late-spring morning climbing one of the naturally occurring columns of stone that dotted this section of the New Mexico desert. She was not using any of the standard safety-gear that climbers used. She preferred using only her own innate abilities and strength. She was, however, wearing her "widow's line" bracelet on her left hand, just in case. She was sure of herself, but not overconfident. "Better safe than a splotch on the landscape," she had thought to herself when putting it on. The rest of her gear was in her rental car, parked several hundred feet below her.

Natasha had just helped SHIELD* foil a plot against HYDRA in Las Vegas. HYDRA had tried to steal all the money in Las Vegas in order to fund their terrorist organization. Afterward, Natasha had decided to take a few days to explore the region. She then rented a car, and drove off in no particular direction. This morning, after seeing the sun beginning to rise behind this massive natural edifice of stone, she decided to "stretch her legs" by climbing it.

(* S.H.I.E.L.D. stands for Strategic Hazard Intervention Espionage Logistics Directorate…or something close to that. ~J.A.S.O.N. )

She was near the summit of the rock, taking a breather underneath an outcropping that jutted straight out from the top of the stone column. Though she did, indeed, enjoy the desert, it still could be quite hot when the sun was out, and it was out in full force now. The outcropping provided some much desired shade for Natasha, and she had found a stone sticking out of the column large enough for her to perch on. She looked above her, and as her eyes adjusted from the glaring brightness, in the shadows, she saw something moving.

"What is this, now?" she asked, reaching up into the shadows. She pulled her hand down and brought it near her face. On her fingers was a small black spider, with a large abdomen and a red hourglass design upon it.

"Hello, little one," Natasha said to the black widow, rotating her hand as the spider walked between her fingers. "I hope I haven't disturbed your home, but the shade was so inviting and I-"

At that moment, the small stone she had been perched on let loose from the column with a swift cracking noise and Natasha began to fall. Almost before her conscious mind had time to react, her instincts caused her left arm to raise, and she fired her widow's line at the outcropping she had just been relaxing under. The metal tip at the end of the nylon cord burst through the edge of the stone, and three barbs protruded, providing a hook for the line to hold on to. Natasha's fall came to a sudden, jerking stop. She had fallen less than 10 feet.

She hung there for a moment by her left arm, with a large smile as the adrenaline pumped through her system. Before much more than a few seconds had passed, however, she heard a series of cracks above her. She looked up and saw the edge of the outcropping, where her widow's line had been embedded, beginning to separate from the rest of the cliff. She began climbing the length of cord rapidly, hoping she could reach the top before the piece of ledge broke off.

"Only a few more feet," she thought, as she stretched for the edge. "Hold for just a few more seconds…"

As her hand reached over the lip of the ledge, there was a final 'CRACK' and several feet of stone broke off.

Before she could fall, though, she saw an arm streak out from above and grasp her hand in an iron grip. She was then pulled up onto the summit of the column. Natasha got to her feet and looked upon her savior.

"About…about bloody time you got here," the man stated with an obviously English accent. He was a bit short, a bit lean, and a bit old. He was dusting off his unremarkable beige suit with his hands, and was breathing slightly heavy from his exertion.

Natasha placed her hands on her hips. "Might I ask who you are, and how you got up here?"

The man looked up at her, straightened his jacket, and said, "Ah, yes. So sorry. I'm Peak…William Peak from Her Majesty's Security Service, or as they call it in all those spy pictures, MI-6. I'm here to request a boon from you, Miss Natasha. A favor, if you will."

"A favor from me? What can I do for MI-6?"

William tried to brush back his slightly thinning hair from the windy heights to no avail. "Her Majesty, the Queen, has been receiving death threats. Normally this is something we could handle ourselves, but these notes are appearing within Buckingham Palace. We suspect-"

"-someone close to her," Natasha finished. She understood the man's dilemma. The British loved their royal family, and may not have put their all into locating the author of the threats. So they bring in an outsider, with no emotional ties to the case. "But," she asked, "why did you contact me here? Why didn't you contact me through SHIELD?"

Peak rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, to tell you the truth, we did try contacting SHIELD first. They said they weren't in a position to loan you out to us at this time."

"Loan…me…out…?" Natasha repeated. She didn't like this statement. SHIELD tended to have an overblown sense of propriety, but this was going too far. She wasn't their plaything, to do with whatever they wanted to. She was a person…and what's more, she was a proud person.

She looked back up at Mister Peak, and in a calm voice that spoke volumes about her anger, said, "Mister Peak, it would be my pleasure to help you. I just need to retrieve my bag from below and-" she stopped when William held up the leather satchel she had left in the car, several hundred feet below. "How?"

William smiled. "The same way I appeared up here, and the same way we are going to leave. America and Russia don't have a monopoly on super-powered individuals, Miss Natasha. MI-6 has had a teleporter working for us for quite some time. Now…shall we go?" and he extended out a hand.

Natasha reached out, gripped William's hand, and both people vanished.

This wasn't the first time Natasha had teleported. As a member of the non-team, the Defenders, she had gotten used to the experience. It was a bit like watching a movie, only to have a new scene inexplicably spliced into the middle of it.

She released William's hand, and did a quick survey of the room. It was a fairly standard office, with a few tasteful pieces of art adorning the walls, as well as a picture of the Queen. A large wooden desk was at one end with various papers, folders, and a lamp was at one end. Offhand, she noticed three…no, four monitoring devices hidden about the room. Behind the desk was a large leather chair, its back toward her. Obviously, someone was waiting to make a dramatic entrance. She remained unimpressed.

"So nice of you to join us, Ms. Romanov," a voice said from the other side of the chair. It twirled around revealing a man with slicked back black hair, a grin with teeth so white they almost seemed unnatural, and an impeccable black Armani suit. He rose from the chair and approached Natasha, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. "I've been wanting to meet the illustrious 'Black Widow' for years."

"Natasha Romanov," William Peak said from nearby. "Meet Theobald Parrington, my immediate superior and the man picked to head up this investigation."

Natasha slipped her hand out of Theobald's slightly clammy grasp. "Pleased to meet you, but I do believe I'm here for a specific purpose. May I have the details of the case so far?"

Theobald edged closer to Natasha, still smiling that smile that appeared to want to be suave, but seemed more creepy than anything else. "Why be in such a hurry, my dear?" he said. "We all know that big-eared, polo playing fop is behind this. He's been waiting for decades for Her Majesty to kick off, so he can take over. Why don't we use the time to go see the sights of London, and perhaps share some…mutual delights."

Natasha had had enough. She stood right in front of Theobald, and began running her index fingers seductively up and down his tie. She leaned over and whispered into his ear. "Do you know what female black widow's do after mating?" she asked.

"No…what?" he replied back, a bit hoarsely.

She faced him, staring straight into his eyes, a cold smile playing across her face. "They bite the male's head off." And she snapped her teeth at him.

Theobald's smile became a bit more forced. "Ahem, yes…perhaps you are right, and we'd best get down to business. WILLIAM…'ahem', William, why don't you work with Ms. Romanov on this. Away from here…I mean…in the field."

"Yes, sir. Very well, sir." William responded, trying to hold back a smile of his own. "If you would follow me, Ms. Romanov?"

"My pleasure, Mister Peak. Oh, but one thing first, Mister Parrington." She turned and strode back to Theobald, who seemed a bit nervous now. "I was wondering if you could find a home for this…"

She reached into her bag, grabbed something, and held out her hand to Theobald. He held out his hand and took the item, all the while trying to regain his composure. "Y-yes, Ms. Romanov…I'll do my best to help you in any way I can." Natasha then turned and walked out with William as Theobald looked down at the item in his hand.

Natasha grinned as she heard the scream from Theobald as soon as he had realized she had handed him the black widow spider she had brought from the desert.

"Now, Mister Peak," she stated. "What do you say we get to work?"

"A simply smashing idea, Ms. Romanova," he replied. "And by the way…the wanker's had that coming for years."

Natasha had showered and slipped into her familiar black leather outfit. Her 'Widow's line' and 'widow's bite' rested on her left and right wrists, respectively. She stepped out of the changing room and approached the waiting Mister Peak.

"What can you tell me about all of this?" she asked.

"Well, there's really not much to tell," he began. "The Queen has been finding various…disturbing…notes in her chambers, at various functions, and other places only she and those closest to her have access to."

Natasha rubbed her chin. "What about the servants? Any new ones, or ones with anything in their backgrounds?"

"None whatsoever," he replied. "They've all been checked out, and most have been in the service of the Royal Family most of their lives."

"That still doesn't eliminate them," Natasha said. "But I think we should start with the family itself."

"No, no, no! I have had nothing to do with this. I love my mother, and am in no hurry to become King."

Natasha smiled at the man in front of her. She could tell he was a bit exasperated with all the controversy that has followed him for decades. "I didn't think you had, your Majesty, but I couldn't pass up this opportunity to meet you."

The man's large ears reddened. "Well, yes. I'm sorry, but I get a bit flustered after all the events of the past. May I offer you some more tea?" He picked up a small bell and rang it briefly.

Almost immediately, a smiling servant appeared next to Natasha, holding a large, steaming pot of tea. "Thank you, I'd love some more," she said, and held up her cup. The servant then disappeared almost as fast as he had appeared.

"Do you have any ideas as to who could be sending the Queen these threats?" she asked between sips.

"I'd hate to think any of us would stoop to threatening one another, but I suppose it wouldn't be the first time in our country's history. To tell the truth, I believe most of them aren't even in the country at the moment. They're all around the world making commercials, or feeding starving children, or just on holiday." His brow furrowed, as if a thought had just struck him. "However, my eldest son has been in the area on a break from University. He brought several friends with him. You don't suppose it could be him, do you?"

Natasha put down her cup. "I'm afraid I can't rule out anyone at the moment. Do you have the address of where he is staying?"

The man grabbed a pen and began writing on a pad resting on the small end table next to him. "He's staying at a small hotel, being 'incognito' as he put it, so he and his friends wouldn't be hounded by the paparazzi. Here you are, Ms. Romanov." He passed her the paper with the hotel's address and the room number on it.

"Thank you," she replied. "It's been a pleasure, Your Highness."

Natasha found the hotel room quite easily. However, she had been mistaken by the drunken college boys within as 'the evening's entertainment'. After a rather harsh disillusionment of this notion, Natasha interviewed the young Prince. His alibi was fairly tight: he had been away at school when the threats had begun.

As she turned to exit, the young heir to the throne patted her on the rear. She whirled angrily around and shoved him back into his seat. She held him there with a foot pressed against his chest.

"You can't do anythin' to me…I'm gonna be King someday!" he slurred.

Natasha knew that for the most part, he was right. With a disgusted grunt, she pushed on the boy's chest, causing his chair to topple backward. She then gave the rest of the boys a stare that would haunt them for years to come. None got in her way as she left.

She touched her right ear, where her micro-communicator lay. "Mister Peak? Let the local paparazzi know where the Prince is having his little 'holiday'. Black Widow out."

Natasha stood on the roof of the hotel, feeling somewhat frustrated. She was a spy, and a damn good one at that. Ask her to get nuclear missile secrets from the heart of the Pentagon, or extract information on a plot to kill the Russian President by a third world terrorist, and she could do that without a problem. However, she wasn't as much of a detective as, say, Matt Murdock,* was. She had accepted this job more because of what William had said about SHIELD being unwilling to 'loan her' than anything else had. She damned herself for her pride and looked over the city, deciding what to do next.

(* Matt Murdock is, of course, Daredevil. ~Jason, Master of the Obvious )

As she stood there, she felt a slight, almost imperceptible tickle on the side of her head. It was more an intuition than an actual physical feeling, but she ducked just as the bullet ripped through the ventilation shaft she had been standing next to.

In one motion, she turned to where the shot had come from, and began running toward the edge of the roof. She saw a man holding a rifle from across the street begin to scramble away from the roof's edge. The distance was too far for her to leap, and if she used her widow's line to swing over, he'd be long gone before she got there.

Still, she leapt off the roof as far as she could, and at the apex of her leap, fired off her widow's line. It shot across the gap of the building, and its steel tip plunged through the man's right thigh, releasing its triple hook, making it impossible for him to pull it out.

"GAHH!" he screamed in agony as he fell to the rooftop. He thought his agony couldn't get any worse until the slack of the line was pulled tight by the weight of the Black Widow as she plummeted toward the ground. He began being pulled toward the roof's edge, and was stopped short only by the lip of the roof.

Natasha quickly climbed up the line, and hauled herself up onto the rooftop, where the man was writhing in pain. "Get it out! GET IT OU-WWWWW!" he yelled in heated pain as he clutched at the hook stuck in his bloody thigh.

The uncertainties in her thoughts were put aside; now she was in her element. "Who are you, and why were you shooting at me?" she asked, holding the line in the man's leg loosely.

"Go to hell, you bloody cow-OWWWWWW!" he wailed as she pulled the line taut, causing the barbs to dig into his leg.

"I was trained by the KGB, my friend," she began. "Believe me when I say you will tell me what I want to know. How painful it ends up being is up to you. Now talk!"

He held up a hand to her. "Okay, okay-oh god it hurts-I…I was sent to kill you before you could get too close to who's been threatening the Queen."

Natasha perked up at this. "Do you know who's been threatening her?"

The gunman whimpered. "No, I was hired by a third party. I only know who commissioned the hit on you. Now, please…get it out!"

"Then tell me who hired you."

"Some guy…named Heath. Robert Heath."

William Peak's voice crackled over her earpiece. "Did he say Robert Heath?"

Natasha responded. "Yes. Do you know who this Heath is?"

"Yes," William replied. "He's MI-6!"

Before she could let out a startled 'what?!' she felt a tug at her leg. "For the love of God, get this thing out of my leg. I'm gonna bleed to death here," he pleaded.

The Black Widow stood above him for a moment, then pressed the button on her bracelet that caused the barbs to retract back into the steel tip, and then the line itself to retract back into her bracelet. The line pulled itself out of the man's leg with a wet 'shlup' and he screamed again.

She bent over him and said, "You will now go to the police and turn yourself in, or I will be back for you. I will make this seem like a pleasant Sunday in the countryside compared to what I will do to you." She then stepped on the man's leg with the heel of her foot. "Understand?"

"Y-YESSSSSssssss-" he screamed, and then fainted.

"Okay, Mister Peak," she said to the communicator in her ear. "It's time we got some answers." She then leapt off the roof, firing her widow's line and swinging off.

Next Issue: GOD SAVE THE QUEEN, Part II! The mastermind behind the threats is revealed, and Natasha must stop them before the Queen is killed! Also, the Black Widow has it out with SHIELD!