Natasha Romanoff felt like the walls were closing in on her.

She sat in the middle of a large office that only weeks ago had been a burgeoning business called Widow's Peak Enterprises. Now it was mostly empty, other than a few boxes and the one desk she was sitting behind. After the events of the last few months*, she no longer had the desire to pursue such capitalistic ventures. She had let the employees of her and the now-comatose William Peak 's spy business go, and sold off all their equipment. She had used the rest of her capital to make sure William's medical bills were paid for the foreseeable future.

She had still been coming to the office each day, though. For the most part, she merely sat behind the large oak desk, her thoughts and feelings rumbling deep within her. Today, however, the empty walls seemed to mock her, seemingly echoing the emptiness she felt within her soul.

Natasha swiveled her chair toward the large picture window behind her that faced the outside world. She stood up, placing a hand and her forehead against the cool glass. She looked down many stories to the bustling Manhattan streets. For just a moment, a thought flickered across her consciousness. A thought of how many times she had swung over these steel canyons. And how easy it would be to just once let go of her line and plummet toward the streets below.

Before she could pursue that thought any further, the front door opened. Natasha heard someone take two steps into the room.

Still staring outside, Natasha asked, “Yes?”

“Is..is this Widow's Peak Enterprises?” a female voice asked.

Natasha turned around. Across the room she saw a woman no older than 25, with auburn hair and green eyes. She was well groomed and very well dressed. This woman obviously came from money.

“Widow's Peak is closed,” Natasha said, turning her chair to once again face the room, and sat in it once again.

The woman's shoulders slumped, and she looked as if she was about to tear up. “Oh, I just don't know who to turn to. Can't you help me? I can pay very well.”

Natasha shook her head. “Money isn't an issue. Now if you'll excuse me—“ and turned her back on the young socialite to again face the window.

“But…but Tony Stark recommended you to me. He said you'd be able to help me,” the woman pleaded.

Natasha was silent for a moment, and then turned around once again. “All right. I'll at least listen.” Natasha owed Tony a favor or two, both in his civilian identity and in his private identity as Iron Man.

Hope seemed to light the woman's face, and she approached the desk. “Thank you. My name is Rebecca Murray. My father is Ronald Murray, CEO of the Murray Investment Group.” Natasha knew of the man, having seen his picture in various newspapers and magazines over the years. “He has very high expectations of me. Unknown to him, I've fallen in love with one of his junior investment bankers…Todd Walsh. My father would never approve of our love, but that hasn't stopped us from trying to have a relationship in secret. Todd wants to become successful before we reveal our love to my father. But I think the pressure is getting to him. I think Todd may have become involved in crime. I accidentally overheard a telephone conversation yesterday where Todd is supposed to go for some kind of ‘meet'.”

“I hate to ask this,” Natasha began. “But is it possible he's going to meet another woman?”

Rebecca shook her head no. “That's what I first thought, so I asked him about it after he hung up. He asked me to trust him that what he was doing; he was doing for our future. That my father would have to accept our relationship soon.”

Natasha was somewhat intrigued by this story, especially considering her own forlornness lately. “And what is it you want me to do?” she asked Rebecca.

“I was hoping somebody from your agency could watch over him discreetly. See that he doesn't get hurt. Perhaps…perhaps stop him from doing anything he will regret. He's a good man. He just feels intimidated by my wealth sometimes.”

Natasha mulled the situation over in her head for a few seconds, tapping her leather-clad fingertips together. She thought that even though being a bodyguard wasn't exactly her favorite thing to do, perhaps this would help to get her mind off her own troubles.

The former Avenger forced a smile. “Ms. Murray, I'll be happy to help you.”

Rebecca returned the smile. “Thank you! Money is no object! Just protect Todd!”

Natasha waved her hand dismissively. “I told you. Widow's Peak is closed. I'm doing this for free.”

Somewhere in Libya, Location Classified

Two guards were all that were posted at the entrance of the motor pool at this secret nuclear weapons development installation. The Libyan government had not wanted to attract much attention from the ever-vigilant spy satellites of the US and Russia , so tried to keep all outside activity to a minimum. To the superpowers, this would appear to be nothing more than a lightly manned military base.

The Libyan scientists were very close to breaking the secret of the atom and developing their own nuclear weapons. They had received technological information several years ago by a still-paranoid Soviet Republic , who had hoped the Libyans would use their knowledge against their enemies in the west, and had been using that information to increase their weaponry. Small amounts of plutonium had been smuggled in from various black market parties over the years. If all went as hoped, Libya would take its place in the world's superpowers, and finally get the respect they felt they currently lacked.

All this the two guards did not know. All they knew was that they were to prevent anyone from entering this base without authorization. Day after day the sand that was whipped about by the harsh desert winds would assaulted them. Day after day of endless monotony supposedly ‘in service to their country'.

So imagine their confusion when, from inside the complex, they began to hear the staccato rhythm of gunfire. The men looked at the closed door to the garage, and then at each other. Unsure of whether to leave their posts to see what was going on inside, they pressed their ears to the door to see if they could get a better idea of what was going on inside.

Suddenly, the world around them was consumed by sound and fury as the garage door exploded outward. One of the guards was killed instantly by the flying shrapnel. The other one miraculously escaped injury, and was merely knocked off his feet by the concussive force of the blast.

He climbed to his feet and gazed into the motor pool past the smoking remains of the entryway. Then, with reflexes he didn't know he possessed, he leaped out of the way as a jeep barreled out of the garage, scattering debris everywhere. He watched as a complement of guards streamed out of the complex, firing on the fleeing jeep.

One of the scientists came running out also, yelling at the soldiers to stop firing.

“Stop, you fools, stop! She has all our plutonium! If she crashes, we're all dead men!” the scientist pleaded.

Already a half-mile away into the barren desert, the jeep slowed to a stop. Inside, Yelena Bolova checked on the contents she had procured from the facility. Various computer disks with the data the former USSR had supplied the Libyans, the small amount of Plutonium that they had hoped to build their bomb with, and a few other items of interest she thought her Russian masters might find of interest. Now she only had to finish her final piece of action and she could high-tail it back to Moscow .

She picked up a small remote detonator. She pressed the button in the center of the device, and back at the complex amid the shock and confusion still reigning, a dozen receivers attached to large levels of Plastique suddenly began beeping.

In the distance, Yelena smiled as she heard a loud series of ‘whump''s go off in the distance. Through her binoculars, she could see the base crumble and disappear into the desert sands. She slid back into the seat of the stolen jeep, and bounced off toward her rendezvous.

Back in Manhattan

The Black Widow stood outside of a particularly seedy establishment called ‘Josie's Bar'. She had learned of this establishment from her ex-lover, Matthew Murdock. Murdock, in his costumed guise of Daredevil, had often frequented this establishment to pump its patrons for information on many things criminal. More often than not, Matt was forced to rely on his fists to loosen tongues, which suited Natasha just fine this night. She walked in and the scent of stale beer and cigarettes assaulted her nostrils.

It normally took a lot for the half (and in some cases, very) inebriated inhabitants to look up from their own misery to notice anything around them, but a beautiful woman clad in a leather bodysuit was one of those things. The air was filled with a cacophony of whistles and lewd proposals. She ignored the calls and held up a picture of Todd Walsh that had been supplied to her by Rebecca.

“I am looking for this man. If anyone here can give me good information, I shall give that person $500,” she stated, walking into the bar.

A large bald man with a tattoo of a flaming skull on the side of his head slid off a barstool and approached Natasha, a slight list to his walk. He stood over her by a good foot, and looked her up and down.

“Tell ya what, sweets,” he said with a leer on his face. “Howsabout I slip you a twenny an' we go into the back alley fer a little fun?” He held out a greasy bill and waved it in front of her.

The Widow calmly reached out with her left hand as if to take the money, but instead gripped the man's thumb and wrist, and squeezed. The large lout screamed as his hand bended in a way it was not supposed to, and he fell to his knees.

“I think not,” Natasha stated flatly. Still gripping the man's wrist, she turned back toward the stunned crowd. “The offer is now $400. Any takers?”

A thin man with greasy brown hair approached her on the right. “I got somethin' you can take, after I get Rocko loose from yer kung-fu grip, lady!” He pulled back with a pool cue he had been holding, and swung it forward.

Without releasing Rocko, she used her free hand to chop the cue in half. She then kicked the man in the chin, and he fell to the floor, unconscious.

“$300 now, gentlemen. Is there any here wiser than these two?” Natasha asked.

Andy ‘Nuts N' Boltson was a low-level runner for the Kingpin. He would run drug or protection money from one location to another for the crimelord of New York . He had been having a horrible day and had decided to come to Josie's for a drink to contemplate his next course of action*. Imagine his surprise as he gripped the handle of the entrance to the bar and a large man came flying out the picture window, scattering glass everywhere. The man landed on the ground in a heap and moaned, half-unconscious.

(*Why is Andy having such a rough day? Check out Daredevil #13, coming soon! ~Self-promoting Jason)

Andy slowly peeked in through the shattered window. He saw overturned tables, broken chairs, and unconscious men strewn about. Fights were common in a dive like Josie's, so these did not unduly surprise him. What did catch him off guard was that the few men in the bar who were still fighting were all fighting a woman clad in grayish leather. A woman no taller than five and a half feet tall...and she was kicking their collective rear ends.

“Ah, man…not again,” Andy thought, and decided that cowardice was the better part of…well, it was the better part of not getting beat up for a second time in the same day. He turned on his heel and began to sneak off in the opposite direction, stepping carefully to avoid the broken glass.

The Black Widow laid low the final occupant of Josie's with a chop to his neck after he had lunged sloppily past her. She stood for a moment when she heard the sound of glass breaking from someone stepping on it. She whipped around, and launched her widow's sting at the sound. It wrapped around a man she had not recognized from the fight. However, he looked like he had already been in some sort of brawl for his clothes were tattered and his lip was swollen.

She yanked on her line and he was dragged inside the bar through the broken front window. She looked down at the figure on his knees.

“I am afraid that I still need someone to answer my question,” she said looking side to side at the various bodies lying around. “So you may not leave quite yet.”

Andy looked up. “S-sure, lady…anything you say.”

The Widow again pulled out the picture of Walsh and showed it to Andy. “Have you seen this man?”

Todd looked at it for a moment then brightened a bit. “Yeah, I seen ‘im. I got an invite a few days ago to go to some shindig down on the west side docks. Turned out it was a recruitin' drive for some new wannabe player who called hisself…lessee…oh, yeah! He called himself ‘The Big Man'. Real big guy with a mask, and he dressed like it was 1963 or sumthin'. I remember seein' your guy here millin' about before the thing started. He stood out ‘cause he looked like some kind of stock market bigwig or sumthin'. Anyways, I lost track of him after a bit, and left once I found out what was goin' down. I work for the Kin—errr…I mean, I don't go for that crime stuff.”

“What is the address where this occurred?” Natasha asked as she began to untie Andy from her widow's line.

He told her, and even offered to write it down for her if she wanted to as she finished setting him free. She then put her hand into the pouch she was carrying on her side.

“Now it is time for you to get what is coming to you,” Natasha said coldly.

Andy closed his eyes tightly, convinced she was going to pull out a gun and put him away. It had just been that kind of day. After a few seconds of silence, he cautiously opened one eye, then the other.

The woman was nowhere to be seen, and five one-hundred dollar bills lay in front of him. He physically let out an exhalation of relief and picked up the bills.

“Maybe this day wasn't a total loss, after all,” he muttered.

Natasha crouched in the dusty rafters of the old warehouse, watching about a dozen men mill about below her. She hadn't spotted Todd, but the area was poorly lit. He might not even be here at the moment, but Natasha wished to scout the area before making a decision on how to proceed.

The riff-raff looked like the standard type of lowlife that one would expect of low-level organized crime, but Natasha had not seen anyone that remotely described the description of their leader, the so-called ‘Big Man'. The name struck a vague chord in her memory from when she had first come to America from Russia to steal weapons secrets from Tony Stark. Apparently, a journalist had attempted to organize all the crime in New York under his direction. He had worn a padded suit and mask to hide his identity, but had been discovered and defeated by Spider-Man*. She wondered if this was the same person or if another had taken up the mantle.

(*Wayyyyy back in Marvel's Amazing Spider-Man #10. ~Jason)

Black Widow's attention was diverted to the back door of the warehouse as it opened, and two figures walked in. The first was a man in a yellow suit that seemed more appropriate to an old gangster movie than the present day. This and the padded mask he wore made it obvious to Natasha that this was the Big Man. Following him and looking a bit nervous was the man she had been looking for, Todd Walsh. As the two men entered, the rest of the inhabitants of the warehouse stopped their various conversations, and converged on the two.

“My new compatriots,” the Big Man began, “you are privileged to be involved in the beginning of a new and exciting time in the area of organized crime. No longer will you be mere fodder for someone like the Kingpin, to be used and abused for his benefit. When you joined my organization, you found yourself in a business . You all shall receive equal shares in our ventures, so the more successful your compatriots are, the richer you shall become. You will have health insurance, stock options, and even a 401K set up through a dummy corporation created by our new business manager, Mister Walsh here.”

The Big Man put an arm around Todd, who looked even more uncomfortable and out of place amid the lifelong criminals. He mustered a nervous smile at the crowd.

As the Big Man continued his pep rally, the Black Widow was looking around the warehouse, determining what action to take next. As her eyes fell across the junction box for the warehouse, a wry smile peeked at the corner of her mouth. She checked in her hip bag to make sure she had brought the necessary equipment, and when she verified she had, she took careful aim with her ‘widow's bite'.

Todd heard a ‘zappt' from somewhere above him, and suddenly everything went dark. He heard several of the men curse in surprise, and then the telltale ‘click-clack' of multiple guns being cocked.

“Be calm, everyone!” the Big Man said reassuringly. “I'm sure it's just a blown fuse or a tripped circuit. This warehouse had been abandoned for quite a long time before I bought it. Antonio?”

A voice piped up from Todd's left. “Yeah, boss?”

“I think the fuse box is over on the west wall. Find it and reset the circuit,” the voice of the Big Man said.

“Gotcha, boss.”

Todd heard the unsure scuffling of someone maneuvering through the darkness for a few moments, and then it abruptly stopped. Todd felt a shiver go up his spine. Something was wrong here. He just knew it.

So it was no surprise that when something wrapped itself around him and hoisted him into the air, that he screamed quite loudly. Within moments, he could hear the sounds and voices of the startled men from what seemed to be far below him. His arms were held tight to his body by the rope or whatever it was that had wrapped around his torso. He spun slowly, as if he was hanging, and he peered into the darkness, terrified.

All of a sudden, he saw what appeared to be multiple red eyes staring directly at him. His throat closed in terror, and he was unable to even scream as the eyes approached him.

Her night-vision goggles working perfectly, the Widow had first stopped one of the thugs from discovering her shorting out the fuse box in order to keep the rest confused and off-guard, and then she had used her widow's line to tie and haul Todd Walsh up to the rafters, to which he was now tied to. After tying the other end of the line to another rafter, she approached Todd silently. Below, the Big Man was trying to convince his men to remain calm.

Natasha whispered as she reached Todd, the darkness making her voice almost like a hiss.

“You have two options, my foolish young man.” She almost enjoyed the jerk that Todd did as her voice startled him. “The first is to go home to the woman who loves you, and forget this foolish venture.” Natasha then used the micro-suction abilities of her gloves and boots to hang upside-down on the rafter Todd hung from, so that she could be face-to-face in the darkness with him. “The second is to share the fate the rest of these idiots will surely face. Prison, if you are lucky…worse if you are not.”

Todd's jaw opened and closed several times as he tried to get his voice to work. Eventually, it squeaked out. “I-I-I…I just wanted to make enough money for her father to think me good enough for Rebecca.”

“Who is more important to you…Rebecca or her father?”

“You…you're right. I'm so sorry. I never should have done anything this stupid. But when the Big Man contacted me, I thought this might be my chance to make something of myself. I just want to go home to Rebecca…”

Todd heard the figure in the dark before him rustling briefly before he felt something slip over his eyes. Suddenly, he could see again, albeit with a greenish glow. Before him hung the Black Widow.

“Good,” she said. “You can now see with these on, so when I lower you to the ground, head straight out the exit, and return to your lover. Beg her forgiveness and never stray from her.”

Todd watched as the Widow leapt back to the rafter she had tied her line to, and undid the knot. He wondered how she was still able to see, realizing that the ‘eyes' he had seen earlier were diodes from the night-vision goggles she had given him. Black Widow quickly lowered Todd to the ground, and after he got loose from her line, he quickly scurried toward the nearest door he could see. Natasha allowed herself a small smile as she watched the dim figure of Todd run for freedom in the almost total darkness, thinking that this might turn out to have a happy ending for once.

But one of the men, who had been wandering about blindly trying to find an exit, heard Todd as he ran past. The criminal, already spooked, was startled enough that he accidentally pulled the trigger on the gun he had been brandishing at every creak and shadow. This set off a reaction, as the rest of the crew milling about began firing blindly into the darkness, some screaming threats, some just screaming. Flashes of light and sound scattered about the warehouse. Amid the din, Natasha could hear the voice of the Big Man trying to restore order.

“Stop firing, you idiots! You'll hit somebo—ugh!”

With a curse on her breath, Natasha jumped toward the nearest wall, her fingers and legs stretched out, waiting to make contact in the dark. When they did, tiny electromagnetic suction cups in her gloves and boots activated, and she stuck fast to the wall. She quickly skittered down the wall to the ground, hoping one of the fools still firing didn't get lucky and hit her or anyone else. When she hit the floor, she reached into her hip bag and pulled out a flare gun and fired several flares in the cavernous warehouse. It served two purposes, drawing the fire of the spooked criminals from the ground and each other, and giving her just enough light to see.

Her first priority was to disarm the criminals as quickly as possible. She aimed in on the three closest to her, and left them quivering on the floor with her widow's blast. At this point, inspiration struck Natasha.

“The police have been summoned and shall arrive in just a few minutes!” she yelled, her voice echoing in the dim light. “You still have time to escape if you all calm down and head toward the outer walls. There are several exits there for you to get away! Quickly, before the lights from the flares fade!”

It apparently worked, as the firing stopped, and she could see the men scattering in the quickly fading light of the flares. She then oriented on where the Big Man had been, and saw a lump on the ground. Natasha sprinted the dozen yards, and crouched next to the lump. She rolled the figure over, and could smell the blood more than she could see it. He had been hit on the side of the head, and blood was streaming forth from behind his padded mask. Natasha couldn't tell if he was breathing in this light, so she ripped off his mask, deciding the padding would make as a makeshift gauze bandage until she could call the police.

She pulled out her cellular phone and dialed the authorities, giving them a brief summary of the situation and the address. Natasha then dragged the decidedly dead weight of the wounded man out the exit she had spotted and into the overhead lights of the dockyard. It was when she could see the face of the Big Man clearly that she almost gasped audibly.

It was a face she had seen many times over the years in newspapers and magazines; a face of one of the most respected bankers in recent times. The face of…Ronald Murray, father to the woman who had sent her on this mission!

At that moment, several police cruisers grew quickly close, casting their red and blue glow upon the two figures.

Several Hours Later

“I—I don't understand…my father…? Why…How?”

Rebecca Murray sat in a chair; a disheveled Todd Walsh knelt beside her, his arm around her. She couldn't believe what Natasha had just told her.

Natasha sighed deeply. “I am sorry, Ms. Murray. I thought it would be better if you heard this from me, rather than the newspapers in the morning. Apparently your father had decided legitimate business had not been enough for him, and had wanted to try his hand at organized crime. I've seen it too many times, I'm afraid. Power begets the desire for more, which the trappings of civilized man cannot always provide. That is how Todd got involved. Your father had probably noticed how good Todd had been doing in his legitimate dealings, and thought perhaps he could do just as well in his illegal ones.” The irony was not lost on Natasha.

Rebecca looked at Natasha with an uncomprehending look upon her face. “But…dead? What happened?” she asked as she started to cry.

Natasha looked briefly at Todd, remembering it was he spooking one of the crooks that started the shooting that resulted in Ronald Murray's death. But no, she told herself, that wasn't fair. Natasha knew the responsibility lay squarely on her shoulders. She should have been more careful, or come up with a better plan.

The Black Widow knelt before the bereaved woman, and attempted to explain the details of her father's death.

The End

Next issue: At loose ends, Natasha decides it's time for a road trip! Trying to escape an apparent streak of bad luck, she heads for that Mecca of high hopes… Las Vegas ! But there are sure to be some hard pit-stops on her way there. Plus, more on Yelena Bolova in “Get Your Kicks…” Part One!