Natasha Romanov was a proud woman.

It was extremely hard to ask anyone for help with anything. But she also knew her limitations, and the business world was one of them. With the recent startup of her personal espionage business, Widow’s Peak Enterprises, she knew she had to get the advice of someone tried and tested in the field of business. Fortunately, she knew perhaps the best businessman in the world.

"Tony!" she said with a smile as she embraced the handsome playboy/billionaire.

"Natasha!" Tony Stark replied as he hugged her back. "It’s great to see you! I heard you’d quit SHIELD to work for yourself. How’s it going?"

"Slow", she began, "very slow. After setting up a small office in the Baxter Building* and hiring a small staff, I find most of my liquid assets depleted. Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be much demand for a ‘spy-for-hire’. If I don’t get a paying job soon, I’ll have to shut down."

* (Baxter Building-the skyscraper owned by the Fantastic Four. ~Jason.)

Tony rubbed his chin. "Hmm, what you need is some good PR, some sort of advertising. I suppose one of the problems of being you is that you’ve worked so long under cover of secrecy, that no one really knows who you are."

"What do you suggest, Tony…commercials? I don’t have the capital for that."

"No, no. The best advertising you can get is good word-of-mouth. To get good word of mouth, you need to get a job with a person a lot of people listen to."

Natasha furrowed her brow. "Do you have someone in mind?"

Tony grinned. "Yup. You’re looking at him."

"You have a need for a spy?"

"Well, to tell the truth, I’m not exactly sure. Wait a sec and I’ll show you." Tony pressed a button on his desk. "Pep? Would you come in here, please?"

A voice, digitally clear, answered. "Sure, Tony. I’ll be right there."

The door to Tony’s office opened, and in came Pepper Potts, Stark’s assistant and long-time friend. She stopped short when she saw Natasha and the look on her face became quite sour..

Tony did the introductions. "Pepper Potts, you remember Natasha Romanov, don’t you?"

"Yes, so nice to see you again, Miss Romanov" Pepper said coldly. Natasha quickly realized that Pepper must not like her due to her…dalliances…with Tony Stark in the past. Oh, well…she wasn’t here to make friends.

Tony, however, seemed oblivious to the whole thing. "Can you tell Natasha about the CTE stuff?"

"CTE?" asked Natasha.

"Yeah," began Tony, "Cross Technological Enterprises. It’s an R&D firm based out of New Jersey."

"Ah, yes…Clint* used to be head of security there, correct?"

* (Clint is, of course, the Avenger known as Hawkeye, and Natasha’s former paramour in the early days of Marvel. ~Jason, the Ancient One.)

Tony nodded. "Yeah, until he found out that they were crooked. Not quite to the extent of Roxxon Oil, but enough so that when I get a request for a contract, I get suspicious."

"What do they want to hire you for?"

"Well," Pepper said, "They’ve e-mailed us several times asking if they could hire Stark Solutions to help effect repairs on an Artificial Intelligence organism. To be more specific, they’ve asked us to help repair Jocasta."

Natasha was confused. "The android Avenger destroyed years ago? Despite their shady pasts, it seems an admirable request."

"It would be, except for one thing," Tony said.

"What’s that?" queried Natasha.

"Jocasta’s already here with me." With that, the large screen behind his desk lit up, and a vaguely female robotic face appeared on it.

"Hello, Miss Romanov," Jocasta said.

The ever-pragmatic Black Widow seemed nonplussed. "Ah, now I’m beginning to understand. How could CTE rebuild Jocasta when her mind is here. So you suspect…"

"…Some sort of trap," Tony finished. "But I’m not sure whether it’s for me, Stark Solutions, or Iron Man. That’s where you come in."

"You want me to infiltrate CTE and find out if the offer is legitimate or a trap, and if it is a trap, find out for exactly whom?"

Tony nodded. "You’ve got it, ‘Tasha. Now, once you find out what’s going on, and if it is a trap, you don’t need to try to derail it. My ever-faithful "bodyguard" should be able to handle anything they throw at me. Your job is to just get me the information. Do this for me and not only will I pay any rate you choose, but I’ll make sure you get some great PR. Deal?" and he stuck out his hand.

Natasha took it. "Deal, Tony…and thanks. My people will contact you shortly with the contracts."

Back at her office in the Baxter Building, Natasha relayed the message to her business partner, William Peak, former agent of the British Security Agency known as MI-5.

"’Bout bloody time we got a case. I thought I was going to have go back to England and be a street sweeper or something."

Natasha chuckled. "You know you’ve enjoyed this little vacation, and that it would end eventually. So you’ll go over to Stark’s Manhattan offices and go over the contracts with him?"

"That’s all I am to you, isn’t it…a glorified errand boy." But he had a smile on his face as he said it, and Natasha knew she could count on him. "How do you plan on getting into this CTE…midnight break-in? Hack into their computers? Seduce their President into giving you the information?"

Natasha returned his smile and pulled out a copy of The Daily Bugle’s employment section. She pointed to a particular ad. "Actually, I planned on getting a job there."

William returned several hours later, after having had Stark sign the contracts, which stated various conditions, like if any member of the staff of Widow’s Peak Enterprises were caught or questioned, they would not disclose who their employer was. Also, that the employer would pay all expenses incurred for the duration of each case, and the usual legal-speak that filled such contracts.

William stepped into the office, and nearly stopped short when he saw a bespectacled brunette in a black business suit waiting. "May I help you, Miss?"

"Why, yes. I was wondering if perhaps you had found God?" she asked.

"Oh, great," William thought, then replied, "Why, yes, ma’am. I think I saw him on 42nd Street. You can’t miss him. He’s the bloke that smells like rotting vegetables and yelling how we need to repent, for the mothership will be arriving shortly."

The woman chuckled. "It’s me, William." She pulled off her wig, and let her red hair drop.

"Natasha? I didn’t even recognize you!"

"That’s good. If you couldn’t recognize me, then no one at CTE should, either."

"But what about things like background checks, and social security numbers, and the like?" William asked.

Natasha reached into her purse and pulled out a New York State driver’s license, as well as a social security card. They both were made out for a ‘Rebecca Jones’.

"You have fake identities?" William queried.

"Actually, I have 57 different identities, all complete with identification, pasts, and even personal items." She pulled out a wallet out of her purse and opened it, and showed him pictures of her in her getup with family and friends at various functions. "If you called any of these people, they’ll tell you amusing anecdotes about holidays and childhood mishaps."

"That’s incredible! I’ve even noticed you’ve got a bit of that accent these New Yorkers have. You don’t sound the faintest bit Russian. Come to think of it, you never sound Russian."

"What, do you expect me to say ‘Bozhe Moi’, or "By the White Wolf!’ every other sentence or something equally as ridiculous? I’m sorry, Mister Peak, but those cliches only occur in comic books."

Peak seemed a bit flustered. "Ahem, yes, how silly of me. So you plan on applying for the secretarial position from the newspaper? Do you think you’ll get the job?"

"Yes to both. I have, or rather Rebecca Jones has, a degree in business management from Empire State University, and can type 112 words a minute. I’ll get the job."

"Self-confidence not a problem for you, is it, dear?"

"No, Mister Peak…it’s not."

The next morning Natasha, dressed in her guise as Rebecca Jones, drove to the New Jersey branch of Cross Technological Enterprises. She walked in to the Human Resources and walked out ten minutes later as the newest employee of CTE. She was now the executive assistant to the Vice-President in charge of A.I. development, Frank McCleary.

Of course, merely getting close to the man in charge of the department trying to hire/trap Tony Stark did not mean she wouldn’t have to work for her information. Her security check had come up clean (of course), but she was still the new person on the block. No one would trust her with information as to what was going on under the surface of such a large business. So she was forced to live the 8 a.m. to 6 p.m. life of an executive assistant: taking dictation, answering phones, typing up memos, and the like.

That did not mean, however, that she still wasn’t the Black Widow, best spy to ever come out of the former Soviet bloc, or perhaps the world. Within her first 6 hours on the job, she had bugged just about every room in her department that she had clearance for and a few that she didn’t. She also wore a digital camera hidden in a pendant she wore each day. Every time a person passed in front of its lens, it took a picture of them and stored it in its memory. At the end of the day, she and Mister Peak would download them onto their computer and cross-reference them with any known criminals.

After a week, though, nothing incriminating had come up anywhere. Peak and Natasha had just come up negative after their daily search of the personnel, and Peak’s patience was wearing a bit thin.

"Come now, Mister Peak," Natasha began, taking off her brunette wig, "You of all people should know that these things may take time. Something will reveal itself if we look hard enough."

Mister Peak rubbed his cheek. "Yes, yes, I know, Miss Natasha. There is just so much at stake here, mainly our good names."

"Patience, my friend. Anything new to report from Stark?"

"Nothing…oh, other than a new request from CTE for his help. He forwarded it to us if you want to look at it." Peak called it up on the computer.

Natasha slipped out of her work shoes. "Have you asked him if he’s scanned these e-mails for viruses?" she asked.

"First thing I did," Peak replied. "He said that all media coming into his system is scanned before it even appears on his mainframe. They’re all clean."

Natasha sat in front of the monitor, and read the e-mail, top to bottom. Afterwards, she looked at Peak and a small smile grew onto her face. "Mister Peak, I think I’ve found us our first real clue…"

During her week at CTE, Natasha had decided not to try anything too risky, like getting into the high-security Research and Development labs, until she had something to go on. She now felt she did. On her lunch break, she went into a stockroom adjacent to the lab that she has seen her boss go into the most in the week prior. She locked the door behind her, and stripped out of her sensible pantsuit and removed her disguise. Underneath was the traditional black bodysuit of the Black Widow.

"No sense getting my work clothes wrinkled," she thought as she laid her suit out carefully. She then leaped upon the wall, the minute suction cups on her fingers and feet allowing her to stick to it, and climbed to the ceiling. She raised a panel on the ceiling and slipped into the area above the paneled ceiling, hauling a gym bag with her.

She crawled in the small space, careful to spread her weight out in order for the flimsy metal frame the panels rested in would support her, until she estimated she was over the lab. She reached into her bag and pulled out a listening device that looked like a high-tech stethoscope. She put the receiving piece on the panel, and the earpieces in her ears. She could hear talking, but it sounded a bit faint. She judged the voices to be about ten feet to her left. "This is a good spot to set up," she thought. She lifted up the corner of one of the nearby ceiling panels, and slid a tiny fiber-optic lens through. It was set up to a monitor with her, and she scanned the room below.

One of the first things she was taught as a spy was that while you always had to expect the unexpected, you must also expect a lot of the expected, as well. This was the case here. The lab was filled with several workstations, and many computers along the walls. Several people were stationed at the workstations, and a few were giving their attentions to the larger machines. The only thing that seemed out of place was a man sitting in a chair in the middle of the lab. This wouldn’t have been too extraordinary, except that he had several wires plugged directly into his head. He was a thin, bald man, with a few patches of bright red facial hair on either side of his chin. He wore yellow overalls and black boots.

Natasha didn’t recognize him, and set about storing the images off all the people in the room, when the door to the lab opened, and in walked Frank McCleary. One of the men at the workstations rose and addressed him.

"Hello, Mister McCleary. What can I do for you?" he asked.

"Oh, just checking on our progress, Mister Glidden," he replied. "How much is left?"

Mister Glidden looked at the man with the wires plugged into him. "Not much. Probably take one more before it’s all there. After that, we should be able to get any of the information you want, and he won’t suspect a thing."

Mister McCleary looked at the seated man hooked up to the machines. "Ah, Mister Smith. You will make my superiors quite pleased. Quite pleased, indeed." Ah, wonderful. Natasha even had a possible name for the man in the chair: Mister Smith.

The man in the chair then looked glassily back at McCleary and only muttered one word: "Blue."

"And ‘wooden’ back at you, my friend," McCleary said, and tipped his coffee mug at the plugged-in man before taking a sip.

Natasha felt that she had acquired enough information for now. She could find out who any of the men were back at the office, and show the pictures of the machines and this Mister Smith hooked up in the chair to Tony, who may be able to tell what they’re for.

She pulled the camera back up, and gently set the ceiling panel back in place. She then turned her bag, which was reversible, inside out and replaced all the contents. She crawled back to her starting point in the stockroom, and dropped to the floor.

Just as she placed her wig on her head, she heard a rattle from the locked door. She quickly looked around for a place of concealment, but none was readily available. It was too late, anyway. There was the sound of a key entering the lock, the doorknob turned, and the door slowly opened.

To Be Continued…

Next Issue: "Caught In the Cross-Hairs" continues! Will Natasha be caught in the stockroom? Is CTE really up to no good? If so, what are they up to? And who is the mysterious Mister Smith? All this and more will be revealed in Black Widow #4!

Widow Speak

Well, we’re three issues in to the adventures of Natasha Romanov, spy-at-large, and I’m having a ball.

Now, I have noticed a few things about myself. One is that I’m sorely out of practice writing. Prior to my inauguration at M2K, I hadn’t written steadily since I was about 18 (that’s 11 years ago, for those who were curious) due to life’s many (and sometimes cruel) circumstances. I almost literally jumped head-first back into writing when I threw together a story for Marvel Fanfare in about a half-hour, so I could be eligible for a regular series here. Now not practicing the writing muscles for as long as I did has left me feeling a bit…odd I guess is the best word…about my writing. I just don’t feel comfortable writing again yet. It is getting better with each issue, and the ideas are flowing from my mind to the paper more smoothly.

Another thing I’ve noticed is that for every one idea I put to paper a half-dozen more spring forth. I originally had planned on writing about a dozen issues of Black Widow, but now I have enough rough plots and storylines coming up to last me about 30 issues, and more ideas are burgeoning forth every day.

Lastly, I think I’m developing carpal tunnel in my left wrist. Does M2K offer an insurance plan?

Anyway, I’d also like to take this opportunity to give out some thanks and kudos to some here at M2K. First is Dino, whose presence will be sorely missed on this site once he’s finished up his last stories. Thanks and kudos go to Logan Polk, whose link was the one that first brought me to this site, and is currently writing some terrific stuff over in Daredevil. Kudos go to all the great writers here like Russ Anderson, David Wheatley (our esteemed EiC), Gregg Epstein, Cory Wiegel, and a multitude of others.

Well, that’s about all, other than to say thanks for those who are enduring these writing growing pains with me, and I hope to keep you entertained long into the future.

~Jason Eberly, October 7, 2002.