Natasha Romanov would never go quietly into Death's domain.

Even facing the Machinesmith-controlled Iron Man armor, one of the most advanced and powerful weapons the world has ever seen, she did not only hope to survive, but expected to triumph. However, as the armor let loose with a repulsor blast from its palms at her and Tony Stark, the armor's creator and usual occupant, she thought, "This may be troublesome."

She leapt to the side, tackling Tony just as the energy beams sizzled past them, denting the titanium-steel floor of Tony's mammoth subterranean workshop. They slid across the floor and collided with a shelving unit full of electronic parts, which came crashing down on top of them.

Natasha rose to her knees, debris rolling off her. She was a bit bruised, but otherwise all right. As she glanced over at Tony, she noticed he hadn't fared as well. He had a large welt on his forehead and was unconscious. She knew that he was helpless and she would have to distract Machinesmith from him long enough for him to awaken..

Just then the sound of clanging boots on the metallic floor rang from behind her. The armor's shadow engulfed her as it drew near her kneeling form.

The voice of Machinesmith came from the computer, the speakers around the room, and from the Iron Man armor all at once. "Now," he sneered, "It is time for the two of you to die."

Pepper Potts was in the main office of Stark's home working on the corporate e-mails when the face of Machinesmith had appeared on her computer screen. After only a moment of bewilderment, the fast-thinking assistant to Tony Stark leapt to her feet and raced for the exit of the office. However, Machinesmith was faster and caused the automated security features to close and seal the door, trapping her inside.

"Ah, ah, ah…no coffee break for you!" Machinesmith's voice snickered from the P.A. speakers.

Pepper whirled around to the computer monitor. "Who are you? Where's Jocasta?" she asked.

"Moi? I guess you could say I'm a disgruntled ex-employee of Stark's, and I've returned to-ahem-'go postal', " Machinesmith chided. "As for where your precious Jocasta is, she's trapped nice and snugly in here with me."

"Where's Tony?"

"He is down in the lab. But don't worry, he'll soon be dead…as will you."

Suddenly, Pepper realized that she had her cell-phone on her. She pulled it off her belt-clip and dialed the Avengers hotline, as Tony had told her to do in a situation like this. She put the phone up to her ear. A voice piped up on the other end.

"Avengers hotline. What is the nature of your emergency?" a monotone voice said.

"Hurry! This is Ms. Potts at Stark's Queens office. His complex has been taken over by someone and I'm in trouble!" she quickly explained.

"I'm sorry," the voice began, "the Avengers are too busy being pretentious to assist you at this time," and the operator began to laugh, it's voice changing to that of Machinesmith. "Really, Ms. Potts. I am in control of every electronic device hooked up to Stark's network. That includes the Stark transceivers your phone works on. Now let's get down to the business of dying, shall we?"

After a brief pause, the office's air conditioning kicked on, spewing out icy cold air. Pepper backed away to the other end of the office, but the temperature continued to drop quickly.

"Face it, Ms. Potts…you're trapped."

"Face it, Black Widow…you're trapped."

Two gauntleted fists came crashing down at Natasha, but hit only electronic parts, as she rolled out of the way at the last moment. She leapt to the wall, the micro-static suction cups in her glove tips and boots enabling her to stick to it.

"That's right," Machinesmith said through the armor's voice modulator. "Scurry away like the insect you are I can deal with you later. Right now I have a more tempting target." With that, he turned toward the unconscious form of Tony Stark lying amid the rubble.

Black Widow knew she had to force Machinesmith's attention back to her. She let go of the wall and fell back to the floor behind the Iron Man armor and fired her widow's line around its neck. She knew the armor was strong enough to snap it, but Machinesmith's attention was on Stark. As the armor raised its arms to fire a repulsor blast at Tony, she quickly darted around a nearby pillar several times, pulled the line taut, and pressed the button on her wrist-bracelet to snip the line. She then charged the armor full force.

Meanwhile, unheeding of the line around his neck, Machinesmith savored his moment of seeming victory. "Goodbye, Stark. I hope you appreciate the irony of being killed by your own armor." The hole in the palms of the armor's gauntlets began to glow, ready to fire their deadly blasts.

Right then, the Black Widow barreled into the back of the armor's legs with all the strength and speed she could muster. The line around its neck and the force to its legs caused the armor to topple backwards, the death-delivering repulsor blasts spraying across the ceiling of the basement laboratory as its arms flailed wildly. The rays destroyed a great deal of the lights, leaving the cavernous room an eerie, flickering twilight. Natasha arose, holding her shoulder and running off into the gloom.

On the large main computer monitor, Machinesmith's digitized face curled into anger. "Curse you, woman! You can't stop me! I will kill Stark!!" The armor then rose to its feet, and began approaching Stark's still motionless body. "I was going to make his death relatively painless, but due to your constant interference, I will now crush his body to jelly!!"

Natasha then rushed out of the gloom, an iron rod in her hand that she had found lying about. She somersaulted over the armor, between it and Stark, and shoved it into one of the empty eyesockets in the helmet. She swiveled to the left, used all the leverage she could muster, and rotated the bar as hard as she could. The helmet twisted about 100 degrees at the neck, making the armor's head seeming like it was looking behind its own right shoulder..

"NO!!" Machinesmith screamed from the computer, and the armor reacted by backhanding the Widow, causing her to sail across the room and crashing into one of Tony's many workbenches, various replacement parts to his armor crashing around her.

The armor turned unsteadily toward her, its helmet turned the wrong way. "You cannot stop me, woman! Your strength is pitiable, your speed will only let you evade me for so long, and your human frailty will eventually cause you to tire, while I am tireless!!"

The Widow's hand rested on something, and she immediately realized what it was. If only it was working. She stood, blood trickling from her mouth, her body bruised and battered, and her hand behind her back. "The Americans have a saying," she said. "'Fight fire with fire'. However, I prefer 'fight firepower with firepower."

"What will you stop me with?" Machinesmith asked mockingly. "Your 'widow's bite'? That won't even scratch the armor's paint."

Natasha snarled. "No…with this." She pulled her hand out from behind her back, and Machinesmith saw a half-completed Iron Man gauntlet covering it, one Tony must have been working on earlier. Before he could react, Natasha fired a repulsor blast at the armor's damaged head with all the inherent energy the iron glove had stored within it. The helmet, already damaged, blew off from its body and rolled off into the gloom. The armor teetered for a few moments, then toppled to the floor with a loud metallic crash.

William Peak awoke in the alley where he had been mugged some time before*. He sat up, rubbing the back of his neck, and muttered, "What the hell? I thought I was dead, to be sure. What did that smelly sod shoot me with, anyway?" He looked at his chest, where he had been shot. In his flesh was a little dart, no larger than a standard 9mm bullet. He pulled it out and looked at it. "A tranquilizer dart? Mighty fancy muggers they have here in the states."

* (Last issue, remember? ~Jason)

He got to his feet and checked his pockets. "Hell, he took my wallet. My work visa, too. If I ever see that wanker I'm going to shove this dart up his arse…" he quipped. "Better go file a police report before the bloody government decides to deport me." He walked back out onto the street, a bit unsteady at first, and went to find the nearest police station, never realizing his every vital sign was being monitored by the tiny transceiver implanted just under the skin where the tranquilizer dart had hit him.

Natasha jumped over the now-still Iron Man armor and ran over to Tony. She checked his pulse, and cleared the debris off of him.

"Tony?" she asked, shaking him gently. "Tony, are you all right?"

After a few interminable moments, Tony's eyes began to flicker, and he slowly sat up. "Uhh, 'Tasha…what happened?" He looked around at the devastation in his lab. His eyes grew even wider when he saw the headless armor on the floor nearby, sparks occasionally emanating from its neck. "You did that? How?"

Natasha smiled. "A little ingenuity…and this," and she held up the gauntlet, which was smoking slightly.

"One of my spare gloves? Wait…how did you know how to fire it?" Tony asked.

"I'm a spy, Tony. It's my job to know."

Suddenly, Tony yelled out a warning. "Natasha, LOOK OUT!!"

Natasha felt a cold steel grip around her neck, and she was lifted off the ground. .

"Just because you knocked the armor offline temporarily doesn't mean you've stopped me," Machinesmith exclaimed. "True, it's a little harder to control the armor without its head, but I just have to steer it by using the various sensors around the room. I told you already…I am unstoppable!"

Natasha struggled against the iron grip as much as she could, but the pressure on her neck was unceasing. The world began turning blood-red when she heard Tony say, "Codex 170, scenario 001!" With that, everything stopped.

Pepper Potts huddled in a corner, the temperature in the room below freezing. She had to get out of there before she froze to death, she realized, and the best way to figure a way was information.

"H-how did y-you do th-this?" she asked, her teeth chattering as she spoke.

"This?" Machinesmith's voice asked. "You mean take over Stark's supposedly impenetrable computer network? Well, actually, I have you to partially thank for it."

"M-me?"

"Yes," the digitized voice continued. "You see, my employers, Cross Technological Enterprises, wished to use my computerized consciousness to invade Stark's computer system, and retrieve contact lists, corporate secrets, experiment data, bank accounts, etc. Basically, any information that might be useful to them. Now they knew that I couldn't just download my psyche directly into Stark's mainframe, since it would most likely immediately recognize me as an intruder, or a virus. So we tried a bit of a 'Trojan Horse' ploy."

Realization dawned upon Pepper's face. "The e-mails?"

"Correctamundo, my dear," Machinesmith stated. "My employers and I devised a way to send pieces of my consciousness along with the e-mails that you opened every day. Nothing coherent that the computer could read, just what would have appeared to be random bits of data. When the last piece of my consciousness arrived in your system, all the bits and pieces sought each other out and reformed…me!"

"But, Jocasta…"

"I caught her off-guard with a little program I devised. She's still in here, but in her own little dream world. To her, she's still in charge, and there's nothing wrong. She doesn't even realize what's going on out here…there…whatever."

"W-why didn't you just pirate the information you came for undetected, then? Why take over?" Pepper asked.

"My, my, aren't you just full of nosy questions." The voice's annoyance came through the speakers quite clearly. "But, very well…I know you're trying to find some weakness to defeat me with, but trust me, there is none, so what harm can there be in doing a bit of bragging? Once in here, I saw how powerful this system was, and decided to disobey my employers, and take over. Do you realize how much havoc I can raise in here? I can send billions of dollars to overseas terrorists in Stark's name, and make sure the FBI gets wind of it. I can control Stark's automated manufacturing plants to build an army of robots to take over anywhere I want. I can even get the Spice Channel for free!" Then his voice became as chilling as the air in the room. "And I can kill Stark in his basement lab the same time I'm killing you up here."

Then everything stopped. The air conditioner, the computer, the madman's voice over the P.A. system, the lights, and even the security locks to the door popped open. Pepper wondered for a moment what had happened, then decided not to look this gift horse in the mouth. She forced her numb body to stumble to the door, and out into the warmth.

At first Natasha couldn't figure out whether the darkness was caused by her blacking out, or if the remaining lights in the lab had given out. Then she felt the crushing grip around her neck loosen, and the armor fell apart into its individual segments. She fell to the floor, coughing and gasping for air. Then, someone touched her.

"'Tasha, you okay?" It was Tony.

"Yes," she said hoarsely, "I'll be fine. What happened?"

"A little device I whipped up in the armor after my last suit gained a consciousness*," Tony began. "My voice and the proper code words sets off an E.M.P**, and shuts down the armor and any other electronic device in the area. It only lasts for about 15 minutes, though. We need to work fast."

* (Circa Iron Man vol. 3 #'s 26-30 ~Jason, circa 3:25 a.m.)
* (*E.M.P.=Electromagnetic Pulse ~Static cling Jason)

Natasha heard him rustling around, picking up parts, keeping some, and tossing others aside. "Work fast?" she asked. "What are we going to do?"

In the pitch black, Tony said, "We're going into the machine."

In the Symkarian village of Feasalburg, 50 miles from the Symkaria/Latveria border*

* (This scene takes place several weeks before the events in M2K's Fantastic Four #35. ~Jason)

Life in this small hamlet nestled in the lush forests of eastern Symkaria had remained virtually unchanged in hundreds of years. Yes, there were now more cars who rattled down the cobbled streets than horse-drawn carriages, and a few satellite dishes adorned the tops of thatch-roofed farmhouses that had seen the birth and death of many generations. However, for the most part, these people lived the same way as their grandfathers had, and their grandfathers before them.

In one nondescript tiny house, voices whispered in heated debate around a large meeting table.

"Other than running water, sanitation, public safety, transportation, medicine, education, and comfort of living, what has that tin-plated despot ever done for us?" the balding man at the head of the table asked.

A man on the left side of the table raised his hand. "Better crops?"

Before the balding man could say anything else, there was a rap at the front door. The men all looked startled, and glanced around at each other and at places they could hide. The balding man nodded to one of the others at the table. That man got up and walked to the door. He opened up a small slot on the door just a few inches high, peeked out, and asked, "Who's there?"

A pair of feminine blue eyes met his. "It's Silver. We need to talk."

The man at the door turned back to the others. The balding man asked, "How do we know it's really her?" The man at the door turned back towards the slot to ask the woman outside the same question, when her hand shot in through the slot, grabbed the man's nose with her middle and ring finger in an iron grip, and yanked his head against the door with a resounding 'thump'.

"Let. Me. In. Now." Silver Sable said, seemingly ready to pull the man's head through the tiny slot.

The men at the table all looked at each other. "It's her, all right." The balding man stated. "Let her in, Klaus."

Klaus fumbled for the lock blindly, hoping his nose didn't get separated from his face, and once finding it, unlatched it quickly. Silver let Klaus' nose go, and opened the door.

The platinum-haired Silver Sable walked up to the balding man. "You asked to see me, Johann?" she asked.

Johann nodded. "Yes. While we of the Latverian Democratic National Party are grateful to the people of Symkaria for allowing us to take refuge in your country, we have decided that we would like to free our homeland from the dictator that has lorded over us for all these years. To do this, however, we shall need weapons. Weapons that we hoped you and yours would provide."

Silver placed her knuckles on the table and leaned forward. "We of Symkaria are neighbors to one of the most ruthless, most powerful dictators of our time. My job is to keep my land safe and at peace, not incur the wrath of Doctor Doom so a bunch of Latverian rabble-rousers can stage a hopeless revolution." Silver stood up straight and looked at each and every man in the room in the eyes, one by one. "We offered you and your families sanctuary at great personal risk to ourselves, and now you want more?"

Silver turned around and walked to the door, with Johann on her heels. "B-but Silver…," he began. "Doom will not be content forever just ruling Latveria. Someday, and probably someday soon, he shall come for your country! He will-"

Silver cut him off short with a wave of her hand. "Enough, Johann. This has all been discussed with King Stefan and his advisors. Our decision is final." She then pointed to a canvas-bedded truck parked a few yards away. "However, I did bring food and…supplies…for your needs." She turned and put her hand on his shoulder, and peered intently into his eyes. "I hope they serve you well. You may keep the truck."

A silver Mercedes pulled up, the driver clad in the orange and blue jumpsuits of Silver's Wild Pack. Silver Sable got in the back seat, and they drove off. Johann watched them briefly, and then turned to the truck, downhearted. He walked toward it, the other men in the house also came out to collect the supplies. Johann lifted the canvas and peered into the dark back of the transport truck. He slowly smiled when he saw the light reflect off the gun barrels within.

An eerie, greenish light emanated from several large glow sticks that Natasha had found in an emergency kit. She had noticed them when she had first entered the room. On the floor, Tony was busy welding various parts to his damaged helmet with an acetylene torch. After a few more moments, he lifted it up. "There. It's held together with spit and bailing wire, but it's finished."

"What is it," Natasha asked.

Tony got up and walked over to the main computer terminal. "Well, I'm hoping it'll 'download' a person's consciousness into the computer, enabling them to go after Machinesmith from the inside." He plugged a cable attached to the helmet into a port on the terminal, and held the helmet over his head.

Natasha grabbed his arm. "Tony, no. You may have a concussion, and if you fall in there, there's no hope for anyone out here. Let me go in."

Tony looked at Natasha standing right next to him, and began to lean toward her, his mouth parting slightly. "Natasha…I…"

Natasha slapped him across the face and grabbed the helmet. "Damn it, Tony, worry about your libido later! Right now we have to save our lives!" She grabbed the helmet and placed it over her head.

Tony looked at her and laughed. "Once a playboy, I guess…" he said, and flipped a switch on the terminal just as the computer, and everything else, began to start back up. "Hold on, 'Tasha. This may be a bit jarring."

Natasha looked around. She was still in the lab, but everything was rippling, like a reflection in a pond that had been disturbed. Bits of data streamed up and down the walls in an infinite sequence of ones and zeros. All of it had an ethereal, opaque look to it, except for her, and the two other figures in the room.

One was Jocasta, sitting in a chair of electrons, a blank expression upon her face. On her back appeared to be some sort of device that resembled a metallic insect of some kind, it's fangs buried within her neck. About 20 feet closer was, of course, Machinesmith. He was picking himself up off the floor and rubbing his temples.

"Oy," he said, "I feel like I've been partying with too much high-octane." He looked up just in time to see the Widow charging him and to receive a left hook across his face. It was followed by a kick to the gut, and an uppercut that caused him to stagger back a step.

"It's over, Machinesmith," Natasha said. "You're as solid as I am in here. I can hurt you in here."

A smile grew wide across Machinesmith's face. "You're quite correct, Widow. But you forgot something."

"What's that?" she asked, preparing to attack again.

"In here," he said, and started to grow. "Inside this machine, I AM IN CONTROL!!" He shot up to 30-feet in an instant, towering over the Black Widow.

She hadn't thought of this. She thought here they would be on equal footing. But she had to push that thought aside quickly as a giant foot came falling toward her. She leaped forward and rolled, getting out of the way of the boot. "I need help," she thought, and rushed for Jocasta.

"NO!!!" Machinesmith's voice bellowed, and he reached for the Black Widow. His enlarged hand grasped and lifted her into the air, but not before she reached Jocasta, and grabbed the device attached to the silver android's back. It wouldn't come loose, so the Widow aimed her widow's bite, and let loose an electric charge. The device and Jocasta spasmed as the Black Widow was hoisted into the air.

Suddenly, a truly gigantic silver hand grabbed Machinesmith around his body, and lifted him up into the air. He let Natasha go, and she dropped to the floor. She looked up, and saw a 300-foot tall Jocasta, electricity arcing across her titanium frame, fire dancing across her huge red eyes. The room had disappeared, and everything was a swirling mass of symbols, numbers, and images.

"You have violated MY home, you pitiful wretch," her voice booming deafeningly. "You have violated ME! I will see to it that you never harm ANYONE again!"

Machinesmith then began to fade away, a look of terror on his face. He yelled, just before he faded from sight, "I would have gotten away with it, too, if it weren't for you meddling kiiiiiiids--*"

A moment later, the room was back to normal, and a once-again normal sized and human looking Jocasta stood next to Natasha.

"Thank you, Natasha," Jocasta began. "You have saved my life."

Natasha put her hand on Jocasta's shoulder. "I'd say we saved each other's lives," she said. "What did you do to Machinesmith?"

"I used a Stark satellite dish to beam his consciousness into space. However, I changed its position so that it would miss any satellites. He'll never bother us again. But now we must return you to the outside."

"-jarring."

Just that quick, Natasha was back in the real world, and pulling off the helmet.

"Blast!" Tony exclaimed. "It must not have worked!"

Natasha put the helmet down. "Tony, it worked perfectly! Machinesmith is gone and Jocasta is back in control!"

Tony looked at her quizzically. "What are you talking about? You only had the helmet on for less than a second."

"It's true, Tony," Jocasta's voice boomed out, and her face reappeared on the monitor. "It only took a microsecond in here, for we were reacting at the speed of electricity. I am once again in control, and already developing steps to insure that this never can happen again."

Tony helped Natasha up. "Come on," he said, and began heading to the elevator upstairs, which hissed open. "Let's get some fresh air."

Epilogue

The next day, at the Widow's Peak Enterprises office at Four Freedoms Plaza, Tony, Natasha, Pepper, and William were discussing the events of the past 24 hours.

"So after Tony and I left the building to go get patched up, we found Pepper outside with a baseball bat," Natasha said.

Pepper laughed. "I was ready to give that high-tech creep a low tech Louisville Slugger upside the head…er, monitor. It's too bad we can't pin any of this on CTE, though. I'd like to give them a whack or two, as well."

"Yeah, the only evidence we have are their e-mails, and there's nothing incriminating in them," Tony said regretfully.

"The only thing I'm wondering is, where were you yesterday, William?" Natasha asked. "I tried both your cellular phone and the office phone for hours."

William fidgeted a bit. "Eh, I was down at the police station filling out a complaint on the bastard who mugged me. He got my cell, too, I realized later." He scratched his chest a bit and abruptly changed the subject. "Anyway, how's the shoulder?"

Natasha looked at her right arm resting in a sling. "It's just a sprain. The doctor said it, and all my other bumps and scrapes will be fine in just a few days. Now, if you two don't mind, Tony owes me a night on the town for all the…overtime…I performed." A wry smile spread across her face and she winked at Tony. "And I mean to collect what's coming to me."

Next Issue: After the events in Fantastic Four #35, tensions are running high in Symkaria, as fear of an invasion from Latveria prompts them to hire the Black Widow to learn what exactly is going on in the kingdom of DOCTOR DOOM!