Natasha Romanoff had vanished.

When the black-clad figure with the black ski mask busted through the balcony doors into the quarters of the ex-Soviet spy, she had expected to see her intended target somewhere in the room. After all, the figure had heard Ms. Romanoff speaking with another individual, male, just moments before.

But in the split seconds that it took for the intruder to make her entrance, Natasha and her companion seemed to vanish. In confusion, the intruder relaxed her guard just the tiniest bit. In that moment, an object struck the back of her knees, causing her legs to buckle beneath her. The masked female used her free hand to stop her fall, and looked to the right to see the Black Widow holding a cane of some sort. The figure began to swing her gun around, only to have her wrist grabbed from the other side by the iron grip of Natasha's long-time confidante, Ivan Petrovich. Before the woman could react, Natasha pulled the cane back, and whacked her upside the head, knocking her unconscious.

A few minutes later, the mystery woman revived to find herself tied to a chair. Standing in front of her was Ivan. He was examining her gun. Her head whirled to the side when Natasha, sitting across the room, spoke.

"Surprised?" Natasha asked, sipping on a drink. "You shouldn't be. My friend and I have survived a long time, and been targeted by people apparently much better than you."

The woman spoke, pent-up anger in her voice. "How did you know I was there? There was no way you could have seen me."

Natasha laughed. "I guess it must have been my spider-sense," she said facetiously.

Ivan tossed the woman's gun at Natasha. "Recognize the make?" he asked.

Natasha looked at it for a few seconds, and then put the gun down on the table next to her. "Where did you get this gun?" she demanded to know.

The woman smiled behind her mask. "I earned it. Same as you."

"Well, that answers that. Natasha Romanoff, meet the newest graduate of the Red Room," said Ivan as he reached out and pulled off the mystery woman's ski mask, "Yelena Bolova."

Natasha studied Yelena for a moment. Yelena was in her early 20's, with shoulder length blonde hair and blue eyes. Natasha couldn't believe that she was even younger than this child when she started this business of costumes and secret missions. She quickly filed that thought away and asked Yelena, "What is your business with me?"

Yelena sneered. "To claim my rightful title by beating you…the title of Black Widow."

Natasha sat quietly for a moment, and then got to her feet. She walked calmly behind Yelena's chair. She then grabbed the back, tilted it onto its two back legs, and dragged it out onto the balcony. Once she had dragged it all the way to the railing on the edge of the balcony, she came back in front of Yelena and crouched down.

"You tell your superiors that the only way you'll take my name is by stripping it from my dead, bloody body," Natasha said with a scowl.

"That's the idea," Yelena said through clenched teeth.

Natasha grabbed the front of the chair and tipped it over the edge of the railing, and Yelena, still tied to it, disappeared. Natasha turned without looking, and walked back into the room. Ivan stood, his arms folded.

"I thought your Avengers Code prevented you from killing anymore, little Princess?" Ivan asked bluntly.

Natasha sat back in her chair, rubbing her temples. "I haven't been an Avenger for some time now, Ivan. Besides, she's not dead."

On the street many floors below the balcony of Natasha Romanoff, a wooden chair lay shattered, with a few pieces of rope strewn about. Yelena was nowhere to be seen.

The next morning, Natasha left for Moscow, where the address Ivan had given her said Alexi Shostakov, her supposedly dead husband, was said to reside, alive and working undercover for the Russian intelligence agency. She kept an eye out for any more attempts on her life by the previous night's intruder, but her heart wasn't into it as much as it probably should have been. Her mind kept drifting back to her all-too brief time with her dashing pilot husband.

She wondered what she would do if indeed Alexi was still alive. Why hadn't he contacted her after their encounter years ago in China*? Granted they had fought, her as the Black Widow, he as the Red Guardian, but when her life had been threatened by a renegade Colonel's gun, Alexi had saved her, apparently at the cost of his own life. They had never recovered the body, however, as the entire base upon which they had fought had been built atop an active volcano, and it had erupted during the melee. Later SHIELD reconnaissance had shown the base had been completely incinerated by the lava.

(*This story took place in Marvel's Avengers (Vol. 1) #44. ~Jason-San.)

Perhaps this whole thing was a glitch in the intelligence agency's files? Some lost paperwork never removing Alexi's name from their files. Or perhaps it was a trick by a foe of hers. She didn't have many specific foes like Matt did*, but she did have a few. She had done enough covert jobs for SHIELD to garner a few grudges, but how many of these would know of her marriage to Alexi all those years ago? HYDRA? No, they were dealing with larger issues at the moment**. AIM? It could possibly be one of their adaptoids imitating Alexi, but to what purpose?

(*Matt being Daredevil, soon to be written by your truly. ~Jason, the man without fear…of deadlines)
(**As so dramatically being portrayed in the "Shadow War" crossover going on in various X-Titles. ~Jason again)

Her mind continued to swirl long after her plane landed in Moscow, and she took a taxi to the fateful address. It was a small auto repair shop in a less than illustrious part of town. She stood at the entrance to the shop for several minutes, trying to gather the courage to enter. She briefly wondered what most of her friends would think if they knew that the cold-blooded Black Widow was having trouble finding the courage to walk through a simple door. With a snort of disgust, she opened the door and walked in.

Back in Volvograd, Yelena was in a sparse room, a laptop on the floor before her. On the screen it showed a credit card purchase of a ticket to Moscow, purchased by Natasha Romanoff. She stood up and walked to the window, where a high-powered telescope was set up. She peered through it, and saw in a room across the street, that Ivan Petrovich was reading quietly.

"You're unprotected now, Romanoff…this time you won't be as lucky."

A small bell over the door jingled as Natasha walked into the small lobby. Its white paint was peeling and covered with bits of grease here and there. There were a few padded chairs on the wall to the right of the door, and a desk on the opposite side of the room. A few pictures of classic cars and automobile logos hung at random intervals around the room. Through a small window on a door to her left, Natasha saw the garage of the shop.

A voice called out from inside the garage. "Be right there. Just have a seat, please."

Natasha listened to the voice carefully. It was male, and could have possibly been Alexi's voice, but it had been a long time since she had heard it in person. Plus, the echo of the garage distorted it somewhat.

Instead of sitting down, Natasha walked over to the desk. Atop it were a few invoices, a small sack lunch, and a few picture frames. Natasha turned the frames around, revealing pictures of two young girls, the oldest no more than six, and a picture of a woman who was attractive, but definitely showed touches of some of life's hardships. The mechanics wife and children, Natasha thought with a mixture of relief and sorrow. It looks like this was a wild goose chase after-

"May I help you, miss?" the voice from before asked, this time attached to a man standing in the doorway to the garage.

Natasha turned and instantly froze.

"That's my wife, Ana," the mechanic started, noticing the picture in Natasha's hand. "The two girls are my daughters," he pointed to the younger brown-haired girl, "Oksana," and he pointed to the picture of the older of the two girls, "and Tasha."

Natasha continued to stare.

"Miss? Are you all right? Can I get you a glass of water or something?" the mechanic asked, his expression becoming one of concern.

Natasha's mouth opened slightly, and she barely uttered the name,

"Alexi?"

"Pardon me?" the mechanic asked.

Natasha looked at the mechanic up and down. She had kissed that chiseled face many times with her own lips, felt those large hands wrap themselves around her over countless nights, and gazed into those eyes enough to know instantly that this was her lost husband. She took three steps silently toward him, and placed her hands on either side of his slightly grease covered face, and kissed him as hard as she could.

The mechanics reaction was immediate and unexpected. He grabbed Natasha by the shoulders and pulled her away from him. "Excuse me, do I know you?" he said with a mixture of surprise and embarrassment.

"Alexi!" she practically yelled. "It's me…Natasha! Your wife!"

The man looked at her quizzically. "I'm afraid you have me mistaken for someone else. My name is Josef Grebnev. And this," and he picked up the picture of the woman where Natasha had dropped it back on the desk, "this is my wife."

Natasha was stunned. It was just now dawning on her what this man had said to her. She was sure this was her Alexi, but here he was telling her he was married to another, that he had children. Natasha felt a pain in her almost worse than all of those inflicted on her by Doctor Doom*.

(*In issue #7. ~"2 Issues in 6 months" Jason)

"But you look…you sound…you even stand!…exactly like my husband," Natasha stammered. "And this paper…with Alexi's name on it and this exact address."

She stared at the paper for a few moments, and her espionage instincts finally kicked in. "You're under cover! That's why you've been marked for surveillance! And these!" She grabbed the pictures, "they're part of it. Just part of the show. Just pictures. It's okay, Alexi, you can tell me," and she started to try to take him in her arms again.

But Josef put his hand up, halting her. "Miss, I hate to dispel this theory of yours, but this is my family. We live in the flat above the garage. I don't know anything of your husband, but you seem to be extremely distraught. Come upstairs and have a drink, and perhaps you will see then that I am not who you think I am."

With that, Josef led Natasha into the garage and up a set of stairs to the apartment above.

At the Moscow airport, a beautiful blonde woman got into Boris' taxi. "Where to, lady?" he asked.

The woman handed him a picture. "Have you seen this woman?" she inquired.

Boris looked at the picture briefly. It was of a red-headed woman, equally as beautiful as the woman who had handed him the picture. "Ahhh…I don't think so. Sorry."

He tried to hand the picture back to her, but instead he found a wad of money shoved into his hands. At a quick glance, it looked like more than he made in a week!

"You will ask around to your fellow drivers if they have seen her," the woman commanded. "If you find who did, there is a pile of money twice that size waiting for you. Contact me at the number on the back of the photo."

Boris grew a smile, as the woman stepped back out of his cab. He was about to begin his search when she appeared at the driver's side window of the cab. She stuck her head inside.

"Oh," she began. "And if you do not find her, I shall find you and take my money's worth of flesh out of you." Boris noticed that somehow she had put a knife to his neck without him even seeing her move. Then, seeing the appropriate fear in the cabbie's eyes, she withdrew the knife. "Go."

Wiping some newly forming sweat from his brow, Boris drove off, now even more eager to complete his task.

Natasha's mind was reeling. She sat on a beat up couch in a slightly run down, yet very homey and comfortable, apartment. The woman in the picture was in the kitchen, speaking firmly to Josef, but trying not to raise her voice for bringing this strange woman into their home. The two children watched Natasha quietly from a corner, not sure yet whether to trust the stranger. Finally, the older of the two got up and approached Natasha.

"Hi," the little girl said.

"Hello yourself, little one," Natasha replied, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

"What's your name?"

"Natasha."

With that, the girl's eyes lit up. "That's MY name!! Though everybody calls me 'Tasha. Do you know papa?"

Natasha smiled weakly. "I thought I did, now I am not so sure."

'Tasha looked at her quizzically, then remarked, "You're very pretty." The younger child had finally mustered up enough courage to join her older sister by Natasha. "Oh, that's Oksana. She's only four. I'm six!"

Six, Natasha thought. That's about how long it's been since Alexi supposedly died. There is just too much evidence for this all to be coincidence. But why won't Alexi tell me the truth?

At that moment, Josef and Ana stepped out from the kitchen. Ana looked a bit perturbed, but tried her best to hide it. "I'm sorry, Miss…?"

"Romanoff."

"Romanoff," Ana continued, "but I'm afraid you are very mistaken about Josef here. I have known him for over seven years, since I met him in the hospital. I was working there as a nurse's assistant, and he was recovering from an injury."

"Recovering?" Natasha asked. "Recovering from what?"

Josef rubbed the back of his head. "Burns and head trauma. To tell the truth, I don't remember anything in my life before the day I woke up and Ana here was watching over me. It was nearly love at first sight."

"Amnesia? You don't know who you are?" Natasha inquired, her interest beginning to rise.

"I'm afraid not," he replied.

Natasha turned to Ana. "How did he get there?"

Ana sat in a chair, with Josef standing behind her. "It was a bit odd. Nobody seems to know how Josef got into our hospital. One night he wasn't there, and the next, he just was. The doctors didn't seem to want to speak about it. He had identification on him, so we knew his name and address, but that was about the only thing we knew about him…at the time."

"At the time?"

Josef took over the telling. "Yes. After I was released, Ana and I went to the address on my identification. I found papers and personal effects. They didn't ring any bells, but they told us more about me. Josef Grebnev, orphan, car aficionado, and that's about it."

"I…see," Natasha said, rubbing her chin.

"So you see, Miss Romanoff," Ana stated. "Even though Josef had amnesia, he still had a past. I'm afraid he couldn't be your husband."

"I suppose you're right. I must apologize for making a spectacle of myself. I…I should go," Natasha said as she stood, preparing to leave.

Ana and Josef exchanged glances, communicating in a way only those who have been together for a while can do. "Please," Ana quickly said. "Stay for dinner. It's nothing elaborate, but it is homemade."

Natasha smiled at the couple's hospitality. "I couldn't impose any more on your family any more than I already have."

"We insist," said Josef. "Besides, you seem to have made a friend of our daughters. And I never know their judgment to be wrong."

Natasha paused, looking down and seeing the expectant look in the two little girl's eyes. She smiled warmly at them. "It has been a long time since I had a home cooked Russian meal. I accept."

The little girls jumped up and down with glee.

In a dark room, a phone rang a single time. Yelena picked up the receiver and held it to her ear.

"Where is she?" After a pause, she spoke again. "You will come take me there, and I will then give you your money."

She told the taxi driver where to pick her up, and then hung up the phone. She picked up an oblong object about a meter and a half in length wrapped in a blanket, and left the room.

Natasha enjoyed a wonderful meal, full of smells and tastes and textures that she had not had in many years. She participated in stimulating conversation with 'Tasha and Oksana about the possibility of Ken dolls possessing cooties and passing them along to Barbie. When the family discovered that Natasha had spent the last several years in America, they bombarded her with questions about the United States. She tried to answer them all as best she could, explaining she often did not get to partake of common aspects of that land.

After dinner, Ana had washed the dishes, as Josef played with the girls in the living room. Natasha sat nearby, sipping some coffee as she tried to put all these puzzle pieces together. This man playing with these children was the spitting image of her husband, yet he has talked of his past even though he could not remember it. The injuries that he suffered could have been consistent with the final battle in China, but then how did he arrive in Moscow? Was it possible he was faking? It was entirely possible that he was a sleeper agent for some intelligence agency or another. But the love she saw in his eyes for his Ana and the children was not faked.

Natasha began to realize with a sinking feeling that no matter what the facts were, this is what the truth was. Regardless of who or what he was in the past, he was now Josef Grebnev, loving husband and father. She sipped some more coffee and settled back into her chair.

On a rooftop across the street from Josef's garage, Yelena crouched, a rifle pointed at the doorway.

She would wait as long as was needed.

Natasha gave Ana a peck on each cheek and thanked her for her hospitality. The two girls tugged at her legs, begging her to stay. Natasha declined warmly, promising to visit again if she were ever in the neighborhood. With whimpers of resignation, they said their good-byes, and Ana shuffled them off to get them ready for bed. This left Josef and Natasha alone.

"May I walk you out?" Josef asked.

"That would…that would be nice. Thank you."

The two walked back down the stairs, through the garage, and back into the entrance lobby. Josef grabbed the doorknob to the street entrance, paused a moment as he looked at the fading light of dusk, then said:

"This is my life now, my family. You understand, do you not?"

"I know, Alexi. I think I understood from the moment I saw you this morning."

He turned and smiled sadly at her. "We are not the same people we were all those years ago. Back then, I sacrificed my young wife for my country. Now I would give my life for my family."

"And where I once craved the spotlight, now I deal with shadows and monsters. Changed, indeed," Natasha replied.

Josef finally turned the doorknob and opened the door. Natasha walked to the entrance, and embraced him. "Goodbye, Alexi…I loved you," she said.

Josef embraced her back. "He loved you, too."

She stepped out onto the street, and the door clicked quietly closed behind her. She stood there as the light inside turned out. She looked up at the roof across the street briefly, and walked into the night.

Yelena's finger began to tense slightly as the door opened on the street below. She watched as Natasha and an unknown man embraced. Natasha stepped outside, and the man stayed inside. Yelena took careful aim. There would be no mix-up's this time.

Through her scope, just before she pulled the trigger, she saw Natasha turn and look directly at her. Yelena had never seen such a look of sorrow in another's eyes as she now saw in her nemesis'. She lowered the gun as Natasha broke their gaze, and began walking stiffly, cane in hand, into the gathering gloom.

Epilogue, one month later

Natasha sat in the dark of the computer room, the only light the soft glow of the monitor in front of her. No one was aware of her presence this deep into the Kremlin, for she had not wanted them to. She was here to finish some business, and she did not wish to be disturbed.

On the screen the file of Alexi Shostakov revealed its secrets to her. It told her how, after the fateful battle in China, the Chinese had sent in troops, and discovered Alexi, still alive. Under pressure from the Soviet Union, they had sent him back home for medical treatment. Fearing exposure by the Avengers, the KGB had set up a new identity for Alexi as Josef Grebnev. Feigned amnesia would cover any holes in his history, and he was basically allowed to live a civilian life, with occasional surveillance by the Soviet government.

Natasha read for a few more minutes. She then pointed the arrow on the screen to the 'purge file' button, and clicked it. Alexi's face disappeared from the screen as well as from the memory of a bygone era. Natasha turned the computer off, plunging the room into total blackness.

A minute later, the door to the room opened, and two workers walked in. They turned the lights on in the empty room.

Next Issue: Natasha heads back to America to find her business booming! Things couldn't be greater, right? Right?

Widow Speak

Our letter this month comes from David Ingram, writer of M2K's Force Works (one of M2K's great reads), as well as upcoming writer of Excalibur, which has me really excited, as David is a wiz at blending eclectic bands of characters. Anyway…

I've been greatly enjoying your Black Widow series at M2K, and so I've
decided to get off my ass (in a manner of speaking) and provide you with
the feedback that you deserve.

Glad to hear you enjoy the title, and feedback is always good…even when it's bad!

The Good= You have a strong grasp of the spy genre, what it is and what
it isn't and how that would work in the Marvel Universe, and it shows.
From Widow killing Doom's guards, to not being a detective (to a certain
degree) to her maiming an attacker in training. Her battle with Doom was
great too. Black Widow is a badass, but there's only so much one hero,
even one as skilled as her, can do against Doom. I just hope she doesn't
suffer an overwhelming amount of guilt over what happened. That town was
screwd one way or the other.

That's the sucky thing about guilt. Your head may tell you that logically, it's not your fault, but your heart tells you otherwise. But we'll see how Natasha's reaction towards this event evolves over the coming months. I think people will be quite surprised by the time it's over.

The Bad= Not much as far as I can see, though I do have a slight
complaint about bring the sentient armor arc from Mainstream in, as in
that arc Stark gained (again) an artifical heart which he clearly does
not have in M2K. I'm more than willing over overlook that as no cut off
point is perfect.

Yeah, I'm not a big fan of Tony's artificial heart over in the mainstream Iron Man book, either. But technically, I didn't bring back the sentient armor. That master of mechanical mayhem, Machinesmith, was controlling the armor. But if anyone here at M2K wanted to bring in the sentient armor, I have faith that they, whoever they were, could write a great story with it!

That's all for this month. Thanks to David for the letter, and I hope you continues to enjoy the series, as it hopefully maintains a more regular schedule.

Until next issue, enjoy!