AMAZING ADVENTURES FEATURING THE BLACK WIDOW
Issue #1
By Scott Casper and Morgan Abbot
Inspired by Brad Bird (The Incredibles)
"This Is No Time for Clowning Around!"
May 24, 1971. 2:14 pm
Washington, D.C. The White House
Natasha hated being late.
It was taking much too long to get in to see the Secretary of State. She had endured almost 20 minutes of run-around so far, but her patience was running out fast. She had shown her credentials to Secret Service staff twice already. Certainly, her blouse, jacket, and knee-length skirt were uncharacteristic of the tight black leather jumpsuit she was commonly seen in while acting as the Black Widow these days, but her Avengers clearance should have been easily checked the first time. The obvious answer to all this was that the Secretary of State did not wish to be seen.
"Tell Mr. Katzenbach that I want to see him now," Natasha told the undersecretary angrily, but she was already starting to dodge around him and head for the door to the secretary's office. She only stopped when another Secret Service agent stepped out of the office ahead of her and barred the way. Natasha sucked in her anger and calmly said, "Fine. I'll go. Tell Katzenbach that he'll see me soon, though."
2:17 pm.
Nicholas Katzenbach looked up from the paperwork on his desk when he heard the back door to his office open. It was always unusual when that door opened, as it was (except in case of an emergency) for Secret Service use only. What made it even more surprising this time was that it was the Black Widow using it.
"How did you-?" Nicholas managed to ask as he rose from his desk in alarm.
"Well, I don't normally like to show off that I was once a fantastic spy, but..." Natasha answered in a warm, charming voice. When that failed to allay Nicholas' concerns, she changed to a calmer, soothing voice. "Look, I only came here to talk."
"No, see here," Nicholas said angrily. "You or any other superhero can't come waltzing into my office-"
And here he made the mistake of stepping away from his desk, as Natasha seemed too non-threatening. In that moment, Natasha lunged forward, grabbed him by the collar, and pulled him across the room. "Now," Natasha said in a firmer voice, "let's have that conversation away from your desk where you could summon help. That paperwork on your desk – is it from SALT?"
Nicholas glanced back at his desk, but tried not to betray an answer.
"When were you planning on telling us that you'd wrapped up the SALT talks, Nicholas?"
"The U.S. Government is not in the habit of having its foreign policy dictated by-"
"Oh, please," Natasha said, finally letting go of Nicholas' collar. "It's not like we were asking for a lot from you. You were told to keep MIRVs on the table. The SALT agreement with Russia only covers ABMs.* The superhuman community isn't happy about this. You knew we wouldn't be happy, so you let the Avengers keep guarding the conference in Vienna after it had already been secretly concluded, didn't you?"
(*SALT stands for Strategic Arms Limitation Talks; MIRV stands for Multiple Independently-targeted Reentry Vehicles; ABM stands for Anti-Ballistic Missile system - Strategic Scott)
"The Russians," Nicholas said, straightening his collar and regaining his composure, "believe that missile systems are their only defense. They still see you superheroes as an American threat."
Natasha sighed, knowing he was right and for all the wrong reasons. She knew her former bosses in Russia were paranoid enough to believe that and the U.S. was willing to foster their mistake to give them an edge. Even if it meant the arms race would go on. Still, the superheroes had one carrot to dangle.
"The superhuman community has moved beyond helping just one nation. Our advanced technology, both alien and otherwise, are available to any country that meets our requirements for human rights and peace. And don't forget to remind the President that we endorsed him and helped put him in office. If not for our support, we would have a Nixon Administration in place instead of a Humphrey Administration."
"I'll mention that," Nicholas said, though Natasha had trouble reading if he was serious or just saying that to appease her. "I'll also tell him we should be open to continuing the talks in the near-future. Acceptable?"
"It will have to-" Natasha said, but now it was her turn to be surprised by the back door to the office opening. She spun around to see the same Secret Service agent who she had slipped around earlier peek his head in.
"Excuse me. May I interrupt?" the agent asked. His expression was impossible to read behind those dark glasses.
"My office was broken into! Of course you can interrupt!" Nicholas shouted.
"Actually, sir, I'm here for the Black Widow. The CIA just called for you, ma'am. They say they have a lead on that spy you were after."
Natasha sighed again and glanced at the clock. First she was late, and now this. "I'll handle it," she said.
Washington, D.C., L Street.
3:38 pm.
As if being late wasn't bad enough, now Natasha had to deal with this clown.
The rooftop chase had started a block ago. He had already thrown two exploding juggling balls and still enjoyed a seven yard lead on her, despite running in big clown shoes. Ducking for cover had slowed her down each time when he tossed those balls. She couldn't risk getting injured. Thank goodness, she thought, that she had taken the time to change into her bodysuit so she was not running in a skirt - though she wished she had her "widow's sting" electricity projector with her as well.
"Eliot Franklin!" she shouted at the top of her lungs.
The Clown stumbled as he reacted to his real name, as people often do when it's loudly hollered. He faltered, lost his balance, and quickly recovered, but not quickly enough that she did not gain on him. She put on a burst of speed, her sensibly heeled black boots pounding hard across the top of the building. Catching up, she leapt forward and managed to gasp a hold of the fabric of his clown costume.
Stumbling, he lost his hold on his last exploding juggling ball and it flew into a nearby chimney and exploded.
Natasha spun him around to face her and tried to punch him, but the Clown now had a hooked cane in his hand that telescoped out at the press of a button and caught her on the leg. Momentarily, off-balance, Natasha stepped back and took a defensive stance. "You used to be with the Circus of Crime," she said to distract him. "When did you turn spy?"
"What makes you think I wasn't always one?" the Clown asked with a smirk that was magnified by his clown make-up. He switched hands with the cane and pulled a 9 mm Browning automatic pistol out from under his polka dot jacket with his right hand. Before he could aim it at her she did a high kick that knocked the gun from his hand and then a hurricane kick that knocked him clean off his feet. The Clown rolled over the surface of the roof, his legs flailing up in the air in a comical fashion that was merely deceptively ungainly when in fact she recognized the man's movements were incredibly well-coordinated. He never lost his grip on the hooked cane. Twisting the handle of the cane, the hook popped off and revealed a big knife blade underneath. "You'll never take me, Widow," he said. "I've held my own against Spider-Man."
"Yeah, for all of five seconds, I hear," she said. Un-phased, Natasha slid under his hasty thrust, caught his arm and expertly jabbed a thumb into his wrist to make him involuntarily drop the cane while she threw him over her extended leg. He fell, tumbled, and again sprang back up.
His hand went to his neck and he spun his over-sized bow-tie in circles, causing a stream of hydrochloric acid to squirt out. As she dived out of the way of it, he sprayed more of the corrosive chemical at her. The roofing tile hissed where it landed and noxious smoke curled up into the air. Back-flipping to safety, she landed in a crouch only for him to tauntingly honk his red horn nose and resume his flight, this time with a greater lead than he had previously.
"This clown is making me look like one too," Natasha muttered in reproach of herself as she ran after him. She hated being off her game, but the truth was also that she had been underestimating him.
The Clown jumped from one rooftop to the next. After this roof was an alley that looked like it would be hard for the Clown to jump, but he grabbed a TV antennae, bent it back, and used it to catapult him over the alley as it sprang back. Natasha skipped the theatrics with the antennae, vaulted into the air from the roof's edge, did a triple mid-air flip, and came down running closer behind her quarry.
She could see now that they had just two more roofs to go before he ran out and reached a major street intersection he could not possibly jump over. He was either going to try to go down or feel cornered and make a last stand against her, she figured. But before she could see which it would be, she saw a familiar figure jump out from behind a roof access door on the next building. There was the familiar "twang" of an arrow being fired and she saw the Clown being entangled by bolos. The Clown went down.
Hawkeye casually leaned his bow up over his shoulder and sauntered forward. "Hey, it's the Clown!" he exclaimed. "This is no time for clowning around. Right? Clown?"
"Ugh. Leave the jokes to Spider-Man," the Clown said.
Natasha leaped across to that roof and slowed down as she came within reach of the other two. "I know I didn't call for back-up," Natasha said. She kept a close eye on the Clown, not wanting to underestimate him again as Hawkeye was now doing. "How did you find us?"
"You're welcome," Hawkeye said sarcastically. "It wasn't hard. The CIA called Avengers Mansion first, looking for you, before they found out you were at the White House. I came to help, heard explosions on the rooftops, could tell they were moving in a straight line, and raced to get ahead of it."
"Not bad," Natasha said. "Okay, Eliot," she said, putting her foot on the Clown and pushing him down as he tried to free himself from the bolo, "stop fidgeting and start handing over papers."
"I haven't got the papers," the Clown replied.
"Ohh...you just have to make this hard, don't you?" Natasha asked with a groan. "Come on, Eliot. You didn't have time to stash the papers after I saw you leave the Mall. That means they're still on you. They'll turn up if we strip search you, but it won't be me doing it if that's what you're hoping for - it'll be Hawkeye here doing it."
"Gee, thanks," Hawkeye said sarcastically. "Do I get to search you for papers next..?" he asked, dripping with obvious innuendo.
"Careful, purple-pants," Natasha answered, matching his tone, "or your gun might go off..."
"Is that a promise..?"
"Don't you need to reload it...?"
"Oh, it's ready any time you are..."
"Maybe I should check you for papers in your ...ammunition pouch..."
"Ugh, I'll give you the papers!" the Clown cried. "Just stop flirting!"
The Black Widow and Hawkeye stopped their playful banter and watched the Clown pull off one of his big shoes and show them the secret papers inside.
"Shucks," Hawkeye said. "I guess we have to stop now. Think you can handle Emmet Kelly here without me? I've got to go get ready for tonight. Not much longer to go!"
"Go on," Natasha said. "I can take care of the rest." She watched Hawkeye skip the obvious stairs leading down into the building and go straight for the building's edge with his grappling hook-and-reel attachment for his bow. There was no hesitation – no urge to stop him. She would explain later about being late.
Washington, D.C.
6:03 pm.
Natasha walked slowly towards their table and not just so Clint could enjoy watching her in the short, black, off-the-shoulder dress she wore for him. She was sore all over from the afternoon's chase. She never would have been sore after a workout like that when she was still in her 20s, but she was 31 now and, while she was still in top physical shape, she felt old every time she felt sore. Clint, sitting at the table waiting for her in a nice suit, was still as ruggedly handsome as ever. He never complained in front of her about feeling older, but when he thought she was not looking he would wince from fatigue after a long workout or fight.
The table had a white tablecloth and a candle in a glass jar centered on the table. The Oak Room at the Plaza was not the most sumptuous restaurant in Manhattan, but it was surely in the top ten. She had supped at much fancier back when her job was seducing rich and powerful men for her soviet masters, but this was the fanciest Clint had ever agreed to eat at. Natasha recalled how hard it had been getting Clint to take her anywhere but hot dog stands and smiled.
"Ah, that's better," Clint said when he stood up and pulled out her chair for her. "I was wondering when you were going to start smiling, babe."
"Sorry, darling. I guess I had a lot on my mind," she said. And that was true.
"This isn't a working night, hon," he admonished lightly. "This is a special occasion."
She must have spent too long glancing idly at the menu because Clint said, "Don't bother. I slipped the waiter a 10 and told him to bring us two beers and hot dogs...Just kidding," he said when she looked up at him and smirked knowingly.
"Sorry," she said again.
"Hey, what's bothering you?" he asked, leaning forward across the table and reaching for her hand. "Is it that I helped you collar the Clown today?"
"No, no, it's not that. I was fine with your help, Mr. Barton," she said with mock formality.
"Glad to oblige, Mrs. Barton," Clint said back and then made a happy sigh. "One year today. It's sure been an exciting ride with you."
Natasha hated to spoil their anniversary dinner, but then, maybe this would be the best time to tell him, she thought. "Clint...I'm sorry I'm late."
"What are you talking about, honey? You were right on time for dinner."
"No, dear. I'm sorry. But ...I'm late."
"Late for what? ...Oh..." Clint said as his expression of curiosity turned to surprise and froze there.
NEXT ISH: The Black Widow is married to Hawkeye! The Black Widow is pregnant! Daredevil is…oh, wait, read next issue to find out! That, plus the evil of Zodiac and the Astrologer in "Find a Reason to Believe!"