Introduction

"Okay Laura…you can do this…you have superpowers now…you can do this…jumping off a building is easy…"

Maybe I can't do this, Laura thinks, standing on the edge of her apartment complex, trying to get up the courage to jump. She must look like a crazy person, dressed in sweatpants with a ski mask pulled over her head. She had sewn a spider on the front of her baggy sweatshirt and the backs of her ski gloves as well. It was a precaution against possible fingerprinting.

So she gained spider powers after a school trip gone wrong. So she's proven to herself time and time again that a thread-thick web can shoot out of her wrist and hold all of her weight, and probably more. And that she has amazing reflexes, endurance, and the ability to not be a total klutz now. But jumping off a building is, quite literally, a leap of faith.

"I'm going to get off this roof," she says aloud, but as she turns, she notices someone in the alley behind her apartment. Someone cowering from an entirely dark figure standing over them, grabbing them by the throat, slamming them down on the hood of a car.

Someone in trouble. Any fears of heights go out the window as she gets a sprinting start and flings herself off the edge.

"FOR JUSTICE!" she shouts, regretfully not having a better catchphrase and landing on her feet between the assailant and their…her, actually…victim.

"What the fuck?"The woman exclaims, lowering the fist she had raised. She's dressed completely in black: skin tight spandex, black eyeliner, jet black hair…pretty much black everything. The only things not black are a deep burgundy—nearly blood red—and include only the face mask that surrounds her eyes.

Before Laura can utter a holy Harley Quinn, the woman fixes her with a death stare.

She looks more like a super-villain than your typical mugger. Great choice for a first criminal.

"Why are you attacking this innocent…" Laura turns to check on her civilian in distress, but double takes when she realizes he isn't there. "Wait, where did he go?"

"He got away with money from an apartment he robbed, you absolute moron."

A clattering of metal from above. He's scrambling up the fire escape now. With a duffel bag.

"Wait, he robbed a place?"

"Yeah. Some idiot left their window open," the woman points to a window. Laura'swindow.

"Holy Hogwarts, that's MY house!"

"That's your apartment?"

"Yes! I climbed out onto the roof!" The woman in black looks frustrated to the point of exasperation. She presses two slender gloved (black, of course) fingers to her temple before looking at Laura with fire in her eyes.

"Then why are you in my way instead of CATCHING THE ROBBER."

"Oh–uh, right!" Laura nervously turns around, then puts her hands on the wall; then her feet, one at a time. They slip off. "Oh, jeeze…" she mutters. "One second." She puts a toe to the heel of one of her converse, slipping it off, then removes the other and places her thinly-socked feet against the brick. It still feels odd, but her sticky skin supports her through the mismatched fabric and she starts scampering up after the guy.

"Wait, what the frilly hell?"

"I just jumped off a roof without hurting myself, what did you expect?" she shouts over her shoulder giddily, as she chases after the robber, who is sufficiently freaked out, running up the stairs two at a time. Mystery woman uses a grappling hook and starts climbing as well.

"Hold on, evil doer!" Laura shouts, clambering awkwardly onto the roof. "Stop right there–"

He flips a switch blade knife out of his pocket. Oh gosh.

"Okay you bitch, get out of my way before–"

"Is that any way to talk to a lady?" The woman's sultry voice comes from behind him as she languidly sways her hips, approaching him slowly.

He whips around skittishly, holding the knife in shaking hands. "I'm warning you!"

"Oh my God…" she holds a delicate hand to her forehead, feigning distress, "Is that a knife?"

"Yeah!"

"Dear God, you've found my one weakness! Tiny knives!"

Laura can't help but laugh. Then she remembers. Hey, I have webs!

Aiming carefully, she flicks her wrist and lets one loose. It hits the edge of the knife and she yanks it right out of his hand.

"What the–"

And that's when mystery woman whips a baton out of her utility belt into her palm and conks him on the temple. He's out cold.

"Thanks, cupcake." She tosses the bag to Laura, who surprises herself in catching it with ease. "But next time, leave the crime fighting to the professionals." The woman starts walking across the roof.

"Wait!" Laura runs a few paces to catch up. "Aren't you going to tell me who you are?"

The mysterious woman scans her head to toe scrupulously, consideration written in the slight squint of her eyes. Finally, she answers.

"…Black Widow. And you?"

"Spider-Girl," Laura answers immediately, made up at that exact moment. It's obvious she wasn't exactly prepared, but whatever.

"Well, Spider-Girl, pro-tip. Don't meddle with my city–I work alone. Go back to your little apartment and have fun with your powers you got from a nuclear leak somewhere, this isn't for kids."

"You don't look any older than me!" Black Widow barks a laugh.

"The fact that you can't fathom a way that I could be older than I look is proof that you are not ready for the world of superpowers." She begins to move away again.

"Hey, stop!" Laura jogs a little and stands squarely in front of her. "Listen, you can't just show up and tag team my bad-guy without a follow up."

Black Widow sneers.

"That was my catch. You don't even know what you're doing. You think this is all some game, but it's not. People get hurt in this business. You're not going to be any different just because you think you're The Little Spider That Could."

"…What I think is," Laura says, annoyed, "I want to try. And I will notstop trying just because some gothic chick doesn't want me interfering with her turf, or…whatever! There's a lot of crime in this city, more than I would like to admit, and just because you might not be a team player doesn't mean it wouldn't be easer if you had some help." Black Widow scoffs.

"What help could you possibly give me?"

"I just took out that guy's knife!"
"Please. Everything was going fine until you pulled that little gymnastics stunt."

"And by fine, you mean shoving him into the hood of my car, which is now dented?"

Black Widow glances over the edge of the roof, and sure enough, there's a bent up blue sedan parked in the alley. She frowns, and Laura looks at her with satisfaction.

"You owe me."

"I'm not a babysitter."

"No, but you are a vandal. I've seen what the press says about you. Maybe if you had a plus one you wouldn't have to bang up buildings and smash windows all the time." It was true. Black Widow's PR game wasn't very strong. In fact, she could wallpaper a sizable bathroom with all the negative front pages she's made.

"…fine."

"Awesome!" Laura chirps, nearly jumping in excitement. She begins to ramble. "And the way I see it, you can help me learn how to not be a total spazz about this whole superhero thing and we can be a team of famous superheroes!"

Black Widow exhales through her nose, but gives Laura a sideways glance of…approval?

"Pulling your own motive. That was ballsy. If it's fame and adoration you want, you're going to have to be a goody-two shoes. And…" she pauses, her tone dropping into a slightly lower, more threatening note, "I hope you realize that I know where you live, so finding your secret identity, and subsequently, everyone you know and love, is a breeze."

"…Oh." Suddenly Black Widow grabs Laura by the collar, lifting her onto her shoeless tip-toes and practically growling at her.

"So don't double-cross me."

"I…I won't."

She releases Laura, smirking at the bewildered and slightly panicked look in her eyes. Then she starts towards the precipice. "You're also lucky that our names fit thematically, or else I wouldn't be letting you tag along."

"Wait, where are you going now?" Laura asked, watching as her black boots teeter on the edge of the roof.

"First off, we'll need to get you a new suit. You look like a hobo. The dress code calls for spandex…" Black Widow turns her back to the nine-story drop down into the busy city streets of Silas. Her black hair whips in the wind a little. "We'll be in touch." With a wink she falls backwards, and when Laura scrambles to the edge and looks over, there's no sign of her.

"That was…" She's trying to collect herself in the rush of excitement and fear that fills her chest, but her voice still comes out as a squeal. "…awesome!"

1.

"Um…Are you sure it's supposed to be this-ugh-tight?" Laura winces, looking over her shoulder at her reflection in the mirror on the wall. She's clad head-to-toe in deadly midnight spandex, shiny and a gift—left under mysterious circumstances on her desk in a platinum briefcase, by the way—from her new mentor, Black Widow.

Well, more a hand-me-down than a gift. And whether or not it's better than her poorly-sewn attempt at a costume is still debatable, seeing as she can't even move in this chic straight jacket.

Not even bothering to hide her amusement, Black Widow's voice comes velvety-smooth through Laura's laptop on a secure video chat she was somehow able to tap into without leaving any traces on the city's universal wireless network.

"Well, the manufacturer didn't advertise 'skin-loose' spandex…" Frowning, Laura stiffly walks over to the computer and with a loud SQUEAK! of rubber she bends over the desk. The exertion and tight clothing force the air out of her lungs, she's now breathing audibly.

"You know, I wouldn't be opposed to, say, leggings with cats on them, or something." Black Widow quirks a flawless eyebrow from beneath a ridiculous amount of black makeup, causing her mask to shift upwards and rolling her eyes.

"Sorry, cutie, but 'Catwoman' is already taken. Let me see what I can do…" Before Laura can reply, the call ends, and she's left staring at a black screen.

"Black Wi-hello? I am really getting tired of all this mysterious bulls-oh!" She trips trying to walk in the costume and nearly smacks face-first into the ground, but catches herself reflexively with her left hand. "Woah…" Experimenting with her powers, Laura pushes off from the floor, now supporting her weight with her fingertips instead of her palm. With a smile, she removes her thumb, index finger, middle…until she's supporting herself with only a pinky.

Warily and with a stiff squeak, Laura swings her feet up, doing a handstand as straight as a board. On her pinky.

"This is so cool!" she says excitedly, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Suddenly there's a knock on her door and she loses her balance, thudding her head on the hardwood. She rolls out to her feet and towards the door, pushing against it just as the handle turns and just in time to keep her father from coming in and seeing her new getup. Which totally pinched in that maneuver—oww!

"Laura? Is everything okay?" His voice is that of a gravelly bear, but undercut in its ruggedness by concern for his daughter.

"Yeah, yep, everything's fine, Dad!" Laura stutters, leaning against the door. The wood creaks in its frame at her strength. She immediately eases up.

"What was that?"

"What?"

"That noise, I thought I heard-"

"Oh, it's just my computer. I'm watching a movie."

"Oh…well, dinner's ready when you are," her father replies. She hears his heavy footsteps thud down the steps and heaves a sigh of relief.

"Holy crap, that was close…" After fifteen minutes of struggling to squirm out of the spandex, Laura figures it's old anyways and rips the thing apart at the chest, looking more like the Hulk than a subtle Spider-Girl…

Now in comfortable sweats and a tank top and filled with her father's famous Space Lasagna (so-called because "It's out of this world, Laura!" And they wonder where she gets her neediness from…), she returns to her laptop to find a little red flag on her inbox. Clicking on it, a message pops up: black background with white text.

Miss Spider-Girl:

We would like to formally invite you to the following address to perform a professional assessment of your skills and abilities in order to properly tailor a uniform for you. Your new employer, B.W., requests that you also refrain from "wearing cat PJs" upon arrival.

This message will delete itself as soon as you finish reading it.

Ta-ta for now,

J.P.

THE RAYTHEON BUILDING

666 INDUSTRIAL WAY

SILAS CITY

AUSTRIA

And just like that, Laura's computer not only automatically exits her email, but shuts down completely, and refuses to turn on again for the duration of the night.

With a groan and the determination to get Black Widow to repair it at her "assessment", along with her car, for that matter, she slumps her head onto her desk.

"Of course it's 6-6-6…"