*Six Months Earlier*
The underground nightclub pulsed with the bass of heavy jazz, the air thick with cigar smoke and the clinking of expensive liquor.
In the VIP section, Don lounged in a booth of blood-red velvet, swirling a glass of 50-year scotch. Besides him were two women while Haze and Diamondback pose as bodyguards.
Haze noticed someone approaching, "Boss," he called.
All three men turned their attention to Red Widow.
Red Widow moved like a shadow through the crowd, her black-and-red spandex clinging to her lithe frame.
Several patrons shot her wary glances, knowing what the infamous thief was capable of.
She slid into the booth across from Don, before pouring herself some scotch, "You wanted to talk."
Don grinned, "I did. Heard about your work—banks, museums, high-security vaults. Clean. Professional."
He leaned forward, "But you're working alone. That's a dangerous game, especially for a young star such as yourself."
Widow's fingers twitched, a razor-thin thread of crimson silk unraveling from her wrist, "I don't need backup."
Don chuckled, "Everyone needs backup. Especially when the Heroes start hunting. Right now you were lucky enough to last this long but eventually you will meet your maker."
He tapped his glass, "Unless you join my family. You'll have resources. Protection. And a cut of the biggest heists this city's ever seen."
Widow was silent for a long moment.
Then, slowly swirling her glass she smirked, "What's the catch?"
Don's grin widened, "Loyalty." As he raised his glass.
They clinked glasses.
"Welcome to the family, Red Widow." Said Don
---
*Present*
Annie and Bruce materialized just outside the vault entrance, the stench of gunpowder and burnt silk thick in the air.
Above them, guards hung like grotesque puppets, cocooned in shimmering webs.
"She's inside," Annie spoke telepathically to Bruce.
Bruce replied, "Given by the amount of fighting she went through, she could be injured. So we best not try to hurt her too much."
They slipped inside, sticking to the shadows. The vault was a mess—shattered glass, overturned carts, and stacks of cash strewn about.
At the center of it all stood Red Widow, her fiery red hair tied back in a severe ponytail as she stuffed stacks of bills and glowing Silex cores into duffel bags.
As Bruce suspected, her uniform was tattered and her skin was covered in bruises.
"Now," Annie commanded.
Using her telekinesis, she easily lifts Widow off her feet and slamming her into the reinforced wall hard enough to crack the steel before her body dropped onto a wooden crate
Bruce teleports to where the bags were, snatching two duffle bags onto his shoulders, before teleporting back to Vanessa.
Annie turned her full attention to Widow who was starting stand up, "You have a lot of nerves doing that!"
Charging a swirling orb of psychic energy between her palms, "Greed is a sin you shouldn't have dance with. Maybe then you would think to work with your allies instead of hurting them!" Annie remarked with a focus look on her face.
Widow snarled, thrusting her hands out—
*SHINK! SHINK! SHINK!*
Steel-strong webs shot toward Annie like bullets.
She twisted mid-air, barely avoiding getting skewered, before retaliating with her charged blast...only for Bruce to suddenly reappear behind Widow, locking her in a full Nelson.
"You are done here." he whispered to her.
Widow turned to face him, "ARE YOU INSANE!"
Bruce simply smiled, "Nope," then pushes forward towards the blast, "I'm just doing my job." Bruce teleported away at the last second, leaving Widow to take the full force.
The impact knocked her out cold, her body slumping to the floor.
Annie exhaled, dusting off her hands, "That was… easier than I expected."
Bruce decided to clean his lenses with his Cape as they approach Widow, "She fought Haze, Diamondback, and an army of guards before this. What do you expect?"
"Something worth our time, just saying." Annie replied clearly annoyed.
Bruce moved in to cuff her only for Widow's body to burst apart into a swarm of tiny spiders, scattering across the floor before leaving the scene.
Bruce sighed, "A clone. Of course."
Annie groaned, "Which means the real Widow is—"
"—already gone." Bruce finished.