* * *
In a darkened room with a single light source sat a woman with jet black hair. The Widow Black was her spy name, and she was watching a computer monitor which showed the fight at the warehouse over the Super Chip.
She was dressed all in black, with a single zipper that ran up the front of her skin-tight suit. The Widow Black moved her hand in the air, and the monitors changed to show a different perspective of the fight. She was wearing a glove on her right hand with blinking lights all over it. With gestures from her hand, she was able to control the computers in the room.
She was in her late forties, but it was almost impossible to tell her exact age because of her extreme beauty and wild, flowing hair. Her face resembled a classical statue; it was both beautiful and cold. Her lips made a determined, thin line as she watched footage of Johnny and Nancy fighting the guards.
“Poorly executed. Sloppy,” she commented.
It was hard to tell whether she was talking about the guards, or the way that Johnny and Nancy were able to beat them.
The Widow Black watched as Johnny and Nancy talked.
“Never speak to the enemy, and never during a hot zone,” she said to herself.
She waved her hand in the air, and the image froze on Johnny. The Widow Black stared at the image, studying it.
“You are in over your head, and there will come a time when you will regret these actions.”
She lingered on the image a bit, before finally tilting her finger and allowing it to continue playing.
The Widow Black brought her other hand up to her ear and pressed a button on a device. A voice came through on the other end; it was Scar’s.
“Yes?”
“You have the Chip,” the Widow Black told as much as asked.
“We have it.”
“Good. I will meet with you. I will give you the coordinates.” There was a measure of malice in the Widow Black’s voice. “Don’t let anything happen to that Chip.”