Natasha Romanoff.

The dreaded Black Widow.

A name rightly deserved.

Natasha feared no man. No mission. No challenge.

One could argue she feared nothing, but they would be wrong.

The Black Widow was an arachnophobe. Of all the things to fear, she fears her namesake.

Her countless assassinations, life as a mercenary, more training than most in any branch of the military, none could prepare her to take the life of a spider.

Really. Think about it.

They have eight legs. Four too many. Two too many if you are an animal person.

But still.

They can still walk and live if a few get taken off doing battle with a Kleenex, or thick magazine or maybe a broom handle, whatever floats your boat.

That is not natural.

Their ability to be everywhere at once is scary enough. Did you know you are always three feet away a spider? Creepy.

Rats in German sewers compared to one spider in her shower?

Rats.

Maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration, but that is beside the point.

Luckily, she has allies in her war against arachnids. People who won't judge her too hard.

Maybe.