Okay, yes this is the rewritten version of this story. I needed to get to know my character a little more before I wrote this story, give her a more rounded personality, and once I started, I realized that I needed to rewrite it in order for it to make sense. It's still basically the same, only these changes:

1: I changed her name. She still looks the same, but her hair is a different color when she's not the Black Widow.

2: Her personality is exactly the same, only I've added a bit to why she's so cynical. And she's even more cynical than she was before.

3: She's a lot older than she is in the original version, which you will see throughout the story. Also her past is a little different (as in more defined).

4: Two stories are being told at once. One will be told in small sections in the beginning of the chapters, and then the main story is told.

That's it for the changes. Hope you enjoy the remasterd version of the Black Widow.

Rated M for violence, strong language, nudity, and strong sexual content.

Chapter 1

~London, England: Year 1547

It was one of the largest parties of the county. Not because of King Edward VI getting the throne, oh no. This particular part of London didn't think it was smart to give the throne to a child of all people. No, this was a birthday party, for the most desired and richest duchess in the city. The party was lively, as there was champagne, a feast, and a large cake, not to mention the whole town in attendance. All the men and women were talking about her, waiting for her arrival.

No, they weren't gossiping. Is it that hard to believe that someone could be truly loved as this woman was? She was sweet, open hearted, patient, surprisingly educated, and incredibly beautiful. She was kind enough to have her twenty-third birthday party held in her large mansion, inviting all of the town. The amazing thing about this woman was that she was still single. Why would a woman still be single and a virgin at twenty-three, you ask? She wasn't just an idealist, but she was a hopeless romantic as well. She dreamed of meeting her prince charming, and refused to marry anyone else until she fell in love. She didn't care if she was old, gray, and undesired by the time she found him, she would get her happily ever after.

One person looked up, and pointed at the large red carpeted staircase. Soon everyone stopped what they were doing and all looked up to see who it was. They were not disappointed, as it was the subject of all the talk, and the host of today's party. She had a body desired by all men, a bust so large no gown could ever fully cover them, wide waist which made others believe her legs were stunning, really long and full white hair (yes, white) that had natural bounce even when worn out like tonight and still went down to her waist, big blue eyes, sharp nose, and full lips usually smiling widely. She was currently wearing a silver gown, white high heels, and bright red lipstick. As she stood up the stairs she looked at all of the town's people, of course smiling.

Her name was Cecilia Baker, at the time the most loved, and desired, woman in all of London...

~Dusk City, New York: Year 2011

-beep beep beep beep beep beep-

One slam on my alarm clock, usually enough to shut it up. I don't know how it's possible for me to feel groggy when I wake up when I DON'T. NEED. SLEEP! I wonder if this is at all related to my night job.

After lying down for a little bit longer I finally built up enough courage to open the blinds, which I almost got blinded by the bright morning sun.

"Yep, as bright as I thought you would be..." I groaned before pushing myself up from my bed. Good thing my place is small, so the bathroom is close to my room. I looked at myself in the mirror, wondering if anyone would fantasize about me like this. During the better part of the day, I was actually really pretty. Long white hair, size 37 double-D breasts, size nine waist complete with what I found out was a black girl's butt (as some men called it...), and blue eyes usually full of life. Not this time though. I was still tired from last night, and my hair was a frizzy mess. A quick grooming session consisting of brushing my teeth, showering, and combing my hair fixed that problem. Much better, I thought.

I didn't plan on going anywhere, and no one visited me since I had no friends, so I figured, why waste time getting dressed? I slept in the nude anyway, but since the heat was off at the moment I at least put on my black bathrobe before I went into the kitchen. Besides, never knew when the land lady would decide to give me a surprise visit, and I didn't need her yelling at me for my lack of modesty again.

In the kitchen was when my troubles started. First I went into the fridge so I could make my favorite breakfast, consisting of eggs, bacon, toast, and a glass of milk. That dream was shot though when I saw a mostly empty fridge and stale milk.

"Okay... maybe I'll try cereal..." I said going to the cabinet now. Upon opening it, all I saw inside was a box of corn flakes bought in spring, LAST spring...

"That... is depressing..." I said, feeling a little bummed now. I didn't need food anymore than I needed sleep. But I could still sleep if I wanted to, and I still could taste food, so why shouldn't I indulge in a regular human schedule?

You see, I'm not human. Not anymore at least. Thanks to events in my past, I've become a vampire. A significantly old one at that. I still ate and slept so I wouldn't forget what it was like to be human, something my little sister came up with before she died.

Blossom... I wonder if you're still waiting for me up there...

So now I had to leave the house. I quickly walked back into my room, put on a white corset top, yellow jacket, long jean skirt, and white four inch stiletto boots, grabbed my purse, and walked out the door, first to the nearest ATM, and then to get some groceries.

When I stepped outside I looked around at the city I called home. Dusk City was a city right next to Brooklyn New York, in a way it was actually a part of it. As it was right now, it looked almost like a nice neighborhood. Kids were running around, music was playing, people were dancing, it was a really nice urban area. Unfortunately it wasn't this bright at night. That was when this place really came to "life" if you would. Around nine o'clock, the clubs were all open, and the city was then put in the custody of mafia, criminals, and people who owned slave trafficking.

Yeah, you read that right. All of this stuff is right underneath the city, but no one who's up at this time knows what's going on. No one except me. I'm up around that time, doing what I can to keep the peace in my own way, with my own version of justice.

...Buuuut I'll leave that part out for later.

I walked over to the ATM machine next to my house. I planned on taking out forty dollars: five for breakfast, and the rest for groceries. That's when my problems earlier got even worse...

Current balance: $20.14

What. The. Hell. Now what was I going to do? Wait, before then, how did I run out of money that fast? I shopped at Sears, for Christ sake! Let's see, the make-up, the fancy clothing, the DVDs, the plasma screen TV...

Oh... THAT'S where that money went. Huh...

Well, I still needed (wanted) breakfast, so I took out the five for that and went to get something to eat. Normally I would take the train, but I had to think about a lot of things. What was I going to do about my current situation? I just got fired from my last job, and there wasn't any chance of me holding onto a job long enough to get enough money to get out of this. I had a lot of different jobs, but none of them worked out well for me.

Once I worked in a super market. I stayed there for about three weeks, until I got in an argument with a customer. This woman tried to accuse me of over charging her for the twenty items she bought. It's not my fault that store over charged on everything. She needed to learn how to do math! So she and I had it out, and my boss called me into his office and said he couldn't take my bad temper anymore, so he let me go. I didn't like working for him anyway, he kept staring at my ass and tits whenever I walked by.

The next job I had was a bar quite like hooters, only the girls were expected to wear skimpy maid like outfits. That wasn't what killed it for me though, I actually liked the outfits. No, what got me was when the boss showed me that Friday that it was just like hooters, if not worse. Before we left, the women were expected to play some sort of sexual game with the male workers. I left early, so I didn't get to play (not that I wanted to...). The next time I went to work some customer decided it was okay for him to grab my butt as I walked by. I kicked him dead in the crotch, and got a tongue lashing from my boss that resulted in me not getting fired, but me quitting.

See, it's places like that that made her...

I walked into the diner and ordered the breakfast I wanted to make earlier. As I sat down I saw a newspaper. I was reading the headlines when my breakfast came.

"Here's your order, miss," the waitress said as she handed me my breakfast.

"Thank you," I said, returning to the paper, which I read while I ate.

Another woman dissappears, latest one of 10

Tuesday, June 15, 2011 marks the latest in a string of disappearing women. Catherine Johnson, also known by her handle Eve, was a dancer at the Midnight Heaven. People who know her said she was returning home from work right before she dissappeared. Some people reported seeing her enter a black car the night of her disappearance. Authorities have searched the area, but as of right now have come up with nothing. Most women are afraid to leave work or go outside at night, but some are strong believers that the famous Black Widow, the local vampire who seems to have chosen to protect the people of Dusk City instead of feeding on them, will protect them as she does all women.

"I don't care if she's a vampire," said a dancer from the famous Masquerade, "She's obviously a hero. I feel perfectly safe knowing that she's here."

Alternately, local business man Archie Fredrickson, aka Mr. Big by his employees, has a different opinion of the disappearing women and the illustrious "heroine".

"Those women were all whores anyway," said Mr. Big in an interview, "Honestly, the streets are better off without those women running the streets. As for this "Black Widow", we can't forget that she's still a demon. What does she do with the criminals she catches? She feeds on them, that's what! The person we consider a hero is nothing more than a monster out for its next meal. Not to mention she doesn't protect men. So far all of her victims were males. You know, I don't feel save out there myself. Let me tell you, if that vampire gets anywhere near my girls, I have a bottle of holy water waiting right in my pocket for her."

Demon, huh? Couldn't say I didn't deserve that, but I also couldn't say I liked it very much being called a monster. Why didn't I protect the men? Well, for one thing, I hate men, so that answered that question. Also, it's not my fault all the people who did the preying on in this city happened to be males. And I protected men before. Okay, most of them were more like boys but some of them were older, just mild mannered.

Think Clark Kent, he's a man I'd protect, assuming... he's not the... real man of steel that is.

But those disappearing women sounded interesting. I had been investigating them in my spare time, but so far I hadn't had any luck. Most of the disappearances happened outside of Dust City, which made it difficult to search.

"That seat taken?" a male voice asked. I looked up at the source of the voice, who was a young man at least in his mid twenties, shoulder length brown hair, wearing a black short sleeved shirt, blue jeans, and black sneakers. I looked around at the seats, which were all full. Normally I'd have said no, but... okay that's a lie. I may be snarky, sarcastic, and short tempered, but I am a nice person, at least I try to be.

I sighed, "Go ahead," I said pointing to the seat in front of me. He probably chose me because I was sexy. Coming up next was his name, asking for my name, and then my number. All men are the same.

He groaned. I looked at him and to my surprise, he wasn't staring at my tits. In fact, he was resting his head on the table. I put the paper down and stared at him for a second before I lightly kicked his leg to get his attention.

"Just got dumped?" I asked him, making him chuckle.

"Is it that obvious?" he asked me with an exasperated smile, I just nodded, making him sigh and put his head down.

"She wasn't worth it, there are other fish in the sea, you deserve better, yada yada yada," I said to him. He laughed and then looked back up at me.

"I wish I could say all of that, but she was my best dancer," he said with another groan. Now I understood. This guy owned a strip club, and his top dancer ditched him for a better gig.

Wait... this guy owned a strip club? Strip clubs are usually owned by big fat guys in purple suits, matching funny shaped hats, sunglasses even though it's usually dark, and they usually speak in weird accents or in a way that says "I'm the fucking shit and everyone else is below me even though I'm big and disgusting". This man though, he looked more like security in a strip club, but the owner? No way.

"You own a strip club?" I asked him.

"Yeah, opened it two years ago. It's called the Masquerade, I'm sure you've heard of it."

"Oh yeah, I heard of it," I was watching it when it opened. That place hadn't been open for really long, yet I heard it was a hit the second it opened up. It allowed dancers of all kinds, and it wasn't really all that raunchy. The girls were even respected inside, not ever getting violated by the customers, and sometimes they didn't even go full nude. Some of them didn't eve take anything off, just wore really sexy and skimpy clothes while they danced. I heard good things about it.

"I need a hot new dancer before the summer celebration in July, or I'll lose valuable customers," he sat up and let his head rest on the back of his seat.

"Gee, and here I thought I had problems," I said, catching his attention again.

"Someone as cute as you has issues," he said with a smile. Cute, huh? I've been called beautiful, hot, sexy, hell, I've even been called fine, but never cute. That made me feel weird, but in a good way.

"Honey, you don't know the half of it," I said with a laugh, "I'm out of food, I've got no money, I might lose my apartment soon, and I have no job to fix any of it. All in all, I'm screwed."

"Sheesh, and here I thought I had problems," he said.

"Well, losing your business is kind of bad, especially the Masquerade. That's the only classy strip joint here. Who knows where those girls will end up without it."

"I'm glad someone appreciates what I do," he said with a laugh, "I opened that place so the girls who can't find work anywhere else can have a safe place where they can be themselves and blow off some steam without being treated like whores, being touched in areas they don't want to be and such."

"You have rules against that?"

"Well, yeah. I want my girls to feel comfortable, so no touching unless they pay for it first, and even then they have to ask the girls first whether or not they're even willing to go that far."

"And people actually go for this? I thought people went to strip bars so they could get action whenever they pleased without asking."

"You would think with this town's rep," he said laughing, "But you'd be surprised how much men enjoy seeing a woman who isn't a doormat. In the Masquerade, everyone, both men and women, are equal. We're all just trying to have a good time is all."

"Wow," I said nodding, "This place sounds better than I thought. Men who aren't pigs, women actually in power and in control, if a place like this were available years ago, I'd have signed on myself."

"What stopped you?" he asked honestly, "I mean, I don't want to sound too forward, but you have the body for it. Too modest?"

"Ha! Not even," I said laughing, "I walk around my apartment stark naked when I'm by myself, and answer the door in my bathrobe. Trust me, you could look at my tits all day and I wouldn't give a shit. No, I just didn't want to risk ruining a good thing with my bad temper. It cost me all my other jobs, why shouldn't it cost me that one too?"

"Nonsense," he said waving off what I said, "It's great that you have an edge. Being strong willed is what we like to see at the Masquerade at least. And like I said, you have the right look for it. All you need is dancing skills, and I'd hire you in a heart beat. Especially now," he said looking away and resting his head on his hand looking distressed again.

"Cause I sure need the work," I said now looking down, also distressed again. We both sighed in unison, thinking about our problems.

Then it hit me. I knew EXACTLY how to fix our problems. Apparently he came to the same conclusion, as we looked back at each other at the same time, both with a look as if we found the person of our dreams.

"I just thought of something," he said.

"Me too," I replied.

"You need a job, right?" he asked me.

"You need a new dancer apparently," I stated.

"You said you don't mind showing off your body."

"And your place actually respects women."

For the next few seconds we just stared at each other, since the answer to our problems was sitting right in front of us. He hired me to work for him, I got a job to pay off my rent among other things, he got to keep the place open, and I might not have gotten fired after three weeks because of something stupid. This was perfect!

"Can I have your card?" I asked quickly.

"Absolutely," he said instantly going into his pocket and pulling out his card. Damn, even his business card was classy! "When are you free?"

"Anytime before eight o'clock," I said, apparently hitting a nerve because he looked shocked.

"You can take over her daytime shift!" he whispered loudly. This guy looked hilarious right now. He then held out his hand, "My name is Michael Steel, but my friends call me Mike."

"Mike, huh?" I said looking him up and down. He only broke eye contact a few times while we were talking, and that was when he was looking at my body to see if I was the right fit. He didn't seem sleazy at all. In fact, had he not owned a strip club (or stared at my tits at least once), I'd consider him either a nerd or queer. He had done the one thing no man had ever managed to do before just by talking to me. He earned my respect. So I took his hand and shook it with a smile saying...

"My name is Cecilia Baker, but you can call me Cecil."