Dr. Nightshade

S.H.I.E.L.D. records didn't have her contact info. Yet Sue Storm made a few calls. One of them gave her an address.

That was how, in the wee hours of the morning, the Invisible Woman, dressed in a long black trenchoat over her costume and wearing a black wig, found herself in the Bar With No Name.

The bouncer took one look at her and would have said something, but an invisible sphere suddenly filled his mouth, pinned his tongue down.

"Just here for a drink," Sue said.

The door opened. She stepped inside and surveyed a room full of faces that she recognized from Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. files. Low-level supervillains, for the most part. Not the earth-shaking types, the schemers and plotters. These were the independent criminals, old school. Sue walked past them to the bar.

"What'll you have?" The woman behind the bar was tall, Black, dressed in a black sleeveless shirt and blue jeans. She could have walked into any bar in any city of the world and slid behind the counter to sling beer and mix cocktails.

Sue laid a hand on the counter, the outer face of a few hundred dollar bills showing.

"Whiskey, neat. And an introduction."

"I'm Alisha," the bartender laid her hand atop the heroine's. "What kind of whiskey, and who do you want to get in touch with?"

"Johnny Walker black," Sue said. "Doctor Nightshade."

Alisha didn't even blink. Sue slid her hand away, and left the money. The bartender poured the drink and set it before her.

Sue Storm rarely drank. She raised the glass to her nostrils and breathed in the fumes. Nail polish, petroleum, furniture varnish—nothing appetizing. A tiny sip. To savor the burn in her mouth. Let the other flavors develop, on the back of her tongue. It had been so long since she'd tasted any hard liquor.

There was only a drop left in the bottom of the glass, and Sue was about to order another when a slim Black body in leather hotpants slid into the seat next to her. The Invisible Woman glanced at the tight, trim body of a young woman who was older than she looked, but incredibly fit and spare, her small breasts confined in a tight top, her afro raised up into two spheres on either side of her head.

"Doctor," Sue said. "I'm drinking whiskey. You?"

"Same."

The Invisible Woman held up two fingers. Alisha brought two glasses.

"So. You tell me what your problem is. And if I can help you, I'll name the price."

So Sue Storm explained. She left out no detail. Not who she was or what had happened to her. Sipped her whiskey slowly as she told the tale of her humiliation, her degradation, her exposure to an unknown biological agent.

Dr. Nightshade gulped her whiskey down as Sue wound up.

"I'm...intrigued," the Black woman said. "But why me?"

"You're a woman," Sue said. "I was hoping you would understand."

One gloved hand tapped on the bartop.

"It'll cost you."

"I have money."

Dr. Nightshade snorted. "More than money. But we'll talk about it in my lab."

So Sue Storm finished her drink and followed Dr. Nightshade out of the bar. The brilliant criminal biochemist sometimes called the Queen of Werewolves.