Newt's POV

Sometimes he had a hard time believing how much his life had changed. Once upon a time he had been a happy little boy that looked up to his older brother. Things were much simpler back then.

Asa child he had grown up in a small pureblood family. His mother raised hippogryffs while his father focused in politics. It was there that he learned he had an affinity with animals.

His older brother by seven years did not have this affinity. It was so strange. It had been so long that he could not recall his brother's face. Just part of his name. Thee. That's what he called the older Scammander. It hurt to think about what he had lost. So he tried to avoid it.

Just like with anything there were nights like this, where memories refused to stay buried. On a night when he was just seven years old a man had come to their manor. It was not known how he got passed the wards only that he had.

Unlike most assassins that his family had dealt with at one point or another this one did not use a wand. There was no defending against what he had used. A gun as he would learn it was called. It could fire faster than any wizard and was just as lethal.

Newt had gone down to get a drink of water as the house elf was busy at night. They had to sleep as well had been his thoughts. It was that mistake that changed his life forever.

He found his mother and father dying from gunshot wounds to the forehead. Blood pooled around them soaking his socked feet as he tried to wake them up. The picture still haunted him in his nightmares.

That night he was given a choice. Die by the killer's hand. Or go with him and live. Not wanting to die he went with the man.

For, four years after that he was forced to train with the man. Every day was a battle to survive. He was trained in martial arts and how to fire all different types of guns. In the beginning the assassin tried the gun to his hands so that he would gain the muscles required to fire it.

Then one day a teenage girl a few years older than him killed the assassin. He felt both relief and fear. The assassin was his mentor and had kept him alive for years.

On that night Chronos had taken him in. Before he had never shot at anything but targets. They gave him living breathing people. His once vibrant green eyes dulled.

It had been eight years since he joined Chronos. Two years ago he had become a Number. Easers were just assassins. Numbers were the best of the best. They gave him the the number XIII and the nickname Black Cat. He brought bad luck to anyone unfortunate enough to cross his path.

The only thing that was the same was his love for creatures. When he became a Number they gave him his own apartment. There were a few stray cats that he fed.

Newt sighed as he lay out on the rooftop of his apartment. A tiny grey kitten lay on the top of his chest. Footsteps drew his attention to the fact that someone was coming up onto the roof.

Newt sat slightly up so that he could see the person. A man with black hair and grey eyes. He wore a black trench coat. Under that was a white undershirt and black slacks.

It took a moment but eventually he recognized the other. The man had just moved across the street to the other apartments.

To Newt's trained eye he could see where the other had a wand holster. It was tightly wrapped against the man's right wrist. He was definitely a wizard. He had to admit that he was curious. Most wizards stuck to their manors or apartments in the communities. Newt knew of magic but due to his upbringing didnt know how to use it.

In a handful of times he had lost control over himself. He didn't remember what happened at those points. When he came to the areas had been destroyed. The bodies looking like they had been mauled by wild animals.

His only saving grace was that Chronos didn't care. If they did they would have killed him. This all did make him wonder. What did this wizard want?

The dark grey eyes blinked at him in surprise for a moment. Then the man said in a low rumble, "Pardon me, I wasn't expecting anyone else up here. My name is Percival Graves."

The man closed the space between them. His accent was distinctly American. He knew Chronos was still having problems with some of the figures. That was partially why he was stationed in New York. It would allow him quick access to assassinations when they became necessary.

Newt immediately sat up startling the kitten on his chest. The little one made a disgruntled hiss but obediently moved onto the rooftop. Part of him wondered who could draw their weapon faster? The wizard? Or the assassin?

His weapon was Hades is an ornate handgun issued to Newt as the 13th member of the Chronos umbers. It is entirely made of Orichalcum, the strongest metal on earth.

His gun is a six-shot double-action revolver with gold engraving on its grip and barrel. The frame has a triangular attachment that bears the Roman numeral XIII on both sides. It possess a rapid-fire trigger for quick shooting.

Hades is a top-break revolver, meaning it is reloaded by "breaking" the pistol in half, exposing the rear of the cylinder. This automatically ejects all cartridges inserted and allows the user to drop in fresh ones. A unique feature of the gun is a five-meter-long retractable wire leash inserted in the grip.

Every Number had a weapon unique to them. Hades was his and his alone. Sephiria had it made for him when his skills proved to be useful.

Graves said with an appreciative look at the weapon by his side, "That's a sharp revolver. I don't have much experience with such weapons."

Newt's eyes went to where he knew the wand was hidden. Maybe if he ignored the man he would go away. Obviously he wasn't looking for a fight.

"You don't talk much do you? That's fine," or not. Why did this wizard want to talk to him?

The wizard sat down on the ground before Newt. Newt didn't move but neither did he speak. This was the first time he had interaction with someone outside of Chronos work. All other interactions ended with someone's death.

The man called Graves said, "Its strange to find someone so quiet around here. My neighbors are nosy and bothersome. That's what I get for being the new person."

Newt could remember his first few weeks. His neighbors would leave him gifts outside his door. He never ate them for fear of being poisoned. It was better safe than sorry after all. He did not envy the attention that the other was receiving.

His green eyes found movement from his little kitten. Newt named the little one Nero when he first met the grey kitten. Han had been starving at the time. If Newt had not taken him in he would have starved to death.

In the time he had known Nero never once had he approached anyone other than Newt. Most of the time he hissed and clawed at anyone who dared pet him.

However Nero did make his way to the wizard. When Graves reached out he didn't scratch the man. It was intriguing to watch.

Was his cat replacing him? If he was Newt wouldn't blame him. Who wanted someone who simply killed? Not many.

Graves inquired curiously, "What's his name?"

Newt almost answered but caught movement in the streets below them. A familiar black suited man was in his street. Waiting for Graves to leave. It seemed he had a mission.

Graves looked at him as he gained his feet. The man inquired, "You're leaving? Good night then."

Newt didn't reply. He made his way swiftly across the roof to the door that led to the stairwell.

At the door he hesitated then rasped his voice hoarse from lack of use, "Nero. His name is Nero."

Then like the shadow he was, Newt was gone.

Graves's POV

When Percival came up to the rooftop across the street he wasn't expecting it to be occupied. He was simply looking to escape his overbearing neighbors.

When Seraphina insisted that he get an apartment in town. Something had spooked her and he was curious. So he agreed to the new placement.

He put wards to keep thieves from getting in. Part of him wanted to put wards up against no mags. It would be suspicious and if there was something happening he wanted to be inconspicuous.

Percival had gone across the street to look out over the city. At first he had not seen the boy laying on the roof. When he did their eyes locked.

The boy couldn't have been out of his teens. He had green eyes that felt eerily familiar. The raspy voice had caught him off guard. Five simple words had him intrigued.

What he saw peaked his interest but he didn't understand why. The Roman numeral was XIII. What did it mean?