Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or Marvel.

One ending. Another beginning.

In a dark rundown staircase in an old apartment building. Two figures could be seen slowly converging on their target. Taking step, after carefully placed step, they were closing in on the intended apartment floor.

Reaching the door, one of the figures pulled out a small canister of oil, and proceeded to lube the hinges. The other took up a position on the other side of the door, and waited with a hand suspended over the door handle waiting for the ready signal. Getting the affirmative nod, the handle was softly pushed down, and a small stream of light was let through the door crack illuminating a head of red, and just barely showing the soft curves of a female chin. A small mirror was held through the gap to gain sight beyond the door.

A keen green eye was looking in the mirror scanning the corridor, and seeing one man standing down the corridor, pulled back the mirror, she put it back in her kit. Standing up she leaned towards the man to whisper. Absentmindedly noting, and categorizing the slight smell of gun oil clinging to him as she does so. "There are one man down the hall, presumably outside our mark's room. I will venture a guess, and say that there's probably one more at the other side of him, as people like this seldom have just one bodyguard." Leaning back to observe her companion's stony face at the news, she received a small nod as to acknowledge that he had heard her. "Not really much of a talker is he." She thought to herself as she did not know him. They had only just teamed up.

They had accidentally met outside this building when they had chosen the same place to scope out the situation. It quickly got apparent they where tracking the same man, and they had agreed to strike up a tentative partnership. For now.

Natasha had been in this game for far too long to just trust this wannabe mercenary of course, but it would be nice to have someone she could use as decoy if the shit hit the fan. She guessed him to be around her physical age, but he had given her a codename whom she had never heard of, nor heard talk about. "Shroud! Who the hell call themselves, The Shroud? It sounds more like a name for a bad guy. Yeah, he needs to be a baddy. I can see the headlines. The Shroud strikes again... Hide your daughters, or the Shroud will vanish their innocence." Nodding her head softly to her inner monolog, the Shroud decide to butt in with a whisper in his gravely voice which immediately pulled her attention. "Well, you're fast, and agile right? I take out the closest, and you keep to the left, and get close to the next guy." She thought about it, coming to the conclusion that he probably had observed, and committed to memory her fast movement when taking down the other two guards who were posted at the rear entrance. Giving him a mental point in that regard, she listened as he continued in his frosty tone. "Just keep out of my way, and this will solve itself splendidly." Nodding her head, she saw him pull out a silenced gun, and cocking it.

Just as she was preparing herself for the maneuver, he tapped her shoulder, and breathed in her ear, sending chills down her spine. "I will open the door, and as I do. You start your run. I will be right on your ass, and take down the first guy." No more words needed, she felt the familiar rush of excitement, and the coiling of her stomach in anticipation of violence.

His hand descended on the door handle, and the world slowed down as his movement felt excruciatingly slow. Having compressed the handle all the way down she saw the tightening in the muscle of his hand, and with a mighty pull, the door was open. Surprisingly, the door swung open with just a swoosh of air that buffeted her hair, and no other sound.

She was out, and turning the corner like a rocket, and noticing that the guards had yet to realize what was about to happen.

Keeping close to the left wall, she soon enough heard the tell tale sounds of suppressed bullets being fired, three in total she counted.

At her new vantage point she could now see that her guess was a good one, as there was two guards in front of the door. Seeing the shots hit the closest guard with inhumane detail, she saw two holes opening in the side of his head, and the last one rupturing his neck. Pulling out her knife just as the blood from the shots sprayed all over the other man, she leaped, and hilted the knife in his neck just as his mouth was opening to give a cry of surprise. It was to late, all the sound escaping the slowly dieing man now would be a gurgle.

As his hands shot to his neck in a futile attempt to stem the bleeding, she yanked her knife from his neck, grabbed him, and put him down on the ground as silently as she could.

Whirling around, she had not registered the other man's dump bang from falling, but she was certain he would have crumbled to the ground after being shot like that, and by doing so made quite the ruckus.

Ready for the occupants of the room to come check the sounds, she once more reviewed the short fight, and if she might have missed the sound of the man falling, but chalked it up to her being distracted.

When nothing happened, and her slight tunnel vision receded. She saw Shroud walk relaxed up to the door, and put his hand on it. Closing his eyes, he seemed to portray a serenity she rarely had seen anyone able to procure even in a green zone. Yet alone right after a quickfire battle had been resolved.

Opening his eyes, he fixed her with his unnatural green eyes, and motioned with his hands that there was one person inside.

She gave him a confused look as to how he would know that, but he shook his hand at the confusion, and motion for her to focus on the objective, as he turned to the door.

She saw his whole body tensing up. His six foot frame preparing to deliver a massive expulsion of force in a form of a kick. Her fighter mode kicked in, and there was obvious that all pretenses of sneaking were about to be shed in favor of making a shocking, and intimidating breach of the room.

The kick came, his body following the motion through. Splinters from the door, and the sound of the door giving in painted a perfect picture of pure chaos, and she felt her legs go a little weak from the display of power. Straightening herself, she saw his body going through the opening, like the door had never been there.

When she got inside she saw the mark sitting in a plush chair, having enjoyed a glass of some kind of beverage to his work before they came to crash his party. Now the man was frozen in terror, his eyes glued to his assailant, and she understood why. Shroud seemed to fill the whole room with an oppressive aura of death. The feeling of the room so potent she could feel the warmth of her body leave her. It made it feel like she was being judged by the god of death himself.

Before she could react shroud had raised his gun, and said with a voice devoid of life. "Today you die Malfoy. May your soul never find rest." With that he had pulled the trigger. Two shots was put in the heart of the mark, and one directly in between his eyes.

Turning around, Shroud walked away from the still warm body.

Giving Natasha one last look he left her with a statement.

"It was a pleasure working with you Black Widow, your help was instrumental in gaining my revenge." With that he turned the corner, and the second it took before Natasha understood that her mission was a bust, as she was tasked with bringing the target in, not kill him. She ran to the door, and looked after him, but he was already gone, like he had just vanished in thin air.

"Like a shroud. Maybe the name was not so stupid after all." Busying herself with getting the hell out of the area, as that last breach surely would have alerted someone to the actions of the pair.

She picked up the papers that were spread out on the table, and made a quick search of the room before she decided that the papers would have to be enough. Then she escaped without notice at last, and the crime would be chalked up to being another murder done by a serial killer. Unsolved of course.

b

B

Natasha was not amused. She was sitting here face to face with a Shield grunt, giving description, after description of her last mission, and how she had brought an unknown into it. "Its like they are trying to teach me it was a stupid move, by having me say it a thousand times."

Giving a mighty sigh when the grunt ask her to again take it from the beginning. She was really starting to hate the fact that she had felt unsafe in the mercenary profession as she now needed to explain what she did, and why to a superior officer.

She had searched for a way out of the mercenary life without having to fake her own death, as she had over the years gained quite the impressive list of enemies.

Hawkeye, an old, trusted associate of her had recently "switched" sides, and had gained employment with a secret agency. He had as an earlier bad guy had no qualms with telling her about the job, or the perks it came with, and boldly stated that he most probably would be able to get her in too. That is, if she was looking.

She had jumped the good guy train, and was now sucking on the warm tit offered to her from the secret agency. Finally having gained that oh so precious feeling of safety that she had been without for so many years.

She knew that she was quickly becoming dependent on Shield's good will, and protection. She also knew that if she ever where to become useless to them, that she would soon loose that protection, and warmth.

So her she was, being the good subordinate. Reporting in on what had been a capture mission gone wrong, until it shifted focus to this new threat that was Shroud. Because everything that Shield does not know of already is perceived as a threat, and that meant they needed any information they could get their dirt little hands on. Either by legal action, or illegal subterfuge. The means did not really matter as long as the threat was uncovered.

It seemed that the fact that her mark was killed instead of brought in alive was of no greater concern than how it happened. They actually asked her if she had any ideas as to a believable cover story, and how the murder could be twisted to bother someone else. She had answered in a joking manner that it could be a mafia hit performed by a professional assassin. Her handler had gained a thoughtful look at that statement, but they did not discuss it any further.

They had finished their interview after another detailed description of Shroud, and they had left to complete other tasks.

B

b

Harry swirled a small tumbler filled with whiskey. He was scanning the darkly lit establishment for something of interest. It seemed to be a slow night though, and the fact that it was Wednesday did not help the matter any either. But thank god for small mercies, as the bar line was short, and would presumably keep that way the rest of the evening.

Having decided to retire to a bar for the night. He had found one not far from the apartment building his last mission had lead him. The mission, originally received from the Order of the Phoenix, had now become a private obsession. The mission had first been about observing, then capturing the target. But as time had dragged on, more, and more information had been unveiled, and with that his orders had morphed from strictly capture, to dead or alive, and lastly just dead.

Well the standing mission from the order, had stopped at dead or alive, but after he found out that this man was responsible for the deaths of his closest, and best friends. Harry had no other choice than avenge his friends, and put this abomination down once and for all. He certainly owed them that. Once too many times had his mercy, and the faulty government of the wizarding kind let this man walk free, and he had just seen to it that it ended.

"Well" Harry mused. "The world is a better place without Draco fucking Malfoy anyway." Having had the same thought pop into his mind often throughout the last year.

He once more accepted his reasons for killing by Taking another gulp of his chosen beverage. He felt the sting of alcohol as it went down his throat, he though back to earlier periods of pain, and suffering, and he guess by his young age of only 25 that he was shaping up to gain quite the score in that field. He guessed he would be ranking up against some of the heavy hitters like Dumbeldore with his 115 years which he had reached at the end.

Shaking his head. He refused to let the sorrow, and guilt of Hermione's, and Ron's deaths overshadow his "good" deeds this last year.

It was soon after the death of Hermione, and Ron that he started taking a active role in taking out "known" Death Eaters. After he had defeated Voldemort back when he was 17, all the pureblood bigotry had simmered down, and justice had run its course for the most part.

Most people had been interrogated with veritaserum, and had been judged accordingly, but some of the older, and more powerful families had twisted out of the grasp of the law yet again, but they had been laying low for some time after the last battle, and therefor no one thought them a threat.

So the golden trio had finished their education, and started their life anew, with Hermione, and Ron getting married. Harry himself had gone back to Ginny, but their relationship had never really evolved past the friends with benefits state. Their relationship had also been on the back burner, as their careers took all their time, and before Harry could contemplate the future, Ginny was violently ripped from him by a insane man at the mental wing in St. Mungos.

Who would have known that a patient could suddenly awake from a coma, and in a frenzy made out of blind panic, rip open the throat of the closest person with their bare hands. It had been an messy ordeal, as there was three nurses, and a doctor who had died before some guests at the wing managed to stun, and subdue the man.

Shuddering a little at the thought of how he got the news. He yet again tried to push his thoughts away from it, but was forced to relive the memory.

He had been the unspeakable on duty that day, and got sent to investigate the happening. So you can imagine his surprise when he arrived at the scene, and recognized a very familiar shade of red hair, and brown eyes which he could never forget in a lifetime.

To cut a story short, he had in public put a cutter right through the stunned man's brain. Gotten suspended, then fired from the ministry.

People had been very understanding of the situation though, and because of who he was, he was let go with just a hefty fine, and the forced attendance at a shrink for a couple of weeks. It was to "process the loss of your lost one" they had said.

The fact that he actually was let go after having murdered a defenseless man in broad daylight, in public, with witnesses no less. Just made him angry at the ministry, and loose faith in the system.

Serving his time with the shrink, and after getting himself a job as a librarian in the muggle world, he soon again got satisfied with his life, and he though he had finally gotten his wish of a normal life.

But then came the seemingly "natural" deaths of Hermione, and Ron. The official story stated they had splinched themselves in such a way that their deaths was instant. Ron he would have understood if it were to happened. He had always been a scatter brain, but Hermione? Not a snowballs chance in hell. He figured that there had to be a story behind it. No witch had been born so detail oriented in the last century, and he promised himself he would get to the bottom of it.

So after some detective work it quickly became apparent that they had not died by their splinching, but by a simple death curse. Diving deeper into the investigation, he had found clues as to Death Eaters standing behind the deaths, and he had gone to the last remaining people of the order, and asked for help finding these individuals. They had not been particularly convinced, but had relented in the end.

If he would ask for it, he would get back up.

He moved on with sneaking into houses, and work places of "known" death eaters, and had proceeded to gain information that the group was rebuilding, and was quickly gaining the support of the remaining populace with expertly crafted speeches.

Harry had really been shocked by how many hidden death eaters where holding positions of power in their war ravaged society, and it seemed they had never stopped spreading their message. Just toned it down after the fall of Voldemort.

Confronting the order with this information he gained his first bit of support, and his first order of capture.

Getting his target, he had proceeded to interrogate the man whom after a while had let it slip in anger, and frustration that the murder of his friends had in fact been murder. Hearing this he had gone from having an interrogation to having an torture session. The man had after a while yielded the names of some of the higher ranked people.

So as it goes, Harry had kept up this routine of capturing, and torturing until he got most of the higher ups, and found the bastard on the top.

So when he first got the information that it was Draco Malfoy who sat at the top of their organization he saw red, and before he reported his intentions to the order he had promptly killed the man who gave the information, and the rest of his conspirators soon after.

The order thinking that he would follow their wish of going about it peacefully had tried to force him to swear an unbreakable vow of bringing in Draco without much harm. But Harry would hear nothing of it, and stated his intentions as they where, that Draco would die just as the rest of the death eater scum did.

Be it with, or without their help.

Harry had soon been betrayed by the order of the Phoenix as he had failed to yield to their demands.

They had contracted hitmen to take care of him, thinking him too uncontrollable.

So he showed them uncontrollable by laying waste to the whole organization, taking out key personnel, and shutting it all down before going after Draco.

Emptying his tumbler he looked down into the bottom of the glass, and reflected on his actions this last year. "I know Hermione, and Ron would not have wanted me to go down this path, but now I'm at peace, and I'm ready to move on." Putting down his glass, he payed the bartender. "It had to be done. Someone needs to play the part of the bad man, so others can live in ignorance."

Scoffing to himself at that statement, he thinks of what really remains of the wizarding world. "As to the whole "Saving the people thing" I guess it was too little, too late." In the end, all that remained was a society which could not support itself, and most of those left standing would have to merge with muggle society. "And that is not the worst part either." The last remaining people with an magical core big enough to use magic was quite old, and would probably die not that far into the future. "The younger generation will have no one to teach them. Well.." Harry shrug his shoulders. "It's not like there is anyone to teach anyway." Voldemort in his last act of defiance had tried to take out as many children as he could. He was actually quite successful too. Leaving the wizarding kind without a new generation, and this last uprising against muggles had forced Harry to take out quite a big part of the remaining magic users.

So without a way to locate magical children, and knowledge of magic disappearing with each new death made Harry a part of a dying breed.

b

b

Starting the morning after with a blaring clock, chiming the sound of morning. Harry awoke with a pounding head. Taking some time reflecting on his choice of day to stay up late and drink. He came to the conclusion that it was not a good idea, and as a testament to his statement his head gave another painful throb, before subsiding into a buzz who would become apparent if he moved his head too quick.

Shuffling his way out into the kitchen, he cast a glance at the calendar, and found it to indeed be a Thursday, and by default a work day.

Giving a great, big gasp, he tried to crush the sleep out of his eyes with his hand, before proceeding to make his breakfast. Two dry pieces of bread with some form of meat on top, and a glass of water would have to do.

Going about his regular morning ritual in a timely manner, he soon was out the door, and on his way to work at the local library.

Harry came to think about his chosen type of work. In his earlier years at Hogwarts, he could almost not stand studying, but when the very real threat of Voldemort finally had sunken into his dense skull, and the fact that it would not resolve itself became apparent. He had finally turned to the books in hope of meeting his faith in the right way, head on.

So Harry let his feet lead him the short distance from his apartment to his work place, and while doing so he let his mind wander.

It was incredible what you could do with magic, but at the same time very limited.

Harry had found out that muggle weaponry, was, and would always be more deadly than magic. Even one on one, if you did not react fast enough, a bullet would shred through your body faster than you could blink. But if you where proficient in using two spells at the same time you could keep up a shield charm with enough concentration, and throw curses while at it.

The fact were that a bullet would not drain a shield in the same way a stunner or cutter would, as instead of the kinetic force a bullet would produce, the spells would be of energy, and therefore needed to be "eaten" by the shield. Where a bullet would only "push" against the shield.

Though given a large enough bullet, like a tank shot, it would push your body back with the force given by the slug hitting your shield, and even if you might feel the impact of the bullet, it would not enter your shield, but your body might be pulverized by the sudden acceleration it would be forced to endure. Because even how great the shield charm is, it would still be anchored to your core, and you would be very dead, smeared all over the ground.

Giving himself a small grin at the though of how he found out that little fact.

It had happened in one of his fights with some of the death eaters, and he had realized that using your surroundings was a great way to both keep yourself alive, and not expend yourself in battle as it was much easier to lift a object, and making it fly at breakneck speeds. Than it was to expend energy from your core in the form of a cutter, and the bigger the object you made fly, the more energy your enemy needed to slow it down. Aka, back to the tank shot. Harry had made a chunk of a brick wall levitate, and banished it towards his opponent, and because of the speed which the object was moving at, the man had only managed to raise a shield, right before having his body ruptured by his core starting to shift inside his body.

The grin on Harry's face slowly dwindled into a frown. The sight of the man's spine suddenly exploding had been quite gruesome to witness, and worst of all. Harry could not interrogate the man to gain more information after it was done.

Kicking an empty soda can down the street, he scoffed. That day had been a complete waste, if there was not for the new piece of battle magic he had discovered.

B

b

Having arrived at his workplace on time as always. Harry had gotten himself a cup of Te, and was now reading the morning paper carefully leaning back into a cozy chair.

Lightly reading the headlines, he soon came to the one he looked for. "Wealthy businessman found murdered." Harry mused on the fact that death eaters usually had a second identity as a businessman or woman in the muggle world. "I guess they had to get their money somewhere, and when it comes to gold it seems muggle gold is as good as magical." Continuing to read the article, it seems the whole thing is made up to be some kind of mafia war. Elimination of the opposition they write. On a side note, they also write that many of the murders seem to be linked together, that there is one assassin doing them all.

Harry guessed he could see the link, as many higher ranking death eaters was leaders of big companies, so when he was eliminating them, he guessed he adopted this personal spin on it, making it easy to do the same thing every time. Two shots in the chest, one in the head. It was easy, and effective. Why change it up?

The fact is that he took this library job as a part of his cover, he is really making his money doing jobs as a mercenary, and no its not only the get this kitten down from that tree, or help this kid get his ball back from the roof kind of work either.

Harry had enough of being the poster boy after the war. Why follow the "right" path if there is more money in doing other people's dirty work

Harry had quickly found out that keeping anonymous was a special key to keeping alive in this line of work. So he found the use of oblivations perfect for this. He was absolutely rubbish at anything even remotely hinted at being called mind arts, but he could get it to work. So he kept his meetings with the clients to a minimum, and keeping the meetings inside a time frame of an hour.

Because if the meeting went on for more than an hour, he could do nothing to erase his presence from their mind, and he would be forced to take drastic measures as a precaution to keep his identity a secret. Like lobotomizing them, or outright kill them.

That being said. There was a surprising amount of people wanting their better half dead, and even though Harry was pretty new to this game, he had been on his fair share of hits already.

Taking a computer, Harry started his search for possible jobs on the internet. There where a lot of sites set up for things like this, and while there always was a possibility of you getting caught. You could minimize this by doing your research on the client, and the job. But you had to assume the client did not know what the fuck he was doing, and so by doing smart things you could minimize your own exposure. But if you learn some tricks of the trade you quickly get used to using a multitude of proxxys, and setting up several dummy networks who would keep the peacekeepers away from your location for some minutes, enabling you to grab your stash, and escape.

But if your client was more than an ignorant fool, he would most likely disappear from the sites in a short amount of time, (indicating he got caught) or he would stick around showing he understood the rules of the game, and giving you enough information to get in contact.

Whoever said that being a hitman was easy, obviously did not understand the new era that was starting.

Harry scanned through the entries, recognizing a couple who had been there for some time already, and by the look of it seemed to be big jobs.

Harry glanced down on his notepad, and looked through the information he had gathered on the jobs from earlier, and figured he could manage them, but clients like this was usually on the lookout of more famous assassins, with a better known renown.

Harry really did not understand this, as it must be better to have a man working for you who no one have ever heard talk about, as opposed to one who was widely know around the world.

Harry's opinion was that those types often made too many mistakes to really be trusted with anything, and if luck was not on their side, they would either be dead, or locked up in a maximum security prison somewhere in a deserted area.

Searching for some other jobs that was more to his liking, he found some of the ones he had scouted earlier. They where not as well paying as the big deals, but they usually gave you the chance to meet other people, like Black Widow, and Logan the wolverine.

Thinking back on his meeting with Logan he had to laugh. The man is as stubborn as they come, and that had gotten them both into difficulties. Well Harry had problems, Logan just smacked down anyone coming near him, like he was made of steel.

B

b

Harry had been in a bar which was closing for the evening. When suddenly the door had blown open, showing a figure walking calmly in with a cigar in his mouth. While the bartender said that the bar was closed for the evening, Logan had just ignored him, and ordered a beer. That was the point where the regulars started to converge on him, asking what his problem was, and generally trying to start a fight.

Harry seeing the situation escalating tried to defuse it by giving the strange man one of his beers, and hoping it would all simmer down. Well to keep it short, lady luck had abandon him that night, and one of the regulars had thrown a punch at Harry's face in retaliation to his meddling.

Harry had smoothly sidestepped the punch, and used the man's own momentum to give his punch the force required to make the man drop like a sack.

For a moment the whole bar had frozen, then it had exploded into action, Logan had knocked down two of the five who surrounded him in half a second while Harry took down one more. Logan then proceeded to beat down two more while Harry finally dealt with the last man standing at the sidelines, effectively ending the little battle in no more than a few seconds.

Before Harry found out they had taken out the regulars. Logan had went straight for the bar, and demanded his beer. Harry had gotten the distinct feeling that this was not a man who lost sight of his priorities.

Harry had joined him at the bar, and they had forced the barkeep to extend the serving for a couple of hours that night.

B

b

Harry had kept some semblance of friendship with Logan since then, but Logan was a private man, and would give some kind of sound from himself if he so wanted, and he never gave Harry a number to call, so they rarely talked.

Harry focused back on his job searching, and decided to find this one man looking for someone who could steal a certain component from a corporation. The job seemed to allude to quite the payday, but he guess he would have to meet the client before finding out.