Harry Potter: Syndicate of Heroes

"Are you alright?" he asked again, his eyes roving over her form.

She had short hair, although working out the colour in the dim light was impossible. And as for her clothes, the best that he could tell was that she was wearing some kind of jacket over her shirt, jeans and boots.

"I'm fine," the girl replied quickly.

Harry gave her a dubious look.

"Aren't you a little young to be out at this time of night?" he asked.

"No younger than a lot of others," she shrugged.

Harry could already tell the way this conversation was going to go; no matter what he asked, she was going to be evasive and defensive.

"I'm guessing that you're hungry," he said and he noted the accuracy of his statement through the way that she looked away and down. "Look, I've got a few leftovers in the kitchen that I'll just end up throwing out tomorrow; how about you me giving them to you now instead of diving through the bins for them tomorrow?"

She looked everywhere but at him before her eyes settled on his face and she shrugged.

"I guess," she said, "if you were just going to get rid of them anyway."

With a nod and a smile, Harry turned and headed back to the near-concealed door leading to the kitchen. Soft footfalls behind him told him that she was following. He waited for her at the door, but she stayed stubbornly just out of the light. Realising that she had no intention of entering, Harry quickly ducked inside, gathering up a couple of rolls and filling them with slices of beef and putting them into a bag. His hand barely paused before he grabbed the leftover apple pie and putting it in a container and adding it to the bag.

The 'leftovers' gathered (as well as a bottle of juice), Harry headed back to the door. As expected the girl was waiting for him, shifting nervously from foot to foot. At first he thought that there was a small movement near the top of her jacket when he first went out, but it could have been a simple trick of the light, at least, that was his guess considering that there was no repeat when he was looking at her.

"Here you go," he said.

The girl darted forward to take the bag and bottle, barely staying in the light long enough for him to get a better look at her.

"We open at eight. You're welcome to come back then and have breakfast. On me," Harry offered.

"I'll think about it," she replied. "Thank you."

With that, she quick-walked out of the alley. Harry watched her go until she'd turned the corner. In all the time that he'd owned the Den, that was the first time that he'd had anyone dumpster diving in the alley. Hopefully, it'd be the last, and especially for someone that young.

ooo00ooo

The mood in the room was cautious to say the least. Each of the five that were waiting for the Boss eyed the others warily. Business, of late, hadn't been good. Too many things had begun going wrong – shipments intercepted; men beaten; businesses raided; their protections being exposed. None of the five … divisions had been spared and rumour had it that the sixth section of their organisation, the one under the direct control of the Boss, had also suffered.

One would think in times like these that the different parts of their empire would band together, drawing strength in the protection that allies could give. But instead, each group had drawn inwards, trying to protect their own without exposing weakness that could be exploited, either by the enemy or by allies; after all, a knife in the back kills just as well as a frontal assault.

Into this atmosphere, the Boss strode, his crisp white suit a stark contrast to the dark environment that they'd gathered in. The Boss or their Employer (after all, one never spoke his name, especially if one liked the idea of living), was a tall man, broad shouldered and while very large, it was all muscle.

He stopped at the appropriate place, completing the circle of his … well, not peers, but the next closest thing. The fluorescent light glinted off of his bald head as his hands folded over the top of his cane; the hard, smooth diamond set in the handle cool under his touch.

"Gentlemen, Madam Gao," he greeted.

Soft murmurings or nods returned the greeting from the heads of the various syndicates: the Chinese heroin ring; the Yakuza; the Mob; the Russians; and the accountant that headed the businesses tying them all together. Along with his own, local, enforcers, these six owned or at least controlled, New York City.

"Business had not been as … profitable of late," Owlsley opened with cautiously.

Behind the Boss, his assistant, Wesley, shifted almost imperceptibly. A flick of his shoulders stilled the man.

"That is why I called you here," the deep bass voice of the Boss stated.

As expected, their gazes shifted into one that was more eager, perhaps even hopeful.

"I know that the Devil has been making trouble for each of you in Hell's Kitchen. And of late, he's even begun branching out into the surrounding areas," the Boss stated.

"The Spider-man looks to be another like him," the Russian stated. "And if they ever joined forces …"

"That is not something that we'll have to worry about," the Boss assured them all. "I have arranged for some … specialised help to deal with the Devil. I have been assured that he will be here soon."

"Who? Who is this person?" the head of the Yakuza asked.

"His name is not important. All you need to know is that he can truthfully claim that he has never once missed his target. Have your men scale back their operations for now; better to lose some money than men, contacts or equipment."

Each of them immediately nodded, grins lining one or two faces at the thought of the imminent downfall of the Daredevil.

ooo00ooo

"Gwen? What are you doing here?" Harry questioned as the blonde teen almost marched past him at the counter, her destination the kitchen.

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