Harry Potter: Syndicate of Heroes

The instant that Wilson Fisk stepped into his office, he stopped, staring at the man lounging in the chair behind his desk. The fact that the man was in this very office, in the heart of Fisk's empire didn't seem to faze him. Indeed, the man even had his boots up on the desk, his ankles crossed and seemed to be filing his fingernails of all things.

The twin guards at his back, noticing his movements, burst through the doors and took up positions to either side of him, their guns drawn and trained on the man. Only Wilson's raised hand stopped them from pulling the trigger. There'd be time for that later. Firstly, there were questions to be asked, namely who the man was and how he got passed security.

"You seem mighty relaxed for a man walking on the edge of death," Wilson commented.

The man's eyes briefly flicked up, took notice of the guns still trained on him and promptly went back to ignoring them.

"Before I have you killed, perhaps you'd be polite enough to tell me how you got in here and exactly who you are," Wilson said and there was steel in his voice that even this man couldn't ignore.

"I'm here because you invited me," the man said. "As to who I am? Well …"

Instead of answering the question, the man simply removed his boots from Wilson's desk, sat up straighter, before leaning forward and slowly took off his black beanie. A very distinctive scar rested upon his forehead that had been covered by his headwear; a scar in the shape of a target.

"Bullseye," Wilson smiled.

"Now are you going to tell these two chuckleheads to point their guns somewhere else or would you prefer me to simply kill them?" Bullseye asked.

Wilson was tempted to allow the man free licence, after all, it would be only prudent to see what he was going to be paying for. But, after a moment's thought, he simply gestured for his bodyguards to lower their weapons – it was often so hard to find good, competent men after all.

Wilson strolled forward, detouring away from his desk to the side cabinet where he took out a glass and poured himself a shot of whiskey.

"I'd offer you one, but I suspect that if you really wanted a drink, then you'd already have it," Wilson commented.

Bullseye merely waved his nailfile in Wilson's direction, acknowledging the point.

"What should I call you?" Wilson asked. "I don't even know your real name."

"And I'd like to keep it that way, thank you very much. Bullseye's fine," he was told.

"Very well, Bullseye," Wilson smiled.

He could appreciate the need to keep one's identity a secret, after all, he'd taken great pains (or, at least, other people had had a world of pain) to eliminate any that tried to link Wilson Fisk the business tycoon with Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin of New York crime.

"I assume that you know why you're here?" Wilson asked.

"You've got a vigilante problem. Some 'devil' that has the neighbourhood running scared," Bullseye punctuated his statement with air-quotes around the word 'devil'.

"Indeed. Daredevil has been making a right nuisance of himself and it's been bad for business," Wilson confirmed. "I assume that you can deal with this problem of ours?"

"Give me the right sort of motivation and you can consider the job done," Bullseye replied, staring hard at Wilson, a slight grin on his face.

"I'm certain that we can come to an arrangement that is mutually beneficial, assuming that you can hold up your end of the bargain, of course," Wilson replied.

As quick as a flash, Bullseye's arm flicked out. From beside the door, one of his guards gave a piercing scream as he fell to the floor, both hands clutching his right eye, blood spurting between his fingers and oozing down his face.

"I think that I can get the job done," Bullseye stated into the stunned silence. "Now, let's talk payment."

ooo00ooo

Atop one of the taller buildings in the city, Spider-man watched and waited. From where he was perched, he could see a number of the streets below. People scurried by, intent on their tasks, unaware of his presence. His spider-sense was on full alert as he made sure that there was no danger nearby, either to him or to those he was protecting from the shadows.

But when it came to knowing what crime was happening in the city, Spider-man had another tool, one that was quite illegal, no matter how useful it was: a police scanner. He'd used it multiple times now having built it from scratch from parts that he'd bought using the money that he earnt as a Stark Intern.

Admittedly, he hadn't had much to do as an intern yet, but his time was coming. He'd been assured that once Avengers Tower had been completed, he'd be in there working whenever he could, apart from school times, of course. And that day was getting closer and closer. Tony'd given him a tour of the scientific equipment that was being installed and he couldn't wait to get his hands on it.

The radio on the ground beside him crackled. Instantly, his head snapped towards it.

"All units, we have a ten-thirty-one at Parkman's Jewellery. Location four three one Lexington Avenue."

Spider-man switched the radio off and stowed it away – he'd heard enough. A 'ten-thirty-one' meant that there was a robbery in progress. And he wasn't that far from the location; he was sure that he could get there long before any black and whites arrived.

"Better take the same advice," stool bar man said with a broad grin. "Get out of the Kitchen while you still can. You won't last a day otherwise."

With one swallow, he finished off his whiskey before slamming the glass back onto the bar.

"Get out while you still can, before the Devil gets you, too," the same guy chuckled.

The toothpick still twirling in his fingers, he walked to the door. Then, just before he exited, he twirled, his hand coming up and the toothpick flying dead and true. The man at the bar grasped his throat as he began gagging.

Ignoring the dying man, he continued back onwards to the street. The regular people here were running scared, no wonder he'd been called in. Now to see his 'employer' and see what he'd get paid to rid the city of the devil on their shoulder.

ooo00ooo

The instant that Tony saw the missile tracking towards his Malibu home on the TV he knew that he'd made a mistake of epic proportions. Giving out his home address to terrorists was something that he'd never do again. Assuming that he lived through the next minute, that is. And that he still had a home.

As the missile hit and the world around him exploded, Tony knew that there was only one importance: protecting Pepper. The Mark 42 armour was the only one in the room, thankfully it had the new remote command function. Even as he was blown backwards, he could see the armour beginning to attach. Now whatever happened, everything would be alright.

The next five minutes were pure terror. The house was disintegrating around him; missiles were hitting at annoying regularity. Getting his armour back on his body helped him gain some confidence, after all, he'd taken on an army from space. The instant that the thought crossed his mind, Tony violently squashed it away – he had no time for a panic attack right then.

Two helicopters were down and he was about to get a bead on the third when the second crashed into what was left of the mansion.

There was no escape from what followed. Chucks of concrete; cars; furniture; the roof all crashed around him and took him with him in their slide down the cliff face and into the water. Through the facemask, he could only stare in horror at the sight of the rest of the house plummeting after him.

And then it landed, crashing into the sea floor around him and burying him alive. Tony could feel his heartrate spike and his breathing coming in short, sharp spurts.

"Sir, take a deep breath," Jarvis stated and all Tony could do was trust his A.I. with his very life.

ooo00ooo

Being in a small village in Brazil wasn't Bruce's first choice in life. But with his … propensity to lose control, it was always best to be as far away from civilization as possible. At least if something went wrong, there was less chance for innocent people to get hurt out here in the middle of nowhere, not to mention the fact that the Hulk did seem to enjoy being able to roam free in the wilderness.

For the briefest of times, Bruce had thought that he might be able to stay in New York with his newest … friends, allies, teammates, whatever they were. He knew that they, at least, had the power to contain the Hulk or at least redirect him somewhere safer. But what would be their new home needed some work done to it, so, for now, they'd separated, gone their own way to take care of what was important to them.

He'd been a medical doctor before, most recently in India where Natasha had found him. It was a good profession, not quite what he was trained for, but close enough to help people in small, out-of-the-way communities that wouldn't normally have access to medical help. And it made him feel as though he was giving something back, repaying humanity for the death and destruction that the Hulk had caused.

At the moment, Bruce was resting in his cabin, his usual medical hours in the village having finished an hour before. While he lay on his bed reading a medical journal, the radio played in the background, but it was merely noise, his attention wasn't on it.

A single name read out by the newsreader snapped his attention to the radio and he sat up in shock.

"… Stark. I repeat, word has come from Malibu, California of the presumed death of Tony Stark. There are confirmed reports of an unspecified number of armed helicopters firing missiles into Tony Stark's Malibu mansion, utterly destroying the mansion before the remains of the building, with the billionaire inside, sank to the bottom of the ocean. At this stage, Stark has not been found, either alive or dead. We will bring you more of this story as soon as we have it."

Before Bruce had even really considered what he was doing, he was up and moving about the room, gathering his meagre belongings and throwing them haphazardly into his bag.

To be honest, he wasn't sure exactly what he was hoping to accomplish, all he knew was that he wanted to be back in America, closer to his friends to celebrate with them when Tony was found. He refused to even consider any other scenario.

ooo00ooo

Harry had stood frozen in place as the news report, complete with footage from a nearby news helicopter, played on the television in the corner of the Marauder's Den.

"No no no no," Doreen was whispering, but Harry wasn't paying her the slightest attention.

A hand on his arm ripped Harry's attention from the TV. Big blue eyes stared at him in horror and understanding.

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