Harry Potter: Syndicate of Heroes

Without a second thought, Spider-man leapt from the building, his hand whipping out and a web-line shooting out to impact the far building. Then, using line after line, he flew through the city, far above the people and cars below, whipping around corners and flipping through the air at the height of one arc before shooting out the next line that he'd use.

With a final flip, he came to rest in a crouch on the top of the building that housed the jewellery store.

Pulling out the police scanner once more, Spider-Man flipped the switch, hoping for a little more information about what was happening downstairs. Thankfully, he was in luck.

"Hostages have been taken. Repeat. The four perpetrators at Parkman's Jewellery have taken hostages. Estimate is for five civilians."

That was enough and he turned it off and put it away.

With innocents in play, Spider-man knew that he couldn't simply burst through the front doors, his webs blazing at the bad guys. No, this called for something a little subtler. He'd only just begun to pace across the roof, one hand up to scratch at hair that he couldn't touch because of his cowl, when his eyes lit on the perfect thing.

Superhuman strength was needed to pry the cover off of the air vent, but it was accomplished with ease.

"Good thing all that food Aunt May's been feeding me hasn't made me into some fat blob thing," he commented as he began slithering into the tight space.

Navigating the ventilation system wasn't easy; it was far too small for him to crawl in and at times, he needed to shoot a web at the far wall and pull himself along. The slides down between levels wasn't a lot of fun, especially when it took all that he had just to keep from landing on his head each and every time.

Finally, though, he'd reached his destination: directly above the jewellery story. Knowing that there was a chance that the robbers could hear him, Spider-man took extra care manoeuvring across to the closest vent. It took a bit of twisting and turning of his head before he located all four bad guys.

Currently, they were huddled behind the main counter, talking while occasionally peering towards the front of the shop. The hostages, Spider-man found against the left wall. Their legs were bound in duct tape and their hands disappeared behind their backs, presumably also taped together. For good measure, a final piece of tape had been placed over their mouths.

While he was formulating his plan, Spider-man took careful note of where each display case was, not to mention the pieces of razor sharp glass that littered their tops and the floor around them.

As slowly and as soundlessly as he could, Spider-man twisted himself into a near knot, getting his feet into just the right position. Then, before a cramp could fully form, he kicked out, smashing his way through the ventilation shaft and dropping into the store.

Even as he was falling, his hands whipped out, jets of webbing shooting from his wrists. Two robbers caught blasts in the face, sending them wheeling backwards, their hands scrabbling at their mouths in their panic to get the webbing off so that they could breathe again.

As his feet touched the floor, Spider-man jumped and spun to the side, firing off another couple of rounds of webbing. A third robber went down, pinned to the floor. Unfortunately, the last one managed to move at just the right time, dodging Spider-man's attack and bringing a gun to bear in the process.

Four sharp cracks rang out as shots were fired. Only the web-crawler's super-human reflexes and his spider-sense enabled him to spin and dodge out of the way of the bullets.

And then he retaliated. With a number of flips, he catapulted himself across the store before a ten-second trade of blows saw the last robber knocked flying, only to come up hard against the far wall before slowly sliding down it to land in a crumpled heap.

Seeing his last opponent down, Spider-man quickly crossed the room before grabbing the first two robbers, ripping off the webbing that was stopping them from breathing and cocooning them in a spray of webbing.

"Looks like my work here is all but done," he remarked, surveying the littered bodies around him.

It was as he was freeing the hostages from their duct tape bindings that he heard something that had him pausing.

"You reckon the boss'll put out a hit on Spider-man once Bullseye's finished his first job?" one of the robbers asked his partner quietly.

"Who knows?" the other replied. "Either way, the Devil's days are numbered, so that'll make things easier. Then there'll only be the one menace to deal with instead of two."

ooo00ooo

Harry was half-way across the Den, a tray filled with cups of various types of coffee in hand when he stopped, his head automatically going up as if he could see through the two floors of his apartment to the roof far above.

After quickly finishing his delivery, he made his way back to the counter.

"I'll be back shortly," he said to Gwen as he placed the tray into its appropriate place. "Your boyfriend wants to have a chat."

"What does …" Gwen began before her big blue eyes got even bigger and rounder. "Oh. Oh, okay. I can handle things down here."

With a nod of thanks, Harry quickly made his way outside and up, taking the stairs two at a time in his haste. Peter'd never come to the Den in costume before and the fact that he was on the roof waiting told Harry that that's exactly what he'd done.

"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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