So...this is probably really OOC...don't kill me... *cowers* But do enjoy and review!

"Don't ever take a single second to breathe/They're gonna send me on a murdering spree/I cannot wait to dance upon your grave/They don't even have a soul left to be saved/You would eat your young."

—"Northern Lights," Thirty Seconds to Mars

The dark-haired man stood perfectly still, hands clasped behind his back. He had been standing like that for the better part of an hour, but he was an assassin and so thoroughly versed in patience. His black hair brushed the shoulders of his pine green dress shirt and his pale eyes were steely, fixed on an indeterminable point in the distance. But for the slight rise and fall of his chest he could've been a statue.

A man dressed in a sharp suit stepped out of the shadows behind the other man. "Karl," he said casually, and the first man flinched almost imperceptibly, forgetting for a moment his current alias. He had left his true name behind years ago and gone by aliases, and despite being used to those, he still occasionally forgot which name he was going by.

Karl nodded a greeting as the man came around to his front. He was holding a folder which Karl was sure held his next assignment. He knew better than to ask about it—he would be told only when the man, his handler, thought the time to tell him was right. He enjoyed holding information over Karl's head, dangling it like a carrot, but Karl was an assassin, one of the best there was, and he could wait.

After several long, silent minutes the handler flipped open his folder and held up a picture for Karl to see. The grinning man in the foreground was a well-known politician, and with his blond hair cut a bit longer than average and those blue eyes sparkling with amusement, as well as his size and obvious muscle mass, he was quite a favorite with the ladies, despite rumors that he would soon ask his girlfriend to marry him. He was of Nordic heritage, although American-born, a fact clear in his name, and he was expected to rise high in the government. He was planning on running for President in the next election, and despite the fact that there were three years to go, bets were already being made by those who knew the government best that he would win. Also in the picture were those closest to him on his staff, all loyal and fiercely protective.

"These are your targets," the man said. "You recognize them, I am sure?" He didn't wait for Karl to answer, moving on with hardly a pause for air. "Thor Odinson will be well-protected. Your job is take them out, the whole team. You will need to get close to them, especially Thor himself. Can you manage that?"

A rare smile crossed Karl's face. "Of course I can."

Tony Stark slouched against the side of the limo-of-the-day, completely bored as they were chauffeured to wherever Thor's next meeting was. The politician himself was unusually quiet and morose, and his team-they called themselves the Avengers, after the comic book heroes it had turned out they all loved-was worried.

Finally, Tony could take the silence no more. "Why are you so mopey, Thor? Is mopey a word? It's a word now. I say so."

Thor glanced up, ignoring Tony's rambling about the word/not word status of mopey. "Yeah, I'm fine."

He was met with five unbelieving stares.

He sighed. "Fine. My brother died five years ago today. He'd been travelling a lot for his job-whatever he did, it was classified by the government-and one day I got a call that he'd been killed in action. Loki was three years my junior, but we were always close. I heard of his death in the middle of my campaign for governor, and so there was no way I could let it show. And then I just ended up getting in the habit of getting away on the anniversary, go visit his grave. Obviously, something came up this year, so I can't go off on my own to remember Loki."

Thor fell silent, and his advisers-cum-bodyguards sat silently as well. Then Tony laid a hand on Thor's shoulder in an unusually gentle gesture for him. "I'm sorry, man."

Karl straightened his tie and brushed his hair away from his face. This was a more complex assignment than his last several had been-while those had all been get in, take out the mark, and get out, this one involved actually getting in to that exclusive inner circle of the very few trusted by the well-known politician. He just hoped that no one would realize his true purpose, because that would make his mission somewhat more difficult.

The door opened and his handler stepped in. He cast an appraising eye over Karl. "You look good enough." It was high praise as far as the handler was concerned. Karl would get nothing more. Not that he needed anything more. "Now," the handler said, "let's just hope you can pull off the mannerisms as well."

Karl inclined his head slightly in a nod of recognition, and his handler sighed. "Let's get this show on the road."

Heading for the car, the assassin checked that the weapons he had stashed on himself were well-hidden. He was sure he would be checked for things exactly like those he was hiding, and if they got taken away he would have to get a little more creative. He could handle it, but it would be harder than was strictly necessary.

As he sat in the back of the sleek black car, Karl's mind raced. He had, of course, seen endless photos and video clips of Thor, watched the interviews, followed his latest accomplishments. He had a vested interest in the man, although that would not affect killing him. Not at all.

Within half an hour the car was pulling up at the entrance of the stately building where Thor was to be that day. Karl got out of the car, brushed himself off, and headed inside to face the mission that would make or break his fate.

Boom! Reviews would be much appreciated...ideas, suggestions, complaints about any OOC-ness...