Chapter one-
In 1933, Sirius Black escaped from prison and execution in a whirlwind of fast cars, threats, and lots of guns. Again.
A month later, he robbed a bank in Indiana.
Two months later, he robbed another bank in Chicago.
Three months later, he fought his way out of a hotel, leaving two accomplices, one policeman, and one civilian dead.
Four months later, he humiliated the police. Again.
Five months later, Agent Remus Lupin was ordered to track him down and kill him. He accepted.
And two years later, Sirius Black was dead.
These were only the facts and quite possibly the only things that mattered when all was said and done. But as far as Remus Lupin, sitting at his desk filing a report at midnight, was concerned, the facts didn't matter. What mattered to Remus were the smaller parts of the longest job of his life. Things like the people who had died during those two years, or the night he had spent running through the mud, or the games he and Sirius had played, vicious and cheating each other until the end. Or the way his hands didn't shake when they pulled the trigger that, for all he knew, might have killed Sirius. Or the soft cry he had heard as Sirius pitched forward onto the sidewalk, blood everywhere.
