Author's Note: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did the sixth and seventh book would have ended a lot differently. I also have to warn my reviewers in advance. I suck at romance stories. So be warned. I wouldn't have done a romance however if I didn't want the experience. After all I do work for a newspaper and stories tend to be something I have to write if my boss asks me to. By the way I have no idea if this would work so don't try this at home. Anyways, on with the show of this crapsack world.

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Chapter 5: A New Shade of Grey

Today was February 8th, the start of the 1992 Winter Olympic games. Personally I hated my assignment, The weather was cold, there was slush everywhere and my client was absolutely outrageous. She recommended that she buy me and a slice of cake. A slice of cake! However I couldn't blow my cover by swearing at her in the 20 languages I knew so I had to play along. In this case I had to actually eat the slice of cake. Granted it was tasty, sweet and filled with nuts but what was outrageous was that she was offering.

However the fact that she had offered the cake to me in a very public situation showed something else. One, she had no idea what my identity was. If she had, there was no way she would have offered me such a thing. As a mercenary and a soldier my body was a temple and I had to treat it as such. This meant daily workouts, eating the right food and intake of the appropriate drugs. I had no idea why Kadocheki had started given us drugs from day one but over time the seven of us grew to accept it. We were disciplined quite greatly for not eating our pills.

The second thing the ice cream told me was her personality. She was naïve. A true businesswoman wouldn't have wasted time buying me ice cream. If she had she would have done it in such a way that would have made her look good. The fact that she had the spare time to actually offer me such a delicacy showed that her schedule was not packed. It meant that I was meant to guard her for a few days. A shrewd businesswoman would have spent every waking moment of her time at meeting, assemblies or any other important events. At the very least she wouldn't be a doting mother like my client was.

I didn't dislike the change. It was just unusual. Back in Africa I either had to deal with two shades of people. The Grey and the Black. The grey people were like Kadokechi. They weren't the nicest sort of people, but they weren't the worst. Kadokechi actually had a noble goal in mind; protecting his country from attack. He didn't want to, from my knowledge, conquer and kill unless it was necessary. That said if it meant accomplishing a goal, Kadokechi would do anything. It was why the bones of every Birds of Prey member were super strong, nearly bulletproof ribcages. The constant beatings and "Pain Training" had taken its toll on us both physically and psychologically. Physically we were now stronger than any twelve, let alone seven, year old. It also meant that bullet wounds and stabbings hurt much less since we had gotten used to it. We do go jumping head on into a gun fight but after being beaten up, shot and stabbed for nearly a year you got used to it.

Two years ago I could barely handle a paper cut. Now I could take a .44 magnum bullet and still keep going before passing out from the shock and blood loss a few minutes later.

Then there were the shades of Black people, morality wise. They made Kadokechi look like a saint. All they cared for was money and their own personally pleasure. I've seen someone torture a person by forcing them to eat their wound balls and all I could do was watch. I was supposed to infiltrate their gang but that didn't mean I had to enjoy it. It was why I killed them the moment my assignment was over. In Africa almost every kind of Atrocity was committed on a daily basis, someplace somewhere. And no one cared. It had been going on for decades, why stop now?

It was why we served Kadokechi. Many of us thought of running in the first few months. We even attempted on a few instances. Hell, Leopolo, the German kid, once tried to escape using only his spoons by tunnelling out. Kadokechi caught him in the act a day later. But there was what surprised us. He slapped Leopolo before shouting,

"If you wanted to escape, fine by me. Just make sure you don't do it half-heartedly."

That statement shook us. He wasn't going to punish us for escaping. Why? He went through all the trouble of kidnapping us. Why wouldn't he do anything more severe like breaking his bones like he usually did when one of use quit? It was only a week later did I realize the answer. Kadokechi wasn't just training us to be soldiers or mercenaries. He was training us to be part of his legacy. He was training us to be leaders. Leaders couldn't be weak willed though. That was the first lesson he taught us without saying anything. When you do a job, put everything you have into it. Hold nothing back.

Over time our initial hatred turned to simple dislike to eventual indifference. Yes Kadokechi had done some horrible things. But there were always people worse than him. At least He always rewarded were reward was due. Kadokechi didn't seem overly sadistic either like many of the other bosses we met. In fact Kadokechi genuinely tried to keep morale up among everyone, whether it be us or his soldiers. Whether it meant pushing us to the breaking point or tipping us over the edge Kadokechi wanted us to be strong. He had been honest to us since day one. We were his soldiers. Now we were his to command.

But in order to be strong, we needed to fight people as strong as we were. It was why we were usually sent after high priority targets deemed too risky for his normal soldiers, when we weren't doing some mercenary work. Black operations if you must.

The people I usually killed on my assignments were corrupt politicians enslaving loads of women, drug lords who were too high on their own cooking to have any rational thought and warlords trying to carve out a little piece of power in a hostile continent. No wonder Kadokechi wanted them dead. It was also why I hated harems. It reminded me too much about what happened in central Africa. Seeing the bodies of raped preteen girls and the scars they received from many backwards traditions made my stomach churn. If I wasn't working I would be vomiting right now. So much blood … faces filled with pain … forcibly drugged. Nevertheless I snapped out of it. There was a special place in hell for those kinds of people.

Yes there were people much worse than Kadokechi out there.

But dealing with white people, morality wise was something I had trouble with. Like my client, Saline Medina. Generally the kind of woman who died young in Africa but survived in an increasingly hostile Europe. She seemed like a nice person but a year of killing had taught me to believe that no one was genuinely nice to strangers and that everybody was after something. But dealing with white individuals was difficult. People who followed the laws, loved their pets, were nice to everyone in general and non-violent. It seemed weird to me. I've gotten used to Africa so much that I've started to consider that everyone is grey or black, never truly pure.

But still it was … strange to meet someone who didn't intend to do me any harm and was as innocent as they came.

Sitting on the bed I glanced at the bathroom door. Saline had just started taking a bath. Correction, my client had just started taking a bath. You never say the client's name unless necessary. It makes you relate to them on a human level. In reality they're just paying you for something and you is their employee nothing more nothing less. To say the clients name demonstrates a form of attachment. And attachments are fatal in my business.

Sighing one more I reassemble my rifle; Telescopic sight, barrel, action, cartridge, stock, accessories and ammunition. I look my stopwatch. 1 minute and 20 seconds. Dammit, it's taking me took long to even to the basic field strip. Most professionals can do it ten seconds faster and the best can do it in under a minute. Granted this sniper rifle is more complicated that the other ones I've used since it's of Finish design, but's that no excuse. I have little to worry about my client at the moment. She likes to take long baths. Again an irresponsible decision.

The client and the employee never leave each other's sight for longer than necessary. The client in fear that any less loyal mercenary will easily betray them for greater amounts of money. The mercenary never leaves the client's presence in fear that the client will kill them in order to avoid paying what is due. Both are common in my world.

I point my sniper rifle at the bathroom door envisioning where my client's head is in case. Judging from the slashing sounds as she plays with the water, she's on the other side. I tilt my rifle four inches to my left giving me plenty of space to target her upper body. At this distance the walls will somewhat muffle the sound while still allowing the bullet to pierce her body. Even if I don't hit her in a vital position the blood loss will kill her. After a moment I lower it. She doesn't know anything. It's more likely that the client is working for someone bigger and that's who hired me.

Good idea as it keeps them unknown to the mercenary in case of betrayal. I can't help but say I agree. I check my watch. It's 4:12 p.m. Plenty of time before the opening ceremony. It is also plenty of time for my client to make a deal with whatever athlete she's supposed to do it with. I don't care. At the moment all I want to do was finish this job and go back to Sao Palme. I want to go home. Home. Something I haven't considered in a long time. Where is my home? Am I just meant to –

An explosion echoes through the air. The noise ripples through the room breaking me out of my thoughts and putting me on high alert. After a second the shock is felt as the ground vibrates. Kadokechi was right. Something is up. Grabbing Sako I rush into the bathroom, not caring about the screaming of my client or the fact that she's naked I lifted the small window.

Rule number three about being a mercenary, know your layout. In this case I knew the layout of this hotel room. There was a window here that would allow me to have a nearly 70 degree view of my surroundings without exposing myself to sniper fire. The bathroom window as also smaller meaning that I was both harder to spot and to hit.

"Stay here, remain calm ma'am. Everything is going to be alright," I reassured not glancing at here.

Keeping the client calm in dangerous situations was vital. Especially in such an unpredictable circumstances. Clients who panicked tended to cause a lot of trouble for the mercenary in charge. Once again it was fatal. I gazed at the surrounding areas memorizing the cityscape, the fleeing crowds and shouting military men. It was then did I realize something.

Those crowds couldn't have possibly grown to such size in such a short time. This was set up! I scope the surroundings trying to find the location of any possible enemies. Like I expected I see none. They're probably in the midst of the crowds. I look at the explosion and the damage it has caused.

However the moment that I do my heart stops. My mind turns numb and any emotions that I've felt, any semblance of mercy disappears. They destroyed a Casino. No they nuked it. They fucking nuked a Casino! The surrounding building is on fire. I could feel the heat from all the way here even if the nuke only blew up half the building. A small mushroom cloud dissipates into the sky as realization hits me.

Lepoplo's there! I take a deep breath in, steadying my aim and examine the area hoping to kill someone, anyone. I don't care.

You can make fun of us for being kids, pretend to be better than us, hell even threaten us with death threats. We'll laugh it off. But if you so much as touch a hair on any one of us, they'll be hell to pay. My eyes turn bloodshot from all the rage coursing through my veins. My pupils dilate allowing me to take in more of the surroundings. My eye lids widen and time slows down.

I see someone run out of the hotel, like a panicked person. I wouldn't have normally shot him but circumstances were different. I couldn't take any risks. Anyone of them could have killed Leopolo. I'm not taking any chances. It's what I would have done.

I fire my sniper rifle. Instantly a 0.260 Remington bullet exits the Sako TRG. My senses increase tenfold as I watch the bullet fly through the air. I'm in a state of hypersensitivity. At 601 meters away my bullet hits the target at 1, 099 meters a second. In 0.54 seconds the bullet hits the target. In .55 seconds the force of the blow as caused the target to be pushed back slightly before the aftershock kicks in blowing up his torso upon impact. I always have explosive rounds for my sniper bullets unless it is needed otherwise.

At .6 seconds after the shock a sharp recoil force pierces through my shoulder as hypersensitivity shatters. It's one of their weaknesses. Pulling back my sniper rifle, I close the window. No need to go on a killing spree … yet.

I look at my client. She's in a state of shock. The fact that a seven year old has just taken out a sniper rifle as big as him and fired has traumatized her. I don't see why that would be the case. Nevertheless I'm at a crossroads right now. I can either go after Leopolo or I can protect my client.

My decision is instant. Fuck the client. My friend needs me. Glancing at her I decide that now's a time to make myself clear.

"You did not see anything. You did not see me shoot from a sniper rifle. You did not see me walk in here. In fact you do not know who the fuck I am. Do I make myself clear?" I asked.

The woman nodded. However I knew that it wasn't enough. Given enough time in a police interrogation she could easily break. I need to give her a reason to shut up.

"Do I make myself fucking clear!?" I yell at her one last time.

"Yes, yes," she replies meekly before sobbing.

Glancing at her one last time I hurry to the bedroom. My job is done. Now it's time to save Remo. If he's dead, then there was no place on Earth that was going to save those bastards. I pull out my truck. No time to be subtle anymore. Grabbing the trunk and the wheels I pull the truck open. Inside lay 30 0.260 Remington bullets. Pocketing all the bullets I hurry to the Television and grab the remote and my homemade explosive.

Not wasting any time I strap the sniper rifle to my back and dash through the hallway. However I stop. Taking the elevator will leave me in an isolated location. It will also make my approach an expected thing. I'll take the stairs. Whoever these people are, they're professionals. There's probably someone waiting at the lobby with a mini-gun just waiting for a kill. That's right, taking the elevator was suicide. The stairs however provide a better option. Their unpredictable, more wide allowing me to dodge fire and there are three routes that are greatly space apart. However I know that this won't be enough. I can't just stop the people from knowing where I'm walking in. I need to stop that tracking me. In order to do that I have to destroy the cameras. I hurry back to the room I was once in and grab a pair of scissors.

Time to work my magic.

Every floor in this hotel had a generator that powered them. Most of the time the main generator was sufficient enough to power the entire hotel. But sometimes there was a blackout. In this case either the secondary generator or the floor generators would kick in. The only flaw in this system was the fact that the generators were connected. It was how they were able to kick in when one or two went down. This protected many hotels and companies from EMPs. What they didn't consider was someone overpowering the generators through the floor circuits.

Which exactly what I was planning to do with my scissors. I enter the electrical room. You know the room, that always says, do not enter, or like "Staff only". Turning the doorknob I groaned. Locked. Oh well. I lifted my foot up before kicking the door. All I left was a dent which was expected. Only some doors have a system that falters if enough force is applied. In a hotel like this I never expected such a thing. However when you consider that many owners want to cut costs it is something you consider as a possibility.

Removing my rifle from my back I smash the muzzle into the doorknob at a 40 degree angle loosening it up. Now I can lock pick it. Pulling out one of the skeleton keys I carried I began to shift the gears of the door.

Metal interacted with metal. Several silent shifts were heard until finally the door open. Now I'm in the electrical room. Taking a good glance at my surroundings I memorize the wires and how they are connected to each other. Each one leads to another room. There are many groups which lead to the same room. The similarity between apartments and the hotel are profound. However that's where it all ends. Glancing at the circuit boards I examine how they are connected.

Ripping the circuit board off I cut the wires. The lighting and heating changes for moment before everything returns to the way it was a moment ago. That is until I rearrange the circuit.

Jumping back I watch as the wires overheat from the insane pressure. I've just rearranged them in such a way that the electrical energy goes to the elevator goes to the lighting, the lighting goes to utilities and the utilities goes to the security on this floor and the hotel.

The end result, to my amusement is as follows. The cameras such down from the lack of power, the lights explode form all the energy they've been given in such a short time without any resistors to help slow the tide. Last but not least the elevators are officially dead. The unfortunate thing is the appliances in this hotel are probably fried. I hope they have insurance.

I can't waste time though. Disappearing into the stairs I quickly left the floor.

I've made too many assumptions already. There were thousands of ways my actions could have backfired. If I make more assumptions there will be problem.

But that doesn't matter now. All that matters is saving Leopolo. In a world were friendship is nearly impossible due to contradicting assignments, a mercenary greatly values anyone who supports him throughout his endeavours. I wasn't about to lose one of the people who supported mine.

(Unknown Location)(Once again everyone is speaking French)

An old man stared at the screen of a young reporter discussing the explosion and the current fighting between the Olympic security and the unknown assailants.

"At the moment the security is facing major problems as the assailants of this Stadium have threatened to blow up another building unless they are given safe passage out. The death toll is approximately 201 people dead. From what we have gathered at least 24 of them were athletes who died when the blast went off," explained the reporter before looking at her partner.

"Yes. Today is a day of mourning. What should have been day of celebration for the international community has turned into a blood bath. More people are expected to be killed as fighting continues between security at the offenders. We here at France 24 have the situation covered as more information continues to flood our networks. The situation on the ground is-"

The unknown person turned off the tv midway. Soon, the Birds of Prey would be under their control. They were a wild card. Useful indeed but very dangerous. Having them under their control would benefit both parties. However the person knew the young mercenary group would never fully align themselves with them. That's why they needed leverage.

To force … their cooperation.

Author's Note:

Thank you everyone for reviewing and reading. Don't forget to vote on my new poll!