The clock ticked midnight when a stranger appeared on a dirty road somewhere in America. Tear between realities flapping like purple bolts of lightning behind them, as this curious individual that they were, carried a fishbowl without a fish in it, naked in sandals, wore bizarre steampunk sunglasses, flicked a finger.

The tear shut itself with a loud shwip.

"Blimey," the man blinked. Adjusting his black, whiplashed hair from his face. "Blimey." He blinked again. There was no doubt that this individual did not belong here. Air taking a thick, oppressive quality as it entered his orbit. "Fuck the fish!" The man screeched and looked back to where the tear had closed. Meeting the bright, luminescent gaze of two cannon headlights. "GAH!" He gawped in stupid disbelief. The lights swerved, honking and jerking aside. Following the headlights was a car - metal body skidding through Harry as though he were a clump of suspended dust - diverting bonnet-first into a tree.

In nothing but sandals, it occurred to the Harbinger of Death that he ought to check on whether these folks were still alive.

After having safely planted his fishbowl on the side of the road, Harry apparated to the driver. Lighting proved to be a problem. The highlights, damaged and flickering helped none at all.

Hydrogen, helium, protons and electrons span into his palm to produce a tiny blinding star. Harry set it above the car where it glowed proudly.

The man slumped at the wheel was grey, looked far worse for wear, though thankfully did not give Harry the impression that he would be passing on to the netherworlds anytime soon. His lady companion however did not appear to fare so well.

Apparating over, Harry ripped the door it off its hinges and tossed it over his shoulder. Knelt by her side, he gently worked his magic to push back the metal glove compartment and seat that was sandwiching her sternum into gory chaos.

Metal, iron, fabric all creaked whined and groaned under his pressuring magic. Free, the lady slumped sideways into Harry's arms. Face aged, yet still holding a regal beauty, twitched into awareness while Harry wove an intricate healing charm around her.

"Eeer, deepest apologies, Madam," suddenly, Harry felt incredibly self-conscious about his nakedness - yet somehow doesn't bother to change it.

"Didn't," she tried to speak. Wet, painful gasps hurting Harry's ears. "We, hit….you?"

"Not at all," Harry assured.

"..H…Howard?"

Hearing the distinct grumble of a motor nearing, Harry looked to the sky and sighed. Situation getting unnecessarily complicated by the second. Getting tangled with mortal authorities gets messy when one is in the Death business. Lack of identification, inciting bad omens - it's rather difficult to come up with an argument of innocence and Not sound like the perpetrator when one is continuously surrounded by dead bodies for a living.

Some of which simply drop dead on their own accord just to spite him. Those little shits.

Harry doesn't enjoy giving bad first impressions to every mortal, alien and magical government on every dimensional plane he decides to visit. It's tiresome. He'd like to, for once, settle down for a short while. Read some books and relax. Maybe go fishing. Bunk up with some person. Have a good ol' time without worrying about government spies breathing down his neck for being 'a suspicious looking bastard'.

A motorcycle rolled up and the person who departed it was slathered with an eerie likeness to a Horcrux. A soul, dark and greasy like motor oil oozed out of the man's skin.

Slid off of him in thick droplets. Marking the steps he took towards them like gunk under his shoe. Covering his mouth and face so much Harry could barely see whether this guy was human or not.

Harry leant the lady back in her seat. Eyes refusing to leave the man. Horrified, and disgusted, he peered into motorcycle goggles. Trying to search for proof of someone beneath the sludge.

Slight, but there. Struggling to breathe as it was drowned by the parasite. Unlucky bastard. What did he do to deserve this?

"Merlin there's always a Riddle somewhere or another," He muttered and jutting his chin to the approaching assassin - because that's what he was, wasn't he? Hired to kill these two lovely individuals Harry had ran off the road cause he lost his damned fish. Fuck, he practically handed them over on a silver platter. "Oi," he intoned daringly. "Fuck off."

It felt uniquely strange that both his nakedness and swearing didn't seem to deter this fellow one bit.

The assassin punches where Harry stood and faltered as his metal arm flew through his head. And screw vanity, METAL?! Harry's mind shrieked. Tidbit bothering him more than his punch that carried enough power to cave a regular skull. The assassin's falter lasts a blink before he's back. This time harder.

"I said fuck off!"

Harry watches the assassin soar across the highway with an emphatic boing.

Simple rebound spell.

Quite effective.

Whatever that was powering this guy was seriously a nuisance. The assassin flips mid-air and lands like a crouching tiger.

"Madam," Harry called over his shoulder. "What type of spooky business are you conducting to warrant this shade of crazy?"

Madam's words are filtered out because crazy had crossed the distance between them in 0.2 seconds flat.

"Jesus, kid. What steroids are you on?!" Harry shrieked and sent him boinging back for the second time. Just to be super safe, Harry sent a stunner to follow. The Assassin growled as he hit the ground in a dull plop. Like an angry chihuahua. Harry huffed. The stunner would probably keep him down for some hours. More than enough for him to help these folks make a clean get-away.

Back to the lady, Harry lent over and checked her pulse. Satisfied with the steady beat and worst of the internal wounds mended. Wildly aware of her calculative eyes on him, he did his best to smile non-threateningly.

"Young man," she asked perplexedly. "Why are you naked?"

He didn't bother to reply to that. Nobody would understand.

"Your speech has improved!" Harry kept his smile and politely tried to hide himself behind the car. "Don't worry about your husband. Uh, Howard, was it? He just has some minor bruising and a concussion. Won't be dying anytime soon."

"That man…" the Lady's eyes went wide. Angled to where growls of murderous frustration emitted. In a fearful whisper she asked, "Who is he?"

Harry blinked and scratched the back of his neck. "Well. I'd rather hoped you know."

In a quavering voice, she spoke, "Whoever sent him must be after Howard's research. He's done something - I don't know what but if it's enough for people to kill…."

"I see," Harry nodded. Smile feeling inappropriate to the kind woman's fear. "What would you have me do?"

She coughed a broken laugh and have him a once-over. "My husband has a coat in the backseat. It's cold out tonight. Anything else, I couldn't ask of you. You've already done so much."

"Nonsense," Harry tutted. "I ran you off the road, it is my duty as a citizen and gentlemen to come to a beautiful lady's need." Already having opened the back door and wrapped the burgundy coat around himself. He showed himself off to the lady. She chuckled despite herself. Finding Harry to be the most bewildering individual she's ever encountered apart her own husband back when they were younger.

A strangled groan had the Lady rushing to her husband. Trembling hands assisting him sitting upright and cupping his cheeks tenderly. Visibly a pain, the man rose into semi-consciousness.

Harry apparated to his side, startling a shriek out of his wife . Before now she had probably chalked all the unexplainable events up to a concussion. Harry could see it in her eyes. She knew better.

"Maria?" Howard's hoarse voice called. Glossy gaze sweeping over her. "You're hurt."

"Only a bit," Maria wobbled a smile. Her own gaze firm on Harry. Something akin to suspicion brewing. Hey. Fair enough. Harry wasn't exactly a dainty flower. "Howard, a man's tried to kill us."

Whatever fog that was clouding Howard's mind evaporated. "The nude lunatic?"

"Hey!" Harry defended. Making Howard finally take notice of him. The old man gave him a strange look.

"Is that my coat?"

"Howard," Maria put a hand on his shoulder, "This young man saved us from the assassin."

No doubt Howard was an intelligent man. Not a hint of what he was thinking slipped through to his expressions. He nodded to what Maria said and assessed Harry like he was an open book.

Harry felt naked.

A truly enlightening experience considering he already was.

"Did SHIELD send you?"

"Uuuhm," Harry guessed, "Yes?"

Hair rose on the back of Harry's neck. A spectral blue shield ignited around him and the others just in time to catch the assassin's metal fist. It slammed down in blazing anger. Treacherous spidery cracks slithered out in terrifying circles.

Gulp.

Holy fucking Morgana this guy was jacked.

"You're supposed to be paralysed," his whine, well, came out in a childish whine. Sue him only some stronger than thou magical creatures like a Dragon from Camelot could walk off Harry's half-hearted stunner like it was a sneeze. He shoved the shield back at another of the assassin's punch. The man twisted in the air and landed some yards away. Which meant squat given his short distance record.

"Sergeant Barnes?" Howard whispered incredulously.

"What -" Harry goggled, "you know this brat?" And raised his arms to put up another barrier. Cause damn if Barnes wasn't working his way through this one too like a champ.

Hands swept out and caught his arms, dragging him backwards. Footing and concentration suddenly lost, Harry's head dinged against the car's doorframe. The star above flickered. Blue shield collapsing.

"No! Don't hurt him!" Howard screamed.

The sickening parasite clawed towards him. A ghoul from darkness. It grabbed his neck and twisted it.

Snap

.

White stars glittered his vision when Harry's corporeal form realigned itself back into his body - albeit reluctantly. That and the sound of dry sobbing.

"It's all my fault. I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry."

Braced on his arms, then knees and finally feet, Harry stumbled around the car to see Howard's spirit knelt besides his wife's beaten corpse. Harry had long been desensitised to death, but seeing the kind Maria he had known for such a short while, body black and blue was distasteful. Made his gentlemanly instincts go full vigilante vengeance.

"Who is this Sergeant Barnes fellow?"

Howard whipped his head around. Broken expression swirling into fury, then horrific fear. There wasn't a ghost in any plane of existence that failed to acknowledge its Master.

"He was a friend. We thought he had died in the war," agonising regret and guilt toned his story, "Clearly he survived and was succinctly captured by HYDRA."

"Well clearly," Harry guffawed. "And HYDRA is…" Giving an encouraging motion with his hand. He needed to know which origination to crumble. "C'mon, HYDRA. Who are they?"

"Nazis."

"Of course they are," Harry sighed and leaned against the car for support. While there he noticed the backseat was missing a briefcase. "The Nazis robbed you."

"My research," Howard bitterly replied.

"Sounds serious." Harry nodded, eyes on Maria. "Your wife's found peace."

"I don't know how," the ghost tried to sob again. But he was dead. He couldn't. "I can't rest. Not knowing Barnes is alive, HYDRA has my research and my son is an orphan."

"I was going to offer this to Maria," Harry said. Eyes reluctantly meeting Howard's. "But seeing as she's gone where I cannot follow, you have sole custody of my debt."

Howard frowned. "Debt?"

"I caused this," He gestured. "So you could say I owe you a debt. Whatever you tell me to do, I will within my limits."

"Bring my wife back to life."

Harry couldn't help but be taken aback. "I'm Death. Not my division."

"Then," Howard thought. Frown lines deepening. "Watch over my son. Keep him safe from HYDRA."

"I can do that. I swear to you."

It was a beautiful thing, watching a ghost be at peace. "Thank you."

.

thoughts? feelings?