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Milliseconds before the Spark: Universe 192,315,184

With the death of the avatar of Akihiko Kayaba, a predetermined set of code ran through the virtual world of Sword Art Online, setting off a chain reaction that would destroy the greatest and most terrible virtual reality game in existence. Starting at floor one, all players began to disintegrate, their consciousness began to transfer back into their comatose bodies. Some unfortunate souls began to be captured by corporate henchfolk for nefarious purposes, not that they would survive to see their plots reach fruition. Some woke up in hospitals next to their loved ones or alone, only to then experience that universe being sacrificed so other universes could survive.

On floor 17, the code encountered a virus of sorts. The new instructions made no sense to the program AI in charge of transferring the outgoing consciousness's to an Unknown Error location. The Sword Art Online code fought against it the best it could, but the lack of exhaustive testing on Kayaba's part made countering this type of unusual intrusion particularly difficult. It was a tendency for software developers to make sure their programs do what they are designed to do, but rarely do they verify that they don't do what they aren't supposed to do. This was especially true when designing a death game.

Seventeen consciousness's and one helpful Artificial Intelligence were infected by the virus, their minds transferring across dimensions at the behest of a deity. With their bodies gone, Janus' power created new physical forms to inhabit, using the character code of the game as a base since that was all they had to use. All the skills, abilities, powers, and gear that the players had in the game, their new bodies possessed as well. They were, in essence, their avatars in real life.

If Janus knew how much he would break the new world by doing this, both faces would be laughing for ages.

Universe 93,569,185

In every respect, it wasn't fair at all. Natasha Romanov had decades of training to become the perfect assassin. She was silent, invisible in the shadows, and carried more weapons than should be possible for someone in a skintight catsuit. Completely unfair.

Just the way she liked it.

The bastard son was first. If something went wrong, as it always seemed to do, she knew the son had to go. The father would just be a bonus, but not a requirement for this particular mission.

As if on cue, Ramsey Bolton appeared in his open bedroom window, naked and bloody. Through her scope, she appraised his physical form. From what Natasha remembered of the books she read in her previous universe, Ramsey had one of the worst sadistic streaks there was, only rivaled by the future King Jeoffrey. It wouldn't have surprised her if he'd just finished torturing and/or killing some poor soul in his bedchamber.

Her specialty was close quarter combat, but that didn't mean she lacked lethality in long range weapons. She wasn't close to Clint, but no one was. Well, maybe her current companion could give him a run for his money.

Kincaid was an enigma. When he arrived at Hogwarts in the company of an unconscious little girl, many didn't know what to expect from him. Not that anyone really knew who anyone else was during that chaotic time where they were literally dropped into a strange world surrounded by strangers from fiction. When the girl, who Kincaid called Ivy, briefly woke up and whispered a list of names, Natasha saw him for who he really was. A loyal, ruthless, loving older brother who was utterly devoted to his charge. Ramsey Bolton was the first name on Ivy's list.

Kincaid's Beretta M82 barked in the still night air. They were a mile away, so the peasants in the castle, unaware of firearms, wouldn't recognize the sound or the threat it posed. Two seconds after the shot, Natasha saw Ramsey's body jerk back, and she saw through the sadist's chest. Whatever non-standard ammunition Kincaid used, it made a plate sized hole in its target. One less bullet from their very limited supplies. Twenty more rounds and the Beretta would just be a fancy club, unless they could figure out a workaround for refilling spent shells.

"You're up," Kincaid whispered. "I'll cover you from here."

Without a word, Natasha put down her own sniper rifle and rose, shedding her camouflage cloak as she donned a less notable outfit for the time period, and began the walk to the Bolton castle. Disguised as a servant, she didn't anticipate anyone stopping her, but she was prepared if they did. She had her own weapons to deal with that scenario.

It was pathetically easy. Security and guards gave the bare minimum effort to protect the inhabitants. She could kill half the castle without anyone the wiser. Instead, she just needed one death to complete her mission.

It was a maid who provided the complication she'd been expecting. A tensing of the servant's shoulders gave Natasha all the warning she needed that she was found out. She wasn't expecting the knife the maid immediately drew, but that wasn't to say she wasn't prepared for it. Before a shout of alarm could be given, the maid was unconscious. Within seconds, the body was hidden in a closet, and shouldn't awake for another hour.

Three more bodies hidden away and she finally made it to the Lord's bedroom. She didn't gloat, didn't monologue, didn't hesitate. Natasha drew her collapsible sword, extended it fully, and slit the throat of Roose Bolton halfway through the neck. Air escaped through the opening, a wheezing sound that wouldn't be heard outside the doors. According to their intelligence, that act ended the Bolton line. The house of the Flayed Man was done for.

It was a good thing she hadn't hesitated because alarm bells rang throughout the keep before she could collapse the sword back to it's portable position. She hurried out of the castle, relying on her dirty feminine appearance and the panicked atmosphere to evade the guards. Luckily, she made it back to Kincaid without further complications. After she buried her disguise in a pre-dug hole, the pair then made their way back to their ride.

"Any issues?" Daphne Greengrass, their apparition/teleportation expert, asked, bored from waiting.

"None worth discussing," Kincaid stated, equally emotionless. "Next target is Walder Frey, to the south, at the Twins. Got any issues with that?"

"It'll take a few jumps, but I don't anticipate any issues. Be prepared, just in case I am mistaken."

Without another word, Daphne took the hands of Natasha and Kincaid that weren't holding weapons, and a soft pop sounded, leaving behind only the cries and alarms from the now leaderless Dreadfort.