A/N: Happy Halloween, guys! I got something for ya!

Crusader Nightshade - I'm sorry! I'm glad you liked it though, but don't worry, there will be an entire chapter dedicated to them

Omnipotent X - as always, thank you for the kind words

There was much talk in the Pro Hero community and even in the inner networks of the underground. Major activity has skyrocketed since the retirement of All Might. Villains thought they were so bold, but like their increase in confidence, the occurrence of the shadow walker increased as well.

Someone once asked, "What lies between the morality of good and evil?"

People who fought for justice and believed in making the world a better and safer place for everyone were viewed as heroes.

Individuals who would rather see the world burn, ruin the lives of many just for some quick laugh, was a clear act of villainy.

The two forces would never stop their eternal feud. For heroes to exist, there must be villains, but villains can exist without a hero to combat them.

What about the middle? The line between good and evil was clear as day, but what existed in that between? The neutral party, those who claim to be neither good nor evil, a hero or villain, what about them?

Was such a thing possible? For many, there was no such thing. Even those who claim neutrality gravitated towards one side of the spectrum that appeased them more.

For others, there did exist people in the middle, between good and evil. They often refer to these individuals as "gray hats." Gray hats did not necessarily adhere to the strict guidelines of either good or evil, but instead operated in a more ambiguous moral area. While they were not as altruistic as heroes, they, also, were not as malevolent as villains. Gray hats often had their own code of ethics that they followed, which may or may not align with either heroes or villains.

Instead of Hero names, gray hats use code names, and in all three circles, there was a single name that sparked intense emotions.

Many saw it as a scare tactic. Others believed it to be a silly myth passed around. But there were those who knew better. There were those aware of the dangers of such a being, one who didn't discriminate between heroes and villains, but made it clear they had no trouble opposing one.

They were known as the Harbinger of Death.

No one knew where they come from, but their existence was in no way a fairytale. Many compared the harbinger to Stain, but the former targeted both heroes and villains. If any hero went too far, they would receive an unwarm welcome, and any villain crazy enough to stake claim on their territory would find the blade of harvest collecting another soul.

The harbinger went by another name, a codename that had more weight to it than any influential title could ever hope to dream of.

Codename: Reaper

They were everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Nothing escaped their notice. Nothing could get away undetected. They had eyes on every location. No one knew how they got their information, or even what they looked like. All anyone knew was that they existed. Many people have tried to find out the identity of the Reaper, but they have all failed. The Reaper made sure of that. No one could know their true identity. No one could get close. The Reaper was a mystery, an enigma, a specter that haunted the dreams of those who dared to cross them. It was the reason many didn't believe they existed.

But they did.

The Reaper was real, and they were watching.

They were always watching.

Japan entered the nighttime buzz. People were either coming home from work or starting their night out on the town.

Hero patrol around the entire country had increased after All Might's retirement, and with more villains getting bolder, so did the appearance of the Harbinger of Death.

In the midst of the calm ambience, a figure stood atop the spire of a building to oversee some proceedings. They were shrouded in a black coat, their face hidden in the shadows of the hood.

This was the Reaper, the middle party that stood between the values of heroism and villainy.

Their eyes scanned the area before them, their vision penetrating the darkness to observe their surroundings. They were aware of the growing activity and the influx of new information they gathered from many stakes. Something was being passed around the villain circle, and the scary part was that it was supposed to suppress a quirk far better than any confinement could ever do.

Something like that was dangerous for both heroes and villains.

Reaper intended to figure out the mastermind behind the drug and overthrow the entire operation. To do that, they needed two crucial pieces of information: who was making the drug, and how they were doing it.

Information led the harbinger to this location, where a transaction was underway. Like the darkness shrouding them, Reaper was silent as they dropped from the building and landed soundlessly near the two men.

"Is that everything?" one of the men asked.

"All I could manage," the other replied. "Boss said to hurry. We don't want to draw HIS attention."

Just the thought sent chills down their spines. They knew of the legend, and like smart people, they heeded the warnings.

The smuggler was quickly paid, and both went their separate ways. However, the carrier was in Reaper's sight. Still hidden in the shadows, the harbinger tagged the carrier and then turned their attention to the other man.

It was a mistake to stay behind.

Reaper tapped the man on his shoulder and saw his look of confusion evolve into terror as he saw the cloaked figure.

Reaper said nothing.

The man tried to run, but Reaper was faster. They grabbed the man by the throat and lifted him off the ground. A bright blue light glowed in the endless abyss deep within the hood, and the man froze in place.

"I," he grunted. "I can't move."

Reaper dropped the man and kept his body under paralysis.

"Y-You. N-No, we were careful. H-How did y-you?"

The hooded figure reached into their cloak and pulled out a photo. In the picture was a single man with brown hair and thin eyes with small gold irises. He was seen wearing a red old-style magenta and gold plague mask and a dark green bomber jacket with a purple fur-lined hood.

Reaper kept silent as the man blanched, his body trembling harder. That was reason enough.

"I-I don't know who that is," they claimed.

Reaper placed the photo back in their cloak and held their hand out. The man was confused until a staff materialized in Reaper's hand. Then, the harbinger dragged their hand from one end of the staff to the side, drawing a sickle shaped blade.

The man teared up as Reaper assumed his infamous stance, the grim reaper wielding its death scythe.

"Wait!" the man's voice cracked. "Please, don't kill me. I swear, I don't know who that is. It's a need-to-know basis. I just make the deliveries."

The scythe began to glow an eerie color, and the man started to weep, but the paralysis prevented him from crying out for help. No one could hear him. No one would come to his aid. He was all alone with the Harbinger of Death.

"P-Please, I have a family. It's not honest work, but I do it for them."

Reaper lifted the scythe, the blade pointing down at the man.

"Please," the man begged. "I-I'll do anything. Just don't kill me."

The scythe glowed brighter, and the man's eyes widened in terror.

"Please!"

And then, Reaper swung.

Reaper attacked.

"Overhaul!"

The scythe stopped mere inches from the man's neck.

"That's the name I heard," they said. "The boss was putting the packages together, and I heard the name Overhaul slip out. That's all I know. I swear! Please, don't kill me!"

Reaper mulled over the response and retracted their attack. The bottom end of the scythe tapped the ground twice, and the paralysis plaguing the man vanished. He could move again but chose to stay still.

"C-Can I go?"

There was no response. Reaper put away their weapon and reached into their cloak again. This time, they pulled out a card and placed it on the man's chest. Then, they took off into the night, leaving the man by himself. However, he could still feel the Harbinger of Death's gaze judging his every action.

The man waited a few moments before he looked down at the card.

"A business card?" his brow elevated.

The man flipped it over and froze in place. On the back was a phone number with a simple message written in blood-red ink.

"Call me if you ever want to get out of the business."

The man's hands trembled as he stared at the number. His mind was racing with the implications of what this meant. He could turn this information in and be a hero. He could get out of the business and have a better life.

Or he could ignore it and hope that the Harbinger of Death never came for him again.

As for the Reaper, they now had a clear target and a mouse inside the facility. The time to act was now.

The Harbinger of Death wouldn't let this go.

Reaper was always watching.