The Invisible

Chapter 3: The Orphan

-----IIIII-----

The room was spartan, but it was more than sufficient for his needs. He made a lot of enemies while he ran his business, and as a result, he was forced to keep an extremely low profile. Moving often and quickly was much simpler when he only bothered to keep a desk in whichever room he decided to install himself for the time being.

The air before him shimmered slightly, and then a witch apparated into his room. He took a look at her. The raven haired woman gave him a depreciative look. "You've seen more than enough of me. Get down to business."

"Sit then."

"There's no need for courtesy. I'll stand." She walked over to the other side of the desk and stood there.

Her sleek, black dress accentuated her slight figure. The fragility that she exuded greatly belied the danger she posed to anyone that stood in her way. The short-haired lady that stood before him was his best agent. An agent that would do tasks that no one else would dare do, an agent that could do tasks that no one else could ever do. She never went by her real name anymore. In these circles, she was merely referred to as The Orphan. "Did you get the Owl?"

"The contents were remarkably vague, even for you."

He tossed a thin dossier over to her side of the desk. "There. Everything you need to know."

"Why me?" She reached down, opened the dossier, and glanced through the contents.

"You know that you're the best when it comes to overseas assignments---"

"In Shanghai? Send Cho Chang. She'll fit in better than me," she interrupted.

"You know her. This is one mission that she will never be able to pull off."

"Dark Artifacts smugglers? This one sounds like a job for the Aurors. Why can't the Chinese wizards handle this themselves? Why us? Why me?"

"According to the intelligence we gathered, this is not a normal smuggling and distribution ring. This is not your normal Death Eater business. Their fingerprints aren't all over it."

"Small timers then."

"With that much throughput? A solid amount of their operation terminates in the British Home Isles. They are supplying the underground Dark Magic community. If we manage to eliminate them, the Aurors will have an easier time rounding up the splinter groups."

"Aurors can't get permission to operate in China?" The Orphan smirked.

"We don't ask why. We just do. Makes business a lot more profitable."

"I don't have a choice do I?"

"You never did. Good. I expect you to be in Shanghai by the week's end. I have taken the liberty of informing Armory about your mission. Your usual armaments and supplies will be delivered to the standard location."

She gave him a curt nod, "If I run into any problems--"

"You must end the smuggling operation. Furthermore, you will attempt to retrieve as much information as possible. How the mission is handled I leave entirely to your disposal."

"There will be bodies."

"So be it. The client hasn't requested any discretion on that matter. Any other questions you may have will be addressed entirely by the information in the dossier," he said as he threw a stern look at her. "You haven't failed anything I've given you yet, Orphan. Don't make this the first."

"I'll do your dirty work. Payment as usual, I suppose."

"Correct."

"Then good day to you." With that she disapparated.

-----IIIII-----

Even to the Muggles, China was a land full of mystery and magic. To her, someone who had probably seen all there was to see in Europe, the wizarding community here was unfathomably strange. The little that she gleaned from the dossier that she received was barely enough to keep her from being noticed as a foreigner, or at least a foreigner from Europe.

"We Shanghainese have little love for you southern peasants. Why have you come?" The graying wizard eyed her suspiciously. He stroked his unruly beard and narrowed his eyes. "Why do you need to hide behind a veil of secrecy? Only thieves and criminals have something to hide."

Such hostility was not unexpected. If she were in his place, she would probably be behaving the same way. Granted, the slight blurring spell that she placed around her face did make it painfully obvious that she didn't want to be noticed, but she had done this many times before. People always assumed the worst, and so she let them. "You are Sun Huang Bei?"

"I am." His suspicion did not ease. They were sitting in a private booth in one of the smaller drinking houses of the city, his favorite haunt, or so she had been told.

"I came here," she paused slightly, "seeking ... certain items."

"Speak plainly peasant. My time is precious. Do not presume that you are the only one seeking information."

"My village in Guangdong has been hit by famine. I--"

"If you want pity, go to the local charity. Let me ask you again. Why are you here?"

Straight and to the point, she could see that this man's reputation was well earned. According to most of the wizards and witches that she had spoken to during her brief time here, everyone pointed her to Elder Sun. He was supposed to be the best information broker in the city. "I need to find artifacts of great power. My own strength is not enough. I need to enhance myself in order to bring--"

"You speak of highly illegal items," he lowered his voice a slight notch. "You are not only a peasant, but also a criminal. You sully my name by uttering such nonsense in my presence. Now leave before I cast you out."

"I have money--"

He let out a sardonic laugh, "Cantonese peasants have no idea what passes for money here in Shanghai. I do not accept sacks of rice, nor do I accept heads of bulls--"

And he promptly broke off once he saw that she had placed several gold pieces on the tea table before them. She didn't know how much such information would normally go for in this city, but she was confident that the amount that she had placed on the table would be more than enough. It had to be, she wasn't afforded much more by Headquarters. If he refused, she would either have to persuade him forcefully, or rob a bank. Neither of which would be looked upon favorably by anyone.

He picked up a piece and whispered a short phrase. Immediately, the gold began to glow an odd color of blue. "Where did you find this, peasant? Did you rob a merchant on your way here?"

"Does it matter?"

A lop-sided smirk contorted his face. "No."

"Then will you tell me--"

"For that much, I will tell you where to go and who to search for. If you wish for anything more--"

She shook her head.

"Very well." He reached into his long robe and pulled out a rolled up piece of paper. As he spread the parchment out onto the table, long black lines began to appear on it. Eventually, they formed a rather crude map of the city. "Here." He jabbed his finger onto the map. "You will find a merchant dealing in the sort of items that if found on your person, will get you thrown into jail for a long time."

"Excellent. Thank you, Elder." She bowed her head slightly.

"Now get lost peasant."

-----IIIII-----

To her immense surprise, the location that the Elder pointed out to her wasn't a seedy alleyway akin to Knockturn Alley. In fact, it was right in the middle of a bustling shopping district, a Muggle shopping district on top of that. It was to her immense irritation that she was forced to drop the spell that she had placed to mask her features. In its stead she drank one of the Polyjuice potions that she had prepared before her journey. A few hours were all she had to find her quarry. She definitely did not want to be among Muggles as the potion wore off.

The lights, sounds, and sheer amount of people that thronged the streets made it all but impossible to do any sort of detailed search. Frustrated with having to wade through the human sea, she quickly dove into a small side street. It shouldn't have to be so difficult. Muttering a few curses under her breath, she fished out a pair of sunglasses from her handbag.

Wearing the pair of shades, she made her way back onto the main road. The enchanted eyewear allowed her to see the magical hues that emanated from everything and anything. Almost immediately, she noticed the ridiculously pronounced blue aura of one of the shops on the street, along with a slightly cyan glow from numerous other places.

She took the sunglasses off, gave herself a triumphant smirk, and moved towards the target.

-----IIIII-----

An herbal remedy store, who would have guessed?

It was a small, unkempt place with strange jars of herbs and pots of spices littering the area. A small fellow stood behind some sort of table, staring at strewn pieces of paper as his fingers flew across an abacus.

"Gargoyles' Breath," she announced.

The shopkeeper paused, looked up from the desk, and sized her up. "Gargolyles' Breath," he repeated.

"Yes." It was an extremely toxic poison and almost certainly something that should not be carried anywhere. In England, the Aurors came down hard on anyone possessing even a drop of it.

He nodded slightly and turned, ready to go into whatever cellar he had set up away from prying eyes.

"I want fifty," she clarified. It was an unreasonable request, she knew, but this would be the fastest way to get what she wanted without having to hurt anyone.

"You are making a fool of me. Leave," he spat, and returned to his work.

"I am serious." She flung the remaining portion of the gold that was given to her onto his table.

He looked up at her in annoyance. "No matter how much you have on you, I am unable to provide you with so much poison."

"But you know who can. If you tell me your supplier, you can have all of that."

"I do not know who my supplier is."

He was lying, but she decided to play along. "Fine. Then just tell me where you collect it."

She could see that he was thinking about it. Should he risk telling her about it? Was the money worth it? But she already knew the answer.

Money was always worth it.

-----IIIII-----

The black robe swirled around her legs as she slinked through the darkness of the night. A warehouse, the shopkeeper had said. Apparently, the smugglers were operating out of it. Pouring all your illegal goods into one building wasn't a very intelligent way of planning a smuggling ring, but a couple of bribes did go a long way to ensuring that certain activities would be left well alone.

She had decided that the warehouse was worth a quick search. Intelligence was essential, and the warehouse could quite possibly hold a treasure trove of information. She skulked in the shadows, carefully surveying the massive building. Assured of the lack of security, she pulled the hood over her head and made her way forwards. Invisibility robes were nigh impossible to find, an item strictly controlled by the Ministry of Magic. A member of the normal wizarding community had to bend over backwards to obtain one, but she was far from being a normal witch.

Nonetheless, the robe had many limitations. Being invisible is only effective until someone becomes suspicious. Almost any spell could pierce the veil. A fire spell could torch the robes, and whoever was inside. A simple stunning spell could wind the user and give the enemy enough time to make off. A slightly more advanced detection spell, mastered by any wizard worth his salt, could make even the most potent invisibility charm thoroughly useless.

But she had little to fear around here. She placed her hand on the wall. It was solid brick, but otherwise without wards. She reached into her robes, pulled out her wand, and apparated into the building.

It was amazingly dark inside. For an operation that was supposed to be pretty active, the warehouse seemed utterly deserted. And then, the obvious came to her; it was a trap. Someone caught wind of who she really was and planned accordingly. Swiftly, she prepared to apparate away, but to her dismay, she realized that a powerful sealing ward had already been placed around the building.

Then the lights came on, nearly blinding her.

"Foreign devil!" A deep male voice boomed through the many loudspeakers that lined the walls. "Welcome! I hope that you prefer the lights on. All the better to see with, eh?"

As her vision cleared, she rapidly became aware of her rather dire situation. Stacks of crates and boxes of a hundred shapes and sizes littered the enormous room. Catwalks that were suspended from the ceiling crisscrossed the upper portion of the warehouse. It was a death trap. At least she still had her invisibility robe on. She had to hurry and find a way out before she was located.

"Do not presume that you can hide behind that pathetic trinket. Please, reveal yourself. We have quite a reception for you."

Almost immediately, the girding of the catwalk above rattled with the sound of footsteps. She took a glance upwards, and to her amazement, she spied a dozen men taking up strategic positions above her. But they were Muggles. Muggles dressed in Muggle military gear--thermal goggles over their eyes, Kevlar armor on their chests, and assault rifles pointing at her. Whoever was operating the ring of smugglers had hired Muggle mercenaries to do their dirty work. No wonder the smugglers managed to run such a massive operation. Their manpower was Muggle.

"Surprised are we, Englishwoman?"

Englishwoman? How did they know? Someone had leaked information, she thought grimly.

"Not very chatty are we? Alright then men, kill her."

Her jaw dropped as they raised their submachine guns and opened fire on her. Fighting Muggles? She would slaughter them. Did these people know nothing? In an instant, her wand was in her hand. "Protego!" The protective shield shimmered into life around her. It was suicidal. They would never be able to harm her, and she would probably be able to knock them all out within seconds.

Almost as if it were a reply, a bullet passed straight through her shield and buried itself into her upper left arm. Pain tore through her senses as she instinctively dived for cover behind one of the wooden crates. She bit out a quick healing spell as bullet fire raked the crates surrounding her. Insane! Muggle armaments couldn't pierce the shielding spell, but it was obvious to her that it had. And how had they seen through her invisibility robes? This didn't make any sense.

"Not so easy to kill are we now, little English witch?"

"Stupefy!" She threw the spell at one of the men as she dived for better cover. To her utter horror, she saw the red bolt streak towards her target, plow into his chest, and do absolutely nothing. She scrambled to her feet, winced as a sharp pain coursed throughout her body, and dashed towards another pile of wooden crates. A trail of bullet fire followed. Sparks erupted as bullets struck the concrete floor and splinters flew as crates came under the onslaught.

Grim thoughts passed through her mind as she made her way behind a pile of sandbags. Spells were ineffective against them. Spells couldn't protect her. Then, there was only one thing left to do. She would show them why people feared The Orphan. She shrugged off her robes, revealing a skin tight, Kevlar-woven combat suit underneath with tactical Webbing draped over it. She thrust her near useless wand into one of her pockets and upholstered her twin MP5Ks. She flicked the safety off, and amidst the roaring fire of a dozen assault rifles, she let out a long breath.

Just as the crates that she was leaning against began to buckle under the continuous fire, she took several quick steps to her side, looked up at the catwalks, pointed her weapons at the nearest soldier, and fired away. The hapless man was taken completely by surprise and collapsed in a hail of bullets.

"You are no witch!"

As panic and confusion spread throughout her foes, she raked her fire across the room as she rapidly made her way towards a flight of stairs that she had spotted. Another two guards tried to scramble out of the way of her onslaught, but were quickly laid low.

"Fools! Shoot her!"

A concerted flurry of bullets flew towards her in response. She threw herself over another crate and pressed her back close to it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that several mercenaries were making their way towards her level. They were probably going to attempt to surround her and flush her out. She felt a bead of sweat trickle down her cheek, and she shoved fresh magazines into her weapons.

The sound of footsteps came closer, and when she was sure that someone was almost hovering over her, she sprung out. Caught utterly by surprise, the trooper opened fire, but he was too slow. She circled around his flailing fire and smashed her gun over his head. As he crumpled to the floor, she quickly jumped to one side and managed to avoid another guard's rifle butt being buried in her back. She smashed her fist across his face and quickly followed that with a roundhouse kick that threw him into the wall with a sickening thud.

She turned and poured fire at another approaching mercenary, who promptly rolled behind some cover. As she continued unleashing suppressing fire, she rapidly made her way towards the stairs and up onto the catwalks. Another hail of fire greeted her as she approached the second floor. Reaching into one of her Webbing pouches, she pulled out a small stun grenade. She pulled the pin, waited for what seemed like forever, hurled it into the sky, and immediately turned her head away. A brilliant white light engulfed the area, followed by an earth shattering thunderclap.

"Damn you!"

She smirked as she heard the sound of scuffling feet over the loudspeakers. Someone had apparently decided that sticking around and gloating was no longer a good option. Raising her weapons once again, she climbed the last few steps and rained bullets upon the stunned soldiers. Her whole body shook from the recoil of the twin submachine guns, and the muzzle flashes dazzled her eyes. She set her jaw and continued pouring fire until her magazines ran dry.

She ducked into a corner and reached for another loaded clip, but there was no need. The survivors had all fled into the night. Apparently whoever was paying them to kill her hadn't paid them enough.

-----IIIII-----

The night turned much darker.

Hunched over the body of one of the soldiers, she examined his weapon in an attempt to find out how they had managed to pierce her shielding charm.

In her palm was the answer.

It was a bullet round bearing a small imprint--

a skull, with a snaking coming out of its mouth--

The Dark Mark.