AN: 12/24/19 updated

Natasha Romanoff paged through the relatively sparse dossier that Director Fury had just handed over. There really wasn't much to indicate that the target was extraordinary in any manner. In fact, the file seemed to suggest a relatively ordinary individual.

Thirty-year-old male, 181cm in height, 165 lbs., general medical practitioner who ran his own family clinic in a small sleepy little town a few miles south of New York City. 4.8 stars on Yelp Reviews, it seemed people thought well of his services.

He had come to America for his degree at Stanford Medical School through an Einstein Visa and immediately received citizenship when he graduated. No wife or girlfriend of note, just a father and two sisters still living in Japan.

Credit score was well above average for an American, never had a late payment or a loan despite owning a house. No presence on social media, only one known email account used mainly for work related communications.

No criminal history in the United States, his home country of Japan or anywhere else for that matter. Not even a speeding ticket or a citation for jaywalking.

Ok, maybe that last bit was a little suspicious. From Natasha's experience, no one was that squeaky clean without putting effort into it. Amateurs tried to avoid any citations thinking that it helped them avoid the attention of authority, unknowingly drawing more attention to themselves by being so spotless.

"This guy seems totally normal compared to the other people on the list," she said when she finished speed-reading through the documents. "What caught your attention about him?"

Her boss rubbed a thumb absentmindedly against his eye patch, one of the few unconscious tics he had when he was annoyed with something. There were many whispered stories circulating amongst the SHIELD personnel behind how the spymaster had lost his eye.

Most ignored the more outlandish theories and attributed it to any number of black ops missions the Director had been a part of during his days as an active field agent. Natasha had personally heard a particularly amusing tale involving a secret alien invasion during the early 90's resulting in Fury's need for an eye patch.

That rumor had come from a straight faced Phil Coulson. It was a testament to the man's steel trap like personality that Natasha wasn't sure if she should take it seriously or not. The man's dry humor could trigger a drought during a monsoon.

Phil delighted in confusing the most basic issues with subterfuge, sewing unexpected truths and spinning indistinguishable lies into a false web that layered so deep, one had to wonder exactly how high the man's clearance truly was. Nobody knew for sure, not even Natasha.

Fury's current state of irritation probably had something to do with his unwanted early afternoon visit with Stark. The Invincible Iron Man always seemed to be able to get under the normally unflappable Director's skin.

Tony had the kind of personality that delighted in irritating others and fed off their reaction. He was a billionaire genius manchild, brilliant, eccentric, and one annoying jackoff.

Natasha would know, she had worked undercover as one of his secretaries for months in order to get SHIELD eyes into JARVIS's networks without the AI detecting their intrusion. Despite her iron discipline, even she had come close to jamming a pencil through his eye socket, mission be damned.

"He's one of the few on the list that we suspect might have powers, but we have no definitive proof. There were some scattered reports of unusual activities in his hometown during his youth, and Kurosaki always seemed involved in one way or another."

The Director lowered his hand from his face and frowned thoughtfully.

"Normally I would focus our attention on recruiting the people we know for sure have abilities, but this one is right on our doorstep. I want you to do a preemptive check to determine if we should pursue Kurosaki as a member of the Avenger's initiative."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly do we suspect him capable of?"

Fury turned and gave her a grim look. "He might be anywhere between a 1 and a 10."

The former Russian spy felt her other eyebrow reflexively join the first. The number scale was invented by SHIELD to roughly gauge the threat level of an individual in terms of their unusual talents.

Most normal humans were considered a 0, harmless without a weapon. A rating of 1 might be a minor talent, something simple like being able to levitate a small object. Or it may be applied to someone particularly deadly at armed or unarmed combat. Natasha knew she was rated somewhere between a 3 and 4 herself. The Hulk was put firmly in the 9-10 range.

Only a handful of individuals rated on the far end of the scale. But the fact that there were a few people like that out in the wild was enough to make those in the know rather uncomfortable. The possibility there were more wandering the world and they simply hadn't surfaced yet, was downright frightening.

Nukes might be scary, but at least they were predictable. Their use was preventable; their resulting devastation containable should the unfortunate come to pass. Conventional weapons were a known quantity.

Living, breathing weapons of mass destruction? That was a game changer the world wasn't ready for, not by a long shot. There were no diplomatic channels to talk these kinds of people down, no countermeasures in place should they decide to use their powers maliciously.

The recognition of the dangers presented by these extraordinary individuals had fueled the agreement between nations to allow an organization like SHIELD to exist. While the concept was not new, only in the recent past decade with the rising dangers of gifted humans were they finally given the resources and power to take real action.

"Are we speaking hypothetically here?" she asked skeptically. "Or do you actually have a legitimate reason for assigning such a wide threat range for this guy?"

Fury shrugged noncommittedly and collected the file from her outstretched hand. The dossier promptly vanished into a desk drawer out of sight, followed by the telltale grinding of a paper shredder and the soft hiss of the microincinerator the paranoid man had installed at his desk.

"Let's just say I have my suspicions," Fury responded, leaning back in his chair. "And you might find him interesting too, for personal reasons."

The former KGB spy felt a moment of apprehension. "I don't do personal."

In her line of business, personal got you killed. Natasha was very keen on staying alive and kicking for as long as humanly possible.

"Well you might consider giving it a try," advised Fury with a bland look. "The one consistent thing we know for sure about this guy is that he can see ghosts."

Natasha felt a chill go down her spine. It was not something many people knew about her, but she was not exactly ordinary herself. For as long as she could remember she had been able to see the spirits of those who had passed away. It was the reason why she had been originally recruited to the KGB. Not only could she speak with the dead, she could often force the truth out of them; truths they had taken to the grave with them.

Whoever said that dead men tell no tales had obviously never met someone like her.

When she left the KGB's services, the redhead had hunted down and killed the handlers who knew of her unusual ability. She'd spent a good few months tracking down and destroying all recorded evidence of her abilities that had been on file. Burned down a few KGB intelligence repository just to be extra sure.

Now the only people left that knew she could see and talk to the dead were Hawkeye and Fury. She trusted both implicitly for different reasons. It was an ability that came in unexpectedly handy, but not something she wanted openly advertised.

The former KGB operative had run into plenty of people who claimed they could see and speak with the dead; spiritualists, priests, voodoo witches and various other scam artists from every corner of the planet. None of the charlatans had been able to see them like she could, she'd been able to tell the minute she spoke with them.

"What makes you think he's the real deal?" she asked.

"Reading between the lines," Fury replied cryptically. "It will be your job to prove whether he's the real deal or not."

Natasha blew at a stray strand of her hair that had dropped into her vision, leaning back in her chair. She took the photo of the man she had been assigned to evaluate, the only thing from the folder she had kept before handing it back to Fury. The 4x5 colored photo showed a scowling man with hard hazel eyes flecked with gold and garish orange hair of all things.

'Ichigo Kurosaki huh?' she thought. 'This will be interesting.'

AN: Yeah I know, really? Starting another story? Well I just started writing and it came to me so… =D