Author's notes: This is my first fan fiction story written about the Witch Hunter Robin Universe. I hope you enjoy it. This is just chapter one, of a twenty part story.

WITCH HUNTER ROBIN: Into the Flames of Night

The cloaked figure rushed through the dark alley, taking a few precious seconds to glare behind him. She didn't seem to be behind him. That was good, he had lost her then. He pulled the hood from his head, and slumped back against a dark red brick wall. What did she want of me? He felt his heart pound against his chest as he leaned against the wall, and peered in the direction of the empty street. San Francisco wasn't supposed to be this isolated.

The man pulled his hood over his face again, and slipped out of the alley, slinking in the darkness as he walked. He covered a number of blocks before arriving at a church, though of which denomination he wasn't sure, he never entered any religious structures, since he was considered by many a witch.

It wasn't his fault; he hadn't made any deals with the devil for his powers, hadn't studied any books of the occult. He had simply been born with his powers. His parents were both scientists, and had both worked for a world wide organization called Solomon, so perhaps that had something to do with it.

He was sixteen when his powers had manifested the first time. He discovered that he could levitate things just by thinking about it. At first it frightened him, and his parents gave him stern warnings not to use his powers at all. His mother became even more possessive of him than she had been in the past, and then she had been smothering.

The church was dark and quiet. There seemed to be a massive stillness in the air, one that snuffed out life itself. There were no statues of holy men or women, the windows were dull and black. In the far front of the church there was a small alter made out of wood, and a tiny cross hanging far above it, but that was about all there was.

He dropped into a pew and knelt down, saying a quick prayer to God for help. A minute passed and then another. The quiet was suffocating. The cloaked figure looked at his wristwatch and swallowed. It was exactly at ten o'clock when he could hear the sounds of high heels walking up the steps toward the church.

The man threw his cloak into the pew and rushed to the front of the church, as he ran he glared at a few of the other pews and tossed them toward the back. There was a flash of light, and the wooden pews burst into flames, and slammed across the walls.

"Who the hell are you? Why are you after me?" the man wailed. The moonlight that filtered into the building illuminated his black hair, giving him a kind of shadow halo around his head.

"Because you need to be hunted for your crimes against humanity," she said, her voice low, and hushed. It was young sounding, but full of power.

"What crimes?" he wanted to be brave, but his response came out in a withered whelp.

"You are a witch, a killer of human's, the pure breed of God's holy children," she snarled.

"What gives you the right to judge me?" he snarled, attempting to toss another pew in her direction. Like the others, it exploded into flames and was sent sailing into the wall. "You are a witch yourself."

Her eyes widened with horror, and she ground her teeth. "I am no witch, my abilities have been given to my by my Heavenly Father, to hunt the damned like you, to purge you from His holy world."

Now the man began to chuckle and slow rose to his feet. "Earth is holy? I'd like to see where you see that. There's nothing but crime, corruption, and sin that I see."

"That's because you are a witch," she said coolly again. "The fact that you can not see the perfection and grace in His world proves you are not worthy to live in it."

"None of us are truly worthy," he said with a tired sigh. "We're all sinners, all flawed."

Her breath became irregular as she stared at him, her pupils dilating, "You are a liar and a seed of the original liar, Lucifer, you must be purged, you and all like you." With a thought, she bore down on him, and engulfed the man in flames. A few moments later, all that remained of him was a few ashes.

She smirked and turned around as she walked away. How ironic, that one of the Devil's children should taste the flames of punishment inside a church. It was as if he had been seeking chastisement. And if he had, then what further proof did she need of his guilt?

The young hunter walked out of the church, hailed a cab and rushed home to her apartment, eager to pray to her Heavenly Father, and inform Him that another witch had died tonight.

On the other side of the world, Robin Sena sat in a counter, eating her sandwich quietly. It was a few months past since she had left Solomon, after their rouge director had tried to hunt her down, in order to keep human blood pure. She still wasn't sure if she had caused the explosion that had gone up the elevator, that had taken his life or not. She had felt an immense amount of hate when he had escaped, so much so that she had said numerous Rosaries in penance for it.

The restaurant where she was eating did not really deserve to be called that. It was just a tiny little diner, shaped like a cubicle. Bright oranges, and sky blue colors danced around the walls, floors, and roof, and even the tables, as upbeat nineteen fifties music flowed through the air, trying to soothe or let people reminisce about the good old times.

"The good old times," she said barely audible to those around her. Her dark brown eyes looked down into her cherry coca-cola, and she sighed, running her fingers through her light brown hair, which was flowing over her shoulders. Even though she normally slept with her hair down, or when she was underground during her hunt, during the day Robin had her tied up, in what most people called a bicycle design.

The clothes she was wearing were a nuisance too. Normally dressed in her long flowing Victorian style dress, colored in mud brown and dark brick reds, to continue hiding from those who wanted her dead, Robin agreed with her protector to dress like a normal teenage girl. Not too normal, of course, being raised in a convent, Robin never liked attire that was TOO revealing. Showing her belly button was about as far as it went.

Her protector, Amon, was a large man with dark black hair. They had been partners, up until the Factory betrayed them, and hunter her. For a few days, due to his hatred of his mother, and of all witches, they were rivals as well. Right now he sat, leaning against the back of the stool, arms crossed, his face in a scowl. His face rarely ever wore a smile. It was like as if Michelangelo had sculpted his oval shaped head from stone.

Amon's cell phone rang, and the two of them frowned at each other. Who could know that they had been hiding in Buenos Aires? Amon cautiously answered it, as if it had venom that would pour into his ear if he picked it up to quickly. "Yes?" he snapped in agitation. A few seconds later, his eyes went wide, and then he nodded. "I see." He clicked it off and looked at her.

"What is it?" she asked, leaning forward.

"Get your things; we're going back to Japan."