*Hello, everyone! Spawnzilla014, here. I first of all want to apologize for being gone for so long. No, I'm not deleting this story. I'm just re-writing it and fixing all of the mistakes I made, that's all. So for those who are upset...don't be. Trust me; this story will be a lot better and make more sense once I'm through with it.

The synopsis for my entire trilogy is still the same: Spawn wakes up not remembering a thing and wants to find out about his past. Forces of Hell try to persuade him to use his powers for evil, while forces from Heaven wants him to use them for good. Along the way, Spawn makes new friends and enemies while learning more about his powers. But will he ultimately be good or evil?

So without further ado, here it is!

SPAWN: THE DARK AVENGER!*

Chapter 1: Welcome to Empire Plaza!

It was a night just like any other in the city of Empire Plaza; it was hot, muggy, and loud. The sound of heavy metal and hip hop music mixed with car horns, laughs, and occasionally a scream or a sob. The streets were 10 times as busy now that the pale face of the moon had lit up the sky; the plague known as crime rose out of the shadows to resume its usual routine.

The street lights were dimly lit, but just enough to see the inhabitants of the crime ridden streets. The pushers flirted with the hookers, the hustlers howled with laughter as some sucker got fleeced at a 3 card monte, and the addicts and hobos huddled in their corners.

Brighter still were the lights glaring from the bright neon letters of the tattoo parlors, the strip clubs, and the broken down bars. And over it all, was the full moon. Luna; the ancient symbol of madness, rose up to show its approval. Welcome to Empire Plaza! Here, everyone knows the number one rule: It was a big happy family...unless you were an outsider, then you were dead.

A perfect example for those who didn't follow that golden rule was a typical family walking home from the movie theaters. A mother, a father, and a young 12 year old son. They were all too well dressed to even be coming to this neighborhood to begin with, but late at night was a welcome to hostility of the dark inhabitants of the city.

As the family approached a bus station, a group of shady characters gave them dark looks. Mother tightly clutched onto Father's sleeve. "For God's sake, Harold! Can't we just get a taxi?" Mother complained. "Be quiet Marge! I'm trying to figure out which way 22nd Street is on this map!" Father snapped. "Uh, it's upside down." 12 year old Jimmy pointed out.

The Father cursed before he crumbled up the map and threw it in the trash, and then dragged his family along to continue on through the dark streets of the night. Eventually, they made another wrong turn and were wandering aimlessly through a dark alley. "Papa, I'm scared!" Jimmy complained. "There is no need to be scared, son. Besides; there's no one else here but us. Now keep it down!" Father shushed.

Suddenly, two men slipped from the shadows in black trench coats and shades. "Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing here? This is our turf; beat it!" one of the Blackcoats snarled. "Don't mind us, sir. We were just leaving!" Father said calmly. "Did I ask for your fucking opinion, asshole? No, I didn't. So shut your trap or I'll shut it for you!" the other Blackcoat threatened. "Now there's no need to be rude. If you will just let us be-" Father began.

One of the Blackcoats stepped forward and punched the father in the jaw, forcing him on his back on the cold and unwelcoming ground. Mother tried to scream, but the other Blackcoat grabbed hold of her before whipping out a snub nosed revolver and aimed it at her head. Father tried to get up, but the first Blackcoat stomped his foot into his chest and drew out a 1911 Colt Pistol, aiming directly at his head. "Please! Stop it; don't hurt my parents!" Little Jimmy wailed.

Father cried out in pain as he was forced to remain on his back, while Mother started sobbing her eyes out in pure fear. "Please; let us go! We'll give you whatever you want!" Mother whimpered. "Quiet or I'll blow your brains out!" the Blackcoat snarled as he pressed the barrel of the gun against her temple. "Stop! Leave me wife and child alone; tell me what you want and I'll give it to you! You want money? I've got plenty of money; you can have $100 in cash if you let us go! No? Ok, then $200! $300! I'll give you $500 if you will let my wife and child live!" Father begged.

The Blackcoats sneered and smirked evilly as they glanced at each other. "Ok, old man. We've got a deal...your broad and brat lives." the first Blackcoat said as he motioned his head to the left. The second Blackcoat let the mother go, who immediately ran to her son and held him in her arms. "Ok...now just let me up and I'll give you the money. Ok? Nice and easy!" Father said out of breath.

The Blackcoat stepped off of the father and allowed him to stand on his feet. The father reached into his pocket and took out his wallet before he dropped it to the ground in front of the Blackcoats. "Ok; there you go! $500 in cash and it's all yours. Now just take it and go!" Father said nervously. One of the Blackcoats picked up the wallet and began counting the cash, before he glared back at the father. "I counted $400, buddy. You think you can rip us off?" the Blackcoat snarled. "What? No, I could've sworn I had $500!" Father replied. "No money, no deal. Ice the fucker!" the first Blackcoat growled as he aimed his Colt Pistol at Father's head. "No, wait!" Father exclaimed.

Loud gunshots rang out through the dark alleys for a whole minute, before dead silence filled the air with gloom and dread. Mother and Jimmy gasped in absolute horror as they witnessed the brutal murder of Father before their very eyes. The cold, dead and lifeless body of Father lay there in front of them; surrounded by a fresh pool of his own blood. "Oh my God!" Mother whispered. "What about the broad and the brat? Should we waste them too?" the second Blackcoat sneered.

The first Blackcoat stared at the mother and child before he grimaced menacingly. The first Blackcoat aimed and fired at the poor defenseless people until he used up his entire clip. "All right, that's enough. Come on, let's get the fuck outta here!" the first Blackcoat grumbled. Just as they both began walking away, it started to rain heavily. But if that wasn't bad enough, a shadowy figure witnessed the entire thing from up above on one of the rooftops.

This person, if that's what you could even call him, was by far the most intimidating character you could ever meet. He stood a little over 6 feet tall, was fairly muscular, had jet black skin, blazing green eyes, and had the most frightening looking blood red cape that flowed dramatically in the wind. He also wore a deadly pair of spiky red gauntlets on his arms, knees, and had a massive chain that wrapped around his waist. He even had a strange V shape on his chest that was ghost white, but the most peculiar thing about him was that he was not even from this universe. It was none other than Spawn, the Undead Hellspawn Phantom Warrior.

His green eyes glowed brightly with fury at the display of such cold blooded murder, and his fists tightly clenched together as his anger began to boil over. This wasn't the first time Spawn had witnessed such callous murder in these alleys, but now he was officially fed up with it. Tonight; all of that was going to change, and these assholes would soon learn their place and realize that they weren't welcome here anymore.

Meanwhile; more Blackcoats were in another alley surrounding a poor defenseless gentleman in a once dapper white suit and glasses. Apparently, this man owed them money and couldn't afford to pay them back. But the truth of the matter was that he used the money he was given to save up and pay back later on himself and his family. This pissed off the Blackcoats greatly, and as such...punishment was deserved without mercy or compassion.

The poor soul sobbed and gasped in horror as he was cornered against a brick wall, before the apparent leader of the Blackcoats grabbed him up by the collar. "You think you can get away from stealing from us, prick? We were very generous to even lend you that money to begin with, and now this is how you repay us? By fucking us over and spending our money?!" the leader growled. "I'm sorry, but it was my kid's birthday! He really wanted that new bike, and...and I took my family out to dinner and I-I'm so sorry. Please don't kill me! I swear to God, I'll find a way to pay you back!" the white suit man whimpered.

The leader looked over at his henchmen, who shook their heads. The leader dropped the poor man to the ground before walking away towards his car, opening up the trunk, and taking out a can of gasoline. "You know what they say in the old days, prick? Liars burn up in their own lies...and now you're gonna see what it's really like. Waste him!" the leader said as he handed the gas can to one of his men.

The white suit man cried out in horror as he was doused in gasoline. "NO! Please stop; have mercy! I have three little children and a pregnant wife! You can't kill me; please let me live!" he shouted. "Shut up and take it like a man!" one of the Blackcoats sneered as he whipped out a matchbox. "My kid just turned 6 years old today; I promised him to go bike riding with him tomorrow. Please let me go!" the white suit man sobbed. "I don't fucking care! For all I know, your family is gonna die next. In fact; I'll see to it that they all die just like you...nice and slow in a ball of fire!" the leader growled before he took a cigarette out of his pocket.

The poor man was soon lit up in a ball of fire and his screams and wails echoed through the dark alleys, though not a care in the world was given as the Blackcoats took off in their car. Little did they realize that their own deaths were going to be a lot quicker and twice as merciless; Spawn was now hot on their trail!

10 minutes later in yet another dark and dismal alley, the Blackcoats met with each other before doing business with a drug smuggler. "Aw, nice! Very nice; that's grade A Columbian straight from Miami, ain't it?" a Blackcoat said in excitement. "Yes sir, it is! But you all know the rules; pay first, party later. Now come on; cough up the dough!" the drug dealer said. "Not so fast; we actually wanted to talk to you about something. We noticed that there's been a shortage of our...product lately. You have anything you need to tell us?" the leader of the Blackcoats demanded.

The drug dealer looked angry, although deep inside he felt really nervous for rightful reasons. "What?! That's absurd, man! I've been a very loyal business partner with you for a long time. I'd never steal from you or give away my merchandise to anyone else; you have my word on that!" the drug dealer stated. "Really? Then you care to tell me what this is?" the leader said as he took out a photograph of the drug dealer and his hooker girlfriend in a night club. "You know the rules; you don't use OUR stuff without paying for it. We gave you a chance once, but now this is just completely unacceptable!" the leader said grimly.

The Blackcoats whipped out their pistols and MAC-10 submachine guns, but the drug dealer had one last trick up his sleeve. "Wait a second! What if I were to tell you that you have another opportunity for your business to expand? I know a perfect place to get your products shipped, stored, and produced...and I'm the only one who can tell you where it is. You want to kill me, then fine. But you'll be sorry if you lose business later!" the drug dealer said smugly.

The leader smirked before he lowered his pistol and began pacing around. "Ok, so tell me. If this is true, what will it take for us to cut a deal? What do you want in exchange for this valuable information?" the leader questioned. "I want to retire from this business in luxury...and I want all the money you been using for my products as my own. But here's the catch; you'll be making twice as much money and product in this new place and your boss will be very happy. So we all win in this case! So do we have a deal?" the drug dealer challenged.

The leader thought about it for a moment before he smiled and shook his hand. "Deal! But only because I like you and trust that your word is the truth. But still...there is one thing that is bothering me. Maybe you can help me out here." the leader began. "Anything!" the drug dealer replied. The leader walked away with his back turned before he turned around to face them. "Who is-" the leader began as he turned back around. "About to rip your fucking lungs out?!" Spawn growled.

Before anyone could react, Spawn rammed his fist into the leader's chest and tore out his lungs with a bloody splat of blood going everywhere. With a roar of vengeance, Spawn lunged forward and went into a rage fueled frenzy against the Blackcoats. They all screamed, cursed, and clamored about as they fired their weapons at Spawn; but it did no good against the enraged phantom. The bullets did no harm to Spawn, as they just merely bounced off him like pebbles.

Spawn grabbed one of the Blackcoats by the head before slamming him against a brick wall, smashing his skull and brains all over the place. Spawn then grabbed another Blackcoat by the neck before throwing him into the car, smashing up the man's face as he crashed into the windshield and totaled the vehicle. "What the hell is that thing?!" one of the Blackcoats screamed. Spawn used his Chained Whip to grab onto one of the other thugs before he snapped his neck and tore him in half, spraying more blood and gore all over the place.

Finally, the last living Blackcoat attempted to shoot Spawn with a magnum revolver. But Spawn grabbed his arm and snapped it off, aiming the gun at the shooter's own face. The poor man screamed and howled in agony before Spawn's glare shut him up. "What the hell are you?!" the Blackcoat whimpered in fear. Spawn's eyes flashed before he spoke. "Your worst fucking nightmare!" Spawn snarled before he pulled the trigger. The man's head was blown clean off and his brains flew out against the wall, and then his lifeless body fell down with a dull thud.

Spawn stood tall and still in the blood drenched alleys, breathing heavily with rage. But just when things couldn't get any worse, an evil sound of laughter filled the air. "Well, well, well! You really are impressive! I guess Malebolgia was right to hire you after all; congratulations!" an evil sneering voice announced from the unseen shadows.

Spawn growled angrily as he turned around to see who was speaking to him. The menace was a skinny blue skinned man with blood red eyes, mangy brown hair, and a black suit. His name was Frenzy, and he was a malicious demon of pure evil sent by Hell itself. "Who the hell are you? And what do you want from me?!" Spawn growled. "Oh, come on...everyone knows who you are. Well, at least the folks downstairs do! It truly is an honor to be in your presence...ooh, but not as much of an honor it is to see the beauty of your work. I mean, just look at this mess!" Frenzy sneered.

Spawn looked all around him and suddenly became shocked of what he just did; blood, gore, and dead mutilated bodies were everywhere. "My God...did I do all of this?" Spawn muttered. "That's right; you certainly did, big boy! And I'm just so proud of you for creating such carnage. Hell, even Simmons was mere child's play compared to you. And that's another thing that makes you all the more better than him; you LIKE being violent! When you see violence, you don't just act...you get vicious and kill anything on sight! When you see people dying, you create even more death and destruction!" Frenzy said with evil delight.

Spawn didn't know what to think or even say; there was something about those words that even he knew was true. "You really think I wanted this?" Spawn said at last. Frenzy howled with laughter. "Of course I do! There's a killer instinct in you that just can't be stopped. The result is sweet, sweet carnage and death baby! It's so delicious, it's almost pornographic!" Frenzy cackled as he grabbed one of the many severed limbs and began eating it. "You disgust me!" Spawn grumbled as he began walking away. "What? Me?! You should be proud of what you've accomplished, Spawnie boy!" Frenzy said with his mouthful.

Spawn stopped walking and turned around, staring at him. "What did you just call me?" Spawn demanded. Frenzy swallowed before he sneered at him again. "Spawn...as in, Hellspawn! It's what you are, babe...you can't deny it! There's a reason you are what you are now, and that reason is simple: You've lived a violent, blood stained life for so long that you couldn't even stop in the after life! That's why we chose you; because you like taking lives and you destroy everything that gets in your way! That's just what we need for our army!" Frenzy explained.

Spawn did not like the sound of this at all and began walking away. "You can't run from us forever, Spawnie boy! Besides; you know you like it!" Frenzy sneered. Spawn growled angrily as he turned around and grabbed Frenzy by the neck, glaring into his eyes. "Listen to me you anorexic freak! I'm only going to say this once: Back off and leave me alone. Or else I'll permanently introduce your face to your scrotum!" Spawn snarled before he shoved Frenzy away and disappeared into the shadows.

Frenzy stood still deep in thought for a moment before he finally spoke. "You know what? You're actually kinda cute when you get all pissed off like that! I think I'm going to enjoy this..." Frenzy said with an evil laugh. And with that, he too disappeared into the darkness of night.

*The next day!*

The entire area of the south-side of Empire Plaza was in a state of fear and panic once the police discovered the gruesome remains of the slaughtered mobsters in the alleys. "My God! What happened here?! It's a massacre!" a police officer exclaimed as he saw all the blood. "Oh, man! That is gross; I've never seen a crime that violent in my life!" another officer cringed as he saw a dead body being stuffed into a bag. "Well at least we know this is serious. Oh, who could've done such a horrible thing?" a female officer said sadly.

Suddenly, a white sports car drove up towards the scene and parallel parked by the alleys. A man in a black suit with a red tie stepped out of the car before walking towards the investigation. He was in his mid 30s, had short blonde hair, and blue eyes that shined when he got angry or excited. His name was Detective Roland, and he was a world famous CSI agent. "What do we have here?" he asked plainly. "A fucking massacre, that's what! I sure as hell don't think this was any old mob war or whacking. I mean; just look at the place!" an FBI agent said as he showed him around.

Roland took everything in calmly and quietly before he spotted something odd. He approached a chalked outline of one of the dead bodies and saw a magnum revolver with a bright green substance on the gun's handle. "Interesting...this might prove to be some helpful evidence. Gimme a bag, will you?" Roland announced. A paramedic approached Roland with a bag and some gloves, and Roland put the gloves on before he put the gun in the bag.

But before Roland left, he heard a cop yelling at another cop in the alley. "You moron! How many times do I gotta tell ya?! Don't freaking eat in the scene of the crime; you'll get crumbs all over the evidence or the deceased!" a cop yelled. The other cop merely smirked before he chomped on the last of his donut and purposely sprinkled crumbs all over the wreckage of the smashed car. He walked off, humming to himself before he approached Roland.

Unlike all the other cops who were in uniform, this man was overweight, had greasy black hair, blue eyes, and a careless attitude. "So where the hell have you been? Pushing pencils for the CIA again?" the officer smirked. "It's CSI, dumb ass...and no, I've actually been out on the field a lot lately. Though I can't really say the same for you, Gardner!" Roland said with a teasing tone.

Officer Gardner laughed before he shook his head; it was good to see his old friend back again. "Ah, I gotta get back in shape somehow. So, what do you think of all this? You really think there's something out there that's causing all of this that ain't human? Because I've been hearing rumors that whoever iced these bums was a super; like we ain't got enough of those around!" Gardner said as he rolled his eyes.

Roland shook his head as he sighed. "Nah...but there is something out there and I intend to find out what it is. Just give me a call if you need anything or if you find something. Take care of yourself, all right? I gotta go!" Roland said before he got into his car and drove off. "God, I wish you were still here with us. We'd get a lot more shit done. Speaking of which...hey, private? Get over here!" Gardner shouted. A young and meek looking officer approached him. "Yes sir?" he asked timidly. "I want you to get those profiles printed out and delivered to my office pronto. Oh, and go by the donut shop will you?" Gardner instructed.

The private nodded his head as he wrote all this down. "Should I get the usual 2 dozen, sir?" he asked. "What?! You kidding me; you know I'm on a diet! Just get me 1 dozen...or make it half a dozen. Nah, just get the regular dozen and I'll eat half of it. I'll probably save the other half for tomorrow!" Gardner said halfway to himself. "Yes sir; I'm on it." the private said before he took off.

Meanwhile; Michael Hartman was in his private mansion in the suburbs of Empire Plaza, seething with rage. Hartman was the Don of the Blackcoats, and earned quite a reputation for seizing control of all of the crime rings of Miami and Vegas, as well as his violent temper. So of course he wasn't happy to hear what happened to his men in the alleys. "What?! How the hell is this even possible? Who killed them; do they think they can mess with me and get away with it? Well, we'll just see about that!" Hartman shouted angrily.

After hours of sulking and thinking, Hartman finally had an idea. "I've got it; I know just who to call to sort out this situation." Hartman said as he grabbed a phone. He dialed a number and waited for the ring, smiling evilly as he figured that his problems would be so easily eliminated. "Yeah, what is it? What do you want?!" a gruff voice grumbled half asleep. "I have another job for you, my friend. Come to my office; I'll give you the details!" Hartman said snidely before hanging up.

About 10 minutes later, Hartman was in his main office desk waiting patiently for his hired hitman to arrive. Finally, the hitman came into his office. He wore orange and black body armor, wielded a sword and assault rifle slung over his back, and a strange mask that was half orange and half black. The orange side had a large white spot, clearly his eye. The black side was blank, obviously a sign that he was missing that eye. He was none other than the infamous mercenary from Gotham City, Deathstroke! "Deathstroke, have a seat. I have a special job for you and the pay is good. Are you interested?" Hartman began. "Make it quick, because I'm not in the mood. In fact; I thought that I was done working for you days ago! Was it not enough for me to kill all those people at that pro-supers demonstration? What more do you want from me?!" Deathstroke demanded angrily.

Hartman stood up from his seat before he sighed. "Patience, my friend. This will be your final job; you have my word on that. I'm sure you've seen the dreadful news of what happened in the alleys in the south-town. My men are being killed and I can't allow that; find the murderer responsible for this, then bring me his head in a basket. Do this and I'll reward you most handsomely before I let you retire. Do we have a deal?" Hartman instructed. Deathstroke thought about it before he finally agreed. "Ok; so give me the real details!" Deathstroke said gruffly. Hartman smirked deviously as he sat back down at his desk. "Gladly!" he replied.