It was a good name, he supposed, that they gave him. The Ronin, the city's own vigilante. Of course, that wasn't what he was here for.

Using half his coat to shield him from the cold winds, the man adjusted so that he completely covered his sword.

Best not to attract attention, he thought to himself.

Wandering down the dark streets was a favorite pastime. He couldn't sleep, and to be honest he had nowhere to rest. it was quiet around this time and he had the freedom to be more exposed than normal.

Hearing a crashing sound at the end of the street, the Ronin froze, ears chimed in the noise.

"Hello?" he called out, peering around the street corner to see no there. "Strange…"

No sound echoed again, and his curiosity peaked.

"I sense you," he called out, a strange stir of power causing him to step back. "Out, demon."

With a small surge of power, the Ronin narrowed his eyes as the demon materialized, a wicked snarl on the creature's face.

"Disgusting," he growled, hands instinctively pulling down to his side.

"You're one to talk, asshole," the demon hissed, eyeing the Ronin with a sort of dark animosity. "Saving humans. Taking care of precious little babies and taking out my 're quite the bad ass."

"I don't understand how my ass would be considered …bad. But then again," the Ronin drew his sword from it's hilt, the shining metal reflecting the demon's scowling face. "It wont matter."

"Son of a bitch!" the demon stepped back, watching the Ronin's sword as the swordsman's eyes glowed bright demon's eyes grew wide as the Ronin stepped forward, sword ready to gut him there.

"No-"

"Yes," the Ronin raised his sword, ready to strike .

"You're not supposed to kill people! You don't do that!"

"You're not people."

Grace surged through the sword, and with a quick thrust he stabbed the demon straight through his heart, the demon screaming as it was burned through it's vessel's body. The Ronin's face never faltered, never never changed, as he watched the demon's eyes burn out of it's skull. When it collapsed, it was nothing more than broken and burned flesh.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered to the body, watching it's soul filter out and flow back to heaven.

It was things like these that hurt him. Human life was precious in it's strange and different ways, and the old warrior mourned every life he had to take away.

He could just exorcise the demons from their hosts, but that would only keep them at bay for so long. And smiting them…

He hadn't done that in over a hundred years.

Feeling his power die down, he sheathed his sword, tucking it back under his coat as he made his way from the body, not exactly knowing which way he's go next.

—

The old cop had seen their type before. Young, talkative, questioning. The shorter one was obviously the boss in the relationship, while the taller one seemed to be the glue that held them both together.

Detective Dwayne Narrow had seen his fair share of FBI, and these two fit the bill.

"Perry. Plant. Good to see you here," he greeted them, already knowing why they were here. "This way."

Leading the two out to the autopsy area, Narrow stopped at the closest body to the door. "Jim Tiluck, our latest victim."

"Jesus, look at those eyes…" the short one, Perry, grimaced. "What the hell could do that?"

"No idea," Narrow sighed, flipping the sheet back more. "This guy was run-of-the-mill criminal, but not the Ronin's usual style."

Perry and Plant blinked. "The Ronin?"

"That's what they called him, the killer. "This guy is a badass. He's dubbed the Ronin, mostly 'cause he carries this huge ass sword. Guy's a fucking vigilante, like batman. Doesn't kill the vics but he just targets local criminals, cripplin' them until we arrive. We don't even know what this dude looks like. But he's serious business."

Plant looked uncomfortable. "Does he have a…reason?"

"No one knows."

"Alright," Perry clamped Plant on the shoulder. "We've got what we need. We'll keep in touch."

The African American nodded, watching the two agents leave as he covered the vic back up.

"Sick son of a bitch that can do this shit," he muttered, pulling out his cellphone and adding the agent's numbers to the contacts. "Should've sent more suits."