*Hello everyone; Spawnzilla here! Well, it's finally here...the one you've been waiting for: The sequel to my first Spawn story, the Dark Avenger! It is called Spawn: Ascension of Darkness!

In this dark, grim, and dramatic tale you are about to read, Spawn fights against his most powerful enemy yet; a Hellspawn who is far faster, stronger, smarter, and more evil than anything Spawn had ever gone up against before. He is simply called Razor!

I don't need to warn you that this story will contain some extremely gruesome violence and some very disturbing, unsettling images. You can also expect a lot of harsh language and strong sexual content with some nudity; viewer discretion is advised!

The story begins several months after the events from Spawn: The Dark Avenger!

Chapter1: Razor Rises!

It was a cold and dark night in Empire Plaza. The city was surprisingly calm and quiet, a kind of bliss it hadn't seen in many years. But that peace and quiet was about to be violently interrupted, for something evil and wicked was about to make itself at home in the darkened depths of the seediest parts of Empire Play aza. It all started in Empire Park, the largest national park in the entire city, if not the country. All seemed to be perfectly normal and calm...until it happened.

Suddenly and without warning, a flaming hellhole emerged from the ground. Out of the hellhole emerged a creature; something far more evil and sinister than anything anyone could possibly imagine. As the hellhole disappeared and the thick smoke cleared, a figure was seen slowly rising from his knees and onto his feet.

The figure appeared to be a naked white man, with eyes as grey and pale as death itself. He had long brown hair and a terrible glaring scowl that could give a grown man nightmares. But the truth is often stranger, or in this case, more terrifying than fiction. This was no man at all; he was a true Hellspawn, and his name was Razor.

Razor was created by the forces of Hell, more notably Malebolgia and Satan, for one major purpose. His purpose was to find a man named Raizo, who was actually a phantom warrior named Spawn, and kill him. Created from the blood of the dead called Necroplasm, as well as the horrific mutant virus called the Mercer Virus, Razor was the perfect Hellspawn. He was fast, deadly, ruthless, and evil...as well as unpredictable and extremely intelligent. There is nothing known about Razor's past life, except that he was a notorious serial killer from Sweden who was infatuated with murder, violence, and chaos.

Razor began to walk forward slowly, while carefully observing his surroundings. He would stop at nothing until he found Spawn, and anyone who got in his way would surely suffer a horrific death. Razor eventually approached a group of bikers hanging out by a pavilion next to a pond. The bikers caught sight of Razor and began laughing at him due to his nudity; what sort of drugs was this guy on, they wondered?

Razor ignored them until he caught sight of their clothes; he was going to need a much better disguise than just his naked flesh. He looked at the apparent leader of the bikers, who was still laughing at him. "Hey, uh...buddy? You feel a draft? I know it's a nice night for a walk and all-" he joked. "Give me your clothes." Razor demanded in a plain tone. The bikers looked at him and then at each other before bursting into laughter again. "Seriously? Are you fucking high or something, kid?! Get outta here before somebody's kid sees your pecker!" the biker howled.

Suddenly, Razor grabbed the man by the throat and lifted him up into the air. He growled like a wild animal as he glared into his eyes, making the biker nearly soil himself. "Do I look like I'm joking with you, maggot? Give me your fucking clothes now!" Razor snarled as he began tightening his grip. "GAH! You're...fucking...crazy! Let me go, you son of a-" the biker choked.

He didn't get to finish as Razor threw him into the pond. "Asshole! Now you're gonna pay; eat this!" another biker shouted as he stabbed a knife into Razor's chest. Razor merely smirked before he tore out the blade. "You call that a blade?" Razor sneered as he held his arm up. Suddenly, his arm turned into a large metallic blade! "Oh my God! He's a monster; let's beat it!" a third biker exclaimed in fear as he tried to run away.

Razor grimaced as he stabbed the poor biker in the back before lifting him up into the air. There would be no survivors now that Razor was in town. He slammed the poor man back to the ground before he lashed out at the other bikers. Razor ignored the screams and howls of agony of the poor humans as he cut off their heads and severed off their limbs. Finally, the leading biker was able to swim back to shore, only to find that all his comrades were brutally slaughtered.

He gasped in horror as saw Razor standing in the center of all the blood and carnage. Razor stared back at him with an evil smile on his face, causing the leading biker to change his mind. "Ok, ok! STOP! Here; take my clothes! Take my bike, too! Just don't hurt me, please!" the biker cried out in fear as he began taking off his clothes. Razor snatched the clothes away from the poor man, as well as the keys to his motorcycle. As Razor's blade disappeared and put on the clothes, the frightened biker sighed in relief...that is until Razor roundhouse kicked him in the face and sent him flying back into the pond.

As Razor walked away, he felt far more satisfied with his new attire. Now Razor wore a black leather jacket with a blood red pentagram on the back, complete with a plain white t-shirt underneath. He also had black leather pants and a black pair of boots to go with his new look; now Razor was ready to properly introduce himself to Spawn!

Razor approached a black Lycan motorcycle; a popular type of motorcycle driven by Empire Plaza's biker gangs. As he got on the bike and drove away, he smirked as he began to think of all the horrible evil ways he was going to kill Spawn. And then it came to him; why stop at Spawn at all? Why not test out his powers some more on some other poor fools while looking for his main prey? "I think I'm really going to enjoy myself here in this playground of destruction! Time for the hunt to begin!" Razor chuckled evilly as he sped away down the empty streets.

Meanwhile, Slade Wilson was walking home to his worn out apartment after a long day of work at a local paper mill. "Good God, I could really use a drink." Slade muttered tiredly as he fumbled to get his door open. But as he finally got his door open, he noticed that something was wrong. There was a cold draft inside of the house, and that's when he noticed that his back window was open. Slade silently closed the front door before he reached for a pistol he kept hidden in a drawer near the front door.

Slade snuck his way through the living room, when his foot made a crunching sound. He looked down to see that several candy wrappers were all over the floor. He grew grim as he made his way into the kitchen, when he was given the shock of a lifetime. There she was, raiding his fridge while her cat was eating a piece of ham. "Selina Kyle?! What the hell do you think you're doing here? Get out of my house!" Slade exclaimed.

Selina gasped in shock as she turned around to see Slade glaring at her; she and Slade hadn't spoken to each other for quite a long time...and for good reason. "Slade...I'm so sorry! I didn't realize that this was your place; I was just so hungry, I couldn't help myself!" Selina exclaimed. Slade lowered his gun, but didn't stop glaring at her. "So you think it's ok to just break in my home and steal all of my food? I expect better out of you than this; don't you have a job or a home of your own?!" Slade growled.

Selina sighed heavily as she shut the fridge before taking a seat on a booth near his kitchen bar. As she did so, her cat meowed before jumping into her lap. "I've lost everything, Slade! They took my home, they took my car, and I can't find work anywhere. I didn't know where to go or what to do. I've had to sneak around and salvage whatever food I could just to survive. Please don't be angry at me!" Selina explained sadly.

Slade softened up as he sighed, taking a seat next to her. He actually could relate to her dilema. "It's all right; I understand how you feel. Believe me; I've been through this before. Life just got so fucked up after I finally got out of rehab!" Slade said softly. Selina looked at him in surprise. "You were in rehab? But why?! What did you do?" she wondered.

Slade grew upset before he rubbed his face; he felt embarassed to talk about it, but Selina seemed to be the only friend he had left. "I messed up; big time! I was doing some contract killing for a crimelord named Michael Hartman...but one thing led to another, and I found myself becoming addicted to this drug called Necro 666. I'm not proud of what I've done, Selina Kyle. In fact; even after I finally cleaned up my act, I've been pretty miserable!" Slade explained.

Selina sighed as she shook her head; she knew that wasn't something Slade would do. "Did you work for him out of desperation? Because even if you did, it's not worth it. I'd know, because I used to steal things for him. I had it all...but I felt so unclean, especially after I learned what he did to people...especially young women!" Selina said sadly. "I guess this is sort of like being punished for all the shit we've done over the years, huh?" Slade said with a scornful laugh. "That's not funny, Slade." Selina said angrily.

Slade glared at her before he softened up again. "You're right...it's not funny. I mean, look at me; I'm a pathetic wreck! I used to be a well respected and honorable soldier who did his duty in Vietnam. I used to have a code of honor when I did my line of work as a mercenary; I was the best at what I did! Now look at me; I'm a washed up loser who spent several years doing dirty work for a psychotic lunatic, became addicted to the worst drug known to man, spent several more years in rehab, and now I barely scrape by in a paper mill just to make ends meet! What the fuck happened to me?!" Slade exclaimed bitterly.

Selina shook her head as she continued to stroke her cat. "I don't know, Slade Wilson. I don't even know what happened to me, either. I tried to be good, and it didn't work out for me. I tried becoming a contributing member to society and for a while, I actually enjoyed it. But I let my own greed take control, and one thing led to another. Maybe you're right; maybe we do deserve to suffer for our sins!" Selina said sadly.

Slade looked to be deep in thought, until he finally stood up from his seat. "You know what? Fuck it; I know what will make us both feel better!" Slade said as he began walking towards the front door. "Wait, where are you going?" Selina demanded. "Where do you think? The only place I know where we can drown out our sorrows and feel good about it; getting drunk!" Slade replied with a wry grin. Selina smiled deviously as she stood up from her seat, while her cat jumped out of her lap and onto the floor. "You know what? I could use a drink or two myself; know any good bars around here?" Selina said. "Follow me; I'll show you my favorite place in this hellhole of a town!" Slade offered as he grabbed a coat.

10 minutes later, Slade and Selina approached a bar called The Vale of Tears. It was a popular bar where down on their luck people liked to hang out and drink their sorrows away, eventually feeling better as they socialized with one another. It was also one of the oldest bars in the entire city of Empire Plaza, and the original owner still lived and worked at this place. He was also one of the few decent people left in the city, as he welcomed all kinds of people into his bar; including super heroes and super villains. His name was Mike Powell, and he was a proud veteran of the United States.

Slade and Selina walked inside, when Mike Powell immediately greeted them. "Hey, Slade! Selina...how are you two doing?" the large old man announced in a friendly tone. "I'm doing great, Mike. Go ahead and give us both the best you got; we're gonna get wasted tonight!" Slade laughed. "You got it, old timer! Here you go; the finest moonshine from Kentucky. Be careful, though...she packs a mean punch!" Mike chuckled. As Slade and Selina began to drink and laugh together, Mike turned on the radio to an old favorite tune of his.

*The Doors: Five to One plays!*

After what must have been their fifth or sixth shot, Slade and Selina could barely contain their laughter and drunken joy. "Oh, Slade! You were right; I feel so much better! I don't feel like I've ever felt this drunk since I graduated college." Selina giggled. "You finished college? I thought you said you dropped out!" Slade slurred. "No, I dropped out of high school...but I went to college to...(laughs) you're not gonna believe this!" Selina said as she took another shot.

Selina attempted to stand up, but could barely do so. "I wanted to be a lawyer!" Selina announced. Slade laughed at her as Selina tried to recite an oath that most lawyers were taught in law school. "Remember when I said I tried being good? Well...that was the only time I actually tried. Good God was it boring!" Selina laughed. "Ha! That is funny; but you wanna know what I tried to do before I left for Vietnam? I was going to be a school teacher; can you believe that?" Slade said as he took another shot.

Selina gasped as he said that. "You serious?!" she exclaimed. "Yeah; I actually liked kids back then...I don't know what happened. Maybe it has something to do with putting up with rotten kids in clown's costumes! The Teen Titans...I think. Ah, fuck it...I can't remember!" Slade said before taking yet another shot.

As the two continued drinking and reminicing from their golden days, a black Lycan motorcycle sped right past the bar. Mike turned to get a good look at who the driver was, but the motorcycle was too fast. "Hmm...he must be in too much of a hurry! That's the problem with people these days, folks. They don't have time to settle down and relax; they're always on the move! Here, have another drink...on me!" Mike said as he poured another shot for Slade and Selina.

Finally, Slade and Selina had enough to drink. As they paid for their drinks and said their goodbyes, Mike cleaned up their mess. He sighed heavily in disappointment as he finally finished up. "Why can't normal people be as happy as them? There's simply no respect left in this town anymore! Oh, well...I guess I should enjoy this while it still lasts!" Mike muttered.

After a few more hours of serving some other customers, Mike began to close down the bar. But just as he was finishing up with cleaning his bar, the sounds of a motorcycle brought his attention. He looked up and grew very alert as he recognize the bike; it was the same black Lycan motorcycle that sped by hours earlier. But what really got his attention was the man driving the bike. It was Razor!

The man marched through the doors before seating himself on the bar; he looked very bitter and angry for some reason. "Hey, bub? Sorry, but I'm closing up...you'll have to go somewhere else!" Mike said sternly. Razor slammed his fist to the bar table, causing the shot glasses sitting perfectly to rattle and fall off. "I don't fucking care! Give me a drink; now!" Razor seethed. Mike glared at him, when he suddenly caught sight of blood on his hand.

Mike grew very suspicious, but decided to appease him anyway. "Ok...wait right here." Mike said carefully as he walked to the back. He grabbed out a bottle of vodka before he approached Razor and began to pour it into a shot glass. But much to Mike's surprise, Razor snatched the bottle out of his hands and began drinking straight from it. "Ahh...that is very good. Like warm blood trickling down my throat; this from Sweden?" Razor said after finishing half of the damn bottle.

Mike stared at him in disbelief; in all his years of bartending, he never knew anyone who could drink the strongest booze without even feeling a tad bit buzzed. In fact, Razor looked as sober as a man who never even touched a drink in his entire life...and yet he just drank from the large bottle of vodka as if it were bottled water. "Uh, no...it's from Finland! Is it good?" Mike replied finally while reaching his hand underneath the bar.

Razor started to laugh at him, but in a tone that was very sinister and threatening. "It's...actually quite magnificent, really. It's like the blood of the gods, it makes me feel invincible. You know what I'm saying?" Razor said before taking another gulp. Mike nodded his head, but he secretly pressed a button to alert the police. "Can I ask you something, stranger? You even from these parts?" Mike asked as he took a rag and began wiping the table. "Do I look like I'm from around here, old man? I'm gonna be nice, just this once: I'm looking for someone, and you're the guy to go to if I need names." Razor said before smashing the bottle to the floor.

Mike glared at him, but Razor just glared at him back without showing any emotion. Finally, Mike spoke up. "Well that depends on who you're looking for, bub. Who is it you're trying to find?" Mike said at last. Razor stood up from his seat, alerting Mike. But as Razor reached into his jacket, Mike backed up slowly. He ever so carefully began to reach for his sawn off shotgun he kept hidden under the bar.

*Song ends!*

But to his relief, Razor just pulled out a photograph and slapped it down on the table. "I'm looking for the one they call Spawn. You ever heard of him?" Razor demanded. "Uh, no...I can't say that I haven't." Mike lied. Razor leaned forward, his pale grey eyes peering into Mike's soul. "There's no need for you to lie to me; I haven't even threatened to kill you yet!" Razor snarled. "Do you have any idea who you're talking to, bub?" Mike shot back.

Razor sneered before he began laughing demonically, scaring Mike even more. "You're not so weak after all, I like that. But tell me; if you don't know where Spawn is...then who does?" Razor taunted. "I don't know what you're talking about; I've never even heard of a guy named Spawn!" Mike protested. Razor's smile turned into an ugly scowl as he slowly backed away. "I could easily kill you, old man. But I will not do that...not yet, anyway. Just tell me what you do know, and I'll leave you alone. Lie to me again, and I will make sure you start serving drinks in Hell!" Razor threatened as his fists clenched tightly.

Mike saw a tiny red light blinking right behind the button he pressed earlier; the cops were coming their way. Mike gulped as he finally told Razor what he wanted to know. "Ok, look...I've never even seen the guy! But there are others who talk about him all the time; they're terrified of him...and for good reason. What makes you think you could stand up to him, anyway? You know what that monster has even done?" Mike said trying to keep his cool.

Razor smiled evilly as he began to shake his head. "I'm afraid you have no clue what I'm capable of, old man. But go on; tell me more! Who talks about him, and where can I find them?" Razor sneered. "Hmph...I was right; there's no respect in this town anymore. If Spawn doesn't find you, then perhaps Two-Face or the Joker will! If you're foolish enough to think that you can just barge on in and demand a thing from them-" Mike snapped. "I wasn't planning on making any demands from those fools...but now that you mentioned that, I think I have an idea!" Razor said.

Mike reached back for his shotgun again, when Razor suddenly leaned forward again. "Do I frighten you, old man? Because if not...then you will be soon enough. I promise that when I do find Spawn, the whole race of maggots that infest this fucking city will come to know a different meaning of fear!" Razor snarled. Mike was practically backed up against the wall, when he suddenly heard sirens in the distance.

But Razor heard the sirens as well, and he backed off before snickering evilly. "You poor, simple fool...you really think the human shields can stop me? Nobody can kill Death itself!" Razor hissed as he reached for something else in his jacket. Finally, Mike grabbed his shotgun and took aim at Razor's face. "GET OUT OF MY BAR, ASSHOLE!" Mike roared. Razor glared at him before he made his move; he grabbed the gun out of Mike's hands and smashed it to the floor, shattering it into pieces!

Mike began hyperventilating as Razor got in his face. "It's not really nice to point guns in people's faces, old man!" Razor sneered. Finally, Razor took his hand out of his jacket before slapping down a piece of paper on the table. Mike was shocked and outraged; what the hell kind of a villain was this psychopath?! "What is this? Is this some kind of a joke?! Because I don't find it funny at all!" Mike cried angrily. "Look at it!" Razor snarled.

Mike snatched the piece of paper and looked at it; it was a message written in blood. "Don't drive home tonight!" it read. Before Mike could even react, Razor was gone out of sight. "What the hell?" Mike exclaimed. As he left the bar, he caught sight of Razor taking off on his bike. "I hope for your sake you get what's coming to you, asshole!" Mike snarled. As he got into his car, he noticed that there was another white piece of paper taped to his steering wheel. "What now?!" Mike growled.

He read the note, which was also written in blood. "I told you not to drive home tonight!" it said. "Grr...fucking punk; who does he think he is?! Doing this to me? When I get my hands on him, I'm gonna-" Mike muttered angrily as he started up the engine to his car. But just as he turned his car on...it was all over.

Slade cried out as he jolted out of bed; he could have sworn he heard a loud noise. Selina Kyle gasped as she was startled awake from her sleep, when she suddenly realized that she was in bed with the old mercenary. "What? What the hell just happened?! Did we-" Selina muttered when she saw how upset Slade looked. Slade walked over towards his window, and gasped in horror over what he saw. She got out of bed, still in her clothes, before she touched his shoulder. "What's wrong?" she asked.

But as she looked out the window, she gasped as she saw what Slade saw. A huge ball of fire was seen in the distance, and it was extremely close to the bar they just went to. "Oh my God!" Selina whispered. Back at the scene of the crime, the police were astonished to find a car had just blown up and raining bits of fire littered the ground. "Oh my God! Somebody contact Batman, right now!" Commissioner Gordon demanded. "Oh God...please tell me that's not Mike Powell's car! Please!" Detective Harvey Bullock exclaimed in dismay.

Meanwhile; Razor walked through the darkened streets of Empire Plaza calmly and without a sound, when he heard sirens in the distance. "Hmph! I hope the human shields appreciate the little present I left for them!" Razor muttered with an evil smile. Apprarently, Razor's bike ran out of gas after he fled the scene of his most recent crime. But rather than take the time to get gas, he decided to leave the bike behind and continue on foot.

As Razor walked through a very rough neighborhood, several street thugs and a prostitute began to make rude comments towards him. "Hey, asshole! Nice costume, but Halloween isn't until four months!" one of them mocked. "Ha! The gay goth club is that way, asshole!" another teased. "Are the women as ugly as you are where you come from?" the prostitute taunted. "Hey, catch!" a third taunted as he threw a beer bottle at Razor.

Razor took the hit and slowly turned around, glaring at the thugs. "That was a huge mistake on your part, boy!" Razor growled. "Fuck you, asshole! I ain't scared of you!" the first thug sneered. "You will be in a few seconds!" Razor snarled as he grabbed the thug by the neck. "Gah! Let me go, you son of a bitch! Who the fuck do you think you are?!" the thug gasped as he was choked by Razor's steel grip. "I'm the fucking devil that your mother warned you about!" Razor threatened as he tightened his grip.

The other thugs were scared out of their minds as they watched Razor choke their leader, but what happened next was far more terrifying. Razor lifted up his free arm before he turned it into a machete and stabbed it into the gut of the leading thug. He screamed in agony as Razor began severing him by the waist slowly and torturously, with his guts streaming out. Finally, Razor tore the thug in half before tossing his torso aside and turned his attention towards the other thugs. "Fucking run!" Razor growled.

The others cried out in horror as they took off running in fear, but Razor chased after them with a scream of fury. Razor finally caught another thug by turning his other arm into a chained mace and snagged him by the legs. Razor snarled as he flung the thug up into the air before lashing out with his mace and smashed him to pieces. The last thug attempted to fight back by firing a pistol at Razor, but the bullets did nothing to harm Razor. He laughed evilly as he grabbed the thug with his right hand before turning his left hand into a pair of savage claws. As the dying screams of the thug filled the air, the prostitute attempted to hide in dark alley.

She whimpered and cried out in fear as she tried to hide in a dumpster, when suddenly the most horrible sound hurt her ears. "AAAAHHH! What is that awful noise?!" the prostitute cried as she covered his ears. She turned around to find Razor slowly stalking towards her, but that's not what scared her. Razor turned both his hands into massive, ugly, and vicious looking claws before scraping one of his clawed hands against the brick wall; making a horrible sound.

As Razor continued to scratch the wall, he began laughing evilly as he got closer to the poor prostitute, who vainly tried to run away. Eventually, the poor prostitute found herself at a dead end. "Oh please, God! Please help me!" she sobbed. "Foolish whore...there is no god; only death is real!" Razor snarled viciously. The prostitute began crying her eyes out as she backed up against the wall, while Razor ominously approached her slowly. "What do you want from me?!" the prostitute whimpered.

Razor glared at her before he grabbed her by the throat. "I don't know, honey. You tell me! Can you raise the dead?" Razor sneered. The prostitute looked at him with utter confusion, when suddenly Razor slammed her against the wall and choked her harder. "ANSWER ME!" Razor roared. "NO!" the prostitute wailed. "Can you turn back time? Can you walk on water? Can you?! Can your god hear you now?!" Razor snarled as he began choking the life out of her. "No...please stop it! Don't hurt me, please!" the prostitute gasped as she was choked.

Razor finally threw her to the ground, allowing her to gasp for breath. As she gasped and cried out in pain, Razor began to pace around her like a shark. "Please! Just stop it; don't kill me!" she whined. "BE QUIET!" Razor shouted as he kicked her in the stomach. The prostitute cried out as she felt the wind knocked out of her, though Razor seemed to show no remorse as he held his claws up for the final kill. "I haven't even hurt you yet! But I promise you, you have nothing to worry about. You won't a feel a thing! Now...look up at me...that's it!" Razor whispered eerily.

The prostitute looked up at her killer and cried tears of absolute horror. "Shh...do not fear me, child. This won't hurt. Not...one...little...bit!" Razor snarled as he enunciated each word with seething hatred. Finally, Razor slashed the poor prostitute to death with his claws. She was already dead by the first attack, but Razor continued to slash and mutilate her over 70 more times before he was finally satisfied.

After he finally finished murdering his prey, Razor slithered away into the dark and cold. "So...people are scared of Spawn, eh? Well...wait until they get a load of me!" Razor whispered to himself before bursting into maniacal laughter. Razor would defintely make sure people feared him as the new Hellspawn of Empire Plaza; whether they were dead or alive!