I do not own The Crow franchise, however out of all the stories I have written this is the one that I love the most. And out of all the others this is the one I would truly love to publish or become a film...I originally wrote it one night in a fit of insomnia. And though I was happy with it, I rewrote it after watching an interview with Christina ricci. I remembered that she wanted to be in a type of action film. For some reason I wanted to rewrite it using her in my imagination instead of some random memory. Anyway I hope you enjoy so with out further delay I bring you

The Crow:

Weeping Angels

Red Snow

The snow fascinated detective Mulhulland. He never could understand how anything could be so pure. At least not in this city anyway. He had watched the city fall apart over the years. Powerless to do anything. It seemed that the more he tried to save the city the more it fell around him. It needed a miracle. He needed a miracle. He was to damned tired to care about it anymore. After his wife left him and took his daughter away, Mulhulland just gave up. He couldn't save the city. It was a fool's errand. Just let it crumble he thought. And maybe with a little luck it would take him with it. But luck was something he was running a little low on.

Static came over his radio, interrupting him of his thoughts. For a minute he thought about answering it, but decided he wasn't in the mood and thought about ignoring it instead. However Becky back at dispatch had a tendency to be persistent. After considering it for awhile and listening to Beck's persistent calling, he picked up the mic.

"Becky what in the name of hell is it, I'm about ten minutes from home so this better be good!" He screamed. He was not in the mood tonight.

"Jim get to the cemetery as fast as you can. Double Homicide, a mother and daughter slain". Becky answered, and though she did not say it he could hear the IS THAT GOOD ENOUGH in her tone.

"Oh hell, can't this fucking city at least take a break for Christmas! Alright I'm on my way."

Mulhulland just let the mic fall to the floor board as he put the light on the roof and hit the siren. He hated this job. A mother and daughter killed on Christmas eve. It never ends, and it never would.

Mulhulland walked through the big iron gates of the cemetery, he could see the lights up ahead were the coroner, a few beat cops and his partner Cliff were all standing around the murder victims collecting anything that might be considered evidence. The hike through the snow to the murder scene was brutal. He hadn't realized just how out of shape he had become. As he got closer Cliff waived him over shouting "over here" like Mullhulland had no idea were to go. Like he was a damn rookie...He hated Cliff. And though he couldn't prove it, he suspected Cliff was involved in some kind of illegal activity. But then again perhaps not. He had never once found evidence contrary to the notion that he was just a good old boy who like Mulhulland in his youth, wanted to save the world.

The crime scene was a morbid, It made Mulhulland sick. It wasn't the blood that made him sick, he was used to blood by now. No it was the way the victims were killed. The mother had been raped then disemboweled. Her body lying face down in the snow, insides thrown all over the scene He had never seen anything like this. And the daughter had been tied to a tombstone forced to watch, as someone raped and killed her mother. Mulhulland turned from the woman lying in the snow and turned to the girl. She looked about 15 maybe 16, his daughter was around that age he thought, but he quickly pushed that thought away, he didn't want to think like that while looking at this.. Mulhulland wondered why or how anyone could kill someone as beautiful as this girl. It looked as if she had been beaten then strangled. He wondered why they didn't do the same thing to her. Maybe this in itself was a clue. one that would help find the murders. Once they were able to make a positive I.D. he would start by interviewing her friends. He straightened as Cliff walked toward him. Rubbing his chin like he always did, with his other hand on his side. A classic detective stance in the movies.

"Ok Cliff, got any ideas, or theories"?

"Well" Cliff said looking out over the cemetery. "The murder happened here but I don't think it started here. I think they were brought here and we know it couldn't have been done alone so I'm gonna go with maybe four people chased them down, then brought them here for the thrilling climax to the festivities. What do you think Jim"?

"I think it sounds reasonable. Now lets get these bodies out of here. The coroner came over and rolled the body of the mother over and terror ran through Mulhulland. The woman lying face down in the snow was his ex-wife. He moved to the girl and lifted her head to look at her face. Then fell down in the snow his legs unable to hold him up. He looked at his daughter crying for only a minute then let out a scream full of rage. That was the night the city finally destroyed detective Mulhulland.