Author's Note: You know the drill. The Crow was originally made by James O'Barr. I do not own it. However, I do own this story, and many of the characters in it. I may or may not own one or two certain character in this story.

Another thing, I'm sorry that there was no Dalle in the last chapter, she will be in this one, I promise, as well as some others.

Oh, and one more thing, gotta put here some trigger warnings: Blood, mild gore and violence, implied past character death, implied child kidnapping, intense moments, and a present death.

And a couple of spoilers too.


The Crow: No Rest for the Wicked


"She was fire, she was darkness, she was dust and blood and shadow."

- The Assassin's Blade, Sarah J. Maas


A dark night set forth as the woman and her crow companion looked to find their first blood. The problem was, she did not know where to start. She knew what all of them looked like, that wasn't hard. The hard part was where they usually hung out, they never occupied the same place twice. She took a deep breath and exhaled.

"Do you have ways of tracking these guys down?" She turned to her feathered guide and asked.

Of course. The crow answered to his undead mistress.

"Then why don't you try using them? It'll save me a whole lot of hell." The woman asked, flustered.

Even magic has it's limits. The crow communicated.

"Well, can you at least do what's within your limits?" She asked.

That, I can do. The crow cawed as he flew off into the opposite direction of the woman.

As she waited, the Woman in Black walked to where the female crow avatar to be stood, waiting.

I still believe you accepted this duty prematurely. The Woman in Black said in disapproval.

"Oh well." The other woman replied nonchalantly.

That is your only answer? "Oh well"? The Woman in Black was not at all pleased with this revenant's attitude.

"I have an idea, why don't you try spending eighteen years of being told to hurt, maim or kill someone so you can eat, or have nice things? And when you don't do a very good job on it... Well,.. Trauma gets involved." The young woman snapped.

She continued. "Just when you think a friend fixes something for you, and your mother's finally on the right track, more shit happens. Shit that makes everyone you love, disappear like a magician's trick. And then, you try to run away, you find the home of a cop you befriended in your youth, only to find out that he passed away years ago. All you can do is blame yourself for that, and you have no choice but to go back where you ran from, knowing no one's gonna be very happy that you escaped. Your only ally in there is a beautiful femme fatale-like woman, and you find out her bloodline, well... Let's just say she's inbred. You live thinking you let everyone in your life down and your girlfriend is the one and only chance you can do something right, and even that blows up in your face. I accepted this role, because it's the only way I can make things right again. To be able to say to my friends 'Yeah, I did at least one thing right.' Do you know how that feels?" Tears started to fall out of her eyes as her rant ended.

Yes, I do. The Woman in Black finally answered. I just wanted you to realize what you're getting into. Even your friend was wary of you getting into this.

"You spoke to him?" The woman asked solemnly, immediately realizing who the apparitant woman was talking about.

Before anything else can be said, however, the crow flew back with some answers.

I found one of your killers. He said.

"Which one?" The woman asked.

The giant one. The crow answered back.

Oh God, that could mean only one thing. It's Mastodon! The woman thought in dread. To her, out of all the killers, Mastodon was the worst! He was absurdly tall, large framed, and strong. No one in the gang could beat him and he knew it! He also had a bad temper to boot. She learned the hard way when she dared to point out the literal meaning of his nickname. That was why Damian had chosen him, for his size. She had a feeling that if Damian didn't recruit him, he probably would be working in a freak show. Hell, it would be next to impossible to beat him even if she was ten times undead.

There was no more time to dwell as the crow flew out to lead her to her first victim.


Damian settled down on his chair, basking in the peace and quiet solitude brought him. No gang to lead, no Ace, no Caliber, no Mastodon, no Blaze or Envy, or even Jackal.

He picked up an antique book. The pages were worn with age, but still in decent enough condition, it had a gold chain with a jewel attached to it, the hard cover in red, black, and gold, but these colors have faded with time. The book's title? The Divine Comedy, which ironically, was not funny at all. Nevertheless, it was a delight to read.

He picked up his cup of tea to drink it when his ringtone startled him. Almost on impulse, he spat out the delicate drink. Some more of the tea spilled all over the old pages, ruining them.

"Motherfucker!" Damian cursed whoever wished to inconveniently call him in the middle of his peacetime.

"What?" He chewed. He was ready to cuss them out over the phone.

"Did you just raise your voice to me, Damian?" The distorted voice on the other end of the line was not happy to see Damian's attitude.

At that moment, all of his anger dissipated, leaving meek, submissive, groveling to remain behind.

"Oh,... Leviathan! It's you!... What a surprise!" He blubbered out nervously, gulping. He did not want to displease his own boss.

He had never met Leviathan in person, and he (Assuming this person was male) always disguised his voice, but he always struck fear into Damian. One mistake could mean a whole lot of Hell for Damian and his gang. The murder of Nemesis and her girlfriend last year was one such mistake that got him into trouble.

Nemesis. Damian thought.

That girl was a thorn on his side. She was always too high strung and stuck up for her own good. The only reason she was recruited was because A. She showed some impressive stamina for a kid when she fought off Jaguaro, her predecessor, and B. Leviathan had a special interest in her, and finally, C. When fighting Jaguaro, she killed him in the ring and he was one member short. When she was taken in however, she did not go down without a fight. She would always try to escape, but she would always be found by one or two of his cronies. She took a long while to finally break, but she did.

Her breaking point was when she tried to escape for the last time. She used her motorcycle to speed off to find a friend of hers, who was a cop. That time, they couldn't find her for three days straight. Only Tallulah was able to find her by chance when she was at the cemetery. Apparently, Nemesis had found out that her cop friend had passed away of a stroke. Tallulah was there visiting the gravestone of her mother when she found the distraught girl sleeping near a group of graves: that of her late cop friend, one of her mother and unborn sister, and two more graves of two people she always seemed to worship. She was brought back afterwards and was properly disciplined for that stunt she pulled. He had never enjoyed such schadenfreude in his entire lifetime and so thought she was finally resigned to her fate, until last year.

Tallulah, another issue that they both butted heads over. Tallulah was a parting gift from his own former boss for leaving to form his own gang and so, enjoyed her as such. All she had to do was behave like a lady, and she could have everything in the world. She would occasionally slip up, but that was alright, all she needed would be a reigning in and she would behave again. Of course Nemesis made a big stink about it. She even poisoned Tallulah's mind with ridiculous thoughts of "Real Love is Forever", or "It Can't Rain All the Time", anything of the sort. He hated her all the more for it and was glad she died in the most painful, brutal, way possible. He didn't care what Leviathan thought.

"As you were. How are the preparations for the Second Coming?" Leviathan asked.

"All according to plan, Sir." Damian answered.

"Alright, how is the man doing?" Leviathan asked this time.

"Compadre's still rotting, still bedbound." Damian answered this time.

"We need him in tip top shape if we're ever gonna use him. I did not bring him back to life so he could be dead all over again!" Leviathan exclaimed.

"I told you, Tallulah's taking care of that, he's her father after all." Damian tried to assure his master.

"I need more than just who's taking care of what. I want actual results!" Leviathan scolded harshly.

"I know that. It's just that these things take time and money and the resources are scarce here, you know, with everything that's going on here."

"I see. Can he at least speak to me?" Leviathan asked one more time.

"That can be done right now." Damian answered, to Leviathan's satisfaction.

Damian stood up out of his chair, walked to a very secret part of his living quarters, and approached the hidden bedroom where the aforementioned man remained for years, hidden away from the rest of the world. He opened the door to see the man inside.

"Compadre! Leviathan wants to talk to you." Damian said to the bed ridden man.

Who (or what) lay there was a figure of wizened stature. He had possibly once stood proud and mighty, but had weathered down to something more pathetic. His cloudy eyes harbored years of misery and pain of the torture of lonely undeath. His long hair, once an earthy brown, paled to a dusty white, thinned out, and falling out easily in patches. His skin, a sickly pale. his nails, browned and dead, easy to pull off at any time. A tube was sticking out of the back of his head, and two more sticking out of his abdomen, all connected to a breathing machine of sorts. He looked at Damian with such disdain.

"What the fuck do you want this time?" The man spat venomously, his voice croaking out with more baritone than ever before.

"Leviathan wants to make sure you are still functioning." Damian answered, ignoring the vitriol in the undead man's voice.

"Tell him to go fuck himself." The man replied with even more venom.

"Why don't you go tell him yourself." Damian said, handing the phone over to him.

"Hey Leviathan! Go fuck yourself!" The man's bitter anguish was seeping through his acid spats.

"That's quite rude to say to someone who revived you." Leviathan quipped.

"The hell I care! You should have just left me dead!" The man started to shout, tears starting to come out of his eyes.

"Then how would I be starting this? Look, if you ever want to be reunited with your... Sister,.. eh,... Lover, you will do exactly as I say. Otherwise, you'll be staying undead forever, Top Dollar." Leviathan threatened.

"Fuck you!" The man now known as Top Dollar hung up in spiteful resignation.

An awkward silence filled the air as Damian looked for a sentence to break it.

"Well,... That was... uh,... Quite the conversation you had with him." Damian stammered.

"Guy talks out of his ass. Makes you wonder why some revenant crow hadn't tried to kill him yet." The undead Top Dollar quipped.

"About that, I.. don't think that would ever happen." Damian said.

"Why not?" Top Dollar asked, half annoyed at the know it all Damian.

"Well.. There's no such thing of course. I mean, your report did say that you killed your own men and yourself."

Top Dollar chuckled darkly. "Boy, you don't even know the first thing about what happened eighteen years ago did you? A report is just that, a report. Of something from eyewitnesses. That cannot be reliable. I know what happened to me better than anyone else alive. Better than you, or anyone else here in this joint. And what happened to me was that a man they called Eric Draven singlehandedly took down all my men and when he was finished with them, killed me as well. In hindsight, I should have never kidnapped that little girl. But me, being a dumbass, did. My sister once told me that just because you hear it in a fairytale, don't mean it don't exist. I dismissed that, and look where it got me now! What I'm trying to tell you Damian, is this: There is such a thing as a revenant crow being. Not believing ain't gonna make them exist any less. And besides, if the things you tell me, that the 'Nemesis' girl you killed is, in fact the kid who was associated with Eric Draven, you're in for a whole lot of Hell. That girl ain't just gonna let it go just because you killed her. No, especially since she knows she can always come back for revenge. Better count your days, 'cause they definitely gonna be your last ones."

"I just might do that." Damian said sarcastically.

"Glad you see it my way. Now get the fuck out of my sight." Top Dollar retorted.

Damian grabbed his phone and exited the bedroom, leaving the decrepit Top Dollar to his thoughts.

They never learn. He thought.


The woman kept running towards where the crow was flying. The crow flew at an abrupt speed that it was pretty difficult for the woman to keep up, even when her own speed was inhuman as well.

All of a sudden, the crow stopped right in his tracks and perched on top of a railing belonging to a ramp of an old, abandoned building that was once possibly an asylum of some kind.

There he is. The crow mentioned.

"Where is he? Who is he?" The woman asked, having a feeling she might know who this one is.

If you focus hard enough, you will be able to see him through my eyes. The crow answered back.

The woman did just that. She closed her left eye, her right one missing and lids already sewn shut by the attack that killed her and Elorah.

Focus, She reminded herself, repeating the crow's advice. A rather distorted image appeared. It was of a bald man with facial piercings littering his face. He had an imposing, beastly, air to him and he looked freakishly tall.

Freakishly tall, freakishly tall, freakishly tall... She opened her eye quickly when her suspicions were confirmed. It's Mastodon!

She began breathing shallowly over this realization. She knew she would have to eliminate him, but she didn't realize it would be right then! Perhaps the Woman in Black was right in chastising her. Perhaps she did accept the role prematurely like she said.

But it didn't matter anymore. There was no turning back from this. Mastodon would have to be first, but then again, that way she wouldn't have to deal with him later on. Perhaps this was meant to be.

It'll be fine. The crow said, sensing his mistress' distress, but at the same time, dreading what this man had done, and might do, to her.

"Yes. It will." The woman replied.

She leaped over the railings, ran off the ramp, onto the cracked walking, straight towards her first target.

~I~

Mastodon had just got back from his nightly routine of breaking pallets with his limbs and dropping the pieces over passersby, this abandoned asylum was the perfect place to do just that. He had always done his own thing like clockwork, so it was normal for him to stray away from the gang, especially Ace, the worst offender of them all. Him and Ace were like two repelling magnets, always fighting when they get too close, and only too eager to get away from each other. But then again, Ace despised anyone who wasn't him or modeled like him.

His height had always prevented him from relating to the others, he was always known as the Tall Freak since childhood. Because of that, he had very few friends, and even then, they considered him too weird for them. He had attained a bad temper as a result of years of teasing and taunting from kids and adults alike, even his own parents wanted nothing to do with him. It was bad to the point that he had thought that joining a freak show was all he was good for.

Then he met Damian.

Only Damian saw some promise in him. At least, that is what he said to him. With Damian as his boss, people no longer made fun of him, but feared him instead. It made him drunk with power, to have someone intimidated by him, to have the respect he so desperately craved in his youth. That being said, the rest of the gang, excluding Ace, had refrained from making "Giant" jokes about him, but they didn't bother inviting him to whatever they do either. All in all, they all were rather indifferent to him.

All, except for Nemesis.

Nemesis always looked at him with something in her eyes. It was part fear, as if she knew what he was capable of, and part pity, like she felt sorry for him. In all honesty, she had never, ever, made fun of his height, she would even stay out of his way, if passing through. He had almost wished he hadn't killed her, even wondering if she even deserved it at all-

No, snap out of it! She got what she deserved, and that's final! Nobody pities Mastodon! Nobody! Mastodon stopped his thoughts in their tracks.

The one thing that irked him more that taunting was pity. Pure and simple. He used that to rationalize her murder. After all, everyone gets what's coming for them, right?

What he failed to realize was that an undead woman had struck him with a surprise punch, which jolted him out of his thoughts and into the fight. She was fast and unrelenting in her endeavor, he had tried to hit her back, but she was too fast, and her reflexes were almost inhuman.

He grabbed her by the arm and then slammed as hard as he could, her into one of the walls of the abandoned building. The impact resulted in the wall crackling up with edges forming to create an outline of a crow. Unfortunately for Mastodon, it slowed her down very little, if anything, it only served to aggravate her even more. She brushed off what little pain she did have and charged back at him with much fervor as before. He was on the defensive now, trying to block as many punches this strange woman was dishing him as possible.

"Why the fuck are you doing this?" Mastodon asked, trying to get through to the woman.

"You know why! You were even thinking about it not long ago!" The woman shouted, rage apparent in her voice.

"What the hell are you talking about?" He asked this time. This weird-as-fuck woman's not making no sense now!

"You really don't know, do you?" She condescendingly quipped.

"A year ago, two young women were found brutalized on a deserted highway. One of them died right away because she could not handle the pain that you inflicted on her. The other, was in so much pain and grief, she was driven to insanity. Over the loss of the woman she truly loved, over the people snatched away from her in her youth, over the years of captivity, and over the shame that over whelmed her when she died as an unknown and a criminal!"

"Well... That's on her!" Mastodon said, unable to make a legitimate defense.

The woman shook with even more rage. "That is all you have to say? 'That's on her'?"

She charged at him with such fury, grabbing onto his back and holding onto his neck. Mastodon tried his best to shake her off of him, even slamming against the wall of the deserted hospice, but she had a deathlike grip that it was difficult. Meanwhile, she endured every painful flashback of his abuse from holding on to him.

He held her down and she could not even manage to writhe out of his strong grip, so all she could do was look away, like a coward-

~I~

She spat in his face. "You bitch!" He exclaimed, slapping her face-

~I~

"I think I'll take your little girlfriend here." He said, approaching Elorah-

These flashbacks only served to enrage her more, and so she held on as long as she could. He finally tore from her iron grip, leaving a bloody, skin-broken, half smile shaped scratch at the right edge of his mouth in the process. After that, he threw her down on the ground, and began striking her.

"Who! The! Fuck! Do! You! Think! You! Are!" Mastodon shouted, delivering every punch as he said every word. He then threw her across the ground, not hitting anything this time. The woman struggled to get up as Mastodon approached her with malice, in an attempt to make her suffer. He grabbed her by the lapel of her coat and lifted her up, preparing to strike her again, but she had grabbed a chunk of concrete and hit him in the face.

"OOOOWWW!" Mastodon cried in pain as the concrete block hit him in the left eye area, forming a black eye with two vertical cuts, one above, and one below.

He let go of the woman afterwards, clutching his hurt eye, allowing her to stand up, albeit slightly unstable.

"The real question is: Why did you do it, Mastodon?" The woman demanded.

Who does that bitch think she is? Mastodon thought. Walking around and beating people up like she is the boss- Wait a minute,

"How do you know my name? I never gave it to you!" He said out loud.

"It's me, Nemesis. The Ex-Member, the kidnapped girl, the girl you hated because I took pity on you along with fearing you. Or have you forgotten about me altogether?" The woman feigned hurt in the last sentence.

It wasn't easy to recognize her immediately because of the makeup she had on, but once the dots were connected, he began to recognize the painted face woman.

"You?... Nemesis?... But we killed you! You were pronounced dead at the hospital! How could it be?" Mastodon could not be able to comprehend the woman he helped kill would be standing there, un... well, dead.

The crow swooped down and perched on his mistress' shoulder. He let out a loud "CAW!"

Mastodon started to charge at the woman and her crow companion. Quickly, she grabbed a fistful of soot and tossed it at his other eye, completely blinding him, not that it stopped him of course, as he screamed and cursed and grabbed a hold of her and she started resisting and struggling to free herself from his iron grip. The crow tried to attack his face to make him let her go.

"I hate having diddly shit to do with the Second coming! I hate Leviathan and his orders! I hate everyone else! I hate your bird! And I hate You!" He ranted and raved, blindly trying to strangle the woman he was physically manhandling.

Things came to a head when he ran into a wall of an unstable part of the abandon building. Once he crashed into the rotten wall, the unsteady part of the place came physically crashing down on him, wood, plaster, bricks, and all. While the crow managed to avoid getting hit by anything, he was unsure if the woman had been hurt, or worse.

The Woman in Black appeared out of nowhere to assess the situation. She heard the ruckus from afar and wanted to check up on everything.

Is she alright? She asked the crow.

I don't know. The crow replied, looking on worriedly at the toppled debris.

All of a sudden, the dreck was crumbling and moving. someone was emerging from the rubble! A closer look revealed it was the woman pushing away Mastodon's now deceased form.

"Never again." The woman quipped, brushing the dust off of herself. she then raided the dead man's pockets.

What are you doing? The crow inquired.

"Getting his phone. I'm sending this to Damian and company." She answered, finding said phone.

She turned him over face up the best she could. Blood oozed out of the left side of his mouth area, forming a complete smile. The woman took her finger and where his right eye was covered in soot, rubbed a vertical line over the eye, making him look like he was wearing crow make up. She took the still working phone and took a picture of the dead person. She then walked over to where she was thrown at and took a picture of the crow shaped imprint. She texted them to the rest of the gang, including Damian.

Ding! A text appeared on the phone. It was from Dolph:

Hey Mass! What do we need for Operation: Second Coming?

"Second Coming?" The woman was puzzled. Mastodon had mentioned Second Coming, but she had never known anything about it. Not surprising, since Damian had never trusted her with anything. It was also the first time she had heard of the name Leviathan.

Is someone pulling their strings? She thought.

Another text from Dolph:

Hello?

She decided to answer back:

Why don't we talk about it at your place?

Dolph: Alright.

The woman: What's your address?

Dolph: Apt. 69 at Oldboy Ave. Across the street from Club Trash.

Ah! An old familiar place. The woman thought as she walked away from the soon to be crime scene.


The gang was enjoying their privileged time off which Damian had allowed them. It was a time of leisurement, a grace period, for them. They spent that time hanging out at an alleyway behind a bar since their presence was never warmly welcomed at all. Not that anyone would blame the denizens, of course.

"I hate these assholes, they don't know what we're capable of. I hope the the event we plan works." Ace grumbled in disdain.

"Damian said patience Ace, just let them be all smug and smarmy about it. They'll learn not to fuck with us." Assured Blaze.

"Look, I want to believe you, but I'm afraid that our time has already passed." Ace replied pessimistically.

Ding! Ace's phone went off.

"Goddamn Mastodon!" Ace said in annoyance as he checked his phone to see what it was. He opened up the massage to get a better view of the image. Probably a selfie of himself beating up someone, like always.

What he saw, was disturbing. It was a picture of him all right, but it was a picture of him dead.

Another picture appeared. It was of a body slam imprint that was shaped funny, like a bird or something.

A text appeared saying this: You are all going to die.

"Jesus H. Christ!" Blaze exclaimed. He checked his own phone and sure enough, the same thing was on his phone.

"Guys, let me see your phones." Caliber, Envy, and Jackal all handed him their phones, they all had the same text messages.

Ace decided to call Damian to inform him of what appeared on their phones.

"I know. I have the same damn messages too." Damian answered.

"Well, what do we do?" Ace panicked.

"We wait it out." He answered with secret dread in his voice.

"Shit! Could something like what happened on Devil's Night years ago be starting up again?" Envy voiced his concern.

"I don't know. But Damian's right, we will wait it out." Ace announced. "From now on, we contact each other at all times."

The gang all had agreed, uncertainty clouding their minds.


Tallulah lay in bed, thinking about everything that was going on in the world. She couldn't sleep, not with the loud noises outside, or her persistent intuition that there is an energetic disruption with the way things may or may not be going to plan.

She didn't really believe in magic, or energy, anything that could be brushed off as "superstition". Though, she was quite entertained by the readings her mother used to read to her. Hell, she remembered a very fond memory where she had a reading out of playing cards, imagine that.

~I~

"This, is your card." A beautiful East Asian woman showed a young Tallulah the Queen of Hearts. She placed it in the middle of the table, surrounding it with six more cards: the Queen of Spades, the Ace of Clubs, the Two of Hearts, the Five of Diamonds, the Joker, and the Ten of Spades.

"What's the Queen of Spades mean?" Tallulah asked.

"A Spade is the opposite of a Heart. Whereas the Heart is red, and right side up, and symbolizes love and life, the Spade is black, upside down, and symbolizes anger, hatred, and death. The fact that it is a Queen symbolizes that the person is a woman. You will be an influence in her life, and she yours."

She continued. "The Ace of Clubs is rather, an ancient guide of some sorts. The Two of Hearts represents true love. Mind you, there are many kinds of love, it can represent any and every type of love. The Five of Diamonds represents new allies. You will forge bonds with new people. The Joker, well, when it comes to this card, nothing is predictable. anything that can happen, will."

"And lastly, the Ten of Spades means there will be more criminals in the future, ones who will kill, and ultimately, be killed."

~I~

She was always told that she inherited a family "gift", but it hadn't been put to very much use. Damian never believed in anything short of "practical". And maybe, that was why she was a skeptic herself. As much as she loved her mother and hated her father, it was a toxic environment, and sending her away was the best thing he had ever done for her, because otherwise, she would not have had a friend like Nemesis. It's funny, though, the way they met was rather, less than friendly. Nemesis was still a child then, she was very defiant and violent and would not cooperate with anyone, especially her.

~I~

Tallulah was told it was her turn to serve the young child some lunch. As she opened the door, a metal cup was being hurled at her. She ducked and the cup splashed its contents. She looked inside the room. It was a complete mess, the bed frame was overturned, the mattress was ripped open, springs and stuffing strewn about, the pillows were even torn up, with feathers all over the place. The breakfast that was served to her had not even been eaten.

"You haven't eaten." Tallulah said to the young girl, who only looked about twelve or thirteen.

The girl only responded by trying to spit at her, only missing by an inch, hatred apparent in her face.

"I know how you feel. I know it's difficult to believe me, but I myself have been taken from my family young as well."

The girl did not respond this time.

"Look, I don't expect you to respond right away, or even at all, but at least try to eat. You need your strength."

Without looking at her, the girl said this: "When the hangman jokes, nobody laughs."

Alright, she said something, Tallulah thought. It might not be much, but it's a start.

"Why me? Why did this happen?" The girl finally asked. For that, Tallulah had no answer.

"I'm not a gang kid! I'm not a criminal! It's not supposed to be my future! I had a life! I had a mom for once! I had friends who gave a damn!" The girl ranted.

"WHY! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO GO? Why did you have to go and never come back? Why Eric, why?" The poor girl broke down into sobs. Tallulah was curious as to who this "Eric" was, but the child was stressed enough as it is.

"I'll be not far away if you need me." Tallulah said as she started to walk away, but the girl grabbed her arm.

"Hold me? Please?" The girl sobbed.

"Okay." Tallulah answered as she gathered the girl in a warm embrace.

~I~

The girl child had grown and matured into the young woman known as Nemesis, renamed so because of her vengeful manner, but she never lost that strong will. Sure, she had learned to do what was necessary for her survival, but there was something in that girl that Damian unsuccessfully tried to snuff out: True Love. While her and Tallulah's friendship at first was hostile, especially when she found out who she was, she realized that if she needed an ally, she might as well start with the first person who was nice to her. And so, their friendship strengthened. Nemesis was even the one to encourage her to channel her "Gift".

~I~

"Goddammit!" Nemesis said.

"What's the matter?" Tallulah asked.

"The psychic I visited had ripped me off! She said my destiny was in Los Angeles, Cali-fucking-fornia! Said I'd meet an undead guy there and fall in love with him and senselessly sacrifice my life for him! And all of it is happening in my twenty third birthday! I'm way past twenty three!" Nemesis huffed.

Tallulah laughed. "Obviously a phony! Hahaha! If you want a real reading, you have yours truly!"

Nemesis was curious now. "You can do that?"

"Well, I haven't really used it in a long time." Tallulah uttered.

"I think it's worth a try." Nemesis replied.

"Damian says it isn't practical."

"Forget him! I'd like to see your input on my future." She insisted.

Tallulah sighed. "Alright, Let's see here... I see... two crows. One black and one white. Crows happen to be souls of the murdered. They are still watching over you, even in death. I also see... An angel who shares traits of both of them when they were alive. She is the one you give your heart and soul to. However, both of you are in mortal danger. I see feathers torn off her wings while you helplessly watch... I'm sorry Nemesis, I can't do it anymore."

Tallulah took off and locked herself in her room, leaving the woman dumbfounded.

~I~

In that young woman's future, the was nothing but doom and death and pain. Her mother used to say this: "The future is not meant to be known outright." Perhaps there was some truth to that.

Ding! Tallulah's phone sounded. She picked up the phone hoping it was not a text from Damian saying he needed something, or that the man in the secret room needed something as well.

It was from Mastodon, or at least, someone who got ahold of his phone. She read the text:

I hope you are alright Tallulah. I missed you :)

- Nemesis

Was it really? Nemesis is dead, is she? Or what if the story that she always told, about coming back from the dead, was actually coming true again? Or was Mastodon just screwing with her? If that was the case, How did he learn how to spell? So many questions rushed through Tallulah's mind, it was difficult to keep up. She had actually started getting tired over it.

Soon after, she had fallen fast asleep.


Dolph was puzzled at Mastodon's sudden spelling mastery.

The big lug never spelled a word right in all of Dolph's years of knowing him, now suddenly he can spell like a pro? Either one of two things have happened: He attained a head injury that fixed what-the-fuckever was wrong with him, or its someone else that was texting him. Considering practicalities, it was most likely the latter.

Dolph knew that whoever was on the phone didn't stand a chance against a weapons dealer like him. So he freely texted his address in order to lure the person in his place. It didn't matter to him, they would never be seen or heard from again anyways, as if they vanished into thin air.

Ding! A text read: I'm here.

Dolph texted back: Well, get your ass in here, you big lug!

~I~

The woman was unsure of what to do. She had only seen Dolph a couple of times in her life, and he was never pleasant to be around. He was always so sexist, exclaiming that women are for cooking, cleaning, fucking, or popping out hellspawn, but that was besides the point. If anyone was a pro at making anyone disappear out of existence, it was him, and dealt a lot of things besides weapons.

He's not as threatening as he says he is. The crow said.

"How do you know?" The woman whispered.

I just do. The crow replied.

"That makes me feel a whole lot better!" The woman's sarcastic reply got to him.

You are undead now. Use it to your advantage. The Woman in Black said, startling her vengeful companion.

"You scared me!" The woman hissed.

All apologies. The Woman in Black replied.

Ding! Where the fuck are you? The text read. I've been waiting and waiting!

Here goes nothing. The woman thought to herself, keeping her guard up.

I believe in you, Princess. The crow thought to himself as his mistress entered the door.

~I~

As Dolph hid himself in the shadows, his best knife in hand, ready to strike at any given moment, a figure who looked nothing like Mastodon appeared in silhouette.

"AAAAHHHH!" Dolph charged at the figure, however, the figure swept their leg out from under him and ultimately tripped him, landing face first on the floor. The figure then twisted Dolph's arm, forcing him to let go of the knife.

"Are we done playing Arrogant Army Asshole now?" The figure's feminine voice chided Dolph.

"You.. You're a gal!" Dolph exclaimed, distracting himself from the pain from his busted, bleeding nose.

"No shit Sherlock!" The figure quipped, as she tied his hand before she turned him over to look at her.

"And one who wears too much fuckin' make up at that!" Dolph felt necessary to add, pointing out the woman's painted face.

"I didn't wear it for you!" The woman sniped.

"What the fuck are you doing with Mastodon's phone anyways?" Dolph asked rudely.

"Why ask?" The woman snarked.

"Don't know, maybe... I found out Mastodon could suddenly pass the spelling bee?" Dolph inquired.

"So that's why you were trying to attack me." The woman answered.

She then wrenched Dolph off the floor onto a nearby chair. She took a look at his place and saw all the weapons and such littered all over the place.

"What is it that you want anyways Bitch?" Dolph demanded, only to get a rough slap from the woman.

"You don't call a woman bitch!" The woman berated.

"Well, Bitch, I don't know your name! So, you're gonna have to get used to it!" Dolph was defiant. How dare this woman march right in and disturb him!

"Do I now?" The woman responded, grabbing a high-voltage taser that was to be inspected by Dolph, aiming it at his groin.

Dolph let out a feminine pitched shriek. "Not my balls! anywhere but them!"

"Ask nicely then." The woman warned.

"What is it that you want? Mam?" Dolph relented, fearing what this woman was going to do.

"That's better. Now, to answer that question, I want to know what the Second Coming is, and who Leviathan is." The woman said back.

"You know what? Fuck this, I'm-OWOWOWOW!" Dolph stood up defiantly and did get tasered when he refused to answer.

"What is the Second Coming? And who is Leviathan?" The woman repeated threateningly, holding the taser.

"Fuck you and the taser!" Dolph shouted, no longer in fear of her taser.

"I see." Sensing this, the woman decided to switch tactics. She untied Dolph's hands, but then tied one on a chair rail, leaving one free before tying his feet to the front legs of the chair. She pulled out one of her guns from the holster she was wearing, emptying it of all the bullets she had, putting one in the chamber and giving it a spin.

"We are gonna try a different approach, and before you try to shoot me, Let me remind you that I can use the taser to your balls again, if necessary." She said, handing the gun to Dolph.

"If you don't want to play this game, you can always tell me what I want to hear." She reminded him.

Dolph hesitated for a moment, but then, slowly reached for the gun on the tale near them, and then, quickly aimed the gun, shooting her in the face, causing her to drop on the ground, seemingly dead, blood pouring out of the messy wound.

Unfortunately for him, the body was moving and twitching, slowly, but surely, getting itself up off the ground, the messy head wound, healing itself back up, appearing as if she hadn't been shot at all. Dolph was stunned, and above all, terrified, his fear coming back in full force now.

"W..Wh...What the fuck are you?" Dolph blubbered out, fear engripping him.

"I am your worst fears realized, I am decomposed flesh, bone, and sinew, all held together by my hatred of the lowest of the low. I am the Crow." The woman monotonically responded.

Panic rose in Dolph's mind. "You want anything? Whatever the fuck you want, it's yours!"

"You could start by answering my question: What is the Second Coming, and who is Leviathan?" The woman asked just one more time.

"Alright, the Second Coming is an event that Leviathan wants to orchestrate. It's basically a takeover of the city." Dolph finally answered.

"Why does he want to take over the city?" The woman asked.

"I don't know, something about 'Restoring Order' or something like that."

"Who is Leviathan?" The woman repeated.

"I don't know. We never see him, Damian never sees him, but we all take orders from him."

"I believe you, for now. But, if I find out you've been pulling me along, I will hunt you down and feed you to the wolves." The woman warned. "I think I might take some of your weapons if you don't mind. Along with that badass motorcycle you have out there."

"It's yours." Dolph bitterly relents, handing her the keys to it.

"Thanks." The woman replied happily, taking the keys. She then grabbed a black duffel bag and filled it with the following weapons: a sawed-off shotgun, a couple more rifles, a couple of knifes, including the one Dolph had on his person, a katana, a dagger, a pair of retractable batons, the taser, and a set of bullets. She later took back the gun she gave Dolph, put the bullets and cartridge back in, and placed it back in her holster.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted something familiar: an old skateboard. She walked to where it was and took it from the wall where it was leaning.

"Why the fuck do you need a skateboard when you said you were taking my motorbike?" Dolph asked condescendingly.

"The real question is: why do even have a skateboard in the first place?" The woman answered with her own question.

"That's scrappy stuff!" Dolph defended.

"Then you have no need for it." The woman said, stuffing the board in the duffel bag with all her weapons. With that, she headed for the door, but not before giving Dolph some parting words.

"Ta ta for now, Dolph!" The woman saluted.

Wait, I never even told her my name, how did she know it? Dolph realized.

~I~

The woman walked out to the motorcycle. It was pretty badass, The color was a black canvas, with metallic multicolored neon flames emitting from the metallic purple demonic skull. It had only one helmet, but it looked so sweet. The mileage was good, so good that she assumed Dolph never rode the thing. She slung the bag onto her back, and the crow flew onto her shoulder.

How did it go? The crow asked.

"Not bad." She responded.

I saw what you did. Good work! The Woman in Black praised.

"Thanks guys. As for you," The woman said, turning to the motorcycle, "I christen thee, Ghost Rider II!"

She then hopped on the motorcycle and drove off.


Dalle looked puzzledly at the body and back to the police officer. She was not expecting an interruption to investigate the dead body of a gang member! Especially of one who could easily take her down in seconds! Something was pretty fishy here.

"So, this is Ezra Jameson, also known as Mastodon, the muscle of Damian's gang, rumored to be unstoppable, which obviously have been proven to be false." Dalle stated for the police record.

"Looks like him, unless he has a doppelganger or a twin brother or some shit." The aforementioned police officer whom Dalle was the superior of answered to her.

"Found anything else?" She asked.

"This was nearby." The cop answered, pointing to a wall imprint crack that was shaped like some kind of bird.

"Huh." Dalle deadpanned.

"Well, what do you think of it?" The cop asked.

"Well, I think it's a lovely yet simple piece of artwork." Dalle said in a mock art critic voice.

"I'm serious, the last time a bird shaped something appeared with a dead body, it was Devil's Night." The cop replied.

"Yeah yeah, some guy came back from the dead to seek vengeance on his dead fiancee, who hasn't heard that?" Dalle hand waved.

"What do we do?"

"I'll tell you what you're going to do. You are going to assume that the killer is living until proven otherwise, alright? Now get the two tons of dead weight out of my sight." Dalle answered.

"Yes Mam." The cop obliged.

Dalle thought this to herself. Well, at least one of Kristi's killers bit the dust. Whoever did it, you deserve a gold medal.


A younger woman was prepping her last drink for the night for one more customer to serve before going home. She had had a very long day of work and just wanted to go back home to rest.

Such was the life of young Sabriel. It was all work and home. It has always been since last year. Back then, she had a sister to care for, before she rode her final ride with her no-good girlfriend. Sabriel despised that woman with a burning passion. Hating her for taking her sister away, the only family she had left since her-well, their mother and her fiance died in their place while she was at her godparents house. Their mother was hurt so badly that Elorah was born premature, out of their mother's womb too soon. And years later, she would suffer that fate as well.

"Sabriel!" A coworker exclaimed.

"What? Sorry." Sabriel apologized.

"Are you feeling okay? You seem kinda out of it." The coworker was concerned.

"I'm fine." Sabriel assured.

"Are you sure? I could take over if you're not feeling up to it." She offered.

Sabriel realized it was no use trying to convince her concerned coworker that she was alright when she clearly was not. "Okay. You can take over." She relented.

"Alright, just sign off, I'll tell boss you have Time of the Month Day." Both women laughed at their own excuse.

~I~

Sabriel went to her car after signing out. It was night, and she was really tired and wanted to go to sleep. All she could think about was her sister Elorah, and how her body disappeared without a trace.

"You're here to id the bodies, madam." The coroner inquired.

"Yes, I want to make sure." Sabriel replied. She was told that one of the bodies disappeared and no one could find out where she was. Sabriel assumed it was the girlfriend faking her death, but when the sheet lifted, it was the girlfriend, not Elorah. She was shocked, surprised, and angry. Now not only is the girlfriend dead, she doesn't know where Elorah is.

"Do you know this woman?" Asked the coroner.

"No." Sabriel answered as she walked away.

To this day, there is still no way she knows where Elorah is gone, and her girlfriend, well, is not. Yet another reason why she despised that girlfriend. All of a sudden, a masked marauder grabbed Sabriel from behind.

"You smell good sweetheart." The creep said.

"Help! Help me!" Sabriel yelled.

"No one can hear you from behind, girl." He taunted.

"Oh, I can." A familiar voice came from behind and flipped the man to the ground.

"What the fuck are you?" The would be criminal shouted.

"Your polar opposite." The woman replied. "Now get out of here before I kick your teeth in." The marauder complied and ran off.

She turned to Sabriel. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine." Sabriel said, not looking at the stranger in front of her until later.

Once she took a good look at her savior, it stirred some feelings of... something, unease, perhaps? Apprehensiveness? Most likely. but it was pretty negative.

"You remind me of someone I hate, but she's supposed to be dead." Said Sabriel.

"Why do you hate her?" The woman asked.

"There's a lot of reasons why I hate her. She was too old for my sister, she was part of a gang, she and my sister were killed, but there's no body to show for it, I could go on forever. But the thing is... When I visited mine and my sister's mother, she was given food and a place to stay." Sabriel stated.

"Well, Have you taken the time to talk to her, well, I don't know, find out her side of the story?" The woman said.

"Why should someone who joined a gang even have the time of day?" Sabriel spoke with prejudice.

"You probably would've found out that she was kidnapped." The woman implied.

"That still doesn't excuse why my sister is dead, but not found." Her resent was apparent.

"Wait, El-Your sister's body was never found?" The woman corrected herself.

"Yes, It was only her girlfriend's body in the damn morgue." Sabriel spat out.

The woman thought to herself. Could Elorah still be alive? Could she be looking for me? Those were the questions that ran through her head. "Elorah." She whispered to herself.

"Wait what?" Sabriel apparently heard the whispering.

"Um, Uh.." The woman was flustered now.

"I heard you say the name 'Elorah'. Only one person says her name like that, and I don't like her." Sabriel confronted the woman.

"Listen Sabriel, I can explain-" The woman tried to say, only to be cut off.

"No! I don't want you anywhere near me! I would've rather been killed by that masked creep!" Sabriel exclaimed as she ran to her car and took off.

"Wait!-" The woman tried to shout, but was derailed by the Woman in Black.

Do not interfere with the affairs of the living! She warned.

"But she was going to-"

She'll eventually come around, I promise. The crow assured the woman, who was left sobbing on the pavement in the parking lot.


The young woman in a white dress gazed for what seemed to be a very long time at the smoldering remains of what once was a place she and her girlfriend resided in. The place that was decrepit, but still home, gone, the charred remnants of what once was. Her working right eye welled up with tears at the sight of another dead end.

Why? You promised I could find you! The girl thought, dropping to her knees.

Just then, a bird flew down towards the young woman.

It's alright Elorah, you can still find her. A feminine voice said.

"What? Who's there?" The girl, now named Elorah snapped out of her reverie.

Look to your left. I'm right here beside you. The voice said.

Elorah turned her head and there, perched on top of a burnt surface, was a beautiful bird, shaped like a crow, but it had white plumage.

"You're a bird?" Elorah asked.

Yes. The white crow answered.

"Where's my girlfriend?" She questioned.

Out avenging the both of you. The white crow answered.

"Did she die? Did I die?" Elorah asked the white crow.

Yes and yes. You are both revenants now. The white crow flew out to close the distance between her and Elorah and perched on the girl's arm.

With her beak, she brushed the hair that was covering Elorah's left eye and discovered that her eyelids were sewn shut and a vertical scar struck through it.

Oh baby, what did these sick men do to you? The white crow asked rhetorically, as she her self been through something similar when she was human.

"Will you help me find her?" Elorah asked.

Of course, follow me. With that, the white crow flew off, with Elorah following her.


The woman continued to mull to herself a couple hours after Sabriel left. She could not understand why Sabriel didn't like her. Well, she technically could, she would admit that she wasn't the very best of influences, but still, the feeling was not, and never will be mutual. She remembered seeing her when she was very little, when she visited her friends. It was usually once a week, up until That Night.

She did not want to think about it. That memory was painful enough as it is. She hoped that there was something she could do for Sabriel.

If you interfere, you will become vulnerable. Any wound you recieve will not heal. The Woman in Black warned.

"I don't care. I'm still avenging mine and Elorah's deaths, don't get me wrong. But I need my good bye with Sabriel to end on a good note." The woman said solemnly.

Alright. The Woman in Black relented, knowing it was pointless to argue with her.

Before she could think about her plight any further, the woman then reached into her duffel bag and unzipped it. She pulled out the skateboard that rested inside. Something compelled her to take the old thing, but what? She knew Dolph had a habit of hoarding things like this, which was why she wasn't surprised when she saw his place was a mess. Why did she take it and not anything else that was useless. Maybe it was a clue to finding out the real her. When she was kidnapped, Damian gave her a new name that she was to go by. As she grew older, she started to forget most of her childhood memories, including her name. All except a few, but even then, she struggled to keep them. Examples were: When her friend came back from the grave and avenged himself, the last time her mother had ever lived, the cat she was given dying of sickness-

Suddenly, she was shocked out of her thoughts by something rubbing up against her. A "Meow!" followed after. She turned to look at whatever it was, and strangely enough, it was a cat. It had long black fur unlike the white her first cat she had, well, had.

"Meow!" The cat said.

"Well, aren't you a cutie? Where did you come from?" The woman cooed.

The cat meowed again. She looked for where the cat came from, but without success.

"I think I'll call you, Zen!" The woman said, holding the now-named Zen.

You know, it's pretty difficult to bring a cat with you to help kill your killers. The crow said matter-of-factly.

"I'll manage." She said, studying the old skateboard.

But, when she read the tiny etching on the old skateboard, what she saw was shocking and unexpected:

Property of Sarah Monster


To Be Continued...


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