Many thanks to 'Persia' and 'Tanuki', who graciously assisted me in making this chapter flow much more smoothly than it would have had I not had their assistance.

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Exactly one year after the murder of Jace Sheldon and Brandon Clay.

The night was silent, cold, and moist from a recent misting rain. Covering a sloping hill, the cemetery was empty, save for the smaller critters who found sanctuary in the peaceful serenity of the holy grounds. A crow perched on one protruding stone, shadows making its dark form all but invisible. Clouds parted, bathing the bird in milky moonlight, and there was the sound of flapping wings as the dark creature rose from the stone, flying towards another perch. He alighted on a nearby tree, one that stood guard over the grave. Beady eyes appeared to burn as the crow's wings remained loosely held, beak open with a silent caw. The wet soil began to move, to inch apart as the bird watched on, unperturbed. Moments later, a disoriented, dirty young man lay, coughing and attempting to gather himself. Where was he? What was he doing here? His eyes moved to the gravestone, and upon reading it, he stared, openmouthed, unbelieving.

Jace Sheldon
June 14th, 1979-August 30th, 2003

A light rain began to descend from the heavens, as though the Great Ones themselves were crying for Jace's newfound pain and confusion. Wet hair became plastered against his face as slender fingers grazed over the etched letters of his name. His eyes slammed shut and he jerked visibly, a sharp gasp taken in as a series of flashes overcame his mind. Nearly stumbling backward from the shock, he was forced to momentarily relive certain areas of his life.

The young man stands proudly before the gathering of coworkers as his boss delivers the words of his recent promotion, as well as a speech commending the employee's excellent work under his company. The others look on, expressions of congratulations on their faces, tinted with just the lightest bit of harmless, natural jealousy. As the speech closes, mild applause echoes throughout the employee lounge, dying down as Jace himself steps forward to give a word of grateful acceptance. Nervous pride.

Blackness. Another flash.

He sits now at a table, the odors of alcohol and tobacco thick as clouds. Nearly choking, but somehow, the young men surrounding that table are able to ignore the intrusive stenches as they chat, their conversation light as they catch up on old times. Enjoying themselves, friendship again found where it had once been lost to time. Finding out what one had missed through the years of being separated, estranged, the pregnancy of one friend's wife, the engagement of another. The feeling of regret, yet at the same time, elated that now he could be with them once more through these times of change. Pride brimming as he tells of his prestigious promotion.

More blackness, confusing emptiness. One last, anger-inducing flash.

Fear choking as the gun was pointed toward his head. Eyes moving wildly to the one who attempted to intercede, yet failed. A vast resentment for the man, the one who will go on to live, to breath, when the young man himself could no longer. Blinding pain as the bullet shot rang, echoing through his mind. Gazing through sightless eyes as his body landed with a thud, staring now at his beaten, bloody friend. Remorse, guilt, anger, rage…Blinding rage.

And finally they stopped, Jace Sheldon's eyes blinking as he fought to gain control of himself and the fierce bloodlust that resulted in a yell, a roar of defiance, of bitter anger. It was then that the face of the man began to adopt a lighter shade, turning to a murky white, and black marks etched themselves over his mouth and eyes. As the echoing silence once again fell over the cemetery, the crow lifted it's wings and finally landed upon the man's dirty shoulder. Talons digging through even the thickness of the old, now-ragged suit that the Crow wore, the bird closed it's eyes and delivered to Jace one final flash.

Only moments after the life had slowly left the fallen Jace's body. The bird watches from his perch upon a telephone wire, head tilting to the sound of sirens. Bustling, hurried steps leave the alley as the thieves are eager to avoid any confrontation with the police. A drifting flight lands the crow atop the back of the body, laying face-down on the dirty tar. For a moment, the bird jumps around, appearing to explore, taking in the scene surrounding. A car, lights flashing, pulls up to the two lone bodies.

The final flash. The farewell to a life left behind. The greeting to an existence driven only by revenge. Standing to his feet, Jace Sheldon swore silently that those who were responsible for his death will meet their own. Kicking a good portion of the disturbed dirt aside, he stood back, hands on his hips, surveying his work for a moment before he was finally satisfied. The bird was ignored as he made his way slowly to the exit of the cemetery, the need to 'clean up' foremost in his mind.