Okay, here is chapter two! Hope you folks are reviewing so this thirty year old man knows his limitations, and how to better them!

WITCH HUNTER ROBIN: The Kindling

Solomon was founded to know and better understand witches, people who seemed to have supernatural powers. Kin Tokutoyu knew this as much as any other law enforcer in Tokyo did. Kin was six feet, with short light brown hair. His eyes were dark brownish green, and slanted to the shape of an almond. He wore a light blue suit, and dark brown cowboy boots that he had gotten when he went to visit relatives in Texas.

The Solomon headquarters, called the Raven's Flat, in Japan looked like a large mansion to some, and an apartment complex to others. It was dark and brooding, despite the guard at the gate, who was constantly reading his horoscope. Kin hadn't liked him originally, but as he came to talk to the man, found he wasn't that bad.

A young, blonde Japanese woman walked passed him in the hall and smiled. "You planning on going in to work, or are you just going to stand there all day?" Yurika Doujima looked at him and smiled. She was four inches shorter than him, but taller than most Japanese women.

"I was just thinking," he said, softly. He turned and looked into her bright blues eyes. She giggled and waltzed by him a little. "You've heard about the case in the States, right?"

She stopped and frowned for a microsecond. "The loner hunter who's killing witches over there?"

"There are rumors that, that person might have at one time been involved with Solomon, here in Japan. Or in the very least, somewhere in the Orient," he said, his voice growing lower with each word. Kin had heard very nasty things about people who died for saying too much against Solomon.

That didn't surprise Doujima very much; she knew all about Solomon's shading dealings, or at least Takuma Zaizen, the former director of the STN-J, and his lackeys at the Factory. There were times she wondered why they still hunted witches and set them to that place, but all her resources told her not to fret. She shook her head and looked down at her feet. No, she told herself, the bad guys are all dead, or in jail.

"Look, don't worry so much about it," she said, resuming her award winning smile. She flipped her fingers through her hair and gave him a wink. "Now, there's a meeting we have to get to, and then there's a shopping mall calling my name. So, cowboy, let's get moving." Before he could protest, she took his arm and pulled him into the main office of the STN-J, Solomon's arms, ears, and "guns" in Japan.

In the "conference room" there was a long oval table, with a huge holographic screen with computers underneath them. Sitting to the right of the screen, Michael Lee looked up and waved them over. Already there were the other members of the STN-J, Haruto Sakaki, and Miho Karasuma, the unquestioned field leader of the group ever since someone named Amon had vanished three months before.

Kin sat next to Michael and nodded. Of everyone here, the older man held a deeper connection to the teenage hacker the most. After all, they had both been recruited in very similar ways.

"I'm glad everyone is here," said Miho Karasuma. The woman was in her early twenties, just celebrating a birthday last week, but looked at least twelve years older than that. Her voice was calming and gently, but held an iron twinge of control and power in it. She nodded at Michael and he began punching a few buttons. A picture of a Japanese man in his late fifties popped up. His hair was raven black, and so were his eyes. The only thing betraying his age were the wrinkles on his cheeks and forehead.

"This is Hashi Motokita, fifty eight years old, five foot, nine inches, two hundred and fifty pounds. He runs a charity for war orphans in the southern districts of Tokyo, but,"

"But it's a front to bring in more thugs for his little 'family'," Kin said nodding. He knew all about this dangerous old man. He was filthy rich, and kept lawyers in constant attack mode, anytime the Tokyo police got to close for comfort. He was wanted in over a dozen countries, and those were the one's who were brave enough to speak out against him. All in all, Hashi Motokita was a very dangerous and powerful member of the Yakuza.

Michael typed a few more buttons and a new screen popped up. "He is also a witch. His powers began to awaken shortly around five years ago. That's around the time he started his climb up the criminal ladder."

"So, what exactly is his power?" Haruto asked. He was three years older than Michael, the same age as Doujima, and Kin was pretty sure that the two of them were an item. They liked going off together after work a lot. Haruto leaned forward on the table and rested his chin on the backs of his hands.

"We don't know," Karasuma said, shaking her head. Looking at Kin, she sighed as he shrugged. Well, being a simple police officer until now, what was he supposed to know except what the law told him.

Director Kosaka walked into the room, his brown eyes narrowing. He looked a little like a Japanese Moe, from the Three Stooges, with a chrome dome, and a mustache. His attitude was nothing like the ringleader of the slap happy trio, however.

After Zaizen had turned against the STN-J and Solomon, and had died in their attack near the Factory, the job of Director was handed over to this man, who up until then was only known as Chief Kosaka. He had an extreme fondness for coffee, one that perhaps was unhealthy and unnatural, but for some reason was always being reminded that the cup was hot. No one knew how who dropped his name to the superiors, but Michael highly suspected Doujima was responsible. She always had a giggle when the man walked in to a meeting, one she tried to hide as soon as it had come. It made further since that he was promoted thanks to the girl, as her connections would allow her to pull the necessary strings.

"From what files I have been given by the proper authorities," he began, "it almost appears that he has a power to give of strong mental suggestions."

"Mental suggestions?" Karasuma asked, with a frown. She almost asked what proper connections he had made, but then, she knew he was the Director, and that he knew law enforcers who were higher up the ladder than who Kin knew.

"For instance, if he sent a suggestion to you, that you were having a heart attack, then you'd actually think you were having one. If he gave you a suggestion to give him the number to your bank account, then you would do it."

"It would explain why so many people died in mysterious circumstances," Michael said under his breath.

"And how he can recruit so many people to work for him, or how he has gotten so rich, in such a short amount of time," Kin said with a nod. A sliver of ice ran down his spine. This was all still so new to him, and frightening. The thought that some one could manipulate electricity, of ignite another person into a ball of flames, or could simply think someone to death, was horrific.

"Okay, so we know who he is, and how he uses his powers, so then, all we need to know is, how do we catch him?" Haruto said, stroking his chin.

"He likes to attend the opera a lot," Michael said, punching a few more buttons. "The security force he takes with him there is armed to the teeth, but much smaller than what he normally travels with."

"He probably figures with his powers, and the weapons the bodyguards use, there's no real reason to take an army for protection." Doujima said.

Kin nodded in approval. "And he probably does business while watching the opera, no doubt. A huge army might scare off potential partners who aren't as aware of his criminal background as most are."

"Like foreign companies, and dignitaries," Michael agreed working busily at the keyboard. "So the best time to get at him, is then." He looked at the computer, and grinned wickedly. "And we don't have to worry about innocents getting in the way, because he always arrives at the opera house before anyone else arrives."

Karasuma leaned forward and looked at the screen. "It appears that his security force fans the place for any bugs or bombs."

"How does he get away with that?" Kin asked.

"He owns the building," Michael said with a lopsided grin.

"Okay, then let's start putting together a plan, and nab this guy, before he hurts anyone else," Director Kosaka said. "Karasuma, I'm leaving it up to you." The Director turned and walked out of the room, sipping a hot cup of coffee, and swearing as some of it spilt on his fingers.

No sooner had Michael left the conference room, and sat back down at his comfortable chair, in front of his own laptop computer, when a new email popped up in front of him. The teenager frowned for a moment, as he listened to his music over his headphones, and nearly considered deleting it. But those seven words kept taunting at him, pleading with him to click on the mail link.

Being a hacker of monster skills, Michael shook the curiosity far behind and deleted it. A few moments after he did, they popped back on the screen. The odd dance continued for over five minutes, until out of frustration Michael swore out loud and clicked on it. As soon as he did, his eyes widened to the point of leaping out of his sockets. He quickly glanced around to see if anyone was watching, and reread the mail. Michael reread it a third time, and then deleted the mail, double checking to make sure that no one could trace it.

He pulled the headphones from his head and raced over to the Director's room, for permission to leave the building. Even the Zaizen was dead, and worm chow, he still needed permission to ask to leave his cage. Fortunately for him Director Kosaka was much more understanding than Director Zaizen had been. Michael gave an excuse that he needed some fresh air, and that he'd be back in an hour or two. The Director reluctantly gave him permission, provided that check in if he needed more than two hours, and that he stay out no later than four hours.

Michael went to the garage and then grabbed a scooter, and headed off, to his rendezvous, his heart pounding in his chest. Could it be possible? Could they still be alive, like he had thought? Only Amon had such secret access to his hidden email address. And those seven words! He thought back to what the older man had once said, in an attempt to bait him to do some background work for him.

I KNOW OF AN AWESOME WEB SITE. If it were not Amon, then Michael might be walking into a trap, but that was a chance that he absolutely had to take.

Unbeknownst to Michael, a set of powerful eyes, were watching him ride off. Kin had been told by the Director to follow the boy, as he was concerned for him. Director Kosaka knew there was something wrong with Michael when he burst into the room, and said he held a hunch about who Michael was going to visit, and if he was right, Kin was to try and bring them back, to help the STN-J again.

Kin didn't know what was going on, or who he was supposed to re-recruit back to the "cause" but being a devoted officer, he would do his duty to his superior. Slowly he slinked into his black sedan, and closed the door, he turned the key and listened as the motor revved, and then pulled out of the parking lot, and followed the teenage hacker into the night.

On the other side of the world, an alarm clock that read two o'clock in the morning blared out, shattering the silence of the darkened room. The hunter opened her raven colored eyes and threw the covers off of her body, somersaulting out of bed. Her muscles were tight and firm; and a bead of sweat trickled down her forehead.

It had been two days since she had sent the foul witch to his punishment in the church in San Francisco. Two days without a hunt. Her soul hungered for more justice to hand out, but despite all of her massive prayers, her self sacrifices, there had been no word of another to hunt, just yet.

She began to pace back and forth, mentally chanting her mantra as she closed her mind. After twenty minutes, she turned toward the corner of the room, and spied her long thorn whip. She bit her lip, and hesitated for only a second, before she lifted it from its resting place, heated it with her mind, and then began to slash down at her bare legs and feet with it. Her body screamed with the pain, but she shut it out, as the whip struck her again and again. The hunter had been trained from a long line of flagellants, religious sects, who believed in purifying themselves through pain.

An hour later, a different kind of hunger filled her body, and she quickly got dressed, and knelt before the statue of an angel holding a fiery sword, before leaving her hotel room. She marched with a steady pace toward the elevator, and rode it to the lobby. Leaving the hotel, she hoped on board her motorcycle and raced off to a local diner that sold all you could eat salad.

There were seven or eight people here, from different age groups, eating and talking quietly amongst themselves. The diner was a long rectangle in shape, almost like a passenger cab in a train, and was colored in dim lights of blue and green. The owner liked his clients and regulars calmed at this time of night, and soft Gregorian chants were played over and over. It seemed to calm most of the people, with the exception of the hunter. She narrowed her dark raven eyes, and felt the muscles in her body tighten as the sounds of the monks flowed through her ears.

The hunter chose her regular dark corner and ordered her salad, nibbling at it her thoughts turned to the hunt. Her body began to tighten again, and her eyes turned to the denizens of the diner. Perhaps one of them was a witch? Maybe all of them were. Her heart began to pound at the thought of bringing justice to so many demon seed at once that she nearly wet herself.

The hunter cast the thoughts of excitement from her mind, and bit her fork so hard that it almost cracked some of her teeth. Her mission was not one of excitement and enjoyment, but one of justice. There could be no worldly pleasure of any kind for her, until all witches were burned and sent screaming for hell.

The hunter finished her meal, eight plates full of salad, with very little dressing, and paid for it an hour later. She walked outside, very aware of two pairs of eyes ogling her. Her body was still tense, but her reaction time was slow, as the meal passed through her digestion track. She barely managed to get to her cycle, when a pair of strong hands grabbed her by her shoulders and yanked her into an alley, into further darkness.

"Hey there, gorgeous, why the rush," a foul smelling biker said, flashing decaying teeth, and reeking of alcohol."

"Why don't you join us for some fun," added his even smeller companion, eyeballing her up and down. "You must be uncomfortable in those clothes of yours. Let me help you out." With a flick of his wrist the second man pulled out a switchblade and held it against her shirt.

"I will not be touched by man, or witch," she said, her voice barely audible. Even as cold steel slid down her body, she did not twitch. "My body belongs to the Lord."

"Looks like we have a fighter, a girl with no fear," the first man said, bread crumbs stuck in his uncombed beard. "Or maybe a little 'good girl' who has wondered to far into the dark forest?"

"Let's teach her some, then," the second man, tattooed from head to toe cackled. He forced his lips on hers for a second, and then pulled away as she blew hot flames into his body.

He reeled back, attempted to scream as he clutched at his throat. It glowed like a jack-o-lantern's maw, and he dropped rolling in agony. With a thought she ignited his clothes, and covered him in flames.

"What the hell did you do to him, you little bitch," the first man roared. He leapt at her, and slashed at her bare arm with his own knife. The hunter looked down at the blood dripping from her body and stared back blankly at the biker.

He blinked at her, and slashed again. Again she did nothing but stare at the blood. The biker took a step back and swallowed hard as she stepped in between him and his fallen friend, who was lying lifeless in the fire. "Who, what the hell are you?"

"I am God's hunter, His servant. I normally hunt demon seed, witches who would prey on humans, but you and your friend are just as bad as they are." She took a step forward and narrowed her eyes. "You would prey on the flesh of your fellow humans, for a few moments of pleasure." She took another step toward him, and then shot out a flame toward his feet. Her body is tightening again, and she forced excitement to the back of her mind.

"Bitch, you are going to wish that you had never met me," he hissed, pulling out a gun from the back of his pants. She narrowed her eyes even further and he felt the metal of the gun melt in his hands. He dropped it, and screamed as it went of, sending a bullet into the back of his knee. He dropped to the ground and swallowed. "Please, miss, I'm sorry. Look, if its money you want, I can get you loads of it." He smiled and swallowed again. "We have it in our van, just got it from a connivance store.

There was another blast of fire, as her eyes became slits. "So you're thieves as well?"

"Look, you don't understand, my old woman, she won't back off with her nagging, so I thought I'd make her happy with a little bit of cash," he said, his eyes growing wide, as he held up a hand and showed her his wedding ring.

"And you are unfaithful, as well," she snarled. "People like you are a bane on society, perhaps not as bad as witches, but disgusting all the same. It will be a pleasure to erase you from the existence, and send you to your eternal punishment."

The biker screamed with horror, and managed to pull himself to his feet, hobbling down the alley. With what strength he had, he tossed a few trash cans in her direction, as she walked slowly with determination in his direction. He continued to limp toward an abandoned building and closed the door. He swallowed and leaned against it, his heart pounding against his chest. He licked his lips, and put his hand into his pocket, for his cell phone.

He began dialing it, and narrowed his eyes in the darkness, and dim lights trickling into the building through small holes in the boarded up wood, he began to dial the phone. "Come on, come on damn it."

The lights seemed to grow brighter as it rang, and then he could smell cooking oak. Something in his mind snapped, the boards in the door were made of oak! Shit!

He rushed forward and covered his head as the door collapsed inward, swallowed in flames. The hunter walked through it, and seemed to stare into his very soul. How the hell could she see him in the darkness? Was she some kind of deranged mutant? A military experiment? What was she talking about witches for?

Collecting the last amounts of courage he had, the biker grabbed a two by four, and rushed forward; swinging and screaming like a maniac. The tactic took her a little by surprise, and she sway back and forth, growing very close to the flames. He thrust forward, and struck her in the stomach, snarling with satisfaction as she bent over. He held the board over his head and sent it down onto her head, or he would have, but she looked up, and set the board ablaze. The biker screamed, and dropped his weapon, scanning the room for anything else that he might use.

The hunter regained the offensive, and turned her sight on every item in the room. Everything was on fire; nothing was able for use against her now. She turned her gaze back on the frightened man and scowled, "I would pray now. Where you are human, perhaps God will forgive you, your sins, and you might yet see salvation." He spat at her and flicked her off, and for the first time, she laughed. "I figured as much. Enjoy the flames." With a thought she ignited his clothes, and then sent him into the flames with a round house kick to the head.

She leapt out of the building, and slinked into the shadows and the fire department raced forward to the fire. She snarled at first, why should such despicable humans be saved? What worth were their lives? But then she calmed herself. Not all humans were evil, in fact only a small margin were ranked with the witches. Innocent people could be hurt by the flames, something she did not want if it could be helped.

The hunter knelt, said her prayers to her guardian angel, and to the Lord, and rose to her feet. This wasn't the kind of hunt that she wanted, but at least she was allowed to do some good with her powers. She could relax for the next day or so. And by then, perhaps, she would be given a better challenge.

Michael pulled up to Harry's restaurant and got off his scooter and entered it. The middle aged man looked up and smiled at him warmly. The teenager smiled at him and took a seat.

"What can I do for you today, Michael?"

The teenager looked at the menu and shook his head. "Just a glass of water, and maybe some soup." Harry nodded and took the menu, as he walked back toward the kitchen. It was quiet here, tonight. Of course Harry's wasn't known for a wild and crazy time, but still of all the patrons that normally came in, there were only two other people. And neither of them were who Michael was waiting for.

He stroked his chin, and began to wonder if he should tell the middle aged man anything. Robin was like a daughter to him, and he had taken the news of her "death" very hard. Or at least he appeared to. Somehow Michael always thought Harry knew just as much as he did, that neither Amon, nor Robin was truly dead like what Doujima thought.

Harry snapped him out of his thoughts as he walked back to the table with the glass of water and the bowl of soup. Michael thanked him and quickly downed the meal, glancing ever once in a while at his watch. One hour in a half had passed, and still there was no sign. Perhaps he had gotten the message wrong; perhaps he wasn't supposed to have walked through into Harry's. What if the old man hadn't known that Robin was still alive and she didn't want to give him a stroke by simply walking through the door. Or what if the place was being watched? It was no secret that Harry's was a popular place for Robin to go and eat, or even any of the others who worked at the STN-J.

A little bit after two hours, Michael sighed and stood up. All the other patrons of Harry's had left, and he alone was in the small eatery. He considered calling the Director for more time, but decided against it. There was no reason to make people any more curious than what he might have already had. He paid for the meal, and started to walk out of the eatery, his lip hanging low.

"You forgot to ask if they were already here," Harry asked, with a sly smile. The teenager turned around so fast, it was as if he had been staring at the older man the whole time. There was a playful twinkle in Harry's eyes, and he chuckled. He walked quickly toward the boy and bent over to his ear.

"Amon thought you might get over anxious and blurt out if they were here," he whispered. "He told me someone was going to order water and soup, but not who." He bent back and winked, craning his head to the back of his restaurant. "They're back there."

Michael felt the blood drain from his skin. His brown eyes grew wide, and he nearly buckled on his own slender frame. Running his fingers through his light brown, blondish hair, he managed to pull himself to his feet. So it was true, they were alive.

Just as Harry was leading the startled young teenager into the back, the doors to his place burst open, and a hard breathing man stood, staring at them. Harry frowned and took a step back, he had never seen this man before, but apparently, judging from Michael's reaction, he had.

"Kin! What are you doing here?" Michael squealed. "Let me guess, Director Kosaka told you to tail me, right?"

"Yes, he did. He told me that he thought you might have come into contact with some old friends, and that I was to 'ask' them to come back and help out on a case or two."

Someone sighed behind them, and a tall man in an overcoat pushed the kitchen door open and bayed for them all to come to the back. Harry sighed and pushed the teenager and his coworker into the back of the room, and introduced Kin to Amon and a small, teenage girl with odd hair, and brilliant green eyes. Kin knew it was Robin before the introduction. Everyone at Raven's Loft constantly spoke so admirably about her, that he would have recognized her in the crowded streets in Bombay, India, or Los Angeles, or any other massive large and crowded city.

"I must say, it is a pleasure to finally meet you, although I must say, it is a little shocking to see you standing here, and not in your graves," Kin said with a smile.

For the first time in a long time, Amon sported a smile. "Graves? Doujima, right," he asked, turning to Michael. The teenage boy smiled and nodded, supported by a few light chuckles by Harry.

"She is so romantic in her thoughts," Robin said with her own smile.

"She probably saw us going up in a blaze of glory," Amon said.

"Wait until you come walking into the STN-J, her eyes are going to bulge out of her eyes," Kin said.

Amon sighed and shook his head. "I'm afraid it's not going to be that simple." The officer frowned and looked at him. "Robin and I do not totally trust the STN-J, not yet anyway."

"Hey, we're your friends," Michael snapped, his face showing the pain of the older man's words.

"You, are our friends, and so are some of the others, but I don't trust many more than our little circle, and I'm not ready for us just to come in waltzing into the hornet's nest."

"There are many people who would still love to kill Robin, for what she is," Harry said, assuring both Michael and Kin.

"But we can tell the other's," Michael said.

"We have to at least tell Director Kosaka," Kin snapped. "Even if you don't come back, we have our duty."

Amon walked up to the other man and sized him up. "Do you have any idea who it is that you are working for?" He narrowed his eyes and began circling him. "Are you prepared to sell your soul to the devil himself, if the time comes, or have you already done so?"

"Look, I'm only doing what I was told," Kin snarled. "I work for Director Kosaka, and the STN-J, as for selling my soul to the devil, I'm not entirely sure he exists."

"Chief Kosaka is a very good man," Robin said with a nod, not seeming to register that the man had been promoted. "But unfortunately he's not the top of the chain in the leadership of the STN-J."

"Director Zaizen may be dead," Amon said, "but there are worse people still very much in power that would love to see us dead." He scanned the room, "All of us."

"Michael," Robin said softly. "For the time being, it might be wise for you not to saying anything." She turned to Kin, "Or you either Mr. Tokutoyu, please for your own safety." There was something in her eyes, a benign power of benevolence that Kin could not deny. Kin wasn't a Catholic, like this girl was, he wasn't even Christian, but looking into her soft features, he could see a saint in them. A saint that try as he might, he could not deny.

"Very well," he said, totally defeated. He put his hands in his pockets, and listened as they told them that they were staying with Amon's brother, Nagira somewhere in the city.

"We'll be in touch again, Michael," Amon said, "when the time is right. There is a dangerous rogue hunter out there, we're not sure who she is, or where she is, but we know it is only a matter of time before she comes here. Nagira's sources have made that much clear. Once she finds out about Robin, we might all be in danger."

"Which is why we decided to come back to Tokyo," Robin said, "we might have a better chance of beating her as a unit than apart."

"I see," Michael said. He looked at Kin, who smiled smugly. The officer had always thought there was something going on with that hunter in the States, and it looked like he was right. They said their good byes, and went their separate ways for now. It wouldn't be long before they would be thrust together again.

It would be sooner than any of them would ever suspect.