Disclaimer: This is not an official Crow story... therefore, I proclaim all those who don't like this... can officially bite me. My story is inspired to me by my own tragedy... I know the loss of a loved one... and for that, I feel justice will never be served. This is the story of a man driven to the brink... by those he trusted... he will find his ultimate solution...

He'll find Redemption...

A Sinful Past, A Last Redemption...

Subject: Jacob Mobius

"With a Last Dying Breath... the Fiend spoke the name... the name of my true enemy... that name was..."

Jacob had stumbled half way to his house when the thugs found him. To them... Jacob was easy pickings. but for Jacob... his mind was on other things.He could see a glint of silver... his instincts... they reacted quickly taking over, he snapped backwards into the knife... the thug caught off guard stumbled back letting the knife go loose in his hand. Jacob siezed the moment and quickly grabbed the knife out of his side. Twisting around he held the knife parallel to his arms as he slowly stalked the thug he shocked onto the ground. The other thugs took off like the cowards they were. Jacob closed in on his prey when he suddenly noted something that stopped him in mid-stride. "My

kn-nife... I-I stabbed yo' ass! Ya' Freak!" the thug stood quickly and ran scared out of his wits down the road. Jacob felt his side... there was a scar... but no blood... and the scar felt old... he had immediately healed as quickly as he had been stabbed... "What the fuck am I?"

He stood before it... not trully knowing what it was... but feeling he had been there before. It was an old house. a two story apartment... with barred windows. The steps, lined with marble. It was a house he could imagine himself living in. He took the first step onto the property... He could feel something... an energy. He moved forward... then the flashes came!

"...Time to kill this bitch..."

"...We're gonna fuck this kid up..."

"...Ready! Whiskey?..."

Whiskey? A name? someone he knew? Jacob touched the doorknob. Another flash struck him... Jacob fell to the ground, as though he'd been struck in the chest.

"...I'm sorry kid..." an old man... dreadlocks... and... knives...

"... lil' bastard betrayed us! He's gettin; what he deserves..." a man with a tomahawk tatoo on his arm... he's big... but dumb lookin'...

Jacob stands up quickly fearing, but furiously curious about what these visions mean! Jacob turned to the door, and with a firm foot rams it through the door. Running into the living area he got hit with another flash!

"... NOOOOOO!" HIS MOTHER DYING! Her body falling limp as he watches her eyes grow cold and distant.

"Noooo!" Jacob fell sobbing... unable to cry! His arms raised by themselves!

" YOU BASTARD!

"...bastards..." he sobbed... he remembered... his family... he remembered the pain... the agony... his sister... oh god... she was selled into slavery. "... not his choice?... Old man... why?" Jacob raised himself to his feet... the weight of his guilt making every step horribly impossible. He walked over to a mirror... he couldn't see his reflection... why hadn't his eyes grown back... like the rest of his body? He motioned to the sockets where his eyes were... he touched the frayed skin, still scarred... a new flash appeared... he couldn't see anything... he could ionly hear a voice...

"It shouldn't have come to this... I never wanted this to happen... I was gonna stay away from you... your family... even though I thought your mom was hot." Jacob cringed... "But my boss wants this... he wanted such a dramatic example... he wanted theatrics... and I can't dissapoint the boss... remember Jakey... we're always a slave to something... Only some of us live above it."

"Whiskey... you didn't plan the attack... but then... who?"

A sharp pain agonized his eyes as he fell to the floor. Writhing and gouging at flesh, he felt flesh grow atop new flesh as he stopped ripping, allowing the process to finish... In the darkness... Jacob felt his face... something had changed. Had his eyes grown back? Jacob turned to face the mirror... and in his reflection... he realized the horror of what Whiskey had done to him... Eyes had grown to replace the ones he lost... only these eyes were pure black... with white iris'. He couldn't see in color either... everything had a black, white, and glints of silver and grey to them. He had grown entirely new eyes. And around his eyes... were blackened over scars forming what Whiskey had shown him once as the Tragedy Mask... a mask of great Tragedy... his calling card... Jacob stood angrily. "You may have not wanted to do these things... but that doesn't mean your innocent... And on this night... no one is innocent..." he heard a crow enter the house.

"I get the idea that I'm dead, but at the same time, I'm now alive." Jacob sat there pondering this as the Crow knawed on a blue box. "Stop that!" Jacob yelled throwing a shoe at the bird. "And I know your what brought me back!" Jacob stood chasing the bird out of the house. "I didn't want to come back! I was where I deserved to be!" He felt a stinging on his face as he writhed once more in agony. He turned to the mirror to note the scars had now returned to the form they had been at first. Distorted somewhat, no longer straight. "And what the fuck does that mean?". Frustrated, Jacobs smashed his fist through the mirror. He turned knocking over the blue box to reveal a Hunters knife... "My... old knife?" Jacob picked up the Knife, not noting the pain in his face. He turned the knife around to reveal the inscribed words.

"Redemption..."

His epiphany... he would avenge his family... He would make their souls rest. He looked into a shard of glass on the floor... the scars had returned to being straight. He would redeem himself... and he would kill those who cannot be saved.

"Behold... a pale Horse... There was a Man Upon its Steed... He would come to be known as 'Death'..."

Whiskey stood before his master... a man with Velvet Black hair. He ran his fingers through his hair... his leather gloves pulling softly on the ends. "So... nothing to report?" the man said to his older counterpart. Whisky stood pulling a single knife from his vest. "None whatsoever... but there is one thing..." Whiskey threw the knife onto the desk stabbing into the hard wood. "Its the knife..." the man pulled the knife from his desk. "What about it?" Whiskey sneered. "I never clean my knives... that had my ol' buddies blood on it." the man leered in the shadows... "So... it begins..." the man in Black stood strolling to a painting. "And suddenly life will now become more interesting."

Next Chapter...

The Chief and his Soldiers, The First of Many...

"She smiles... her face filled with a great sadness... I can feel her pain... She knows Me... And yet... I don't know her..."