Prologue

People once believed that when someone dies, a Crow carries their soul to the land of the dead.

But sometimes, something so bad happens that a terrible sadness is carried with it, and the soul cannot rest.

And sometimes, just sometimes, the Crow can carry that soul back to put the wrong things right.

Third Person POV

Adam Doyle was doing something he once swore he'd never do again: He was running for his life.

He ran as fast as his legs could carry him through the darkened streets of London's east end. There was nobody around, in that odd way ordinary people seemed to sense when something to do with the hidden world of the supernatural was going on. This usually worked just fine for Adam, who lived his life for the thrill of the kill, but right now, he was terrified out of his mind.

Caw!

The sound of the crow taunted him. It had been echoing in his ears ever since that freak had come upon him in the dark. And that face, that face Adam had never thought he'd see again, staring at him from underneath that fucking clownish makeup.

"Run, rabbit!" the voice, playful with an undercurrent of threat, chased him through the streets. "Run, rabbit! Run, run, run!"

"I'm sorry!" Adam cried—literally. Tears were running down his face, and he was suddenly quite certain he'd see his death before the night was out. "I'm sorry!"

"Sorry for what?"

Adam ran into a wall and fell on his ass.

But it wasn't a wall. He looked up and saw him—the young man Adam had murdered with two other guys. He stood, completely sturdy, with no indication in his posture that Adam running into him at top speed had shifted him even slightly. He looked dead—his face was plastered with white makeup, his eyes painted around with eyeshadow that came down beneath them both in teardrop shapes, his lips painted with black lipstick in a twisted mockery of a smile. He wasn't smiling. He was tall and muscular, but thin as a post. His hair, long, blond, and messy, was dirty from the muck he'd been buried beneath. Adam couldn't see the colour of his eyes, which were sunken in and made him look almost like a skull without flesh, in the dark, but he recalled that they were amber. He wore a dark grey sweatshirt with a black overcoat worn over it, a pair of black ripped jeans, and a pair of black boots.

"What did you do, Boyle?" the dead man asked. "What did you do?"

Boyle tried to choke out some words, but his body failed him. He couldn't bear to look. He dipped his head and covered his eyes with his hands. "Please!" he finally screamed. "Please, I don't want to die!"

"Don't you?" Boyle refused to look at him again, but he could hear the ugly grin in the tone of his voice. "Isn't that interesting? Do you know who else didn't want to die, Boyle?"

"I'm sor—"

"LOOK AT ME, SWINE!"

Boom! went a sudden thunder, and Boyle spied the flash of a lightning strike between his fingers. He sobbed into his hands. Then there was a hand in his hair, gripping, and it yanked him up with such force that it nearly ripped his hair from his scalp. He cried out in pain. It was cut short as he once again made eye contact with the man he'd murdered: the face of his own demise.

"You three didn't just kill, did you?" he spat out the question like poison. "You played. You violated. I saw it all even as you thought I'd died."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"

"You will be." Something about the whisper stopped Boyle, the words catching in his throat. The dead man grinned widely, showing off rows of surprisingly white teeth. It gave Boyle the impression of a shark. "Oh, yes, you will be. But first!" He dropped Boyle unceremoniously back to the floor, then knelt down beside him. "Tell me about your two friends."

Boyle gulped. "I-If I tell you, do I get to live?"

"Tsk tsk tsk, oh no, no, no, no." The dead man shook his head. The rain had finally reached them, and Boyle wasn't sure whether that was what was making him shiver or not. The dead man didn't seem to feel it. "You don't get off that easy, my friend. But I'll tell you what: if you tell me what I want without putting up a fuss, I promise I'll kill you quicker than I plan to kill your compatriots."

Boyle didn't especially like that deal, so he started struggling again. "P-Please, just let me go!" he begged pathetically.

The dead man sighed insincerely. "Shame." Then the grin was back. "Tell me—are you more attached to your fingers or your toes?"

Over the next several minutes, Adam experienced pain the likes of which he could never have imagined before. He was missing half of his teeth, two fingers on one hand and three on the other, and both of his knees had been broken. It was only when the dead man started to go between his legs that he screamed his answer.

"FREED SELLZEN!" he shrieked with pain. "THE OTHER EXORCIST WAS FREED SELLZEN! THE OTHER GUY WAS A FALLEN ANGEL! NAME WAS DOHNASEEK! THEY'RE BOTH IN JAPAN! A TOWN CALLED KUOH! NOW PLEASE STOP!"

The dead man smiled softly. "Good boy."

Then he plunged his hand, already soaked with blood, into Adam's chest.

Adam retained consciousness just long enough to see his heart being held before his eyes.

Then, Reuben Knight, who had been murdered at 18 years of age one year ago alongside his girlfriend, her younger brother, and her mother, walked off into the night. The Crow was perched on his shoulder.

Sooooo … this is a short prologue. I don't promise to continue this quickly because, frankly, I wrote this largely on impulse because I'm reading The Crow again. The original comic. Saw the bad reviews of the new movie, rewatched the 1994 movie, and ended up down the rabbit hole.

If you're here without being familiar with The Crow, the original comic and '94 movie is about a man who's brought back from the dead by a supernatural crow a year after being murdered alongside his girlfriend in order to take vengeance on the murderers. It's an amazing comic and movie. The comic has had more storylines since then, each one featuring a different protagonist brought back from the dead to seek vengeance/justice.

I'm operating on a combo of the comic and movie rules. Like in the comic, the one the Crow brings back has more powers than just the healing factor and ability to see through the Crow's eyes (supernatural strength, speed, etc.), but like the movie, he's vulnerable if the Crow is harmed (whereas in the comics, the undead protagonists are literally the only ones able to bring themselves harm).

As I said, this was written on impulse, so feel free to suggest harem members (this is also a DxD fic, after all). I have literally nobody specific in mind at this time.

See you whenever I post the next one.