Eric, aka the Crow, crouches on the parapet of a roof of a high apartment building in Detroit at night while watching the streets below. His crow is perched on his shoulder. Then, he hears the clink of spurs attached to boots as someone approaches from behind.

"Should you really be daydreaming when we still got so many things to do?" a man wearing a cowboy hat and a long coat drawls.

Eric doesn't even need to turn his head. He can recognize that voice anywhere.

"Hey, Skull Cowboy," he casually greets the spirit with only a skull for a head.

"Mon Wei is only the beginning," Skull Cowboy reminds the Crow. "The entire Wei Triad needs to fall. Lots of lost souls are crying for justice."

"Well, this would be a lot easier if I wasn't the only one doing all the heavy lifting. I mean, you're a cowboy, right? Why don't you shoot some bad guys or something?"

"Hah! No can do, kid. Haven't done any shooting in a very long time. I'm just a guide for lost souls like you now."

"Then why don't we get help from all those other lost souls like me?"

Skull Cowboy coughs and tilts his hat lower to cover his eye sockets.

He grumbles, "Well shit, kid. Why'd you have to go and bring them up. Kick me in the nuts, why don't ya? I must've been really drunk when I chose those guys and gals. What the fuck was I thinking?"

The Crow chuckles at that.

Skull Cowboy continues, "Bottom line is you're the best we got. You're the only one that won't fuck this up."

"I'll do it," Eric reassures the cowboy. "I just have to check on something first."

"You mean someone."

"I've been gone a long time. I need to know she's alright."

"She'll be alright if you leave her alone. You're dead. She's not. Let her grieve. You're just gonna make it harder for her to move on. Gonna make it harder for you to move on, too. You're an emotional masochist, kid. Let's just hope your heart can take as much damage as the rest of you."

Eric finally turns around to retort. Except the Skull Cowboy is no longer there.

X

Mon Wei presses the barrel of the QSZ-92 pistol to the roof of his mouth.

"Come on. Come on!" he thinks, trying to convince himself.

The fingers of his right hand tremble. Tears run down his face. Saliva and blood dribble down his chin.

He points the gun at the floor, lowers his head, and wails, "I can't do it! I can't do it!"

Then, the accountant hurries back into the room accompanied by several armed gangsters.

X

There is a knock on the door of Captain Hook's office in the Detroit Police Department.

The captain closes the folder of the police report in his hands, puts it aside on his desk, and gruffly calls out, "Come in!"

The door opens a little, Officer Albrecht peeks inside and politely asks, "Okay to talk to you now, Cap?"

"Yeah. Take a seat, Albrecht. What did you wanna talk to me about?"

The policeman closes the door and sits in one of the two chairs before the captain's desk.

He begins, "A friend of mine in the Anti-Organized Crime Unit gave me a call. Said there was some trouble over at Wei Grand Tower 3 near St. Francis Slums."

"Not interested," Hook interrupts. "St. Francis Slums is triad territory. I wanna take them down as much as the next honest cop, but I'm neither stupid nor suicidal. This department isn't equipped to take on the Wei Clan. I'd be throwing my men's lives away. And the lives of their families!"

"Now, hear me out, Captain. That's not why my friend contacted me. He's not asking for our help or anything. He contacted me because of something he knew I would be interested in."

"Like what?"

"Word is somebody broke into Wei Grand Tower 3. Beat up Nemesio Wei's son. Sent a thug through a table. Stabbed another over 20 times."

"As horrible as that sounds, I ain't shedding a tear for no gangster."

"They say the perp is a mime from hell."

Hook is suddenly stunned silent with his mouth open for a few seconds.

Then, he asks, "Is that who I think it is?"

"Who else could it be?" Albrecht answers with a question of his own.

Hook leans back in his chair and says, "Shit. This is gonna be another bloodbath."

X

Sherri, a pretty blonde in her late teens walks home from school with her backpack on and her head hanging. The weather is gloomy as it always seems to be in her neighborhood. Most of the people are just as gloomy, and she remembers that the last time she was really happy was when her friend, Clown, gave her a necklace.

She is nearly at her apartment building when she hears a caw from across the street. She turns her head then gasps when she sees Eric and his crow in an alley.

"Clown?" she nearly shouts in disbelief.

"Hey, Princess," he greets her.

"Oh my God!"

She excitedly crosses the street.

"Whoa!" Eric yells and dashes towards her, the bird fluttering upward from his shoulder.

A car's horn violates the silence of the night. The Crow wraps his arms around the teenager's waist and sweeps her feet off the ground then returns her to the safety of the sidewalk. The driver cusses furiously as his speeding vehicle only narrowly misses them.

Sherri doesn't even notice just how close to death she had been. She embraces Eric. His skin is icy cold, but she doesn't mind and cries tears of joy.

X

Nemesio Wei, the White Paper Fan of the Wei Triad, leans forward in his chair on the 20th floor of Wei Grand Tower 3 and coldly addresses his son, "Let me see if I understand this. A mime broke into your suite, killed one of your bodyguards, and seriously injured another. A mime?!"

"He wasn't just a mime," Mon sheepishly replies with his head lowered while standing awkwardly before his father.

"Well, what the hell was he then?"

"I don't know. I shot him in the chest. He just shrugged it off like it was nothing."

"He was wearing a bulletproof vest. You should've shot him in the head."

"I don't know about that. You didn't see him, Daddy. There was something… There was something supernatural about him-"

"Stop making excuses!" Nemesio barks, and his son jumps in fear. "And don't call me Daddy. You're not a child. You're over 50 years old. You make me sound like a pimp or something."

"Y-Yes, Sir."

The administrator regains his composure.

He leans back in his chair, smooths out the lapels of his expensive robe, then asks, "So what do you intend to do about it?"

His son stammers, "M-Me?"

"Yes. You. Don't tell me you expect ME to do something about it. Do you want me to hold your dick while you piss, too? Do you want me to wipe your ass after you shit? This man emasculated you! What are you going to do about it?!"

Mon's response is a meek whisper, "I… I don't know."

Nemesio throws his hands in the air and groans in frustration, "Ta ma de! You are such a disappointment! Such a failure! I blame your mother. That bitch spoiled you."

His son becomes angry and growls, "Don't call her that."

"Or what?! Huh?! What are you going to do?!" the administrator roars and suddenly strides across the room from his chair towards his son with surprising speed for someone his age. "Are you going to hit me? Go on! Do it! I want you to! Come on! Be a man! Hit me!"

But his son just cowers from him.

Nemesio sighs in disappointment, "I forgot. You only hit Filipina maids. How did my loins produce such a weak son? Your sister was more of a man than you."

Mon counters, "Your precious daughter, Glory, married a loser. And when you threatened to cut her off, she chose him over our family anyway. Then, she moved into a dangerous neighborhood with him and got herself killed-!"

"Why couldn't it be you?! Why did I have to lose her?! Why-?!"

"Wait a second. I just thought of something," Mon interrupts his father, suddenly becoming calm.

Nemesio instantly becomes calm as well and asks, "What? What is it?"

"It was Jose."

"Jose? Your sister's useless, gold digger husband? What about him?"

"The mime knew things about me. Personal things. He knew my name. He knew where I lived. He knew about Bea Bernardo, for crying out loud. He said the crow told him, but that's just bullshit. I bet you Jose sent him."

The White Paper Fan considers the theory while staring at the floor and tapping his chin with an index finger.

Then, he looks up and asks, "But why would he send someone to beat the shit out of you?"

His son answers, "Revenge. Because he thought he was marrying money. But you cut Glory off, and he ended up with nothing."

"Jose's dirt poor though. How'd he afford the mime?"

"He didn't need to. The mime wasn't a professional. He was rough and messy. He could've been Jose's drinking buddy for all I know."

"Son of a bitch, you're right. Jose's not gonna get away with this. Nobody messes with the Wei Clan. I've been looking for an excuse to go after that guy."

"No, Daddy. You were right. He did this to me. I should be the one to make him pay for it."

Nemesio smiles, proudly claps his son on the shoulder, and says, "That's my boy. And stop calling me Daddy, damnit."

X

The Crow and Sherri sit together on her bed in her bedroom. They haven't seen each other in years, so she catches him up with everything that's been going on in her life; mostly about the girls in her class that she doesn't get along with.

"I'm not very popular at school," she excitedly rambles. "But I don't mind. People are shit. Who needs em? Oh, except for Officer Albrecht and his wife. They're cool. My mom and I visit them often. Mom's still clean. Thanks to you by the way. And she doesn't date jerks anymore. Officer Albrecht checks on us a lot. That's thanks to you, too. Oh, sorry. I haven't offered you anything. Is Coke okay? Do you even drink?"

"I don't need to drink because of the whole being dead thing, but I can drink fine," Eric answers.

The girl retrieves a can of Coke from her backpack on the mattress and tosses it to him. Her guest catches it in one hand, opens it, and takes a sip. He looks at the can, licks his lips, and sighs contentedly.

But before he could thank her, Sherri excitedly continues, "Oh, I'm into art now."

"Yeah, I noticed," Eric replies while looking around at all of the sketches taped to the walls. "You're good."

"Really? Mom says it's a little dark."

"I like dark."

"Yeah, I noticed," Sherri comments with a giggle.

"Hey, that's me," Eric happily says, pointing to one of the sketches.

"Yeah, you're in a lot of these. I hope you don't mind." Then, she blushes a little, lowers her gaze, and softly says, "I missed you."

"I missed you, too. Last time I saw you, you were just a kid. Can't believe how much you've grown. I might not have recognized you if you hadn't been wearing the necklace with Shelly's ring on it."

"How is Shelly? I mean, you were with her, right? That's what you told me when I last saw you; that you were going where she was."

The Crow frowns in concentration then answers, "I don't remember."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't remember where I was. I know Shelly was there. And we were happy. But it all feels like a dream. And the more I try to remember, the more I forget. And now I'm back here. And everything just feels…rough and dirty and heavy-"

"Show me your forearms!" Sherri urgently commands.

"What?"

"Your forearms. Now!"

Eric complies. Sherri holds his wrists and searches his forearms. Her guest figures out what she's doing.

He smirks and reassures her, "I haven't been cutting myself."

"You better not!" she warns him while looking into his eyes.

"Not like it's gonna kill me or anything."

"I don't want you hurting yourself! Listen, if things get so hard, if you start to miss Shelly so much, I want you to come here and talk to me, alright?"

Eric nods and says, "Okay."

"Promise me!"

"Alright. I promise."

Sherri releases his wrists, holds up the little finger of her right hand, and says, "Pinky swear it."

Her guest chuckles, "You still pinky swear?"

The girl smiles and answers, "I'm not that old yet."

The Crow agrees, and they lock pinkies.

X

Later, Eric exits Sherri's apartment building. He never got to say hi to the teen's mother who often works late at a bar. As he descends the front steps, he finds a police car parked across the street. Officer Albrecht is leaning his back against it while drinking coffee from a thermos. Eric casually crosses the empty street.

The policeman exclaims, "Damn, you really are back."

Eric asks, "How'd you know I'd be here tonight?"

Albrecht puts the thermos back in the car and answers, "I didn't. I'm just checking on Sherri and her mom like you told me to."

"Oh. Thanks for that."

"My pleasure. The wife and I love their company."

"I heard. How's the wife?"

"Good. How are you?"

"Still dead."

"Bummer."

"Do we hug?"

"Were we ever really that close?"

"I saved your marriage."

"Good point. Bring it here."

The two men laugh, hug, and clap each other on the back.

Afterwards, the police officer asks, "So what're you doing back?"

The Crow answers, "Same as the last time. Putting the wrong things right."

"But didn't you already avenge Shelly?"

"Not everyone has a Crow like Shelly did, so I got reactivated."

"Not everyone. So some people do have Crows? I mean, there are others like you?"

"Yeah, but they all sucked."

X

Mon Wei looks at his reflection in the mirror of his father's bathroom. The clan's doctor actually did an excellent job stitching and patching him up.

"I'm rich. I can afford the best surgeons," he assures himself. "They can fix my face. Maybe even make it better. And soon I won't even remember Eric the goddamn mime."

Before leaving the suite, he decides to stop by his mother's room. He could use the emotional comfort, which he could never get from his father. Mon's mother, Belle Wei, is suffering from dementia. She is sitting in bed with big fluffy pillows supporting her back and the sheets over her legs while she forlornly watches the rain through her window.

Mon kneels by her bedside and takes her hand in his then whimpers, "Mommy. Mommy, look at me. Look at what the bad man did to me."

Belle slowly turns her head from the window. But there isn't a trace of recognition in her eyes.

"Who are you?" she weakly asks.

"It's me, Mommy. It's your son, Mon," the administrator's assistant answers.

The woman furrows her brow and absently replies, "I don't have a son. I have a daughter. Glory. That's her name."

Mon feels a painful twisting in his gut. He wants to shout at her; remind her that Glory is dead and that he's all she has left.

But before he can say anything, his grandfather, Wei Zi Chen, speaks from the doorway, "Don't do it. Don't tell her. The truth will only upset your mother. Let her believe whatever she wants to believe."

Mon releases his mother's hand, and Belle turns her attention back to the window.

The boss's dog angrily marches out of the bedroom and grumbles to his grandfather, "What do you want, old man?"

Zi Chen knowingly answers, "I overheard your conversation with your father earlier. These old ears are sharp yet."

"I don't care."

Mon is about to walk away from the old man when Zi Chen says, "Your attacker was not wearing a bulletproof vest. He is the Crow."

The grandson halts midstep. He spins and marches back to the old man.

"The man that attacked me did have a crow with him," he tells his grandfather. "Except sometimes the bird was there, and sometimes it wasn't."

"Yes, but I'm not talking about the bird. Your attacker is also called the Crow."

"Wait a minute. He has a crow, but he's also called the Crow? Isn't that a little confusing-?"

"Shut up and listen, you faggot! Open your mouth to interrupt me one more time, and I'll shove my dick in it!"

Mon stares at the old man in shock but keeps his lips tightly closed. Wei Zi Chen is over a hundred years old. His back is bent, and he needs to lean on a cane. His skin is so wrinkled that it looks like the bark of a tree. And he has a vast amount of knowledge on the supernatural that could prove very useful to his grandson; knowledge that could prove fatal even to the Crow.

TO BE CONTINUED