Witch Hunter Robin


By Golden-sama


The Amazing Brando

Rated: PG-13 (borderline R); for Violence, Language, and Sexual Content.

Summary: Post Series. Five years is enough time to change people. It changed Michael Lee. However when the STN-J's newest case hits too close to home, Michael must face the past he prayed to forget and wished to remember. M/R, M/D, D/S, K/N

Disclaimer: What makes you think I own Witch Hunter Robin? Just curious, because I'm sick of explaining that I don't. Nor do I use any song titles used in this story.

Author Notes at End of Chapter.

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Three hundred and twenty-five years have passed,

Since the coven sank in the dark,

        A man's mind.

                A love lost to time.


                        A monster growing inside.

Young lovers reunited,

        On the eve of mankind's Armageddon . . .

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Chapter One . . .


"What do you think 'lia?" The boy asked.

"Judging from blood spatter I'd say he was near the north entrance."

A large black tunnel. The kind made for cars to pass under bridges. Tokyo, Japan is home to many of such tunnels. And it was in this tunnel that our story begins. Inside this tunnel were a total of five human beings. One of them dead; four others trying to figure out who or what had done the killing. The dead man was twenty-four year old tourist Alex Sloper; who was found dead by the police at 2:03am. He had been visiting from England.

The other people were locals. The young man bending over the body; the brown haired youth with the dazzling green eyes who took to wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and a black T-shirt under his black STN-J jacket was called Daisuke Matawan; the newest addition to the STN-J tactical witch hunting team. The young woman with blood-red hair and cocoa eyes who had dressed herself almost like a nun was called Sheila Douglas, and had been transferred almost five years ago as a replacement to a hunter lost in what the elder team members called "That day" and the younger ones referred to as the collapse of the factory.

"And what killed him?" The third agent asked. He had tall blonde hair and blue eyes that sparkled in the light. Haruto Sakaki had been on the team for almost seven years now and he was becoming very good at his job.

Sheila's petite teeth had found their way into her bottom lip as her brown eyes scanned the grounds. She looked down at the mutilated remains of Mr. Sloper and then at the crimson stains on the walls. It was obvious that he had been killed with a bladed weapon, or maybe . . .

"Two knives. Well, daggers really since they would probably be the size of a bayonet." Daisuke responded before Sheila had a chance. He stood up and peeled the surgical gloves off his hands before walking down to the north end of the tunnel near Sakaki and pointing at the blood stains on the walls.

"Why two?" Sakaki asked.

"Well, he was sliced here." Daisuke responded; feeling very proud that he could show off to his superior office and personal icon. (He had been swooning over Sakaki since he saw the motorcycle or so Doujima had joked about) "See, here he was sliced with a knife made for chopping. Blunt on one end, sharp on the other. Like a pocket-knife blade or a katana or somethin'. Then he ran over to there where he was stabbed through the back with a thrusting knife; sharp on both ends. You can tell from the wound on his back. If he had been stabbed with a knife made for cutting the wound would be misshaped on one side. Since it isn't we've got to assume the witch used two different blades."

Sakaki paused for a moment. "Err . . ."

"He's right Haruto." The fourth agent of the STN-J called. Sakaki sweatdropped and shot a venomous glance at the man sitting against the wall.

"I know he is Michael!"

Michael chuckled to himself. He wasn't the Michael Lee of five years ago. For one, he wasn't sitting in Raven's Flat and communicating with these people via headsets. Instead he was sitting against the wall of the tunnel typing away on a miniature laptop that sat in his lap. However it wasn't just the fact he was here that was different. His pony-tail had been traded in for a look of spiked hair and his usual ensemble of a black shirt and cargo pants had now been joined by a Hunter's jacket; complete with a holstered gun on his chest.

Michael was no longer an intelligence agent. He was a Witch Hunter. Not the best in the world; but he had been doing it for almost four in a half years and he was very well respected by the others. Daisuke seemed to look up to Sakaki more just because Sakaki gave off more of a "cool" vibe with his bike. Sheila however seemed to like Michael and always listened to him.

"Well." Michael said at length as he stood up and closed the laptop, setting it back into his pocket. "Karasuma won't be happy. I can't find one thing to point to this being a witch."

Sakaki, who was now inspecting the blood on the wall turned around and stomped his foot in rage. "Damn it! This is the fifth murder like this in three days Mike! No human could do this much this fast!"

Michael shook his head. "I agree. The circumstances are pointing to a witch; but only the circumstances. Alex Sloper, like the other victims, was killed in human fashion. And until someone proves otherwise we have to let the police handle this."

Sakaki went off into a strew of cursing and Daisuke and Sheila both looked as if they were eight and someone had just told them Santa Clause was murdered on their roof. Michael shook his head and ran a hand through his hair before he began walking down the length of the tunnel to where his car was parked. Before he reached it he turned around and called back to the others.

"Haruto, take some blood samples just in case. It's probably all the victims but we could get lucky. If it is a witch we can tell from their DNA."


"Hey Robin, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Of course."

"Look. I, I know this isn't right to say this now. But we are breaking into the factory in a few hours and . . ."

"What is it Michael?"

"I just . . . I care about you Robin. A-and not just as a friend."

"Don't say anymore."

"No, Robin I know you can't feel the same way about me, but I wanted to tell you befo--"

"Michael I feel exactly the same way about you. But I won't let you lose faith. We won't die today, and I don't want to hear you say these things because you think we will. Have faith Michael. In God, in yourself, in me. In us."

"Robin . . ."


The conversation played back in Michael Lee's head everyday. It had everyday for five years. It was because of that day; the day the Factory fell, that Michael's life changed in huge, irreversible ways.

And as he drove the old black car down the road, his hands clamped on the wheel and his eyes on the street even if his mind was still trapped five years in the past, he thought about that conversation. He thought about the irony that Robin Sena had shared his feelings and he never once got a chance to do anything about it. To Michael it struck him as depressing.

Of course he still believed to this day that she was alive. He would never truly believe that Robin was dead. He did, however, believe that his chances of ever seeing her again were shortening with every passing day. And now it seemed nearly impossible. It would seem impossible to anyone in the position that Michael had been put in. Still, he never quite lost hope . . .

As the black car drew nearer to Raven's Flat, Michael twisted the wheel and slammed his foot down on the breaks and skidded to a halt in the dark garage. After he'd come to a stop he let himself out of the car and closed the door behind him. Reaching into the deep pockets of his cargo pants Michael retrieved a cell phone and brought it up to his ear. He hit the speed dial for number three and ringing filled his ears. After the fourth ring a female voice answered.

"Calling to yell at me?" Doujima teased.

"You can't keep skipping hunts." Michael lectured.

"What hunt? You stood in a smelly tunnel for an hour and looked at a mutilated body. No thanks Mike."

Michael rolled his eyes. "Been talking to Sakaki, have you?"

Doujima giggled over the phone and then spoke again, this time in a flirty voice. "You jealous?"

"Don't start." Michael snapped. Then a moment later, as he reached the elevator and climbed inside, he sighed and spoke again in a soft voice. "Sorry, I'm just stressed over this case."

"Mmmhmm." Doujima replied. "Is that the only reason?"

Michael was quiet. When the silence lasted the entire length of the elevator ride he sighed and finally broke it and interrupted the thoughts that had filled both of their heads. "Yeah I'm here, call you later."

"No 'I love you?'" She teased.

"Goodbye Doujima." Michael's annoyed voice replied as he beeped the button and dropped the now hung-up cell phone back into his pocket. As he entered the room a woman with dark red hair looked up from her desk and smiled at Michael as he walked over.

"No luck?" Karasuma suggested.

"None." Michael replied as he collapsed into a chair next to the desk Karasuma sat behind. Miho Karasuma had once been an active Witch Hunter, like Michael was now. But five years was a long time. Even in the days of Zaizen her craft had been weakening and now it was almost gone completely. She still had the ability to scry when she truly put her mind to it; but it took so much out of her that she had hung up her gun and taken on a management job working for Kosaka. Kosaka himself had been promoted to working at the SOLOMON Japan Branch's Headquarters and Hattori had gone with him. Now Karasuma was the Chief.

"Still no sign that the stabber is a witch, then?" Karasuma sighed in return. She had been working brutal hours just as Michael had to try to find some sign that this killer could be a witch. They knew he had to be since five people had been murdered in only three days. No human could have committed five murders this grizzly and not leave a shred of evidence. It was just too unlikely. However that seemed to be the case.

"Have you run backgrounds on all the victims?" Michael inquired, hopefully.

"No connections. Different nationalities, religions, sexes, races, some were witches, and some weren't. It's the most random murder pattern I've ever seen." Karasuma shot down his theory.

"Too random." Michael suggested. "There's a connection somewhere. We just haven't found it yet."

Karasuma leaned back in her chair. "You're usually right Michael, but we have spent the last three days devoted only to this case; and it is officially still a police matter. Kosaka isn't happy."

Michael shook his head and offered her a weak smile. "Don't go political on me now, Karasuma-san. This is a witch's doing, I'm sure."

Karasuma took a sip from the coffee mug she had retrieved from her desk. When she finished and set it back down she nodded to him. "I'll hold off SOLOMON as long as I can. But maybe tomorrow you should send Daisuke and Sheila on a different case and help me out."

Michael smirked. "Can't I send Sakaki on a different case, those kids are so helpful."

Karasuma offered him a laugh before she yawned and stood up. "Alright, well I'm heading back to my office."

"I'm going to stay and go over the DNA reports." Michael announced. "Maybe I can find some sign of the attacker."

Karasuma nodded to him, said a good night between a yawn, and then retreated up the steps to the large office. It was common knowledge that she had been sleeping in her office lately so that she could stay on top of their cases. Michael thought this sounded very intelligent; but he wouldn't sleep in Raven's Flat for one single night if he could help it. It brought back too many memories. Zaizen, the leash, Robin . . .


In a small bar in New Orleans, Louisiana there sat a pair of men. One of them was round, tan and bald. The other was tall, pale and his dark hair went down to his shoulders. Neither of the men was eating anything; but they both had glasses of whiskey in front of them and a tall bottle of the same liquor sat on the table.

"Are you sure about this information?" The dark-haired man asked.

"Yes I am." His bald headed friend replied as he took a shot of whiskey. "His name is Hitachi Kuro. He's been linked to Maiji."

The dark haired man narrowed his eyes. "I don't care about Maiji. I care about Robin Sena."

The bald man yawned. "I told you. Sena is connected to Maiji. Find Maiji, and, if she's still alive, you'll find Sena."

The dark haired man finished his whiskey and then stood up. "Thank you Frank."

Frank began to pour himself a second shot of whiskey. "Hell Amon, I owe you my life. I'll help you find the girl. But Amon; be careful with Maiji. She's dangerous."

Amon turned and walked towards the door. As he did he spoke the words "So am I." and then vanished.


Michael was just about ready to give up. He had been searching through the DNA files for nearly two hours and five in the morning was approaching fast. Finally, as he stifled a loud yawn, Michael's eyes fell on something. He had been going through every drop of blood on the crime scene and had found them all to be the victims. Now however there was a spot of crimson life-liquid that Sakaki had sampled that was different. The DNA was different; and there was a distinctive witch chromosome. Feeling as if God had just given him a miracle, Michael quickly extracted the data and began to run a search through all criminal, medical and military records on file. He also began to run it through SOLOMON's known witch database which covered the entire planet. Michael stood and yawned once again; a deep yawn, before he turned and made his way to the makeshift kitchen of the flat.

Pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee, the twenty-one year old hacker-turned-hunter found himself remembering Robin. Before SOLOMON had began hunting her, he and Robin had spent many nights together drinking coffee and eating donuts. She always surprised him with them and he always thanked her. It was during those nighttime rendezvous that he had fallen in love with Robin Sena. He stilled loved her. Even after five years and one relationship he stilled loved her. He never would stop; even if he wouldn't see her again.

He made his way back over to the table and sat down. After shaking the mouse to flicker the screensaver away, Michael's eyes went over the reports. Nothing in the criminal, medical or military records turned up as a match on the DNA. However there was a hit on the SOLOMON database. Grinning for the first time in a long time, Michael quickly brought up the report. He was a hunter now; but he was still the master of computers and his fingers still danced over the keyboard faster than many would think possible. His eyes still sponged up all of the data on the page faster than was possible.

He had found his killer. And the killer was a witch.


Dihn Van Quan sat in his hotel room with a smirk on his face. He was of Vietnamese decent; as his name clearly indicated. In his own language it meant: "Summit Cloud Soldier". To him this was a good name to have. "Summit" was a strong word that reminded people of a mountain's pinnacle. It showed people that he was a strong man. "Cloud" showed that he was an enigma. He could be calm and cool one day; and like a raging storm the next. He enjoyed that. However what he was most proud of was his family name, "Quan", which meant Soldier. For he was a soldier. His father had been a soldier. His father had taught him how to be a soldier before they came . . .

Men. Men with knives and guns. Thieves and Marauders who wanted only to steal his father's money. They killed his father and then they raped and killed his mother before his eyes. Then they turned to Dihn. They came with their knives and wanted to kill him. And then he fought back. He fought back with the craft.

Ah, what a unique craft. He had, as a child, believed that he was the only man in the world with special powers. Then he had met an American man who had taught him that many had these powers; they were called witches. The man had instructed Dihn that witches had to stick together because of people called SOLOMON.

"Who is Solomon?"

"SOLOMON is a bunch of humans who fear us." He had explained. "They fear our powers and they try to kill us. Now me, I'm strong enough to fight them. You have to harness your powers and become strong too. Then you can defeat SOLOMON."

Until this point, Dihn had been seeing the world different. Now he understood how the world was. SOLOMON was bad, and the innocent witches were good. He would fight SOLOMON as a soldier just as his father had fought as a soldier.

Now, years after his father's death, Dihn was a stronger man. He had spent years developing his powers and ever since the turn of the new millennium he had been using his powers. Going from country to country and killing SOLOMON wherever he could. Then things changed. Mr. Kuro taught him better.

Now Dihn was in his hotel room. He was sitting on his bed and looking down at his bare chest. He was in good shape; except for the large gash that he was staring at. It had been given to him when he had killed Alex Sloper. Well, not given to him. He had cut himself. He had let the STN-J find his DNA.

And when they came here to kill him; he would be ready.

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Current tunes: Should've Been A CowboyToby Keith

Author's Notes: BOOOO-YAAAAHHHH!