"Soul of a Hell Spawn"

It was raining in Manhattan. But Spawn didn't mind. He didn't mind the thunder either. He was sitting on the top of an empty building, just thinking. Thinking about his life. Just brooding. He hadn't really been much of a Christian. But if there was a God, what would He be thinking about this Spawn? After all he'd been through, Spawn either thought there was no God, or that he had been forsaken by Him.

But there was one thing Spawn was certain of. There is a hell. And it ain't pretty. Spawn scowled at the rain, and jumped off his brooding point on the roof of the particular building. He landed on the ground with a 'THUMP'. He slowly stood up, and turned his head sideways. He could hear shouting. Screaming. A smile crept across Spawn's scarred face. He enjoyed taking out the scum of the city. It was his favourite passtime. He jumped up from the back alley, and onto the rooftops of New York. The screaming was close.

He followed to where it was coming from, to a small park. He could see about three young punks, one holding a knife, closing in on a terrified teenage girl. Spawn could hear their teasing remarks, and frowned. Then, he dropped down from his watching point atop the building, and walked towards them.

"C'mon, girlie" one of them said. "Once we're done with you, we'll take you to hell. It don't look so bad" he smirked. Suddenly the punk's smile was wiped from his face. The other men stared at him, puzzled.

"Oh god" said one of them. "Oh dear god" he repeated. When the others looked to see what he had seen, they froze too.

"Oh shit!" they shouted. "It's the hell man! The Spawn!" He started to run, but was pulled back by a great, fierce hand. It belonged to Spawn.

"Nice night, don't you think?" said Spawn, and he clenched his huge fist's and smacked them down to the young mans head, spattering blood all over the grass of the park. The other men started to run too, but were cut off. Within a few seconds, all of them were dead. Spawn walked towards the frightened woman. She just stared at him.

"Thank me later" said Spawn, and with that, his jumped away. Five minutes later it stopped raining.

Away, somewhere else in New York, a tall figure stood waiting. He was in a small, deserted subway. He looked at his watch. It was almost time. Just as he had been told, a train was starting to pull up at the stop. It had nobody in.

The man stepped onto the train, found a chair, and sat down. He was creeped out by the empty train, but his employer had requested they meet here. The man was snapped out of his day dream when he heard the sounds of a door opening. Looking to the left, he saw that his employer had arrived. He was striding down the corridor of the train, and then sat down opposite the other man. His gaze was terrifying.

"I see you have not completed your task yet" said the employer. His voice had no emotion in it. It sent a shiver down the first man's spine.

"I can explain.." said the first man.

"Silence" ordered the employer. "You have failed. We're bringing in The Rapture." And with that, the employer got up, and walked off down the corridor. Then, he produced a gun from his pocket and pointed it at the first man. A few seconds later, he was dead, and his employer was long gone.

"Come on in, sirs" said the policeman. He lifted up the police 'do not cross' banner to let Sam and Twitch through. Twitch muttered 'thank you' to the policeman, while Sam barged through, snapping the banner in half. Twitch sighed, and followed his partner onto the train. They made their way up a few carriages, up to the one where the crime had been committed. Sam pushed open the door, and grunted. Sam had been in a bad mood lately. Twitch had no idea why.

When the door was opened, they both walked into the carriage. It was dark, and they couldn't see very well. They looked around a bit, then spotted the body. They gasped when they realised who it was.

"'Bishop' Lance Murdok" said Sam, staring. 'Bishop' Murdok was a well known priest in Manhattan. He had been a generous and giving soul, and Sam had made more than one confession to him. Although he was not actually a bishop, he had been given the nickname anyway.

Sam and Twitch exchanged puzzled looks.

"Why on earth would someone kill the 'Bishop'?" asked Twitch. "And why was he here by himself?"

They looked at his head and winced. There was a hole running right through his forehead. His expression was one of fear, and shock.

"He was obliviously freaked before he died" said Sam. Both of them went to study his body. They opened his jacket to see what the dead man had on him before he died. That was when the second surprise of the night came. Nestled in one of the man's pockets was a cross. But it was not in his pocket now. It had been stabbed into him. There was a small puddle of blood next to the wound.

"Who could do such a thing?" asked Twitch, shocked.

"Whoever it was, we're going to find out" said Sam, anger burning in his eyes.