RavenKnight: Prologue

Prologue: Saints and Sinners

Fully equipped, he roamed the dirty streets on his bike, these streets; they are dirtier when the light goes off. Even a dirty man won’t survive these streets alone, they need to be in pack, and in pack they thought they’re invincible. Wrong answer fools. There are no saints nor sinners, all are made equals. Didn’t they teach you that in catholic school? Choose whichever God you want to visit when you’re dead? Hell, better wish that now, because when he comes for you, you won’t even have the time to blink an eye.

Last night, he did it again, this time a group of four; slash and torn, like they were a drawing fabric. Blood scattered all over the places. Scary if you gave it a deep thought, refreshing if you gave it a deeper thought. One survivor, was the victim, but now a witness, he was mentally shattered to experience it first hand. The witness, claimed it was a work of a lone man, was then declared demented by the cause, none of his claims was taken into seriously.

However, Detective Newman had put the witness claims into his personal interest. Its not the first time Dt.Newman heard about this so called vigilante, white wings on his back, not a real one though, just a design on the jacket. Carry a sword like weapon, some witness claims it was six Japanese sword, he doubted it. No one could cleanly cut through a human flesh with a Japanese sword; it must be something else with more power. A cleaver perhaps? That could do the trick; one strong clean hack would go through human flesh like butter. But then, the cut is rather thin to be a cut by such a heavy weapon like a cleaver. This is going nowhere. Damn it all. Tonight Newman is going to see it for himself.

That night, Newman and his partner stay on the street. It was late, they nearly given up when they heard this loud motorcycles sound. So loud it’s deafening. In this streets though, nobody bothers to say anything, cause nobody bothers to look. The rider then stop beside Newman car, he was fully equip, helmet, body armor, and yes, six Japanese swords. He then tilt his head a bit, signaling Newman to follow him, Newman’s startled, never thought he would get an ‘invitation’. Grinning, Newman follows with jumpy feeling.

“Is this a trap?” Newman asked his partner.

“I doubted it, if he wants to do us, he would already did just then, right?” his partner replied.

“Yeah, guess so, heh” Newman utterly replied, there are relief sounds in his voice, but, still, he is nervous.


They wander the street rather aimlessly for quite a while, until they run into this group of people, fighting. From the look of it, it is a gang fight, no point clearing them up, they just would caused trouble somewhere else. The rider, get off his ride, unsheathe two of his long sword, trying to join in the fun. The fighting stop for a second, not welcoming this unknown newcomer, but then only these gang bangers realizes that they are in trouble. The rider begin slashing and hacking, left and right, up and down, seem like he doesn’t care who got hurt or even worse, killed. Some of the gang bangers try fighting back, it’s worthless, and this rider was like dancing, spinning, jumping, running all over the place. He doesn’t even make a noise, a war cry, a scream, nothing. He is silent, only the screaming of his victims and the noise of his blade cutting through flesh are heard.

What Newman experience tonight is gruesome but refreshing in its own way. As a member of the law, he knew that the rider doing is wrong, but he also knew that those the rider’s take down was criminals all the same. What is this feeling Newman was feeling? Should he get out there and stop the massacre? Should he arrest that rider for murders? Or shouldn’t he?

“He is cleaning our dirty streets, you know?” Newman suddenly spoke.

“Yeah, not a bad thing at all huh” his partner replied, quite nervously.

Seeing that his partner agreed to let the rider loose, Newman feel rather relieved, and he thought to himself, this rider kind of people should be in every town; cleaning up the trashes that nobody else bothers with. While both of them still looking into the darkness, in the dim light, they saw, on his back, the design of a pair of wings, white wings, was he an angel sent down to earth? No, an angel shouldn’t be this merciless; rather, he is a hunter, preying on every worthless soul on the face of the earth, cleaning out the dirty streets. That day, Newman gave a new life to this rider, a new purpose, a new name; he is now known as the RavenKnight, a vigilante, with the support of the authorities, well, authorities like Newman at least. It was not half as bad.