Often, when people see the Crow posters I have on my walls, they ask me what the movies are about. My answer is always the same: "They're about romance. About someone saying, 'I love you. I love you so much that I refuse to allow your death to have no meaning, or to go unpunished. Even if I must defy death itself to do so.' That is what the movies are about." The same goes for this story.

THE CROW:
power

by Eric R. Umali

*When people hear the word "power," they think of physical strength, or political influence, or financial wealth. Perhaps they think of power as an intangible, as the ability to bend circumstances or even other people to one's will. They're wrong. There is power in the world. It is a force greater than anything physical or mental, greater than most can imagine. It is larger than space and older than time and greater than both. Nothing can stop it, not even death itself. It is love.*

A cool, foggy April night.

A dark street corner, in downtown Boston.

Eleven twenty-three P.M.

In the dim light of the sputtering street lamp, two figures turn the corner. They seem the picture of young romance. On the left, Jason Reyes. A long black raincoat covers the black trousers and darkly colored silk shirt he wears. His jet black hair, as always, falls over one eye and he pushes it back with his right hand.

Close to his left side, their arms hooked tight, walks Lisa Peterson. Her ever-present sweet smile plays across her face, as she pulls her fingers through the light brown, curly hair that brushes her shoulders.

Tentatively, Jason slips his left arm down, and opens the hand, offering it shyly. He's been waiting to do this, and is just a little scared. As she always does, she smiles and his worry evaporates. He smiles back as she takes the hand firmly, lacing her fingers with his.

"Having a good time?" he asks.

"I was born having a good time," she replies.

"So you've told me. I just need to hear it."

"I always have a great time with you. Especially tonight. Thank you." She stops, and they embrace tightly.

"You're welcome. Happy birthday, Lisa."

They resume walking. After a half a block, they become aware of a large car slowing down behind them, and blasting heavy metal music being quieted.

"Hey, baby!"

"Dump the chink, baby, and come roll with a real man!"

Jason tugs at Lisa's hand. She follows the lead and switches to his side, away from the street.

"Oh, come on, beautiful, you know you wanna!"

Seeing the nearby corner, Jason turns. "Run!"

They dart off, hoping they can run where the car cannot follow, hoping their antagonists will lose interest. They take a turn blindly, and are stunned by a sudden bright light.

The car blocking their escape turns down its headlights. Three dark figures stand silhouetted before them. His eyes adjusting, he identifies objects in the hands of the figures: a metal pipe, a large knife, and, unfortunately, a gun. His mind spirals, trying desperately to recall his martial arts training from so long ago.

Lisa whirls, searching for a way out. Seeing none, she opens her purse. "Here, just take the money!" she shouts.

The center figure steps forward, brandishing the knife. "It's a good start, honey, but money ain't what we want from you."

Lisa's heart began to race. Enraged by the threat, Jason's instinct to protect Lisa takes over. His hands flash out, grasping the knife, twisting the man's arms. Ignoring the man's cry of pain and surprise, he kicks him away and into the one with the gun. Jason pauses a moment to assess the scene. His world explodes in a flash of sparks and pain.

Lisa moves in front of Jason to prevent another blow with the pipe. She is shoved roughly away. Jason is struck once more. Twice more. Knife retrieves his weapon, and plants several steel-toed kicks to Jason's midsection. Groggy, Lisa raises her head. Jason has been propped up against a trash bin.

Her heart sinks at the sight.

His head lolls at an awkward angle, and blood makes the back of his head glisten. His eyes are empty, and he can barely keep his own weight up. He slips to the ground. Gun hauls him up, and Knife pins Jason's hand to the side, eliciting only a weak cry. The three move back. Gun levels his weapon at the broken young man.

Lisa screams.

The gun speaks.

Jason slumps, like a marionette, one arm still up.

Knife pulls his weapon, and cleans it on Jason's jacket.

They move back again to admire their handiwork. Lisa runs to the side of the bin, and collapses to her knees beside Jason. Gently, she cradles his head in her hands. Tears come, and quickly. His lips move slightly. His eyes part just a bit.

"I never got to say . . ." His voice was little more than inaudible.

"You don't need to say it."

"I need to. Remember-- I love you. Forever. . ."

The tears stream down her face.

". . . and ever. . ."

His eyes close, and she can feel his spirit take wing.

She shakes her head. "No no no no no . . ." Her hands try to open his eyes, his mouth, leaving dark streaks across his ashen face. She cries into the night.

A dozen feet above them, unseen, a ruffled jet black bird alights onto the street lamp.

Cradling the young man's body against her, Lisa still cries out. Suddenly, she feels rough hands on her arms.

Lisa is dragged away towards the car, and the men begin to converge on her.

She screams.

The bird screams.

The men turn.

"What the fuck is that?!"

"Who gives a shit?!"

They turn back. The bird, a midnight-colored crow, lands atop the trash bin.

Jason's eyes snap open. Their usual warm, friendly gaze has been replaced by a hellish fire.

His head raises, and he hears a scream. He turns to see Lisa, now backed against the car, the men scant feet from her. He rises.

The crow screams.

Jason screams.

The men turn. They see nothing but fog in the car's headlights until a sudden wind gusts. The fog parts.

Jason stands before them, coat billowing like a pair of great black wings, the crow perched calmly upon his shoulder. He steps forward.

"What the hell is this."

Jason speaks with an icy rasp. "This is hell."

He tilts his head up. Lisa's caresses have traced jagged dark lines on his face. Two vertical, down his eyes and cheeks, and one staining his lips and above his jaw, suggesting a sinister smile. Against his already pale skin, they made the young man’s visage bonechilling.

Gun fires. Jumping atop the bin, Jason leaps twenty feet straight through the air at him. Gun is struck hard, crashing against the brick wall, but Jason is on his feet first. Pipe swings again for his head, but is stopped mid-swing. Jason tears the weapon from him, and strikes him back. Once in the stomach, doubling him, once across the neck, sending him sprawling to the ground. Jason raises the pipe high.

Knife stabs his blade deep into Jason's back. Jason, not acknowledging it, brings the pipe down, finishing with a sickening crunch. He turns around.

Knife backpedals.

"Please man, please just let me get outta here! Don't kill me, please."

Jason tilts his head. "You should've listened to our cries of mercy. Now I'll return the favor."

He pulls the knife from his back and throws it at the man. Knife finds his right hand impaled upon the brick wall. Jason turns back to Gun.

The third man fires repeatedly, doing nothing to Jason. Jason's hand shoot out and grasps both pistol and hands in his own.

"You like this toy so much?"

Jason squeezes with preternatural strength. First the sounds of bones breaking, then of metal twisting. A single small explosion, and Gun falls at Jason's feet.

Jason turns.

"So, do you understand what's happened?"

Knife whimpers and shakes his head.

"Ohhh. Well, you don't seem that bright, so I'll explain. You killed me, and you were about to rape and kill the woman I love simply because we were walking down the wrong street. This is an atrocity that had to be answered. So here I am. Now do you understand? You created me with your violence, and now it and I will destroy you."

Twisting, Knife is able to free his hand. Before he can do anything, Jason grabs him by the shirt front.

"I've allies in Heaven, I've comrades in Hell. Say hello to them for me."

With all his strength, Jason hurls him towards the car. The front end crushes under the impact.

Jason turns.

Lisa, shaken, walks up to him. He caresses her hair.

"Are you all right, Lisa?"

"I don't understand, how can this be happening? You died . . ." She seems on the verge of collapse.

He pulls her to him and embraces her. "My love brought me back to protect you."

"But you were dead!"

"I know. It seems nothing is as powerful as love, not even that."

"So what happens now?"

"I go back, I think."

"No! You've come back to me, I won't let you go!"

Jason turns.

"I don't think we have a . . . choice . . ." He collapses to the ground. Again, she holds her to him, rocking him softly.

"I love you, too . . ." she whispers into his ear.

The crow flies away. In the half-light of the street lamp, Lisa looks down on his face.

The dark lines fade, and disappear. Slowly, the color returns to Jason's skin.

He smiles. Without opening his eyes, he speaks.

"I guess it just wasn't my time," he says in reponse to the question in her eyes.

She smiles back.

"So what happens now?"

"We make the most of our second chance."

From far away, police sirens approach.

She lowers her lips to his. They kiss.

*Nothing. Nothing in the universe is more stronger. It transcends all, transforms all, and can neither be denied or resisted. Love is power.*