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crowsofdarkness · 2 days ago

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A Fight For Darkness: Chapter One

-gif and pictures not mine. credit to owners-

Pairings: Eric Draven(Bill Skarsgard) x Reader.

Content Warnings: language, violence, mentions of murder, black mail, blood, smoking, drinking, mentions of drug use, arranged marriage, 18+smut that I will mention at the beginning of the chapter.

Summary: An unknown text and a list full of questions for what happened to your sister leads you down to the underground fight ring that belongs to none other than Eric Draven, The Crow. Once he captures your eyes with his, the web you were desperate to untangle suddenly tightens.

Authors Note: This is not cannon to The Crow(2024). Shelly nor her and Eric's love story exist in this series. Eric does have his fast ability to heal thought. Tags are open for this series as well!

A Fight For Darkness Masterlist

My footsteps echoed down the long and dark corridor, the gloom moisture clinging to not only the concrete walls but my already clammy skin as well. Even in the quiet, there was still a lingering dripping from some kind of running water that seemed to echo with every step I took. It was hard to breathe due to my heart that was currently logged in my throat as fear clung deep into the marrow of my bones, unsure what exactly I was about to walk into. I was going in blind with only one text guiding me, the desperation for answers taking over the rational side of my brain.

Unknown: If you want to know what happened to your sister, come here at 10 p.m. Alone. Show the man at the door this picture and he’ll let you in.

Attached to the text was an address, somewhere unknown, and a picture of a bloody crow.

After six months of no answers from the police on what happened to my missing sister, I was left with no choice but to find answers on my own. My sister and I weren’t always close due to some past family trauma, but we always texted to check in every first Sunday of the month just to see how things were going. When my texts went unanswered for two months, I felt deep in my gut something was wrong because she always texted me back.

Swallowing the lump, or my heart, in my throat, I dragged my hand over the wall using it to guide me in the dim light, hoping that soon I’d find some sort of door of sign of life. The first door I walked through was heavily guarded by two men and I did my best not to notice the guns hoisted on their hips. Once I showed them the picture of the bloody crow, I was thrusted through the door with a grunt and the noise of it slamming behind me.

Doing my best to ignore the looming thought that was pestering me about potentially being murdered, I pulled at the sleeves of my hoodie to bring it over my hands as I came to a near dead end, the only way to turn is left. So with a sigh, I took the left and grabbed my phone out of my pocket.

It was a few minutes past five but the thing that had my attention was the fact I had no service.

“I am underground,” I grumbled to myself, pocketing my phone again.

The sudden commotion of yelling and loud bass caught my attention, a light flickering at the end of the hall above a door. I came to a pause in front of the large metal door, trying to gain the final ounce of courage I needed to push through. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was about to walk into, whether it be my death or kidnapping, but the image of my sister flashed in my mind. Even though we weren’t close, we were all each other had, our parents dying when we were younger.

My shaking fingers wrapped around the rusted door knob and with one final deep breath, I pushed open the door. The scent of sweat, alcohol, and something copper permeated the air as I pushed through the thick crowd of bodies, all screaming at something.

“Get him, Crow!”

“Beat his ass, Crow! Don’t let him take you down!”

“OH FUCK! LOOK AT ALL THAT BLOOD!”

Uneasy settled in my stomach, threatening to rise up in my throat as my mouth ran dry when I pushed myself through the clearing of bodies. A large cage came into view, illuminated by red LED lights, but what caught my attention were the two people inside of it. One man was on the ground, lifeless with blood pooling out of a gash in his forehead, while another sat on his hips laying fist after fist into the other guy's face. Tattoos littered over the puncher’s body and I watched almost in a trance as the muscles in his back tensed with each and every punch.

“What the fuck is this?!” I choked, my fear being drowned out by the music and cheers from the crowd.

I’d heard rumors for years about an underground fight club, one that the police couldn’t shut down no matter how hard they tried. Along with the rumors, people speculated that someone higher up, a judge or even the mayor, was a part of this underground fight club. I’d always been naive, not wanting to think my quiet little town in Michigan could have something so disgusting as an underground and highly illegal fighting ring.

How the fuck was my missing sister apart of this?

I shook my head, knowing that there wasn’t any way she was tied up in this. She was the most innocent person I knew and quite frankly, pure as could be.

How would you know? You talked once a month for less than ten minutes.

Shaking the thought from my head, I dared a glance up at the cage once more and nearly threw up as I saw the man with tattoos kick the other man in the stomach. Hard enough that the sound of bones breaking echoed in the thick air.

“Fuck,” I held a hand to my mouth and turned on my heels, desperately needing to get out of there.

I hated violence. It made me sick to my stomach every single time; like it was doing currently.

Pushing through the crowd, ignoring their calls to whoever The Crow was, and nearly sucked in a sob of relief when I found the door I’d walked through a few minutes prior. Only once I walked through the doorway, I realized it wasn’t the same door. I’d walked into a room only illuminated by a muted orange light hanging from the ceiling as it casted over a single bed. A body laying halfway on it with cold vacant eyes and a slit throat pooling blood to the floor.

A shriek clawed its way out of my throat as I slipped on something wet, maybe the blood, and fell onto something hard. Crawling to my knees, I stared back at another set of cold vacant eyes with a bullet wound to their forehead.

“What the fuck!” I cried, sliding away from yet another dead body.

Tears spilled over my face as I hit something hard but before I could breathe a sigh of relief thinking it was a wall, I was yanked up by my hair. Pain burned at my scalp as I was thrown against the wall, now meeting a pair of cold but vibrant eyes as they thinned into slits.

“Who the fuck are you?” A voice thick with an accent spat towards me.

All I could smell was not only my fear but the crimson blood that covered me as well. My dress and bare legs were covered in it as my feet dangled against the floor. Whoever this man was with the cold eyes held me high against the wall and nearly out of view from the light so I could only make out those eyes.

Bright as the morning sun yet dark as the bottom of the ocean, looming in the depths of despair.

His grip from my hair had moved to my neck, cutting off almost all of my oxygen. Stars danced in the corner of my eyes and my body began to feel weak, my soul flickering as it let in the darkness.

Just as I felt life leave me, the door to the room clicked open and another thick accent filled the room. It was in a language I wasn’t familiar with but whatever was said must have been important enough because the man threw me to the floor with two simple words.

“Don’t move.”

Blinking rapidly, I gasped for breath while slowly rising to my knees. I avoided the dead bodies, not bothering to look to see if maybe the woman on the bed was my sister. Instead I watched as the two alive bodies chatted in the dark corners of the room. The newcomer left the door cracked, just enough for me to slip through. If I was quick enough, I could leave and get lost with the crowd. There wasn’t any way whoever attacked me got a good look at my face since I couldn’t see him.

Now or never.

Spriting up from the ground, I left my heels behind as I slid through the blood and barreled my way through the door. Boutrius' voice lingered behind me but I didn’t dare look back, just kept running through the crowd. I didn’t bother to care how I looked covered in blood. More than half of the people here were either too stoned or drunk to notice.

Seeing another door less than a few feet in front of me, I didn’t bother to question if it was the door to safety as I nearly kicked it open with the hope to find some solace from the men chasing me. Leaning my body against the door, I convulsed with sobs and tried my best to stand up on two feet. I could scream, cry, and fall to my knees back at my apartment.

Not here.

I needed to find a way out of here.

“Are you lost?”

Gasping, I opened my eyes with the fear of somehow one of those men already lying in wait for me in this room. But instead of cold vibrant eyes, I was met with a pair of bright and angelic ones as they dragged up and down the entire length of my legs. Those eyes lingered on the blood covering me with furrowed brows and a cigarette hung from his lips.

I noticed the man sitting in front of me was the one inside the cage, the one with all the tattoos that was nearly killing his opponent.

Kill.

Murder.

Two dead bodies.

Tears continued to fall as I turned on my heels to reach for the doorknob, only for the door to be slammed shut as soon as I opened it. I screamed in fear, ready for whatever this man would do to me.

“Please,” I begged while hastily shaking my head. “I promise I didn’t see anything. Let me leave and I won’t tell anyone.”

His large frame loomed behind me and his thick arm, covered in tattoos, continued to keep the door shut.

“What did you see?”

I could feel his chest vibrate against my back when he spoke.

“I-I-can’t. Pl-plea-please. I w-want-.”

I couldn't speak, the fear and images of what happened in that room plagued me. They threatened to drag me down to the depths of whatever hell was. It clawed at my insides, shredding them piece by piece until I was nothing more than a pile of blood.

Blood.

A loud boom echoed against the door causing me to scream yet again and I nearly fell into this man's bare chest as one of his arms wrapped around me.

“What has you spooked, hm?” His voice brushed against my ear.

I shivered in his embrace before trying to remove myself from it, only making him tighten his arm around my stomach as the banging against the door continued.

“Open up, motherfucker! We’ve got a situation in one of the rooms. Two situations that need to be cleaned up!” A voice called through the thick metal.

My body nearly went slack in this man's embrace. Something he picked up on so he dragged me to the couch he’d previously been sitting on and threw me onto it. With a firm finger he pointed at me.

“Don’t you dare fucking move.”

Through the tears, I just now noticed he was shirtless, only wearing a pair of black athletic shorts that hung low on his hips. He was tall and built like a wall of muscles as he stalked over to the door and opened it just a crack.

“What's going on?” His gruff voice asked whoever was on the other side of the door.

“Eric, there’s two dead bodies in one of the rooms. Some dude walked in on it and is freaking out. I have Jackson holding him in the locker room so he can’t tell anyone what's going on. We’re working on clearing out the club but you need to talk to this guy.”

By now the tears and sobs have stopped, throat dry, and I stared blankly ahead at the peeling wall in front of me. I’d become numb to my surroundings, not even picking up the scent of cigarette smoke and cinnamon that lingered in the air. The blood had died on my legs, painting me with the images that refused to stop playing in my mind. My dress, however, was still soaked with blood.

The man that was holding me in this room, Eric, spewed out a handful of curses before muttering something to whoever was on the other side of the door.

What if it was the two men chasing me? The one that nearly choked me to death in that very same room?

A slamming of a door caused me to jump in my spot on the worn leather couch and as Eric stalked back towards me I began to feel the all too familiar weight of dread fill me.

Fuck, he’s going to kill me. He’s going to finish what that one guy couldn’t.

Expecting him to pull a gun out from somewhere or wrap his hand around my throat, I was shocked to see him sit on the table in front of me, letting his elbows rest on his knees. My mouth was still dry, not producing any saliva, as I stared blankly in those angel eyes now. He still had the lit cigarette hanging from his lips as he motioned towards my soaked dress.

“Do you have a name?” Eric asked.

I couldn’t speak, words suddenly so foreign on my tongue, so instead I gave him a curt nod. Just as Eric was about to speak again, there was another knock on the door causing him to yell over his shoulder.

“I’m busy!”

“Boss! It’s important! We found something!”

He swiftly pushed himself off of the table and back over to the door. It was open for less than five seconds as he retrieved something before slamming it shut.

“Y/N L/N.”

My eyes snapped over towards Eric as he leaned against the door holding my purse in one hand and my wallet in the other.

How could I have been so stupid to not only bring something that identifies me but also drop it in this unknown place?

Eric was sitting in front of me once more, dropping my belongings onto the table next to him yet I refused to meet his gaze; keeping it on the door ahead. My only salvation to freedom.

A vice grip yanked my chin, forcing me to meet Eric's eyes as he held strong on my chin.

“Now, Y/N,” he cocked his head to the side. “You’re going to tell me how the fuck you got into my club and why you’re covered in blood while I have two dead bodies to dispose of.”

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