Raven

Ravens are such misunderstood creatures...

My name's Grant, or at least it could be.
That's what the old man used to call me and he never once lied to me.
Ever since I have memory, he was honest about where I come from.
He said he found me in a stinking alley, inside a trash bin, amidst remainings of old newspapers and rotting food.
Covered in dirt, crying. He became my mentor. Only a man who's made such mistakes in life as he did can truly teach you
the important values in life. Mold you into his opposite.

My name is Grant... last name? I don't have one, I don't need it. It reminds me that I belong to no one.

Society has been going downhill for a long time now. Corruption deep in the roots of the government.
Police making a blind eye to criminals all over, authorities making deals with the wrong people. Terminal cancer.
Arguably, the economy has been steady in good standing, this city has been growing. But selling it to the devil only does so much before he turns it
into his own Pandemonium.

I myself have a special outlook on life. I follow my own set of rules, my own morals. I create justice as I see fit.
Whatver methods necessary. I strongly believe this disease must be eradicated from its root. Leave no trace of it.
Call me a vigilante if you will, a hero. I'd like to think I provide a service to this people, much needed law.

By now everyone knows of me. The cops have traced every incident in which I've been involved. They've seen me come and go, making disappearances
like a modern day Houdini. Always changing. Far from their reach. They can never make my face, their fingerprint and DNA analysis always a waste of time.
I have no records, no name in the database. An unborn child, only a whisper in the wind.

I live in an old apartment building, long forgotten by the world. As tall it seems to reach the sun, the building rests still in the middle of a busy street.
People come and go in heavy groups, day and night, still none of them seems to notice its existence. Like the ghost of a giant, watching time go by, awaiting the end.

Only me and a few other fools remain in here, those of us brave enough to ignore the warnings of this building going down at any time. Or perhaps bravery isn't the word
but we just have nowhere else to go. We look at life through the big dusty windows on our rooms, 
like big screens showing the daily life of people in the highest resolution available.

I've heard the people talk about me, the rumours going around. They call me the Raven. Looking out for people at the very top of this city.
A shadowy figure always watchful. Their black knight.
And I have to admit, I like the way they talk about me. I sometimes feel proud of it and lose myself in that feeling of satisfaction.

But I must keep my mind clear. Letting your ego absorb you clouds your vision until you go blind and start rotting at your core, becoming the same thing you're fighting off.