The figure with the striking blue eyes stood in the dark alley. Silent, shrouded in darkness, he was one with the emptiness. His peace was distorted by the constant thumping, throbbing. It seemed to grow louder, sensing and feeding off of his annoyance. He relished the night for it allowed him to slip against the shadows as the source of his discomfort drew ever closer. The newcomer to his realm of quiet was everything but. Her neck, a pale beacon rising above red triggered his imagination; he could practically see it flooded with red as those meant to be so lost it. He swallowed convulsively and then stopped his disgust; she had wandered in here herself, she had rendered herself vulnerable; he was merely doing what any hunter would do in such a scenario, hunt. He crept closer; eternal sapphires locked on synthetic tigereyes. Blonde danced around her shoulders as she looked about her, wondering where she was and how to get to where, wherever, she was supposed to be. He reached her before she thought to look in his direction; standing face to face, he realized she almost matched his height in her stilettos. Her mouth opened in confusion as she gazed at the figure before her; his hands were around her neck before she could gasp and his teeth were at her neck as she did just that. Almost immediately, he lost himself in the sensation of sustenance, in the flow of power, of life. In the distance, he could hear a staccato drum beat; the rhythm matched his own as he drank; pleasure filled him as he emptied her; there was nothing to compare to what he felt; energy flowed into him, through him; gulp after gulp of sweet crimson, savory scarlet, red red red. Pulsating with her pulse he satiated his thirst; he has denied himself this, the sole base necessity of his existence, and now he delighted himself, like a child finally allowed to play at the beach after a long winter indoors-except that child never hurt anyone, his fun never stopped, the sand and water never ended. Soon, too soon, he felt the emptiness, the gap that came from sucking on a neck that could no longer release red. Ecstasy was ripped from him and he fell, fell back into that world where he was sucking on a woman who had no more red left, not for him and definitely not for her. He was alone in that alley again, alone with a corpse. He looked at her, her hair danced again, this time in a grotesque ballet, as her head lolled; he held her gently and picked her up gracefully. He moved her hair from her face so that it rested calmly, framing her features. Gentler still, he closed her eyes for the last time; though she was now nestled in death's embrace, her body looked as if it was merely on a retreat to dreamland in the figure's hold. He would respect the dead, would ensure she was given what she deserved; though she was unknown to him, there were those to whom she was known as a treasure; there was no way she could be alone in this world; he knew all too well what that looked like and she wasn't it. She had held the glistening hope of those who knew they were chersished, of those who saw the world as a place where anyone could triumph. He sighed with disgust at himself; how many had he bereaved this time? Quickly, he made his way to the nearest establishment; injecting panic into his inflection he cried for help and told all who would listen how he had found her, abandoned by the coward who had taken her life. He spoke and sobbed, yet all that lingered in his mind was red.