Red: A Modern Fable

He was a predator of the party scene and his prey were the feminine forms on the dance floor. In a way, he reasoned, he was kind. He never went in for the kill and his prey always walked away alive. They were marked by his pursuit with bruises that would fade and invisible scars that might never heal, but they had their lives.

It was easy to guarantee their silence. While they trembled in the wake of his attack, he would speak to them.

"This was always coming to you," he'd say, "The way you talk, the way you move, the way you act. You danced with a stranger in a strange place. You should have known better. No one will believe you." With those words he'd depart and never consider them again. Society was experienced at shaming them into silence.

He'd struck a dozen women in the last six months and it hadn't caught up to him yet. That night he had groomed for the occasion, hair slicked back, cologne dabbed, shirt loose at the top and his pants pressed. He stalked through his hunting ground, one in a series of clubs he knew to have minimal security. His eyes gazed over the swaying hips of potential prey. He knew who to target; there was always a single woman isolated and desperate for company.

After a moment, he spotted her sitting alone at the bar. She was fair skinned with auburn hair cascading down her back and dressed in a maroon cocktail dress. Her long legs were accentuated by lace up sandals with a garnet pendant dangled just above her breasts. Her expression was distant, ruby lips slightly parted as she leaned on her arm, which ended in scarlet nails. He had found thirteen.

A careful advance assured him she was not waiting on anyone before he sat down beside her.

"You seem bothered," he initiated conversation with a charming smile. She turned with a sigh and a shrug.

"I don't have an ID so they're not serving me," she replied sullenly.

"You don't say," he chuckled, "How about I buy you a drink?"

"You would?" Her laugh was airy, "Well then, a glass of red wine."

"My favorite. Be right back," and he turned away with a dark smirk.

Like his previous victims she accepted his company without fear. Her brown eyes watched him as he told her the hollow lie of the evening. Tonight he was a lawyer, but other times he had been an athlete, teacher, or on occasion a fireman. She was entranced with his tales, her eyes not leaving him as he ordered a second round. His eyes didn't leave her, though he was subtle about his gaze. If he spooked the prey she'd flee, and that was the last thing he wanted.

"You know," she laughed as he ordered a third round, "You're just the man I'm looking for."

Finally he coaxed her onto the dance floor. This was all part of a careful system he had perfected on previous occasions. He'd locate a loner, earn her trust through chat and alcohol, and talk her into a dance. Once she got dizzy, and a little extra something in her drink always made sure she did, he'd escort her to another area where they'd be alone, and then he'd strike. It was a method that had not failed him yet.

This woman in red seemed to be holding her drink better, and she'd had one more round than most. He frowned as he watched her and pondered if he'd given her enough extra before she spoke.
"I need some fresh air!" She called out at last and he grinned.
"I'll come with you!"

He followed her upstairs and felt rather smug. The night air rushed into his face as she tossed open the door and a chill ran down his spine. However his smirk returned as she danced away from the door with a laugh.

"Over here!" She called out with her back to him.

He laughed and cracked his knuckles before he moved to join her. Several steps later, he swung his fist toward her gut to take her breath away. A dozen times he'd started it like this, and a dozen times he'd had his way. Except number thirteen's entire stance changed, and he realized he had been too slow. She'd been light on her feet with a happy go lucky demeanor the whole evening, but as she stepped out of the way of his swing she took a battle stance.. The woman in red caught his arm at the elbow and proceeded to bend it the wrong way. To silence his scream before it left him, her fist flew to his stomach. He gasped, stumbled backwards as pain racked through his body, and his mind became blank.

"Oh yes," the woman began as she picked him up by the shirt, "Just the man I was looking for."

What felt like days later she stopped her assault. His arm was mangled and most surely broken. She'd pounded his nose until he heard it crack and he could feel two matching shiners forming as he lay in fetal position. He couldn't be sure if cracked, fractured, or broken, but she'd done a hell of a job on his ribs before tossing him aside like a rag doll. The worst part was he couldn't even fight back because his body had been strangely heavy and slow.

"So focused on your scheme you never realized I was switching our glasses." Her voice was cold as she lit up a cigarette she'd nicked from his pocket.

"You tricked me," he murmured as he processed her words. The drugs he'd put in her drink had been consumed all right. He'd had six glasses of wine, and the additive he'd put in it to render her unable to fight back.

"Did I really?"

She tossed the butt of her cigarette at him and he winced as it fell precariously close to his swelling face.

"Not really. You assumed a lot. You assumed I was defenseless. You assumed I drank my wine. You assumed no one knew about those twelve women you raped." She responded. Panic filled him as he watched her circle.

"You'll never get away with this," he called.

"Hmph." She sniggered quietly before turning to him. Her eyes gazed icily upon him and suddenly he saw they were not brown but the dark red of dried blood.

"What's it to you?" He whimpered, "What are you to this?"

The woman began to circle him with an expression which seemed to become more cruel as he watched her in terror.

"This was always coming to you. The way you talk, the way you move, the way you act," they were his own words she spoke, sending fear into his soul like daggers, "You danced with a stranger in a strange place. You should have known better," her hand moved to her necklace, "No one will believe you."

With a tug, the necklace broke and his eyes grew wide in surprise as impossible red feathered wings appeared on her back, as if flickering into existence. Folded they were easily as tall as she was, but as she spread them he realized her wingspan was greater.

"It's not the drugs," she chimed with a smirk "They're mine."

"What are you?" He whimpered. She paused and contemplating her answer before she spoke.

"I am anger. I am wrath. I am fury. I am justice. I am vengeance," she proclaimed before taking flight into the night sky, "I am Red."