The protest marches seemed to be peaceful, for all the attention she paid to them. She understood their protest, misguided as she felt it was, but was more interested in individual protesters than the group. Groups were too messy, and she preferred one on one, anyway. It hadn't been hard to lure one of the fringe males away from the crowd; anyone watching his behavior could tell that he wasn't one of the higher profile organizers or anything. Just some flunky interested in the cause for whatever his personal reasons were.

Unfortunately for him, he'd been the perfect prey, easily distracted by too much cleavage and too much thigh; easily taken aside out of sight, out of earshot with a disarming smile and a light caress.

It wasn't long before he had her pressed against a wall, eager to claim his prize, when her hand reached up to cup the back of his skull as if to pull him forward into an eager embrace....except he didn't understand what she was eager for. Her red lacquered fingernails elongated into red malleable tendrils of diamond hardness that lanced into the back of his head, into his brain, and for a moment he shook like a puppet as she chemically dissected his thoughts, his memories, all the things that made him, him, one Charles Buckner. She doubted anyone would miss him or even notice his absence, he was a nobody. A lowly night security guard for some Company.

And human. Ignorant, arrogant, typical, human.

'How many worlds,' she thought, 'touching the Nexus have they destroyed in their multitudes; no regard but for themselves, raking the flesh of their worlds, drowning their worlds in filth, destroying others without thought, without regard.' She had studied them, in a sense; her education had been selectively modified to afford her a very unique world view.

'All you see is yourselves, how important you are,' she gazed into his unseeing eyes, his body still jerking, her manipulation of his body through the tendrils driving into his brain keeping him upright. Her other hand dropped to her waist and drew a knife from her belt. Smoke lightly rolled from the palm of her hand where she gripped it as she placed the cold iron blade against the mans throat and cut. Her eyes left his and dropped to the blade instead, covered in his blood and steaming in her hand. She put the blade to her mouth and lapped the red sticky liquid from it, and though it in turn burned her tongue, she cleaned it entirely. The rest of his blood had spilled down the front of his chest, and when she withdrew her 'fingers' from his brain, he collapsed to the ground like a sack of meat.

It surprised her how, even here in the Nexus, there were so few versed in Fairy lore. She dropped to the ground beside the cooling corpse.

'Part fairy,' she thought, 'Still counts as fairy, now doesn't it' Sometimes I feel like a Red Cap...'

Her jaw distended and she bit down hard on the head and shoulders of the corpse, tipping her head back and somewhat ridiculously the body raised into the air and slowly slid - amidst a series of grisly squelching and gulping noises - into the red lady's gullet. Her body momentarily grew to accommodate for the meal, but surprisingly quickly reverted to it's original size.

'Sometimes,' she thought, 'I don't.' She took the sleeve of her red dress and dabbed at the corners of her mouth, then sucked even the stain from the material and beamed a wholesome, charismatic, winning smile. She walked leisurely back to the main body of protesters, and filtered in among them. Some were chanting, and she gravitated towards them, raising her hand in the air when the others did.

"No! More! Oppression!" she chanted with them, and her smile earned her a look of camaraderie from one of the women chanting with her.

'They're like candy,' the red lady thought, 'They're bad for me; I hate them. But....they're so delicious.'