This fic is dedicated to Freddy who requested that this be written for the Fluffy Bunny challenge. Hopefully I'm on his good side now…

Disclaimer: I own nothing at all except my own twisted and warped mind.

Twisted Intents

Down the dark alleyway, a woman walks. She doesn't walk quickly – instead opting for a steady even pace that exudes confidence and courage. Perhaps she doesn't feel that way truly, but she is an actress and it is perceived as such.

The empty useless canisters lining the long path between the grimy buildings are empty. Not even the beggars and the ragamuffins will risk being outside, unprotected in this air. It is chilly, but not cold. Creepily was the word the newspapers used, but they had moved into hiding, passing their forbidden words secretly.

There are whispers in the air, harsh cackles, and filthy sniggers. The woman still walks, never breaking her pace. She is intent on her destination and will not think of anything else (or at the very least not anyone know of it). She has a plan, and it will come to fruition, despite what the shadows say.

The shadows speak more urgently – whispers still not rising in volume but becoming more pitched, higher paced. Scampering is heard, messages passed, and the alley grows darker if at all possible.

Suddenly it all stops – the message has reached its desired point. All (even the woman) crane their ears for the sounds. There is a hushed horrible silence before the delicate thudding of heavy boots echoes in their ears.

The shadows would like to watch (it's always so amusing and fun) but they know that this time they can't. They have pouted and sulked, but they go now, cackling away leaving shiver's on the woman's spine.

She stops walking at last and stands still. Her muscles are clenched, her mouth is tight, and she holds herself stiffly, still facing her destination in front of her.

The tapping thud of the boots behind her comes closer – so very, very, much closer – until she can feel him behind her. She is trapped – live bait.

She still doesn't know exactly what it is that is behind her, but she knows who it is. It's enough at the moment and she takes a deep breath as he creeps even closer.

"Found me, didn't you?" she says softly. She still doesn't turn. The creature behind her does nothing except be.

It is enough to terrify anyone.

"You're not going to win," she says in the same volume. "Our side is going to beat you and your little mutants. We're going to beat you – we know more than you think. And you still can't find us. You never will."

Harsh breathing. Bodies move closer to one another. She pants out, "You may win this fight right now – but we're the ones going to win in the end. You didn't even bother to check did you? You're going to kill you right now but my comrades are going to kill your minions." She forcefully adds, "And your magic is never going to take another one of us."

There's a hollow shriek. Crimson liquid flows, but the woman still stands. The creature held her, holding her up as he grabbed her hands and forced them in a parody of an embrace. He turns her towards her, and there's no way to hide the look in her eyes now.

Her cheeks are hollow and depraved; her mouth is open and drips. She moves her lips wildly and it becomes a richer red. No sounds except garbles are heard.

He leans in and sniffs her, predatorily. She flails, but is still stuck – his grip too strong. His tongue darts out touching the blood and again he makes that pleased sound – he has her, a distraction worthy, very worthy.

She emits a horrifically twisted scream again, and he hushes her momentarily, bringing his mouth down to hers. He's greedy and she screams into his throat as he moves onwards – stabbing, lashing, grabbing, pulling, gripping, tearing, and she screams and twists and writhes. The crimson is everywhere – paleness joins it soon enough and it amasses to the symphony of rage and terror and horror that comes by his horrible reign.

He leaves her on the ground at last – no screams in the air but silence. He walks away, never looking back.

The woman's corpse (if it could be called that) lies in the alley way. It's more empty than before – as empty as the sockets in her face and the neck she once had.

She's made it to her destination.

Papers are secretly spread and silent cheer is heard.

Victory!

By The Correspondent.

My fellow rebels– I am proud to say that we have at last infiltrated that filthy so-called 'King'. Our brave men and women were able to kill twenty-five of the Goblins as well as three of the dreaded Fireys. Three children were rescued from his horrid clutches, and are being returned to there parents as this is typed.

Unfortunately, this great victory did not come without sacrifice. The leader of our rebellion Sarah Williams bravely sacrificed her life in order to accomplish this mission. Her body – like all the others who have been caught in the shadows – was desecrated and destroyed. We believe she went courageously if nothing else.

Memorials will be held (of course hidden) throughout our holds. Remember, secrecy is key – the rat that calls himself Jareth will be on a more furious hunt than ever now that we have done a more formal strike against him. Again everyone is cautioned to be on their guard – the fate of Sarah Williams is one not to take lightly…

A/N: Fluffy Bunny means Kill Your Main Character. I think everyone should have caught on by now…

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