There was something lovely about a moonlit night; perhaps it was the feeling of being watched over by something high above, or perhaps the excess of shadows which covered so many areas of the world in such a way that the sun just could never cast in the daylight. There was a lovely mixture of delight and excitement, and fear and anxiety; there was a feeling that every shadow could be a cloak in which to watch the world, and also that within every shadow was a monster ready to strike.

He was not expecting to find anyone else on the streets so late at night, not currently at least; he had seen the signs posted on every other light post as he had been making his way over. Signs that warned against walking alone, signs that spoke about the dangers and the deaths; they warned about "the Boogeyman", a ridiculous name if he said so himself. What a silly name for a serial killer, "Boogeyman"; it sounded like a child's dream rather than a prolific mass murderer such as him. He much preferred the name "King of Nightmares", or better yet his actual name Pitch Black. Now that, that suited someone who stalked the darkness and shadows, feeding on the fears of those stupid enough to venture out alone. And once more he hadn't been expecting any prey tonight; the news, the signs, the police in general, they had all been doing such a wonderful job of terrifying the general populace for him but unfortunately that fear had been used to keep them all inside, where it was at least relatively safer. There was no children wandering the night, no lovers on a rendezvous under the moon, no anyone taking their chances with the shadows. Except for, of course, that one.

He was currently burying a body; yes, his hunting had been stunted by the warnings of his, the Bogeyman's, existence but not completely stopped. He had found the boy on his own earlier on, when the sun was still up; the child had run away from his parents, such a disobedient little brat, screaming, running. Running right into Pitch's clutches; the look on his face as the pale man set upon him, as he smiled so cruelly and chased him down, as the knife was drawn and the throat slit, it had all been quite delicious. And now, in the foundation of a house to be built, he buried the body in the ground, knowing it was unlikely to be found for quite a while, that the boy was already missed; he was finishing up actually covering up the body in dirt when he heard something, a voice. At least he wasn't sure he heard anything, after all no one should be up, but being the cautious sort he made his way up, looking over the edge of the foundation to look upon the street below, glad for the slight hill the house was to be built upon for the cover it gave him. For a moment all there was was the voice getting closer then finally, from out of the shadows cast by the trees, someone did appear.

It was, or appeared to be, a girl, no, young woman; she was perhaps a bit small for her age, and the way she dressed didn't make that any better but she didn't really seem like a child. She wore a black bowler hat on her head, obscuring her eyes and the rest of the upper part of her face from view, a strange sight on anyone in this day and age; a black hoodie jacket covered up her upper body, protecting her some from the mildly cold night, yet it was paired with a skirt of all things. Of course considering the heat from the day this was perhaps not all that strange; he took note of the backpack on her back and the laptop in her arms, the strange lanyard around her neck and the small black purse bouncing at her side. She didn't seem to be the type to care what she wore; he was the type who didn't care even if she was a fashionista. She was out, she was there, and she was dangerously close to where he was burying a body; this all meant one thing to him.

Once more the devil's grin crossed his lips and watching her for a second as she walked along the portion of street in front of him, the sidewalk there gone currently because of construction, he then turned to make sure the boy was thoroughly covered up, grabbed his shovel and made his way out of the hole. A careless toss to one side where no one would even question the existence of a shovel among the mess he then swiftly followed after her, keeping a few good steps behind; Pitch made sure his shadow didn't cross her sight when they walked near and under the light, not wishing to alert her. A sly predator never let their prey have a thought to them being there after all; he found himself feeling a bit giddy after a bit, amused and excited by the hunt as always; this young woman would rue ever walking out in the night alone but only until the moment she dies. He wondered how lovely her face would look in fear.

He'd only been following her for a minute or so when he heard her voice again and for a moment he was unsure why but he realized she was singing; it wasn't often he came across something like that though. People did occasionally sing as they walked, he knew this, and he knew that music was supposed to make time move faster for those listening, but someone singing while alone walking at night? That was like advertising that you were without anyone else with you, that you were there and ripe for the picking. She didn't even sing softly, seeming to be delighting in singing at full strength her melody; her voice carried and for a moment he looked around, worried she'd be heard, that someone would look out to see what was going on and see him stalking her. Oh that would definitely be bad; he bore his teeth, realizing he should probably end this quick and started to move to get closer to her but didn't. Instead he just kept staring at her and listening, listening to the slight lilts and rising tones of her song; it was a sweet song, he could tell that, but it wasn't because of the words he knew this. He barely heard the words. Rather she herself told him; there was emotion to the way her voice caressed each note, a dance, and it told him this was a sweet song and that she was happy. He liked it; it wasn't often he took a moment to appreciate others but even he had to admit that the singing was rather pretty and he allowed himself a smile.

After the song ended she simply switched to another and Pitch simply followed behind her like a shadow a few steps behind as she sang and walked, unwilling yet to end her when she was in the midst of such sweet music; it seemed like such a waste and soon enough he even started to relax, his hands behind his back and his smile set right where it was as they walked and he listened. He looked up, saw the moon and how large it was tonight; larger tomorrow apparently, completely full tomorrow, it seemed to be already large and full enough. It seemed to also be glaring at him and he was tempted to laugh but didn't wish to interrupt; he settled for smirking up at the celestial body as if to say "what are you going to do about it?" then turn his gaze back to the young woman in time to see her take a turn down one street, and he realized that the songs may be ending. He stopped at that turning point yet kept his eyes on her, watching her lower her voice as if not to wake any of the sleeping bodies in the houses around around her and then open a mailbox, removing some mail before going up to one of the houses. No more music, no more song; he straightened up and frowned. Time to strike he supposed...though it was risky there; perhaps death for this one prey wouldn't be the right way. But neither was escape; he couldn't just let prey escape, not one with such a pretty voice who braved the darkness and night without a care. He watched her enter the house and only then did his smile return; no, escape nor death, neither of these would touch her, not by his hand. He would simply have to do the next best thing...

There was a delay of an hour but it was actually quite easy getting inside, no one apparently in the house thinking to lock any of the doors including the front door; Pitch got in without making a sound and without alerting anyone, sneaking in like a shadow. A cat slept on a nearby table and though it woke to his arrival all it did was open a single golden eye, staring at him, then went back to it's slumber; he was not surprised by this. The house was dark and the only noise was snoring from a nearby room; investigation into it found a woman sleeping peacefully in bed, her face slightly illuminated by the blue glow of a TV set. He grimaced, finding the sort who slept in such ways to be disturbing, before turning to look at the door across from that room; it was closed and everything seemed to be quiet in there yet he could just feel it. His prey was in there.

Carefully he opened that door, trying to not make any noise or alert the inhabitant if they were inside; the room was also lit with only one dim light though this was not a TV. It was the laptop and he could hear the lowered voices of a show being played on it, yet the person in the bed, sleeping now, had obviously not fallen asleep watching it. Her face was turned from it, as if only interested in the sounds rather than the sights; looking about he found, in the darkness, her hat sitting on an overcrowded dresser and her jacket laying on her bags by the door. There was a bookshelf full of books and a few stuffed animals but nothing of real interest except her; approaching her he saw how peaceful she seemed, fast asleep despite only being seen a little over an hour ago. She must have been tired; looking at the clock on her laptop screen he could see why. 2:10 AM, it was very late, or early depending on the opinion. He didn't feel tired though he found; rather instead he felt...exhilarated. This was a new prey and he was excited to take it.

Pitch started by gently removing her covers from on top of her; she was dressed in a nightgown now, being still long enough to allow the hem to be by her ankles still. He carefully moved her some then, stopping when she seemed to be waking only for her to stay sleeping; he got her onto her back and then lifted her into his arms. Her head rested against his chest and she seemed to instinctively respond to that, snuggling closer to him with one hand reaching up some to grip at the fabric of his dark shirt. She looked so young and he could see her face now; she really had the face of someone younger, with a small nose and small mouth, framed by black locks of hair. His guess by appearance was a teenager yet still there was this sense about her of someone older, twenties at least, yet either way what did it matter?

With a smirk he grabbed her hat from where it lay and set it on her head gently before whisking her away, the would-be Bogeyman stealing a not-so-child into the night.

Vene: Yes my first Rise of the Guardian's fanfic!~

Nihon: This is of course AU. Where, what and who the other Guardians are is still not decided.

Vene: Yeah so please do review and say what you think so I can know whether to write a second chapter!~

Nihon: Though admittedly? We know Vene still will.

Pitch *grins evilly as he kidnaps the young lady*