Red Moon

Preface

The suit was never really all that comfortable. It hung to her body tightly, and the additional padding made the whole thing feel bulky and awkward. When Henrietta first put on the suit, she nearly gave up on her mission before it even began.

Time wore on and the suit became more bearable. As did the bruises and the split lips and the pain. Mistakes were made as well as modifications. An electric baton was replaced with charged gloves which were replaced with gauntlets that shot out honing electrics. Heel boots were switched out for combat boots, which were swapped with a comfortable hybrid of the two. The suit went from black, to navy blue, to dark green, to rubber insulated, to padded, to unpadded, to padded again.

Soon the suit was white, rubber insulated, with a special light weight fabric that was microscopically embedded with steel and diamonds, making the latex-y material damn near impenetrable. Knee and elbow pads were incorporated and at least twelve prototype boots were worn down. Henrietta couldn't even remember how many times she accidentally shocked herself with her own gadgets, which was probably a bad thing.

Hell, the first few times she tried to save anyone, they would try to attack her, thinking Henrietta was another strangely dressed thug. It was disheartening.

But then, after a successful beat down of some serial rapist in a dingy Gotham alley way, the prostitute he had tried to harm came to the masked Henrietta. The woman was trembling, either from how small her dress was it from fear, and with tears in her eyes, thanked Henrietta.

"Thank- oh god, thank you! Thank you so-so-so" she hiccupped in her tears, "much. Bless you, God thank you." She rambled.

Henrietta smiled, and said something along the lines of, "You're welcome. Head home for some rest. Stay safe." She couldn't really remember, she was focusing on how good it felt to know that someone was now safe because of her actions.

There were other perverts and stalkers and rapists, of course (there always will be), and more often than not, it was the whores and prostitutes who were being targeted.

Henrietta helped them regardless. Many of them asked why, and she would shrug and say, "You're human too, you deserve protection," (and more than one girl would cry at that) and then she would leave.

The name was certainly not her idea. She stopped the mugging of a few prostitutes in Chinatown, the mugger knowing basic kung-fu did nothing to stop the electric charge in her glove.

One of the women, the obviously fresh of the boat one, smiled tearily at the vigilante, and said in (very) broken English, "Moon not always seen, but always there. You are moon. Always there, seen when needed. Many thanks, moon."

By the end of the week, every woman she saved called her variation of the name.

"Luna."

"Crescent."

"Night Sky."

"Juno."

"Moon."

Batman was too busy for the whores. A big name hero dealt with big name villains. Batman wasn't always there for the whores and prostitutes, for the people coming home late from work, for the teens being baited into drugs. Henrietta took care of them, of the little, nameless people who needed as much protection as everyone else.

To humor her small fan base, she branded a small crescent shape in the center of her cowl's forehead.

When the next thug she defeated asked her (in a shaky voice because a girl that small should not be able to hit so hard), "Who the fuck are you?" She smiled, and leaned over the man as the business woman he tried to hurt sped away.

"I am the Moon. Constant and present; every night." And then she rabbit punches his nose to knock him out.

Henrietta Swartztrawber took up the title of the Moon with honor, knowing that every person she saved or stopped knew her by name.

Some saw the act of being saved as sacred, and would only tell their tale to others who would benefit from knowing the vigilante. Some spat when they heard the name; flinch when they saw a crudely drawn crescent on the side of their establishment; glared at the large, luminous rock in the sky.

Because she was right. She was always there, always watching, even if they couldn't see her. Always present.

So, when Henrietta donned her infamous white suit again, she could feel the weight of those she swore to protect inside each thread of her costume. It was a duty that needed to be fulfilled. Especially now, since there seems to be a new drug being passed to teens in the down low. Drug distribution to minors was probably one of Moon's least favorite crimes. But there was supposed to be a shipment tonight, and she was wholly prepared to break into a warehouse to fight about 20 men if it meant she prevented at least one kid from going down that path.

With the moon full, and belt loaded with weapons and tools, the Moon departed from her hide out to deliver some justice. And far beneath the persona of the vigilante, Henrietta smiled.

(Hello! im taking a baby break from Not Quite the Right Shade, if i see a Twilight Saga movie there's an 90% chance ill continue it. But since im on a Batman kick, went in a writing run and completed four chapters of this, So! lets see where this goes. comments give me life!)