Spiritual Paradox (standard:fantasy, 721 words) [1/2] show all parts
Author: Virtual Adept	Updated: Oct 21 2000	Views/Reads: 3816/3	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
The rumored Seeker of Gaia Vampire Clan begins making itself known. Based on Vampire: The Masquerade and original clan creations by Virtual Adept.

Spiritual Paradox 

By: Virtual Adept (I wrote this story before I did some serious growing
up about 2 years ago. I thought I might submit the first half and see 
how it did.) 

“I swore I wouldn’t let myself be coerced into another one of these
damned all night stakeouts.” Sgt. Wilcox slumped forward, letting her 
head hit the firm rubber steering wheel. For a moment, she considered 
leaving to go home to her more desirable waterbed. But she couldn’t. 
She had promised to take this detail, although now she couldn’t recall 
why. It was in the middle of one of those “Why would you be there?” 
parts of town where there were more rats than people.  She lifted her 
head from the wheel and once again scanned the area. The glowing 
digital clock on her stereo caught her attention. 

"Only Nine o’clock? Jesus H. Christ....” She mumbled to herself. Sgt.
Wilcox took another quick scan of the street with her binoculars before 
popping in one of the last CDs she had. Then, it happened. She wasn’t 
sure WHAT had happened, but something did and at about fifty miles per 
hour down the sidewalk. It was in a hurry, she gathered by watching the 
flurry of old newspapers and discarded refuse left in the wake. Wilcox 
decided to leave the van, despite all common sense. Before venturing 
out of the vehicle, she double-checked her sidearm. 

She quietly opened the door, and slid off the seat closing the door in
the same manner. This was a truly sorry part of town. Only the angrily 
scribbled graffiti provided any color on the old, derelict brick 
buildings and apartment complexes.  The only lights were either the 
stars or the trashcan fires lit by homeless vagrants in hopes of 
regaining some warmth. Sirens sounded in the distance, probably 
responding to another punk kid knocking over a Gandhi-Mart. The overall 
sorrow of the area was almost denser than the air itself. A small 
breeze of cool air sent shivers down her spine, and she folded the 
collar of her jacket up. Just as she was about to look around the 
corner, another speeding object came over the rise in the street, and 
was hurtling directly toward her. It was a man, and a very fast one at 
that. All she caught was his trailing white trench coat as he sped past 
her, on foot. Wilcox started to follow, when a gunshot rang out. The 
second speeding man stopped and jerked back. Her first instinct was to 
go and try to help when his body fell, but what she saw next changed 
her mind. 

The man only stopped, he didn’t fall into a pool of blood. Now partially
facing her, the man showed no emotion as the particularly well-aimed 
gunshot wound in his left shoulder blade emitted a bright white light, 
and then vanished! The man turned, and slid a long saber from a sheath 
on his belt. 

“Hey!” She cried out. “You can’t be carrying that around!”	She hollered
at the stranger. A hail of gunfire rang out in the street, and the man 
was struck with at least a half a dozen bullets. “Get down!” He 
hollered, seemingly unfazed by the assault. Every wound instantly began 
glowing as the injuries once again vanished. He surveyed the area, and 
saw that the attacker was crouched behind a rusted out Chevy Impala 
across the way. The man effortlessly leaped into the air, about fifty 
feet or so, and landed behind the car. Wilcox heard a scream and then 
the unmistakable sound of steel cleaving flesh. Despite the instinctual 
fear, this was all to interesting to just walk away from. She 
hesitatingly began running toward the car. She crouched down in front 
of the vehicle, and peered around the corner. The stranger was holding 
a severed head, which strangely had a fanged mouth. A strange tattoo, 
like an inverted anarchy symbol was sloppily emblazoned across the left 
side of the face. Below the head, lay a giant pile of bloody ash. 

“You, killed that.. what... the hell was that? I’m calling this in!” She
pulled a Motorola radio from her inside breast pocket. The man replaced 
his sword, and looked down at Wilcox. She looked up at the stranger’s 
blank white, glowing eyes and fangs and promptly fainted. 


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