Shadowclash - The Awakening

S. White and E.A. Pope



Place: Stockholm, Sweden, Europa Complex
Date: March 4, 2063
Time: 9:26 P.M.



Throbbing spikes of pain radiated through his stomach and abdomen. The intensity made him stop and hang onto the wall of the alley. Three hours ago the pain had been a dull throb deep in the pit of his stomach, easily ignored with a few shot glasses of whiskey. Slowly, the throb had become abdominal cramps that came at ever shortening intervals. The transition from Hunger to Starvation was a process Vyper was all too familiar with during his century and a half of life. He lived on the edge, always waiting until it was absolutely imperative that he find blood for his survival. His cycle, established at puberty, had once been four days. An injury nearly sixty years ago had reduced it to three days, by midnight, or the Starvation would begin. The situation was compounded by his adherence to his parents' teachings-the Code of Consideration. He did not take Blood from a Human instead he traded or paid for it. Death had walked close at hand for most of his adult life. Tonight would have been no different from a thousand other nights in the past. It was his habit to visit those men and women of the night who sold their sex. It was easy to obtain blood from them and leave them with money and a memory of a short tryst. But then he had heard a scream echoing up from the entrance to the Tunnelbana, Stockholm's subway system. Though he had only been in the area for three months, he recognized the woman's voice and his conscience would not allow him to walk on. He had investigated, interfered, and now was suffering the consequences of delaying his needs for survival. The pain was escalating beyond his tolerance; his hyper senses and reflexes were degrading; and he was on the run for his life. He didn't know which would kill him first, the Starvation or the three Autumnwolf gangers chasing him.

His head was dizzy as he sprinted into the street. Behind him came shouts as his pursuers were after him again. Even weakened by his need, Vyper could still run faster than the three gangers. He was a fleet shadow that flickered down the narrow streets. Time was running out. The moon was nearly at zenith. Midnight was nearly at hand and without blood Vyper would not survive for much longer. He needed refuge. Ahead, a dead hulk of a building loomed in the crumbling section near the wharf of Lilla Varten, a bay in the northern quadrant of the city. Vyper made for the welcoming darkness of the derelict structure. He took to the stairwell, nearly floating over rotten stairs. A spasm tore at his intestines, clawing its way up his spine. The gangers would hear if he cried out but despite his cultivated tolerance, he screamed as his muscles knotted in the brutal grip of a convulsion. He pressed hard against the wall, his heart pounding in his ears, unable even to breathe until the flaming fist in his guts abruptly released.

A Human could not conceive of the torture that was Vampyric Starvation. A Human could starve to death in thirty days or less, whereas for an Ebonwing, all that agony was compressed into a mere three hours. In Vyper's long life, he had found very few among Humanity that would sympathize with this quick, agonizing death, even if they could believe in his existence at all. In this century, the Vampyr were myth and legend from a less informed time, good for stories and video flicks. This was a far easier time for the survival and movement of his Kind. And, starting in the late Twentieth Century, there had begun a cult among Humanity for the Vampyr mystique. So using the disguise of a 'vampire', he could move through society with more ease than his ancestors, who had, along with 'witches' in the Middle Ages, been targets for genocide. Discovery by Humans was still a very real danger, there were still Hunters dedicated to the
destruction of his Race. He had eluded such in Gateborg and escaped on the monorail to Stockholm three months ago. Now three gangers knew and believed in his existence and were hot on his heels, both for the trophy he would make and for his interference in their pastime of rape and murder in the Tunnelbana.

Despite everything about the situation, he did not regret his actions. He could not have stood by while these creatures raped and murdered the young woman Avalon; a sweeter prospect to them since she was associated with one of a rival gang called the Snowlions. He had admired the Snowlions. Unlike other gangs he had seen, their structure was like a surrogate family for its members and they defended their territory more like a police force since the police rarely
patrolled this area of town. They made the area safe and so he had tarried here. Then it had happened, that damnable predilection of his Race called Attraction-to the gang's Second, a young man calling himself Thunder. To be near the young man, he had settled into an apartment within the gang's territory. However he had not had the nerve to contact the man. He feared rejection. He feared violence. It had happened before in his life. So, he had forced himself to be content with the observation of the young man and his gang. That was how he recognized the voice of Avalon, she was the lady of another Snowlion called Whirlwind. Vyper could not let such a thing happen to her and the gang war that would result. He went to defend her and send her out of harm's way on a subway tram. His mask of Humanity had fallen when he saw her in their hands
and the red glare had leaped into his eyes. He had revealed his true nature and the three Autumnwolves had risen to the challenge he presented.