4. Fountaining blood

Back in the elevator, Amy announced, "I will accompany you. Just in case you freak out and fuck everything up," Look, an actual joke. "Also you will need weapons. I know a person who can help."
Goodie. Amy's person turned out to be jive-talking African American guy who called himself G.

He was dressed like a wannabe gangster but his old GMC truck was filled with the kind of hardware you'd expect to see in the hands of the US Marine Corps. Hoo-ra!

"What's crackin' bitches?" G. said in apparent greeting.

"What'll be crackin' is your head if you keep jerking me around," I snapped. Do vamps get PMS, I wondered.

"Yo, there ain't no need for that, sista. I's just saying what up, a'ight?"
"Sure, whatever. I understand you have some...illegal firearms for sale?"
"Now I am offended! There ain't nothing illegal 'bout my firearms. The constitution says it's a right to bear arms!"

Eventually we got down to business. I wasn't quite sure what to expect from the target, a Gangrel called George Perry, so I bought myself an M3 tactical shotgun with a capacity of 8 shells and a Kevlar vest that kinda-sorta fit under my jacket. I already had the knife and .45 Amy had given me but I decided to buy some more mags for the pistol.

"Say, you wouldn't happen to know a guy called George Perry by chance?" I asked. A guy like this had to have heard something, I thought.

"That crazy motherfucker? Lemme tell you sumthin, that cracker owes me for twenty grams of blow! I heard he hangin' out over at the warehouses down by the pier."

"Well, I'm looking for him and if I find him, I'll bring what he owes you."

Amy and I got back to the car. I checked my watch. It was past twelve. Dawn wasn't for another five and half hours. I figured that was plenty of time to at least do some preliminary legwork. We headed to the pier, Highway to Hell playing on the radio. The warehouse district was a haven for homeless people who pushed their rusty shopping trolleys piled high with their possessions along the side of the road. We sat in the car for a while, the radio off and observed things. Aside from the homeless folks, there didn't seem to be much activity. Then we sighted a figure in the distance dragging something that looked quite a bit like a young woman after him.

My but this fellow was bold, wasn't he?
"That's our guy, I'm betting."
"Could be," Amy replied. "Either way, that girl won't be joining the others."

We got out and headed towards the pair. Faintly I could hear the girl screaming. The man answered in a voice that was more animalistic grunt, "Shut up, you little whore!"

I gripped the M3 tightly and racked the slide, loading a shell into it. lt made an impressive metallic clicking sound.

The distinctive sound of a shotgun being pumped carried over to the man and woman. She twisted in his grip and screamed for help. The man, a heavily muscled guy slapped her. Her head whipped around and she fell heavily to the ground.

Beside me, Amy had her gun out in a two handed grip and fired. The blast was a lot louder than it sounds in the movies. The bullet hit the guy in the head, snapping it back. He merely straightened up and walked slowly towards us, the bullet hole beginning to close up. Oh damn. Behind him the girl rose unsteadily to her feet and ran to the dubious safety of a warehouse building.

I shouldered the M3 and fired. The blast caught him full in the chest, shredding his shirt and knocking him backward. I worked the slide and fired again, moving closer. He staggered back a little more. Beside me Amy kept firing until her mag was empty. He jerked slightly with each impact. As she reloaded, I fired again. Five shots left. Claws suddenly sprouted from his hands and he ran at us. I blasted him again but he kept coming.

"Fuck this for a joke," I said and shot him point blank in the face. He still wouldn't go down. He grabbed me with his clawed hands, lifted me into the air and threw me. I sailed through the air and saw, in slow motion, Amy burning another clip into him. Then she was on the ground with clawed hands at her throat.

I landed heavily on the ground and managed to roll upright. The shotgun clattered next to me. Instead I reached for the knife, got to my feet and sprinted to Amy. By this time she was dangling in the air and her face was contorted. Her hands were gripping the Gangrel's wrist but she might as well have been trying to move a steel girder.

I slipped up behind him and rammed the blade into the side of his neck. A gout of high pressure blood shot out. He growled and dropped Amy. She immediately sprang back up and yanked the blade out then rammed it in again.

Finally, with arterial blood fountaining in all directions, the vamp fell and went still. I unholstered the .45 and pumped a round into his forehead for good measure.

"Please tell me he's dead," I looked at Amy. Her clothing was torn and claws had marked her throat. Behind me the body combusted into flame and nothing was left by a pile of ash vaguely shaped like a man.

I rolled my head around and felt my neck bones crackling.

"He is dead. We should see to his intended victim."
"Oh yeah, like the sight of a couple of torn up gun toting chicks is really going to ease her mind."

I walked back to where I had landed and retrieved the shotgun. I absently reloaded the spent shells. In the distance I could police sirens. For a wonder, a law abiding citizen had heard the gunshots and called the local constabulary.

Closer, I could hear the frantic beating of a very scared young woman's heart. I walked to the warehouse door and looked in. The girl was crouched in the corner farthest from the entrance shaking like a leaf.

"Hey, it's OK, he can't hurt you anymore." I tried to reassure her.

She saw the gun in my hands and cried out again. I placed it carefully on the floor and held my empty hands up. It didn't seem to help much.

"Who...who are you?"
"Not important. Look the cops are coming and they'll be able to look after you." I checked my watch. "I really need to get out of here." The sirens were getting closer. If I didn't get out of here right the fuck now, I'd be stuck in a police interview room when the sun came up. Which would be very bad, indeed.

The girl rose and ran to me, her fear apparently forgotten. She hugged me forcefully. "Thank you, he would have killed me for sure."
Eventually I prised her off me and walked her outside. Amy was waiting by the car. "Will you be OK on your own?"
"I'll be fine. Thank you again."

We got back to the Impala and hit the road just as the first police cruiser pulled up.

I looked to Amy, the claw marks had mostly healed by now. "Did I pass?"
She merely smiled at me, put the Impala into gear and we roared off into the night.

The End.