It was a proud day for Red Ringo, Greatest of Vampire Hunters and Heir to the Solar Gun, the Gun del Sol.
As he sat in his fine home on North Avenue in San Miguel, the City of the Sun, his thoughts did not look in pride to the fact that he'd built this house, this rocking chair, and assisted in the building of more than half the town itself. His pride did not spring from the fact that the only reason the town was even around was for his efforts to keep the Undead at bay.
No, Ringo's pride flowed from a far more sacred source. This pride came from that fact that, minutes ago, his wife's contractions had ceased and the midwife had taken the child away for cleaning.
This pride came from the fact that, mere minutes ago Ringo had become a father.
A smile crept across his face as he closed his eyes and breathed deep the scent of new life. His son, the new Solar Child, the Heir to the very gun attached to his belt…
Around the room, one might say paced Ringo's friend and master, Otenko, the physical manifestation of the Sun. Right now; Otenko was feeling his friend's pride and joy and participated as well.
The door on the other side of the well-furnished room creaked open. Brought in was Mani, Ringo's wife who, after the long labor period, was glowing with such joy that it seemed she could do it all again if she had to.
Through the door also came Lauran, the midwife, carrying a small bundle in her hands.
Ringo walked slowly, in awe, to her. Finally he stopped before her and held out his arms. She gently deposited the softly wailing bundle into his outstretched hands and quickly backed away, fearing to break this sacred moment.
He wiped the tears of happiness from his eyes and looked downward to see the face of his son…
He gasped suddenly, the color draining from his face, his eyes going wide, and his knees giving way.
Otenko floated quickly over to his friend and peered into the bundle himself, wondering what had so frightened his apprentice. He sucked in a breath.
"Those eyes!" he hissed.
"Crimson…" Ringo whispered through bloodless lips.
Indeed they were. Blood red eyes, sharply contrasting with the newborn's pasty white skin. Faint purple fuzz covered the boy's head like down.
Otenko's brow furrowed, thinking of what his may portend. Ringo, on the other hand, tried to shake it off, laughed, and bounded over to his wife to show her their son.
Indeed, Otenko was troubled; but Ringo was not. True, he had felt the touch of darkness when he looked into the child's eyes, but it was nothing.
For Ringo was young; and the young know that they will live forever.