Enraged

“So, they say you’re a real vampire huh?” Again, Rage was supremely bored. Humans were fun to play with and tasted marvelous, but they could get very monotonous very quickly. This man, Garret, was supposedly a master vampire hunter, although it was unlikely he had ever caught a real one before. He had probably picked up numerous people harboring a simple fascination for blood, nothing more. No human being could ever be smart or sneaky enough to capture a real vampire. Rage was being punished. He had smarted off to one of the Vampire Sire’s, and he was forced to let himself be captured by a human. He was mortified and filled with an anger so profound, it was frightening. The only way to keep a vampire bound was with silver, and even those bonds could be broken with time and ware. Rage was simply biding his time. When he did escape, which wouldn’t be too far in the future, Rage planned on finding that skinny waif, after destroying every human who had been involved with his capture of course, and then draining every ounce of blood from that bony body. Someone smacked him across the face, but he barely felt it. Rage wasn’t too worried about torture; any injury that happened to a vampire would be healed within a day. That was one of the quirks of being undead. As for the pain, Rage’s former master had cured him of his fear of pain by years and years of practice. Causing pain, receiving it, there’s wasn’t much a vampire was afraid of, except the occasional wooden dagger and all.

“Are you even listening to me?” Rage yawned. Garret had walked in to the room, deciphering whether or not this was a real one, or he would have to pretend again. His funding would be cut off if he didn’t produce some results every now and then. He retrieved a small cross from his pocket and held it to the vampire’s face. Rage unconsciously turned away. All his wounds would heal, but the sting of holiness lasted longer than the others. Garret smirked and placed the metal on Rage’s forearm, holding it in place with his thumb. Rage narrowed his eyes slightly and bunched up his nose as he smelled his flesh burning. Crosses, holy water, bibles, they all were supposed to scourge the evil from the world, they certainly would peal flesh off a vampire. Garret was getting excited; he could have found a real one. The silver around Rage’s wrists was beginning to weaken. He could feel it and waited for his chance to spring. That prick with the cross would go first. He ran his tongue over his teeth and his stomach churned, begging for something to eat.

“Bring me the chip. He’s going to be the first.” Words didn’t make any sense to Rage, who didn’t care about chips. Garrett drew a chair up and sat down in front of the vampire. Someone brought him a small device which resembled the control panel of a remote control. A scalpel in one hand, the chip in the other, Garret leaned close to Rage’s stomach and placed the blade against his pale skin.

“You see, what happens is the chip binds with your internal systems, warping them, turning you back into a human, making you just like us.” Rage was still not listening, his mind on his Sires, what he would love to do to them for making him humiliate himself like a lab specimen to these creatures. He only slightly felt the slip of the blade across his skin, but as the wound was pulled apart, making room for the insertion of the chip, Rage winced slightly and glanced down. Garret had his eyes focused on the incision which was now being widened by the chip as it was forced into Rage’s flesh. The vampire growled as the smell of his own blood was picked up by his nose. Oh, he would kill him for this, slowly, painfully. The silver was almost there, just a few more minutes and he would be free. Garret had finished stitching him up and was standing there, along with two other guards, watching Rage as if they expected something to happen. Almost there…almost, yes, there it was. Rage pulled his arms out of the silver and stepped forward. Something was wrong; he felt nauseas, an entirely new sensation to him. The guards were hesitant to replace him in the bindings.

“Don’t be a wus, he’s just like a regular man now.” Garret walked over to the pale man and drove a fist into his stomach. The pain was there, just as Rage expected, but it lasted longer than it should have. Angry, Rage leaped on the man but was terrified when he was thrown backwards against the wall. Gaining courage, the guards landed punch after punch to the man they had been frightened of just moments ago. As Rage felt a rib snap in two from a particularly vicious hit, he realized something had gone horribly wrong with his body. Vampire no more, for the first time in a two hundred and twenty years, Rage was scared.

They were laughing at him now. Jeering at him, saying how stupid they had been, being scared of a spineless little freak like him. He tried to fight back. Vampire or not, Rage was not going down without a fight. He actually landed a few decent punches, but with three full grown men, and Rage built more on the slender side, he really stood no chance. One of them took off his belt and brought it sharply on Rage’s back, close to the spine. He hissed and clenched his fists, determined not to cry out.

“Look at him. He’s pathetic.” The belt continued raining down on his body, the rough edges of the leather cutting into his skin. Garrett was smirking at him, so pleased that his chip actually worked, and the finally found a true vampire to test it on. A hand raised his face from staring at the ground, and Garrett smacked him hard across the cheek, blood beginning to slide from his pale skin. The men were enjoying this, laughing as the vampire hissed in pain. Two of them grabbed him by the wrists and slammed him against the stone wall, driving the side of his face into the roughness.

“You aren’t so tough vampire.” A growl formed in his throat but was quenched when the belt once again came down, this time bruising the flesh on his upper shoulders. He choked back a sob and formed his fists into balls. The other two still gripped his wrists, laughing as Garrett placed a hand on the open wounds of Rage’s back and slammed him against the wall. The pain was manageable; he had dealt with much worse. A pissed off vampire could be three times as cruel as any human, and Rage had angered more than a few of his clan brothers in his time. What was worse than everything else was the feeling of complete helplessness surrounding him. A vampire was the strongest creature on earth, afraid of no one save other vampires. For years, Rage had been used to controlling everything around him. Now he couldn’t even defend himself against humans.