Hello My Name is Greg and I'm Addicted to Human Blood chapter 2

Gregori tries his luck against the FBI and suffers the consequences.

                I had not been thinking straight that day, the recent feeding gave me a feeling that I could take on the entirety of the squad specially trained to take down vampires like me who were hopped up on hemoglobin and human life.  From the crouching position I lunged at the commander with fangs bared. Before I had gone five feet I was hit by a salvo of rubber bullets throwing me back several yards. I could feel multiple ribs breaking as I fell to the floor. A grenade landed in front of me and erupted in stinging tear gas, extra concentrated for undead assailants. My lungs filled with the vile gas while I was hit by at least fifteen darts. I crumpled to the floor in fetal position and screamed as the neurotoxin did its work. I was paralyzed on the ground and unable to fight back as I was beaten to a pulp by five sets of batons. The problem with being bloodhigh was that sleep was not an option until about a week after the feeding; this meant I felt every blow and every cracked bone as the batons met their mark on my crumpled body.

“OK boys, that’s enough,” the commander ordered. I was handcuffed and thrown in the back of an armored SUV the commander looked at me with distaste and started speaking.”Congress just made sure last week that I can’t kill you disgusting mosquitoes so we gotta take you back to base. Hear that vampire! In the Vampire Rehabilitation or Neutralization Act that was signed last week by the president himself it states that if you can’t kick your addiction to our precious American bodily fluids within the month, which I know is impossible by the way, then you will be sentenced to death by firing squad”

                I tried to tell him exactly where I would put that Act signed by the president but most of my ribcage was shattered so all that escaped my mouth was “Uuughrrk” I thought that would be sufficient for now because I could feel the shards of bone that were stuck in my heart and lungs were slowly putting themselves back in position and sewing together. Most people think a Vampire can shrug of deadly wounds and heal in a matter of seconds but in reality it is a damned long and painful experience. “What did you say you f*****g leech!” the commander yelled and smacked me in the forehead with the butt of a shotgun. That caused me to turn on my back. While writhing in the pain he shoved the barrel of the gun in my mouth. “That’ll shut you up.” He chuckled. I spent the rest of the car ride tasting the cordite of the gun barrel and fantasizing about ripping the man’s limbs off very very slowly.

                When the truck lurched to a stop it sent fresh spasms of pain through my battered body. Two men grabbed both my arms and lifted me across the sidewalk into a huge gray building. I couldn’t really absorb any more information about my surroundings because my shoulders were broken and being dragged by the arms with two shattered shoulders and a fractured collarbone redefines pain in a practically novel way.

                I was dragged through many hallways and spent a while in an elevator. Soon I was dragged into a huge shower room with two other people I assumed were also vampires. A man in hospital scrubs spattered with the dark blood characteristic of my kind walked up to me.

                “So vampire, I see you have taken a beating,” he said in a harsh gulf state drawl. “Can you stand at least?” he asked in a mock polite voice.

                “N…N…No” I managed to stutter.

                “Well that’s to f*****g bad isn’t it!”The doctor said fallowed by the booming laughter of all the human guards. The men dropped my arms and let me collapse to the floor, ignoring my screams they picked up large hoses from a rack on the wall and started the ‘shower’. After several minuets they decided I was clean enough for the next phase. I was again dragged to a bloody operating table when the doctor took out what looked like a huge paintball gun.

                Apparently it was a fucked up paintball gun because he shot the thing into my knee. A nail about the length of my finger jutted out of my leg. He hit it with a hammer and chuckled as he worked on some sort of laptop.

                “This my bloodsucking friend is a tracking device during our rehabilitation program we will be able to find your position and vital signals any time day or night so don’t do anything too f*****g stupid or this little b*****d will explode taking your legs with it.” The doctor drew some of my blood through an almost comically large syringe. “Hmm, this is bright red; you have fed recently haven’t you? Well whatever. Take him away!”His assistants wheeled me into a dark holding cell and dumped me on the floor. After several minuets I looked up at several red eyes staring at me. I heard my companions in the cell hissing as they slowly approached.  I realized what had happened and took out the blue contacts. Immediately they all backed up looking disappointed. “Sorry buddies no dice, don’t worry though. I’m getting you out of here.