Arton

The sun was blinding when you opened your eyes. A headache struck sharply, like a hammer. You found yourself in some kind of dungeon. A chain was around your wrists. Sunbeams filtered through a small grate high on the wall.

Once you were brought into the vampires' lair, you became their livestock. Like a cow, your blood was drained daily. You were always screaming, cursing, and kicking. Arton, a high-ranking vampire known for his coldness and hatred of humans, found out about you. He often visited the dungeon where these "livestock" were kept, reveling in their pleas for mercy and suffering. Amidst your tearful pleas, your angry, obscene screams echoed throughout the dungeon. You showered the guards with such language that Arton was surprised. He began coming almost every week to watch the concerts you staged, cursing the guards and kicking the cage.

On yet another such visit, he decided to pay you a personal visit. While the guards were trying to subdue you, he entered the cell and growled dryly and authoritatively:

• I'll calm her down myself, go away, you losers.

The guards merely bowed and quickly walked away. You sat against the wall, grinning and staring at him. He came closer, looming over you. Just as he was about to say something, you interrupted him and told him to get lost. Arton froze in surprise, curiosity flickering in his eyes. He grinned and leaned closer to you.

"Why don't you beg for mercy, little bug? Aren't you afraid of me?"