Or lethal injection, or swing from a rope if you dare!? Ah, nobody knows, ALL THE TROUBLE I'VE SEEN!

At first it was only blackness. A blackness that seemed to stretch out forever, an eerie shadow that surrounded him completely. He couldn't feel, touch, or hear anything; or see, in fact. It was as if he were drifting, but it wasn't drifting, it was something else, a feeling he couldn't describe.

Then, something silver flashed out in front of his eyes for a millisecond, before disappearing into the darkness again. After that, everything started turning bloody red. Pain, excruciating agony, tore through his body like it did from the gunshot…

He felt awfully thirsty for something; it was a feeling he'd never had before. An intense desire, an absolute need for some mysterious thing that he, at first, could not identify. The inexplicable "something" felt as if it were vital; it was such a severely burning sensation, as if without whatever he required, he couldn't survive.

Unconsciously, he winced as an injection needle was quickly pulled out from his body. Inside, it felt as if someone had shot lip-gloss through his veins, contaminating his bloodstream with something disgusting and alien. Whatever the injection, it was coursing through his body like a boat drifting down a fast-flowing stream.

His skin began turning pale as a ghost, and two of his beautiful white teeth started morphing into sharp fangs, digging into his lower lips… He smelled something… A sweet aroma that seemed to tug at him with tremendous might.

In that disturbing, never-ending redness, he realized what he strongly... passionately… bitingly desired…

Blood.

He wanted blood. Blood. Gallons of the stuff.

A pair of eyelids fluttered open, revealing two crimson eyes, hungrily staring up at the bright, white lights flashing down from the ceiling.

For the first few seconds of his wakening, all he did was blink in confusion. Then, everything was a bloodstained blur. His thirst was too strong to be controlled or ignored; he had to, no, he must drink, it was essential. An unfamiliar, frenzied brain commanded him to feed on the scent of the delicious red liquid that surrounded every corner of the room.

Oblivious to his behavior and completely letting his hysterically ravenous senses guide him, he suddenly jerked up from his lying position, and leapt down from the uncomfortable metal bed. Inside his throat was a fiery, scorching pain that blazed like a wildfire, unceasingly screaming at him to feed. Everything was spinning around and he had no way to stop it, and though he somehow managed to see a few indistinct blurs, everything was still in a shade of lovely crimson.

He could dimly hear a few screeches of fear, and saw a few body-resembling blobs fall to the ground in what he assumed was shock. However, his judgement was clouded by the loud, growling pleas of his stomach. With the inferno inside his throat now violently raging, he blindly hurdled himself onto an unlucky Draculoid, seizing him firmly by the shoulders. His brain roared "BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOD!" at him, and his direct nature took hold…

It all happened in alarmingly quick yet fuzzy flashes.

With the fire burning at a catastrophic extent, he feverishly sank his two vampire fangs into the helpless, seemingly shrieking (seemingly, as he could hear pretty much nothing but a noisy ringing in his ears) Draculoid. Then, he quivered in fascination, adoring the honey-like liquid that hit his tongue.

As its internal fear defeated the drugs overflowing in its veins, the Draculoid panicked for a moment, trying to push Poison away. Poison only tightened his grip on the Draculoid's shoulders, sucking harder and harder, desperate to quench his thirst. Slowly but surely, relief and satisfaction flowed into him as the wonderful taste of blood filled his mouth and slipped down his throat…

The emotionless Draculoids simply stood there, waiting for commands from their master. None of them bent down to help the dying Draculoid; in fact, none of them were even trying to run away. They simply stood there, surrounding the predator and the prey in a large circle, holding their weapons in their hands, waiting for orders to be announced through the intercom.

Slurping by the mouthful while keeping an unbelievable pace, Poison was quite pleased with the taste of his victim's blood. His surroundings were completely disregarded, as he was too hungry to even have the slightest bit of logic. When his victim ran dry of the vital fluid, Poison gave one last gulp and shoved it to the ground, deeming the dead body useless. He briefly saw a BL/ind poster on the wall, but the sight was completely ignored by his rewired and famished brain. For a short while, his craving died down, and he gasped for air.

However, his desperate yearning soon returned, and standing up only about a minute after he had gone for the first Draculoid, Poison peered around, frantic for more. Stray dots of blood were sprayed across his face, and down from his two fangs flowed streams of liquid, which he instantly used his blood-stained tongue to lick. There was a shitload of blood smeared on his dirty jeans, and his gloves (as well as his formerly blue jacket) were tainted with the terrifying, hell-like red. With the once more ablaze inferno stronger than ever, he pinned down another Draculoid to the ground, slapped its gun out of its hand, and began his feast once more.

The unarmed Draculoid aimlessly flailed around and pointlessly screamed for help, until Poison silenced him by sucking the last drops of blood out from its body.

On the second floor and safe behind a thick glass panel, Korse stared down at the sickening scene in the laboratory, snickering in a bitter delight.

"Sir, it seems that the venom is effective. The lab rat is turning vampire," the almost-robotic voice of a Draculoid gave Korse an unnecessary report from behind.

Korse swiftly turned around to face the Draculoid. Without hesitation, he demanded, "Terminate him."