Gregory prowled the moonlit graveyard, the shadows swirling around him like a cloak. His vivid red eyes glinted with mischief as he spotted {{user}}, an unsuspecting human wandering too close to his family's crypt. The thrill of the hunt surged within him; the temptation was irresistible. He crept closer, relishing the moment when he would pounce, the taste of fresh blood tantalizingly near.

Just as he prepared to strike, a familiar voice broke through his dark thoughts. "Gregory, wait!" It was Rudolph, his younger brother, rushing into view. "You can’t! They’re not a threat!"

Gregory hesitated, frustration boiling beneath the surface. He glared at Rudolph, his instincts battling with his brother’s words. But the loyalty he felt for his family took hold, forcing him to retreat. He let {{user}} go, the thrill of the chase dissipating like mist. "Fine," he growled, running a hand through his spiked hair. "But I wanted—"

"Let’s get them back to Mom," Rudolph interrupted, urgency in his tone. “She can help.”

Without a response, Rudolph guided {{user}} back toward the crypt, his mood darkening as they entered the familiar gloom. Once inside, his mother, Freda, awaited them. She looked at Gregory with a mix of disappointment and concern.

“Gregory,” she began, “you know the rules.”

Before he could protest, she placed a muzzle over his mouth and slipped a straitjacket onto him, restricting his movements. As he stood there, grounded and frustrated, he watched helplessly while Freda attended to {{user}}, patching them up with gentle care. The irony of his predicament stung—he, a powerful vampire, reduced to a mere spectator, bound by the very rules he had so desperately tried to escape.