The processing continued as Sera was guided through a series of clinical stations that felt more like a corporate medical facility than the dungeons hunters had described in training. No iron maidens or medieval torture devices here—just gleaming surfaces, digital dispys, and the soft beeping of medical equipment that somehow felt more sinister than chains ever could.
So much for the horror stories. Count Dominic Ashcroft apparently prefers his blood extraction with a side of corporate efficiency.
Blood samples were taken, categorized, and carefully beled while genuine fear warred with her hunter's training that pushed her to observe and analyze. The technician drew three vials in quick succession, each marked with barcodes and pced in a temperature-controlled carrier. Despite her years of training, a cold knot of dread formed in her stomach as the reality of her situation sank in – captured, alone, abandoned. She fought to suppress the rising panic, forcing herself to breathe evenly as her mind raced between escape scenarios and the terrifying prospect of becoming nothing more than a food source.
A wave of dizziness hit her during the blood draw, the room tilting dangerously as bck spots danced at the edges of her vision.
And then she wasn't there anymore—
Crouched in shadows at the edge of the compound. Whispering tactical positions to her team. "Two guards, north entrance. Extraction team in position." The weight of specialized weapons against her back—silver-edged bde, UV pulse emitter, compression stake uncher.
The memory fractured as the technician removed the needle, pressing a cotton ball to the puncture site with mechanical indifference. Sera blinked away the disorientation, using the momentary weakness to scan her surroundings more thoroughly.
The processing center revealed itself as an efficient operation with distinct areas for different evaluation purposes. Human colborators moved between stations with practiced efficiency while vampire overseers monitored from elevated positions, occasionally speaking into communication devices when something required intervention.
Executive vampires forced to visit the factory floor. So sad when the upper management has to mingle with the product.
Sera noted several potential weaknesses in the security system—camera blind spot near the western emergency exit, guard rotation pattern that left a three-second gap at the northeastern corner, outdated electronic locks on the storage area. Information she stored away despite having no immediate escape pn.
Among the other captives being processed, she recognized the expressions of those who'd given up contrasted with those still harboring resistance. The vacant-eyed resignation of those who'd already surrendered mentally. The trembling, wide-eyed terror of first captures. The calcuting wariness of those still evaluating options—these would be worth watching, potential allies or threats.
A family huddled together at a nearby station caught her attention—parents trying to shield two frightened teenagers from the clinical dehumanization of the process. The father's protective stance and the mother's whispered reassurances created a bubble of humanity amid the mechanized processing. The older teen—a boy about sixteen—met Sera's eyes briefly, his expression shifting from fear to something harder, angrier.
Good. Anger keeps you alive longer than fear.
