The bring siren jolted Sera from the shallow sleep she'd managed to find on the thin mattress. Captivity had taught her to rest with one eye open, but nothing had prepared her for the piercing wall of sound that now filled the dormitory.

  The distinctive three-tone arm pattern cut through the darkness at precisely 2:42 AM. It wasn't the standard wake-up call that normally dragged the captives to their daily routines at 5:30. This was something else entirely.

  "Protocol Nexus, all personnel to stations," a mechanical voice announced over the speakers. "Protocol Nexus, all personnel to stations."

  Around her, chaos erupted. Veteran captives leapt from their beds with practiced efficiency while newer arrivals huddled in confusion. The tangible wave of fear that swept through the room told Sera everything she needed to know.

  "What's happening?" whispered a young woman who'd arrived just yesterday, her eyes wide with terror.

  "Count's inspection," replied an older man whose gaunt face bore the marks of multiple blood extractions. His voice trembled slightly despite his attempt at casualness. "Doesn't happen often. When it does, people disappear."

  Perfect. Nothing like an early morning heart attack courtesy of vampire aristocracy. Already part of the "try not to get eaten" breakfast club. Wonder if there's a loyalty program—survive ten inspections, get upgraded from "walking blood bag" to "walking blood bag with privileges."

  The dormitory door smmed open as Maya, the human overseer for their section, burst in. Her normally composed face was pale with stress, her clipboard clutched so tightly her knuckles had turned white.

  "The Count is inspecting! Twenty minutes to prepare! Move!"

  Beyond Maya, the corridors had transformed into streams of frantic activity. Security staff in bck uniforms created choke points at every intersection, their postures more aggressive than usual. Through an adjacent doorway, Sera glimpsed Administrator Wilson, the facility's highest-ranking human, frantically reviewing digital tablets with his subordinates. Medical teams rushed past, arms full of portable scanners and assessment equipment, while cleaning crews deployed industrial sanitizing equipment in the main presentation hall.

  "All department heads verify operational compliance immediately!" Wilson's voice carried down the hall, attempting corporate confidence while visibly sweating. "Resource presentation must be optimal! Any specimens showing substandard appearance will reflect directly on department evaluations!"

  Wilson's sweating enough to hydrate a small vilge. Interesting—vampires can smell fear, so he's practically wearing a "eat me first" sign. Not tactical, but definitely entertaining. Focus, Sera. Count security patterns first, comedy routine second.

  A harsh whistle cut through the commotion as the captives were herded toward the emergency cleansing stations. The routine was clearly established: shower stations with precisely calibrated water temperature—lukewarm, never hot—and strictly timed ninety-second cleansing cycles. The unscented soap had a chemical undertone that made Sera's skin crawl as she scrubbed herself with methodical efficiency.

  Fresh gray uniforms with cssification bands in various colors appeared on shelves as they exited the showers. Sera quickly pulled on the standard-issue clothing, noting the veteran captives' practiced movements.

  "Neck exposed, eyes down, speak only when asked," whispered the gaunt man who'd spoken earlier, not looking directly at her as he adjusted his uniform.

  Eliza, who'd been assigned as Sera's guide since her arrival, demonstrated the proper stance—shoulders back, chin slightly lifted to expose the neck, hands rexed at sides.

  "He likes when we look scared but not hysterical," she murmured, positioning herself beside Sera. "Manageable fear, like we're marinating in it. Don't fidget. Don't speak unless he addresses you directly. And whatever happens, don't react to the culling."

  Great. Nothing says "good morning" like synchronized panic and the smell of fear-sweat. Hunter training covered a lot, but somehow missed "proper showering etiquette for vampire breakfast buffets." File that under career development opportunities if I survive this circus.

  Medical staff moved through the lines conducting rapid health assessments, pulling aside anyone with visible illness or injuries. Sera noticed their particurly thorough examination of female captives of reproductive age, making clinical notes on tablets with quick, practiced movements.

  As they were marched toward the presentation hall, Sera's trained mind cataloged everything she observed. This wasn't her first exposure to a vampire inspection, though previously she'd watched from ventition shafts during infiltration missions. The patterns were familiar—the security protocols, the personnel positioning, the practiced terror of the captives.

  Standard security protocols doubling during inspection. Predictable. Three cameras with blind spots near the east corner. Staff communication follows a pattern—three-minute intervals for status updates. Could be useful ter. If there is a ter. Command would have a field day with this intel, assuming I don't end up as someone's breakfast special.

  Internal conflict warred within her: the hunter's instinct to gather intelligence battled against the survival need to remain unremarkable. Each observation could prove valuable for future escape or resistance, yet drawing attention now would be fatal.

  The presentation hall opened before them—a vast space with gleaming floors and sterile white walls. Captives were arranged by cssification, their color-coded bands creating a visual organization system that would allow the Count to easily identify each resource category. Sera deliberately positioned herself in the middle-left section of the formation, calcuting the optimal angle for observation while remaining inconspicuous.

  "Feet shoulder-width apart, arms straight, neck exposed," instructed a staff member, moving through the lines making minor adjustments to captives' postures.

  "Don't make eye contact unless he speaks directly to you," the veteran captive beside her murmured, eyes fixed on the floor.

  Staff took positions at regur intervals throughout the formation, tablets ready for notation. The background sounds of final preparation filled the hall—air purifiers increasing output, subtle musical tones signaling staff positioning. Minutes passed in perfect stillness, the tension building with each second.

  Middle of the line, not too far back, not too far forward. The "please don't notice me" sweet spot. Hunter Basics 101: Best pce to observe is where nobody's looking. Though I usually had weapons and an extraction pn, not this stylish gray sack they call a uniform.

  The room fell into absolute silence. Even breathing seemed to quiet as the double doors at the far end of the hall opened with a soft hydraulic hiss. The Count had arrived.