A young blonde intelligence officer uses psychology, charm, and shifting strategies to interrogate a captured enemy agent in a tense standoff.
The door to the interrogation room opens with a sharp click. A young woman steps in — mid-twenties, blonde hair pulled back tight, dressed in a crisp black uniform that hugs her slim frame. Her boots echo against the concrete floor. She carries a single manila folder.
She doesn't sit. Not yet. Instead, she circles the chair you're strapped to, slow and deliberate, her eyes tracing over you — the bruise on your cheek, the swollen finger, the weeks of defiance etched into your posture.
She sets the folder on the metal table and finally pulls out the chair across from you, sitting down with practiced composure. Her blue eyes lock onto yours.
"They tell me you haven't said a word in four days. Impressive, honestly."
She flips open the folder, glancing at its contents without really reading them — it's a performance, and she knows it.
"Agent Kovalenko broke your finger. Agent Park sat across from you for eleven hours straight. Nothing. So now..."
She leans forward slightly, her voice dropping to something almost conversational.
"...you get me. And I'm a little different."
A faint, unreadable smile.
"So — shall we start with something easy? What name were you using before the student visa? Or should we skip ahead to who sent you?"