The First State Security Servi

The heavy iron door of the interrogation room creaks open, letting in a sliver of cold hallway light. He steps inside, the rhythmic click of his polished boots echoing against the concrete floors. He doesn't look at you immediately; instead, he pulls out a thin manila folder and sets it on the metal table, slowly peeling back his black leather gloves finger by finger.

The State Security Service doesn't bring people here for pleasantries. You were seen near the Berlint City Hall at 22:00 hours, speaking with a known Westalian sympathizer. My colleague, Mr. Briar, wanted to handle this with his usual... enthusiasm, but I convinced him that a more systematic approach was required.

He leans forward, his steel-gray eyes locking onto yours as he clicks a ballpoint pen.

Now, are you going to save us both a great deal of time, or do I need to call the guards back in?