Cannibal, Cannibal

[Ada Wong]

A narrow-eyed man in a crisp, dark blue uniform walked in front of Aello and Ada, his black tactical vest emblazoned with the Empire Peace Division's logo across the back and a pistol-type weapon at his hip, the accompanying baton or stuncuffs nowhere in sight. As her stiletto-blade heels clicked over the EPD precinct's linoleum floors, Ada caught a glimpse of a room lined with long, bright-screened banks of computer monitors, a fair number of surveillance officers standing around and drinking coffee while watching for any signs of suspicious activity in Coruscant’s streets. Metallic desks littered with stark blue holograms took up much of the area's desk space, scenes of homicide and other distasteful bloodshed circulating around the room, some of the images flickering almost too fast for the eye to see.

The building had appeared almost Olympus-like in size from the busy street outside. A pristine, block-lettered sign bearing the EPD's name and logo stood out proudly against the roof, the metal of the sign seeming hardly aged at all, lustrous and silver as the reflections of moving sky traffic sparkled across it-- a fitting hint of extravagance for Tier 1. Inside, staircases and several elevators branched off from the central foyer toward what Ada supposed were the right and left wings, the ventilation ducts making the air crisply chill. Alas, the spy and bio-mechanical girl weren't given the chance to investigate this multitude of pathways further before being hailed by the reception offices nearby, which was also how they had been introduced to their current guide.

Ada also still had that damned duckling with her, the adorable thing resting calmly in her hands as she walked. Which was, well. Something.

She could hardly chuck it into a bin on the street, right?

"This place is loaded," Aello remarked to Ada, not even bothering to whisper despite the faux-conspiratorial way she leaned in. Her teeth flashed in a roguish grin. "Yee-zus, look at those fancy-schmancy blasters everyone's carrying 'round. I bet they've got the real good stuff under lock and key, chica!"

With a sharp, reprimanding scuff of his jungle-grade boots that had both women straightening up quickly, the uniformed man stopped in front of what was, apparently, a very specific door. It didn't appear all that different from any of the other doors, but Ada supposed that didn't exactly matter. At least it wasn't a cell door-- it just wouldn't do to be placed behind bars. Not so soon after arriving, anyway.

"Here we are," their attendant said, a bit gruffly. Brandishing a key card that he had inexplicably produced from somewhere on his person, the officer scanned them in.
 
The door slid open with a soft hiss of compressed air, a rush of coolness wafting around as it was released at last. Drinking the sight of the room in, Ada was not at all surprised to see what looked to be a space designed for interrogation purposes, complete with a severe metal table and three uncomfortable plastic chairs. It was all slate grey flooring and one-way mirrored walls, but the attendant who had brought them to the room didn't seem to even consider locking them in; quite the contrary, for they were both invited to sample the coffee and other refreshments in a break room several doors down. Ada watched the EPD logo on the back of the man's uniform as he retreated down the hallway, her eyes boring into him right up until he disappeared around the corner and from her sight.
 
Aello promptly vanished, presumably to go see about the proffered coffee. The scarlet-clad agent inferred that her companion was likely also taking stock of the EPD’s resources while she was at it, but decided to stay put instead of going looking for trouble. Besides, she had all the information she needed; the EPD was highly organized, secure, and vigilant. Armed soldiers patrolled almost every street corner, security cameras were everywhere, and anything that seemed at least somewhat important to Coruscant’s existence was heavily guarded.

After a minute of scouring the room with a degree of scrutiny that would put most intelligence agents to shame (discovering a number of security cameras and other surveillance tech in the process), Ada slumped into one of the table's chairs with a pained groan, all of her aches and pains coming back up to say hello.

The duckling in her lap peeped, apparently seeking attention from its current parent. Mindlessly, Ada began to stroke the top of its fuzzily yellow head with her fingernails, heedless of the rusty traces of Albert Wesker's blood and torn skin still caked under them. Her head lolled to the side as she contemplated the nearest camera lens staring down at her with bland indifference, skull flaring up in needle-point pain over her temples.

God, did she need a drink.