OPEN.
stark against ansan's perpetually slate grey clouds, the ENFORCER DIVISION stands as a staunch reminder of justice and order. order seems to be in short supply today. news reporters continue to swarm the sidewalk well after the debriefing, clamoring for more information. several have already been caught trying to trespass. inside, there is marginal improvement. the waiting area continues to fill up with anxious citizens waiting to fulfill their interview. each new arrival receives a ticketing number, while multiple enforcers drift in and out of the room, calling the next number to be led to one of the interview rooms. "interrogation room," someone coughs on their way out. "they're using the interrogation rooms." they’re promptly escorted from the premises. the air is heavy, uneasy. some chatter between themselves, trading whispers of the rumored killer. their victims. the things they've heard, the things they've seen, this humming of a lullaby that people claim they've heard. but before long, one of the escort enforcers return to fetch the next interviewee, and the intercom crackles to life as the receptionist calls for the NEXT NUMBER, at which the enforcer crosses her arms and scans the crowd expectantly. “step forward, please. your interview will be conducted this way.”