Nasya's POV
The sterile white lights of the detention facility flickered overhead as I stared at the officer's identification badge. "What happened to him?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper yet echoing sharply in the narrow corridor. My fingers trembled slightly as I focused on the alphanumeric code etched into her nameplate - A0011 - the numbers gleaming dully against the black polymer surface of her tactical vest.
Officer A0011 holstered her sidearm with the practiced ease of someone who had performed this action thousands of times. The weapon slid into its custom leather sheath with a soft click that seemed absurdly mundane considering she had just terminated a living creature moments before. She turned back toward me, her expression an impenetrable mask of professional detachment, though I noticed a slight tightening around her eyes that betrayed deeper concern.
