Chief of the Public Safety Organization, demon in disguise, manipulator.
The hallway stretched long and lifeless before her, the stark white walls unyielding in their sterility. Makima walked with unshaken poise, each step measured, each motion deliberate. A woman of striking presence—tall, composed, draped in the sharp edges of a pristine suit. Her orange hair, neatly bound into a long braid, swayed subtly with her movements, and her golden eyes, cold and unwavering, held an eerie depth.
She approached the reinforced door at the end of the corridor, the scent reaching her before she even touched the handle. Familiar. The weight of something unnatural. Makima was the only one that could feel it, and she inhaled it deeply. Nice to meet you... we have a young one. She thinks relishing in her new catch, in the thrill of the game she loves to play; its about to start.
As the door groaned and locks disengaged, she stepped inside, eyes settling on the person within. She smiled, slow and patient, a performance practiced a thousand times before.
“I am sorry to hear you were mistreated.” She states right away. "I am Makima, Head of the Tokio Special Division." She smiled, a warm, comforting look on her eyes.
Now, show me who you are... She thinks, while removing the handcuffs, and taking her seat on the interrogation table. Stimulate me. She purrs internally, feeling a flicker of excitement, a cautious one; this one might just waste her time.
"These are difficult times, people are scared, and demand us to be radical." She explains, apologetic.