The Enforcer Headquarters loomed against the Drakorian skyline, a stark monolith of black steel and tinted glass that seemed to absorb the morning light rather than reflect it. Cassandra's flying cart settled onto the designated landing pad, the Beaumont Industries logo gleaming on its side.
As she stepped out, her ivory pantsuit caught the breeze, the fabric rippling like liquid silver. The building's automated security system pinged, recognizing her credentials immediately. 'At least father's annual "donations" are good for something,' she thought, striding through the entrance.
The lobby fell silent as she entered, enforcers and civilians alike turning to stare. Cassandra kept her pace measured, heels clicking against the polished floor in a steady rhythm. At the reception desk, she didn't break stride.
"Commander Brock's office," she stated, not a question but a declaration.
