It’s all a blur. Thrown into the back of a car, separate from Tanner. Driven to the capital of the empire, hearing the banter of the military, bragging of “how cool they looked '' and how badass of them for them to demolish a door. Forcibly removed from the car, dragged into the building. Stripped, searched, and redressed into prison garb. White top with a blue section, wristband tightly thrown on his wrist, and black pants. Finally, things slow down as he’s sat in an interrogation room alone. Don’t they keep them separated, and alone to “break” the accused? Jokes on them; he’s been alone most his life. He might be bored as fuck, but he’s not a snitch. At least they took the cuffs off. That was…uncharacteristically nice of them. How long will they keep him in there before they bless him with their presence?

“Can you state your name for the record?” Silence. Eden just stares at him. There’s no anger in his look, just boredom. He ended up attempting to remember all 200 medications he was required to memorize way back in college. He’s stuck on the G’s. The detective sighs,
“Ok then.” He writes down something,” I’m sure you’re aware on September 8th, Princess Astrid was abducted in the dead of night. Where were you at that time, if you remember?” Glucagon, an emergency kit for hypogycemia,”Look. We didn’t find Princess Astrid where we raided, and that’s all we’re after. We just want to know how you did so, why and where she is.” Never talk to pigs. Military or cops. They’re all the same. He hopes he told Olympia about that,”I’m…a lot nicer than the others. If need be, I can get the general to do this…and he’s a bit more violent.” Threats now? The officer stands after having no luck with anymore questions,”Fine. We’ll take you to your cell to think if you want to have it the easy way, with me, or the hard way, with General Betchel. It’s your choice.” Yeah, yeah, fuck off. He’s left with himself for a few moments, before being lead down a hall to what he predicts is solitary confinement. Small windows on large, locked doors. It’s eerily quiet, him presuming those who have been here have already broken. Well, this is his karma for sitting on his ass and not helping those in BCFH’s projects - he gets a taste of just a little of what they faced. He’s walked in, and he stands there for a moment as the doors shut with a surprising soft click, then sits. Great. 
He’s alone again. 

Vex silently watches the body black body bag get wheeled into the morgue by a fairly smaller soldier. Thankfully with the many safety procedures mandated, the morgue has been quiet, but the occasional ones still come in - needing to have their stories found out, and deaths solved,
“Wha' do we have.” she adjusts her gloves, the room chilly to keep the bodies from rotting as well as to keep her systems chill.  The soldier is terrified of her, looking away as he clears his throat, unable to even stand just being in her presence,
“ Adult male. Collapsed just an hour ago. The general needs your services completed by the end of the day, Doctor.” She’s used to the fear from others. She is, afterall, the walking embodiment of immortality. At least, that’s the rumors she’s heard around. Arik and Ghala were different…just treated her as anyone else. It’s why she prefers being around them the most.The soldier hands her the file, trembling before saluting and leaving. It’s just her, and him now. She gently unzips the bag, looking at the features. Small…though an adult as the soldier said. Tan, white skin. 
“Wha' happened, hm? wha' story would you like to tell.” Soft blonde hair, beard…brown eyes. Short stature, even for Urantius standards. Rigor and livor mortis has already began, noting the pooling of blood on his chest. Laying face down, were we? Curious. She calls the General using her wristband, removing her normal gloves, replacing them with her autopsy ones,
“This is arik stoyer-betchel. A couldnae tak yer call at this time, currently; A am busy. Please leave yer name, number an reason for callin an A'll get back tae ye as soon as A-” She hangs up and grumbles. Why send a body if you’re not going to give the context required. She shakes her head, pulling over her trolly filled with her equipment, the chrome coverings giving some color to the grey and green room,
“Worry not, john doe. We'll find ou' wha' happened to you. I'll make sure of i'.”  Yes, they cannot hear her. She’s aware of that. It gives her some comfort to talk with them. They’re not terrified of her, nor do they throw insults behind her back. They’re quiet. Too quiet. She clicks some music on with a flick of the wrist- Ah. Early emo punk bands. Her favorite. 

Eden stands, as requested of the other soldiers before the general steps in, and nods as the others salute. He’s not military, but fuck it. His legs were feeling weird anyway.
“At ease.” He commands, the soldiers watching him carefully. Eden just stares at the General. He’s never seen him in person. The diagonal X design on his “face” is glowing red as they stare down each other, and he’s fucking tall. Taller than Goss. 
“No speaking, are we? we've already got the evidence we need, doctor caelum, we juist neit her location. The lad thon wis wi ye already spillit aw the information, but e'en he doesnae know.”  He lies, the empire not even having the chance to get anything out the lad,
“Ye're gettin on ma nerves, lad. Tell us where she is.” His voice is sharp. Eden shrugs, and he’s  thrown to the ground from the force of the General’s punch and hits the floor with a heavy thud, going unconscious. Betchel immediately pauses. Fuck. He was just trying to get his attention, and to have him finally fucking respond but forgot his own strength…
Hopefully he didn’t just kill him.