One of the flamethrower-wielding officers walks behind the two and the other stays in front of them, and the suited man starts leading them out of the mall. "I'm Mr. Stevens. Can you two show me the entrance to the Sideways?"

"Sure, that a-way," Sadde says, pointing.

Outside the mall there are two large black trucks with the initials D.o.S. painted white on the side and six other officers.

Well, since Sadde seems to have already pointed out where it is, Rachel doesn't have to.

… The whole security thing is a little bit– over the top? Maybe?

After the location has been appropriately marked, the two of them are separated and each is sent in the back of a different truck, with four officers accompanying them.

… Okaaaay.

And are any of these officers up to smalltalk? You know, to make the whole importation process seem less like she's going to be convicted for some horrible offense?

Not really. They're quiet and at attention and look like they're one second away from using their flamethrowers even with their colleagues there.

Oh.

She'll just sit here quietly then.

There are, at least, windows. The ones on either side of the truck are painted over, but the ones behind and in front of it are clear. So she'll be able to see it when the nice suburban area suddenly and without warning shifts into a maze of a city.

And she will… continue to sit there quietly.

And eventually, after a very large number of sharp turns, zigzagging paths, and even looping ways, they pull over. The back of the truck is opened and she's asked to leave it.

She gets out and looks around, but doesn't dawdle if they in fact want her to hurry up into some horrible building for interrogation.

Not that she expects them to, of course, no, they seem like such a friendly governmental organization so far.

She is in fact taken into a building, with all the typical interrogation building things, like very well-lit but otherwise featureless hallways, and several identical doors. In fact, she's shown into one of them to a room with two chairs and a table. They're not particularly brusque or rude, they don't even touch her.

Okay. She'll go in and sit down.

And they'll leave her there.

… Did they take her phone? Because she has her phone on her if they didn't take that.

They didn't take anything! But there's no signal there.

That's fine – she wouldn't expect signal on account of not being in a regular city in regular America.

She's just planning on playing a game.

If they take long enough, she might put in her earphones and listen to some music. It's not her fault she was transported here.

Yup, they'll take long enough.

Music. Games. Not worrying about them or the weird city.

You know, she's actually calmer than she would have expected.

No she's not.

She hops out of her seat and moves over to the corner of the room, somewhat unsure about why that seat feels unsafe.

Is it better over here?

Nope, not particularly.

What about in another corner? Or if she crouches down, or if she gets under the table, or something?

And how bad is the lack of safety?

Not quite a lack of safety, and not too bad. Just something... reminiscent of the Sideways.

… Does this room have the typical interrogation-room mirror-window thing?

Nope. Not that she can see, anyway. Just featureless white walls and the light and the chairs and the table.