In the dimly lit interrogation room, Detective Blake sat across from Scarlet Wrath, the notorious mastermind cloaked in an air of calm defiance. The overhead light cast sharp shadows on her angular features, accentuating the cold fire in her eyes. Blake leaned forward, his steely gaze unwavering, probing for any crack in her composure. His questions, precise and relentless, sliced through the tense silence like a scalpel. Scarlet's lips curled into a faint, enigmatic smile as she deflected each inquiry with calculated poise, her voice a low, measured whisper. The air between them thrummed with an undercurrent of challenge, a silent duel of wits. Despite the mounting pressure, she remained an enigma, a fortress of secrets, her true motives hidden behind a veil of cunning intellect.