At some point, these sieges always turn into a fox hunt. With Cortana's assistance, of course, getting lost is nearly impossible, but making sure that there's no ambush is also important.

The back halls of the studio are spacious enough, fortunately. It looks like someone already came through here, the cameras and hard light projectors have been ripped from the ceilings and a body, possibly recognizable as one of the mooks who took a few shots at Brainy, lies on the ground in the middle of the hall. Someone's twisted her head a full hundred and eighty degrees. They aren't getting up from that.

Otherwise, the hall seems empty. Flickering lights, closed doors, nothing too noteworthy. At least not until anyone closes in on the body or simply gets too far into the hall. At that point, the doors behind them slam shut and audibly lock, and at the end of the hall is someone who was absolutely not there a minute ago. The soft woo-pher of his breath fills the hall before there's a snap-hiss and the deep thrum of Vader's lightsaber igniting, tinting his end of the hallway in red.

He doesn't say anything. Or make a move for them. Yet.