Batman Interrogation Romane & Geschichten

“Now, you didn’t say he called in the morning. But you said he called twice yesterday. And the bat you used is your father’s right. You found out about your sick mother, you can’t afford the hospital bill, and you also have bills to pay. You are angry at the world and so you take it out on your ass cheating ex from anger. You destroyed his apartment and in the process used the bat on him. Went to a club, did your hooker job, and forgot about the fact that you killed someone because your life is shitty.” “No, no that is not right… I didn’t kill Jace!” I slammed the table. My mother was lying in the hospital about to die and my sister’s college money was gone. I couldn’t be locked up over that

"Detective Leyton just wants to ask you some questions." "Questions?" I repeat back like a parrot, my heart racing. "About what exactly?" "On September 15th last year, you caught the 418 bus home from Brixton Campus, is that correct?" Detective Leyton begins his interrogation, not wasting any time with small talk, just getting straight to it. My chest tightens when I realise he's interviewing me about Pia, which means he must be following up on the lead Andy gave him yesterday. "I did?" I ask him, unable to remember what I had for breakfast yesterday, let alone what bus I caught home last year.

His lips trembled, and he could not speak. Ariana lay on the ground, confused. “Arthur Quinn? Who is he? I have never heard of him.” She truly had not heard of him. A person who never watched the news and spent her time scrolling through short videos and shopping livestreams had no idea who Arthur Quinn was. The interrogator beside her knew everything. He stood frozen, his legs trembling, and the color drained from his face. He remembered the order he had given. “Disassemble and inspect the temperature‑controlled container.”

I'm dragged outside, my feet scraping against the concrete floor while he walks before me. Producing a baton from his waistband, he places the end under my chin and hoists my face up, his eyes glazing. “You are such a pretty woman. I’d hate to see this beautiful face of yours get destroyed because of a lie. If you tell me who is behind you, your punishment will be lessened.” Resisting the urge to curse, my hands clench tightly. “I am not a spy.” “You’re still lying,” he huffs. “Fine, let’s take another approach. Who gave you the lock combination?”

Damon walked over. “Master Goldmann.” Nolan whispered something in his ear, and Damon went into the interrogation room and talked to the police officer. The police officer nodded and looked at the man. “It doesn’t matter now, even if you don’t want to talk because someone has already identified you.” The man refused to believe it. “That’s impossible!” The police officer took the tablet from Damon’s hand and placed it right in front of the man. “Does this man look familiar to you?”

-The scene from the interrogation room: A great effort by Detective Mohammed. A dim yellow light hangs from a single lamp in the ceiling, casting intermittent shadows on the pale walls. The air is heavy, and silence hangs over the room like a taut thread about to snap. Behind a wide wooden desk, Detective Mohammed sits, a pen between his fingers, his eyes fixed on the papers scattered before him. A wall clock ticks with a monotonous rhythm, adding to the tension of the moment.

If I did Cedric would still be alive at this very moment, and we’d be in bed hugging and squeezing each other to sleep. They place me on a chair inside an investigation room, the room is dingy and smelly, mold filling the walls as you’d be sure to die from inhaling toxins before they kill you. Guard Hamill is the one who usually does the interrogation, he sat on the other side of me with the big brown rule book of our mansion.

Patrick's driver sat in a chair, his hands and feet cuffed. "Introduce yourself." Amelia pulled out a chair and sat facing him. "Burton Waterton." The driver's voice was low. "If you want me to betray Mr. Noone, forget it." Amelia's voice was cold: "Burton, right? Telling me what you know isn't betrayal." Burton clenched his hands: "I have nothing to say. Besides, this is a private interrogation. Nothing here will count as evidence." "Oh." Amelia tapped her phone rhythmically on the table. "Is it possible I have the authority? Even if I beat you up here, no one will speak up for you."

Her bloodshot eyes seemed like they were about to bleed. After that, she called an unsaved number and interrogated coldly, “I’ve asked you to investigate Xyla Quest’s husband, Stanley Batton’s appearance, have you done it or not? Does he look the same as the Stanley Batton in the photo I’ve sent you?”

The figure made her jump; she tucked it back in and shifted it away from her. The door hissed open again and this time two detectives stepped in— one slender and young with a kind of stumble that fitted awkwardly on his chin,the other built like a desk.They took adjourning seats opposite her as she watched them without saying a word.The older man flicked his badge, then rested his elbows on his knees. “Sorry to bother you but we’re just doing our jobs. For the sake of this interrogation, I am Barnes and this is Martin.” She remained silent.