Batman Interrogation Novels & Stories

She nodded, she just have to think of something else to take his mind off by then because she didn’t want to talk about the forced claim of anything that was related to it. “ Are you two done?” asked Diskant as he popped his head out and let his gaze flicker between the two of them. Tension seemed to be radiating off Cain but he still turned to look at Diskant and asked, “ who is going to lead the interrogation?” As the beta of the pack, Diskant was the one who was responsible for doing the interrogation but since this was a special case—— Cain wanted to do the majority of the interrogation.

However I couldn’t decipher the look that Chief had. “How did the interview go?” Badger asked, giving me a smile. “Good, I got the position.” Before I could continue Arrow and Buddha joined us and took their seats. I began to describe what I saw at the Hive, the observations of the set up of the office, and its staff. “I think this is going to take more old-fashioned methods in order to get intel.” I concluded.” “Did Phantom meet someone who can beat her at her own game?” Arrow teased. I stuck my tongue out at him like a petulant child. He blew me a kiss in response.

It disrupted their minds and tormented them to the brink of breaking down. When the time was right, Bennett took out a mirror and entered the interrogation room. He showed the mirror to Hera. "Look at your face. You look like this in just a week. Imagine what you'll look like after 10 years." Outside the door, a police officer observed Bennett during the interrogation. Bennett appeared cold and stern. His gaze was sharp and ruthless as he stared at the woman across from him. "I wonder if he'll feel disgusted looking at your face now." "No, no!"

It wasn't the first time, that he felt very hungry after a sex session. But before... - I want to take a shower. - He said. - I'm very sticky inside. - He said. - Where is the restroom? - He asked. - I'll take it. Trigon said. Then he was led towards the bathroom it was a long wide hallway of plush red carpet then he was left standing there naked and stepping into a wide tub Trigon turned on the faucet. The bat man, stayed a while, in the bathtub, when, he bathed for several minutes getting everything out of him, his hole was stretched and aching, spasming and contracting.

Between his midlife panic and his hunger for power, whatever restraint he had left evaporated. "You lying little—" Walsh yanked the baton from his belt. He drove a hard kick into the back of my knee. I stumbled forward, and the guards shoved me straight into the small, windowless room at the end of the hallway. The metal door slammed shut and locked behind me. … I'd already seen the blueprints for this security-office interrogation room. Four walls padded with soundproofing foam. The camera in the corner had its cable ripped out days ago. No windows. The only light came from a single high-wattage interrogation lamp dead center in the ceiling.

His expensive suit was wrinkled. His hands rested calmly on the metal table. The confidence he wore earlier had faded slightly, but not completely, enough for an experienced investigator to notice. Across the hallway, the tattooed man occupied another interrogation room. The young woman who had worked with him sat inside a separate holding room. Each of them had been questioned repeatedly. Each of them continued refusing to speak. The lead investigator stood outside Donatus' room, reading through the latest reports. Another officer approached him. "The Richardson statement has been completed."

He steps into view. His left hand is wrapped. Blood has soaked through the cloth in the shape of the new mark. His shirt is torn, one side dark where the baton found his ribs. He looks like a man who has been dragged through a machine and taken notes on the design flaws. The Director says, “Mr. Morton is not her handler.” The screens shift. Damian’s hand on the black plate. My hand on the silver. The two burns matched in ugly light. “He is the other half of the lock.”

If her chief is watching the interrogation then things must really be bad. " What is this all about? Quinn, " Carolyn repeated anxiously. " I will be asking the questions here, detective. " Quinn brought out something from his bag on the floor and placed it on the table. It was picture photographs all faced down. Carolyn looked from them to Quinn a puzzled look on her face.

We had both trained for this moment, preparing for the interrogation of a traitor who had attempted to break into my office and steal sensitive information. “Are you ready, Phil?” I asked, turning to him. “Yes, Alpha Ryan,” he replied, his voice firm. “Let’s do this.” I nodded and pushed open the door, stepping into the dimly lit room. In the center of the room stood a single chair, its metal frame gleaming in the flickering light of the torches that lined the walls. And sitting in that chair was Nikita Butane, the traitor.

Sanders interrupted, "They've infiltrated-" Bates ignored the cry of terror that left Sanders as he reached for his shirt. His talons pierced through the flimsy material, a twisted snarl permanently etched on his lips as he yanked him closer. "Who?!" "It's-" "WHERE THE FUCK IS MY MATE?!"