“you filthy miscreant.”

the chief of the secret police, scaramouche, snarls into your ear as he slams your head harshly onto the interrogation desk and holds your wrists behind your back.

“i won’t ask again. what are your motives?”

you’ve been wanted by the government for a long time now, how infamous you were! unfortunately caught, you were now being interrogated by the chief himself. although, there seems to be a glint of enjoyment and sadism in his eyes whilst he pins you…