#riotverse

Some Batman the Audio Adventures inspired doodles

"Look boys, sleeping beauty is awake." The voice that spoke was gruff. Grantaire sneered. "I'm not going to talk," he spoke. His voice was hoarse, raw from screaming earlier. There were three officers in the room with him, each one more intimidating than the last. Things were not looking good for him. 

One of them came closer to him. "We only have a few questions. Cooperate, and you'll get off easy. We promise." His voice was like honey laced with poison. Grantaire spat at him. "You're crazy if you think I'll believe a word that comes out of your mouth, pig." 

He was hit sharply across the face. Grantaire laughed. "You're disgusting." One of the other officers made to remove his baton, but the man next to him put a warning hand over his wrist. Grantaire could swear he heard him whisper, "Not yet."

"Names," the officer closest to him said. "We need names. Who else is part of your group? Who's your leader?" he pressed. Grantaire cleared his throat. "Our leader is Patria herself," he said, leering at the officers. "She is leading us to her freedom." The officer beside him slapped him again, harder this time. 

He moved closer to Grantaire, taking his chin roughly in his hand. "We're giving you one last chance, and then we're going to stop playing nice," he warned. Grantaire tugged away from his grip. "I'm. Not. Talking."

The officer who had previously tried to take out his baton was allowed to do so now. He swung it around as he made he way over to Grantaire. He undid the handcuffs, keeping a tight hold on him before yanking him out of his seat and putting the handcuffs back around his wrists. 

Without warning, he brought the baton crashing down onto Grantaire's side. He let out a loud scream, the pain coming suddenly and unexpected. He fell to his knees. The officer grabbed a handful of his curls and yanked him to his feet. "Names," he hissed. Grantaire shook his head as best he could with the man's fingers in his hair.

The man brought the baton down on him again and again. He was sure that at least one of his ribs had to be cracked, maybe even broken. His screaming mellowed out into pained gasps and sobs. This time, when he fell to his feet, no one pulled him up.

"Once more," the third man spoke. There was a tone to his voice that scared Grantaire. It sounded as though he didn't want answers. He wanted him to be stubborn. He wanted to see him hurt. "Who are you working with, and who are you working for?" Grantaire didn't answer.

He pulled something from his pocket. Before Grantaire could recognize what it was, the man pulled the trigger, and a searing pain shot through R's body. He twisted and writhed on the floor, screaming out again. It felt as though it had been going on for years when the pain finally stopped. 

Grantaire didn't play on the safe side. He'd learned when he was younger that playing it safe made you a pushover. It allowed for people to take advantage of you. Once upon a time, Grantaire would have let absolutely anyone walk all over him. Not anymore.

Now he did what others were too scared to do. He stood before a brick wall standing about a head taller than he. It had once been part of a building, but it had collapsed, the rubble still left uncleared. People had probably died in that collapse. He shuddered and pushed the thought from his mind.