#whump interrogation

They keep composure for the sake of their team. But there are signs.

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"Bring me coffee to my office, please" while they never used to say please before, out of their rank and reputation.

Smoking way more often then before

A tiny little muscle tremble that makes it hard to hold the cutlery. Drops the fork on the floor and instantly picks it up, like nothing happened.

Gives more authority to their assistant to take decisions for them.

During the meeting, they show their assistants some secret hand sign and leave the room. They continue without them.

Used to hate cats/dogs? Now places their hand on the fur of the animal that came and lied down next to them. Well, look at that, isn't that a retired service animal that sensed their distress?

A crying kid sees the first adult they can run to and hugs their waist, crying. Leader instead of instantly ordering to take the kid away, first sighs and awkwardly pets their back. "There, there".

Whumpee doesn’t give an inch, boldly, but not fearlessly.

Whumper invites a trained interrogator in. They know exactly how much the human body can take, they know how far they can push it without killing whumpee and know how to bring them back if they go too far. In short they know how to make whumpee hurt so much more than whumper does.

I ADORE when interrogator characters are condescending and disrespectful, especially in small, casual ways. Like:

Disregarding their basic needs—acting bored or disinterested, or taking their sweet sweet time—when whumpee requests food or water or to use the bathroom. Laughing at them or mocking whumpee when they beg. 

Related: eating or drinking in front of whumpee, after denying them food and water. Intentionally spilling it on whumpee, or wiping their hands off on whumpee when they are finished. 

Pushing whumpee to their breaking point, and acting falsely surprised when it happens. (“I thought you would last longer. I wasn’t expecting you to be so weak.” or “is that all it took? Really?”)

Putting out their cigarettes on whumpee, blowing the smoke in their face. Or forcing whumpee to smoke it when they do not want to. 

Getting way too close to whumpee, intentionally invading their personal space, being unnecessarily touchy/handsy, whispering in their ear. 

Using mean, rude, offensive, or condescending nicknames for whumpee, refusing to pronounce their real name correctly (or insulting it.)

Talking about whumpee and/or all the things they’re planning to do to them, as if they are not in the same room. 

Reading whumpee’s file or records out loud in a mocking manner, with mean commentary about its contents. 

Giving them fake sympathy, or trying to guess whumpee’s trauma. (“Is that why you are the way you are? Oh, you poor thing.”)

But… they don’t have anything to confess, so it will go on until either Whumpee is forced to falsely confess, or until their captor has had enough…

Whumper slammed their hands on the table, and Whumpee flinched.

“Tell me who hired you!” Whumper demanded.

“I—I don’t know…” Whumpee shrank into their chair, avoiding Whumper’s gaze.

Whumper laughed incredulously. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“They never tell me who!” Whumpee’s voice broke. “Please, I’m just paid to do it and leave. They tell me nothing!”

Whumper stood and unfastened the cuff from Whumpee’s right wrist. They lifted whumpee’s hand slowly, turning it over, studying it like it was something delicate.

“You like having working fingers?” Whumper asked calmly.

“Please, don’t—” Whumpee pulled back, but Whumper’s grip tightened.

“I asked you a question.”

“I—yes! Yes!”

Whumper’s fingers clamped around Whumpee’s ring finger and squeezed. The pressure built until the pain was nearly unbearable.

“Wait! Stop! Please!” Whumpee gasped. “I don’t know anything!”

Whumper twisted Whumpee’s finger, and a crack resonated through the room. Whumpee screamed, and Whumper put a hand over Whumpee’s mouth.

“You want me to break another?” Whumper murmured, tilting their head. “No? Then stop wasting my time and tell me who you work for. I’m not asking again.” Whumper released their grip on Whumpee’s face. “Now. The truth. Before I pick a finger you actually like.”

“I told you, I don’t know…” Whumpee sobbbed, hunched over, shoulders shaking. “Please.”

Whumper picked up a Manila folder from the table and slapped Whumpee across the face with it, leaving a bright red mark on Whumpee’s cheek.

“Tell me the truth!” Whumper snarled. “I have proof right in here that you know!”

“It’s lies!” Whumpee cried.

Whumper circled Whumpee’s chair, leafing through the papers and photos inside the folder. “What could possibly be worth enduring all this pain, when honesty would be so much easier? Hmm?”

“They’d kill me…” Whumpee said meekly.

“Oh, Whumpee…” Whumper stopped to stand directly behind Whumpee and put a heavy hand on their shoulder. “Not my problem. And really, what’s the difference if I’m going to kill you first, anyway?” Whumper abruptly tilted Whumpee’s chair back, tipping it over. Whumpee let out a cry as it clattered to the floor, bringing them with it.

“I’ll get my answer. Whether you want me to or not.” Whumper landed one more kick to Whumpee’s stomach before turning and leaving them in the empty room.

(Pt. 1)