.

.

.

Dottore

"I'll ask you again."

Whack!

"What else do you know about Tartaglia?"

It had only been thirty minutes of pain when it felt like an eternal nightmare. When you didn't answer his inquiries, you got a punch or a kick in the face as a consequence. Maybe even his wooden bat on occasion.

You

"I told... Tarta... Tartali-who?..."

Dottore

"Tsk... Did I use the wrong drug on you?... Or maybe it was just a drug in general? I could've sworn I knew which one to use on you."

You

"Tartag... Is a singer!"

Dottore

"Shut up."

He kicked you again.

You

"Ow... But you told!... Me to... Tell you..."

Dottore

"Yeah, I told you to tell me something useful. Now, I'm ordering you to shut your mouth. That means that you should stop talking unless you like the taste of the point of my shoe kicking at your mouth every time you piss me off."

You

"No, no... No, I don't... I don't like that."

Dottore

"Oh my Archons- Just tell me something useful already, will you?"

You

"Neveeerrr!"

He struck you three times with the same fist, packing more power into the last one.

You

"Eugh..."

Dottore

*Sigh* "Maybe drugging you wasn't the best idea... And this is supposed to last for another few hours."

A thought occurred to Dottore. He walked out of the room, but you were too busy thinking about unicorns and rainbows while intoxicated to notice. When he returned, he was holding a blanket - a specific blanket.

Dottore sat back down in his chair as you lifted your bleeding face to gaze at him.

Dottore

"You recognize this blanket, right?"

He was holding the blanket you'd been sleeping with, the dark crimson one that smelled like Scaramouche even after it was washed.

You nodded rapidly, making the blood pour down your face even quicker.

Dottore

"I know, I know, you love sleeping with this blanket. You're like a little kid who can't sleep with their favourite stuffed animal and their mini blanky, aww, so adorable..."

You squinted at Dottore, puzzled as to why he was so blue. He began to turn yellow after a few seconds.

You

"Why are you blue... And then yellow..."

Dottore

"Relax, it's just the drugs."

You

"The drugs?..."

Dottore

"Yes, Y/N, you're high on drugs right now."

You

"I am high... Hi... Hiii!..."

You tried giggling while waving, but your hand was bound and a dagger had already pierced it. It hurt like hell, but your blood shone like a rainbow in your eyes, so it was more hypnotic than frightening.

Dottore jumped up from his chair and smacked you with his knee, gravely injuring your cheek beneath your right eye. You stopped grinning and yelped. That definitely left a bruise, albeit an ugly one.

Dottore

"Tell me something about Tartaglia. Something useful, valuable, important. If you do, then you get to use this beautiful blanket, yeah?... Even if you get your nasty blood on it."

You

"Tartaglia... Tried to kill the glowing one... The yellow one."

Dottore

"The glowing one?... Good, Y/N. Now tell me more."

You

"Tartaglia is going to grow old... And die. Just like you! Heehee!"

Dottore

"Now that's where you're wrong, Y/N. I am over 100 years old because I am not human, whereas Childe will someday die as he is human."

You

"His delusion..."

Dottore

"Go on, Y/N."

You

"He does not have much time left."

Dottore

"..."

"Very good, Y/N. Here's your reward."

He unchained you and flung the blanket over your face, spreading blood all over it. You were laughing hysterically and started cackling at some point, and you were laughing at nothing. The drugs had a bad impact on you; all your wounds opened up and the bruises became worse. 

There was no way you could stand up, even with the assistance of Dottore, who would roughly drag you to the other room, but he didn't bother this time. He talked with a couple of the other harbingers about how you're usually so obstinate when it comes to torture. 

Even if you've been severely abused, you never say anything. Dottore believes the secret is to drug you endlessly and entice you with pointless things in return for knowledge, such as Scaramouche's blanket.

Two days that seemed to go on forever, with drugs and weapons striking you here and there. Your limbs not broken, but critically wounded. Even though your pulse was racing faster than ever, you already felt dead.

It's been more than a week, 15 days have passed within your entire stay at the headquarters. Part of you was relieved that the Inazuman troops hadn't located you yet, and part of you wished they'd appear out of nowhere to stop Dottore from carrying out his heinous plan.

You were hungry. You needed food. You hadn't eaten in days, and you were convinced that you'd die of hunger before you died of shock. The only thing you ingested were painkillers, which Dottore forced you to eat when you wouldn't stop whining about the agony as he sought to sleep. 

The painkillers didn't even work; they simply made your stomach hurt, making everything worse. It was never a good idea to consume medication on an empty stomach in the first place. 

He wouldn't even let you take the tablet with water; you had to swallow it dry. At least the agony didn't last all day; after all, Dottore needed some rest.

You

"Ouch... Dottore..."

Dottore

"... Tch... Do you ever shut up? I'm not even torturing you right now, what are you complaining about?"

Dottore was sitting on the ground with his arms folded and his back against the wall, and he had fallen asleep in that position somehow. You were curled up in a ball on the floor, draped in Scaramouche's now-bloody blanket. 

You'd begin to plead or call Scaramouche's name at times, desperate for him to return. Dottore never expected you to say this out loud, but you utter anything that comes to mind while high on drugs.

Dottore

"Here, it's a different brand."

He tossed a pill bottle up and down in his hand before flinging it directly at your face. The cover of the bottle popped out instantly, and all the painkillers scattered on the floor. You were much too feeble to reach out for them when they scattered all around you, but you weren't going to take them anyhow. 

You'd endured countless stomach aches and had no clue when they'd stop.

You

"Water... Water..."

Dottore

"How many times do I have to tell you? You're not getting any water. You'll get it in another 2 days. I thought you already had water last night, didn't you?"

You

"Barely... Water..."

Dottore

"Stop complaining. I'm trying to sleep here, listening to you cry yourself to sleep is enough... Wait, you don't even sleep. Whoops, guess I forgot."

Dottore stood up, stretched his limbs, and grabbed Scaramouche's blanket, yanking it off you and tossing it to the other side of the cell. You were eager to get it back; it was the closest thing to comfort you had, and you reached out for it with your aching arm. 

Dottore grabbed that arm and twisted it around without hesitation, hoping to teach you a lesson. But, knowing how persistent you are, Dottore knew he'd have to go much further to shut you up.

You cried and screamed loud, a high-pitched ring blaring in both your and Dottore's ears. Dottore backed away from you, covering his ears in annoyance, as you wailed on the floor, grasping your hurt arm. 

That was the worst he'd ever done to you in the past two days, and you had no clue what he had in store for you for the next few days. Your eyes were puffy from all the tears and punches to the face, and your throat burnt as you cried louder and louder. 

You couldn't stop yourself.