Interrogator (Rick Sanchez x Reader)

.four.

Drip! Drip! Drip! The sound was driving you insane, but you couldn't stop it. In fact, you couldn't move. You were tied in a chair, unable to move, see or cry for help. You were completely at the mercy of your captors. 

Thump! Your chair had been knocked over, and, conveniently enough, knocked loose enough for you to slip out of your bonds. 

"You idiot, get her up!" A harsh male voice hissed, but it was too late. 

The next thing you heard were sirens. Sirens and talking and flashing of cameras. You were the story of the decade, a 16-year-old kidnapped and hidden away for three months, only kept alive as a toy after her captors were informed no one had the money for ransom. And who would? $1, 500, 000? Who would have that money in such a town as yours? 

You managed to stutter out a few sentences about who these men were and what they did to you, only for one of them to go inside and come out again a moment later to report that all four of them were dead. Brutally slaughtered with a knife. A knife that you had been holding when the EMS and police showed up. 

So many psychiatric evaluations. They were tiring. Boring. Depressing. You hadn't been able to see your parents yet. And you wouldn't be able to see them until you were deemed safe and not a threat to yourself or others. 

The first thing your mother did when she saw you was cry. She thought her baby girl was gone forever. Never to be seen by any other eyes in this world again.

And then it started over again. The inability to breathe, passing out, being tied to a chair and forced to tell your parents you'd been kidnapped and would be dead in 72 hours if someone didn't pay up the $1.5 mil. And then everything they did to you in the meantime. The words they used, the way they touched you, the way you couldn't fight back...

•  •  •

You were awaken by a loud explosion outside. You shot up from your bed, in a cold sweat. What was that dream? You struggled to remember your dream but gave up. You'd been having these dreams since you moved here two weeks ago.

By now you established that you were an Interrogator to the underground cliques and had been receiving texts from the Mob boss himself. Of course, you'd never seen him, nor he you, but you had a mutual respect for each other. 

You looked at your phone on its charger and saw you had an unopened notification. A text from the Boss, no doubt.

'Good morning, Interrogator. Hope you had a pleasant sleep. I have a job for you.'

Straight and to the point. You liked that about him. You gave a small smirk as you answered. 

'I'll be there in 20.'

You threw together your bag with your bandannas, your wig for the day, and stuffing your burgundy hoodie, already wearing your black gloves. 

There was no time to make a quick breakfast, you promised The Boss you'd be there in 20 minutes. So of course you didn't notice that your neighbour (who you actually heard about around town, you learned that his name was Rick and he was a scientist or something) was staring you down as he held a broom, sweeping up an exploded machine.