Interrogation Methods (BtVS/'Allo, 'Allo)
Title: Interrogation Methods
FFA pairing: Drusilla/Herr Flick
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, places, etc. mentioned in the fic. They all belong to people far richer and more productive than me.
A/N: This is my first attempt at writing FFAs. I'm experimenting a bit with shorter stories. Reviews welcome and highly appreciated.
Herr Flick frowned. Or he would have, had he been inclined to any changes of expression. This specimen was proving quite resilient to his questioning.
“Enough of these games! You will reveal the location of the knockwurst sausage! You have been seen carousing with the Resistance, what do you know of their plans?” he said, stiffly coming up face to face with the chained, blood spattered, dark haired woman. She merely laughed, a crazy gleam in her eyes.
“They shattered so prettily. The stars screamed in protest. Tap, tap, tapping, splash their blood went,” she giggled, then abruptly sobered, “Where is my Spike?”
“Silence! It is I who is doing the questioning, not you!”
His ire was cut short at the glare she shot at him. She was staring at him with a dark and intense gaze. Herr Flick felt the slightest flicker of unease pass through him. Now that he thought about it, it was strange that she had been so unaffected by all of his best interrogation methods. She had not even flinched when he had played upon his Diabolical Organ; instead, she had hummed along. If he had not known that she was in league with the Resistance, that fact would have been something to admire.
“Where is my sausage, woman?”
“You won’t find the fallen Madonna, little stone,” she hissed, “The party was fun and we all danced. Screams and bones breaking. Laughter in the dust.” Herr Flick stiffly took one step backwards, the grip on his cane tightening. This strange woman was beginning to unnerve him, not that he could let such a thing show, being a member of the Gestapo.
“The others screamed. I wonder…” Suddenly Herr Flick was pushed up against the dungeon wall, the woman’s hand in a vice-like grip around his throat. How had she gotten free from her chains so quickly? Her nails dug in; little trickles of blood flowing from the wounds. Okay, now he was worried.
“Will you scream? I so do like it when they scream,” she said, a slow smile spreading across her face.
“Unhand me at once! I am Flick of the Gestapo! I will have you shot for such insubordination!”
“Enough!” she growled and he found himself staring at a face straight from his nightmares. Her glowing golden eyes held him captivated with fear.
“Now,” she purred as her face smoothed over into her beautiful visage once again, “Miss Edith tells me you’ve been a very naughty boy.”