"Stop. Do not swing. I will take care of this." Ramin struggled to sit up, obviously a little dazed.

"I will take care of this woman, she still has some fight left. I love prisoners who resist. Pass me the whip. Let's get started."

Sisk picked up the whip and handed it to Ramin, who stood up and approached Quinn. His gaze was fixed on the helpless ranger, as he shook his arm around, getting the whip to make snake-like patterns on the ground. Slowly, Ramin approached Quinn until they were no more than a few feet away from each other.

"If you're not going to talk, then I guess I have no choice. I have given you an option, and I have clearly received your refusal to cooperate. Now I can safely report to my superior that the information will be safely extracted."

Quinn met Ramin's stare with as much courage she could muster. This time, there would be no escaping the pain.

Ramin's whip slashed the air, violently passing by Quinn's body, missing her by a hair. Ramin's snapped his wrist back, and his whip cracked loudly. This was a standard practice to miss the first one, so that the prisoner will fear the subsequent hits.

Ramin did not miss his second attempt, and his whip cracked just as loudly as his first swing. Quinn howled through her gag, as the whip hit across her thigh the pain was near-unbearable. Her dark blue leather suit did not tear, but she could feel a brand new red mark under her suit.

I can't do this. I can't do this. This hurts. This hurts.

Ramin was not about to stop. His third swing proved just as painful as his second swing. This time, the whip slashed across Quinn's stomach, tearing a gash in her suit. A red mark could be seen.

This hurts! This hurts!

Quinn could not hold back tears, and trembled in between each swing. Ramin was taking pleasure in this. He prepared a fourth swing, and aimed Quinn's stomach again. He connected his swing, and Quinn yelped in pain once more. If it were not for the gag, Quinn may have bit off her tongue trying to condense the pain.

Ramin prepared his fifth swing. Unable to bear another swing at her stomach, Quinn brought her legs as close as possible. Ramin swung, but only connected with her knees. The pain on her stomach dulled a little, replaced by pain on her knees, which was much more bearable. Pain seemed to be the only thing on Quinn's mind, she could not think. She could not remember her pride, her dignity, as a champion and as a Demacian. This was the first time she was subjugated to this pain, it felt quite different on Summoner's Rift. It could be that fighting with honor dulled the pain, but there was no honor in this interrogation. She would have to endure for as long as she can.

The pain on her knees allowed her several seconds to collect herself. She was a champion, she was tough, she was durable, though not impervious to pain. But she was a champion, and champions transcend the limits of normal humans. She has a stable current state of mind, an rapid thought process, and lightning fast decision making. Quinn forced herself to calm down, trying to forget the pain, the humiliation, and remember her mission.

This hurts! But I can't give up. I haven't finished my mission. I will not go back to Demacia empty handed. This is nothing compared to Ezreal's mystic shot, if I can take mystic shot, I can take this man's whip.

This thought gave her a little comfort, and let her remember her combat training. Quinn was built for someone her age, and she trains relentlessly to perfect her skills. Naturally, she would know how to deal with pain in the most efficient manner, to keep her stance and conserve her strength. Quinn started to predict where Ramin would swing, and tightened the muscles in that area. Before, she was scared of the pain, but now pain was just a slight annoyance.

Ramin noticed her change in composure. This was the first time he interrogated a champion, and although he did not expect to extract information so soon, this was proving to be difficult. Ramin continued to swing, but with each blow, Quinn did not seem to notice the pain. This angered Ramin, he felt like he was being mocked. He swung harder, and faster. With each swing, Quinn's leather suit tearing, exposing her bare skin. Little by little, the bits and pieces of her suit fell off, and as more skin was exposed, Ramin sought to whip harder. His task became increasingly difficult when Quinn began to move around, shifting her body to protect her exposed body, and using her legs as shield.

All this time, Sisk watched quietly. Not a bit of emotion showed on the man's face, as Quinn was whipped over and over and over. Sisk had witnessed Ramin go crazy too many times, but Sisk knew better than to interrupt the crazed interrogator during his work. Ramin was a professional, he knew the ins and outs of the human body. However, this was certainly the first time that Sisk and Ramin had encountered a champion.

After a little more than half an hour, Sisk began to notice Ramin's ragged breathing. Ramin's whip was still hitting Quinn, but his blows felt shallow. Compared to his initial swings, Ramin's current swings were lacking in strength. It appears that fatigue had taken over. Ramin was so tired that his last swing completely missed his mark. Quinn on the other hand, looked in better condition than before, as if Ramin's whip had only renewed her confidence.

"Had enough?" Ramin panted. "I'm going to remove your gag, and you can tell everything. Then the whipping will stop, and I'll let you go. Sounds good? Yeah, I bet that sounds good."

Ramin removed Quinn's gagged. The Demacian whispered something, but Ramin didn't hear it, so he leaned in. Quinn took this opportunity to launch her best attempt at imitating Kog'Maw caustic spittle, at Ramin's face. Ramin stumbled backwards, in disgust, and quickly tried to wipe his face with his sleeve.

"Not bad for a Noxian." Quinn retorted. "But I know this boy who's about half my size, a good head shorter, and he hits harder without using his hands. In fact, your swings started to tickle near the end." Quinn gave Ramin an almost innocent smile, as if she was playfully scolding the interrogator.

Ramin was infuriated, he walked up to Quinn, and backhand slapped hard her across the cheeks. Quinn did not seem bothered, she slowly turned her head to face Ramin. Once again, Quinn launched herself and headbutted Ramin. It was at that point that Sisk stood up, and grabbed the bench.

Ramin held up his hand, his nose bleeding. He motioned towards the table, and Sisk put down the bench to retrieve what looked like a syringe. Quinn could not tell the contents of the syringe, but she felt like it wasn't something that was going to help her ease the pain.

Ramin took the syringe, and without any care, shove the syringe into Quinn's arm. The brutality surprised Quinn, and she gave a quick yelp.

Only moments passed and Quinn felt her eyes close. Her strength was leaving, her limbs felt sluggish, and she felt tired. The last thing that she saw was Ramin walking to Sisk and discussing something. She saw Ramin approach her, faintly distinguished his words, before losing consciousness.

"We'll see who gets the last laugh." Ramin whispered with vicious intent.