The rain came down in heavy sheets. The two officers were soaked, and had to constantly brush the water out of their eyes as they gazed at their...suspect. The man was on his knees, bound to a tombstone with heavy chains. His shirt was gone, showing the deep cuts that were still oozing blood that washed down his chest and collected on the ground in red pools. They took turns punching him. Good Cop Punches that would make Dirty Harry proud. One of the officers occasionally gave the suspect more lacerations with a straight blade.
Across a sea of death stones, Snow stood in the unkempt tallgrass next to a white marbled tombstone, in the shadows. He wore a manta ray hat that--bonus--was water proof. Rain ran off the floppy wings in little streams.
Snow turned his head and smiled. Atop the gravestone was a bird. A big, black, dark, scary looking bird: a Crow. The crow cocked its head and blinked. Snow held his fist out, and the crow pounded it with one of its feet.
Together, they both turned their attention back to the torture.
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