𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐢𝐫|| 𝗴𝗮𝗹𝗲 𝗰𝗹𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 𝘅 𝘆/𝗻 𝗹/𝗻

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 - 𝐄𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐑𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧...

Majors l/n and Cleven were the last pair anyone thought would be the first to fall. Their beloved ship, once the pride of the squadron, now rested at the bottom of the ocean of love, a grim proof of the unpredictable whims of life and death. The aftermath of loss weighed heavily on their souls, a relentless burden that shadowed every mission. The ghosts of their fallen comrades lingered in the cockpit, the paucity a constant memorial of the delicacy of breathing. As planes erupted in flames and friends perished in the infernos, it tore at the fabric of their sanity. 

Some sought solace in the bottom of a bottle, drowning their rues in alcohol. Others channeled their grief into fury, fighting with a newfound ferocity on the battlefield. And then there were those who pursued fleeting distractions, seeking comfort in the arms of strangers, or rather, the legs, as their thoughts momentarily diverted from the pain that awaited them back home. They took any chance they got to forget, and y/n l/n was no exception to this downward spiral, and found her own unique way of coping: blasting U-boats into oblivion — it was her catharsis, her release from the suffocating grip of grief. 

And while her foolhardy persistence may have led her into perilous situations, she held onto a fierce sense of pride knowing that she was exacting vengeance on the very entity that had stolen her beloved. She had discovered a semblance of purpose in her unquenchable thirst for justice... And she wasn't planning on stopping until either she, or the Nazis themselves would drop dead. "Sind wir schon da?" (Are we there yet?) She asked impatiently, her back protesting the cramped confines of the carriage after several hours of confinement. "Eigentlich sind wir schon vor langer Zeit in Rüsselsheim angekommen." (We actually arrived in Rüsselsheim a long time ago.) He replied casually. 

"Aber das ist nicht der ort, an dem die Terror Flyers sind... Das bedeutet, dass wir den rest unserer reise zu fuß zurücklegen müssen." (But that's not where the Terror Flyers are... Which means we have to walk the rest of our journey.) He added a minute later, coming to a stop and getting out. "Du musst versprechen, vorsichtig zu sein, junge Dame. Wer weiß, wozu diese tiere fähig sind?" (You must promise to be careful, young lady. Who knows what these animals are capable of?) He then grumbled, helping her out. "Ja, ja... Ich kenne" (Yeah, yeah... I know.) She rolled her eyes, stretching her stiff body, biting her tongue to keep her mouth shut and not furiously defend her men. 'The only animal here is that lard, goofy-ass mustachioed bastard.' 

At the opposite end of town, John Egan's train jolted to a halt, the German guards engaged in a hushed discussion about the fate of their captives. With the commotion providing cover, Bucky took the opportunity to acquaint himself with his fellow hostages. "Where are you from?" The raven inquired of the man slumped before him, his foot mangled and drenched in blood. "381st." Came the response from the brunette, his voice weary but resolute. "We fly together." He added, nodding towards a figure seated behind. "And you?" He asked, a note of caution creeping into his tone as he sought to confirm the  Major's allegiance. "100th..."

"When we get a chance, you think you can run on that ankle?" John mused, casting a concerned glance at the prisoner's injuries. "I don't think so," the man sighed, his expression reflecting the grim reality of his condition. Before he could elaborate further, a particularly irritable guard silenced them with a sharp reprimand, his watchful gaze leaving no room for further discussion. Desperate to interrogate about the rumored female fighter, Bucky was forced into silence, biding his time until they reached their destination minutes later. 

As the guards roughly shoved them out of the vehicle, they were met with a blast of hot, dusty breeze, thick with the acrid scent of smoke and gunpowder residue hanging heavy in the stifling atmosphere. With each step into the desolate landscape, the darkness and despair seemed to deepen, enveloping them in a suffocating shroud of agony. Fires raged unchecked, casting flickering shadows that danced upon the scorched earth, while the air reverberated with the haunting cries of women and the hysterical sobs of children. Everywhere they turned, they were confronted with scenes of unimaginable suffering.