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

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 - 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐚𝐫...

"Here's to your misery; may it never end." She mumbled to herself, her tone bitter as she raised her glass for a toast. "I didn't quite catch that." The man leaned in closer, genuinely puzzled by her words. "I said here's mud in your eye." She repeated, feigning innocence. "I don't know that one." Wagner remarked, his curiosity piqued. "Here's um, mud in your eye." He toasted amiably, despite the unfamiliarity. Taking a sip each, they both set their glasses down, ready to delve into the serious matter at hand. "So, where shall we begin?" Lieutenant Wagner straightened his posture, drawing in a sigh as he prepared for the interrogation ahead. 

"How about that ridiculous picture on the wall?" y/n scoffed, glancing at the photo with utter abhor. "Is that his bad side, or does he always look like a rotten gargoyle?" She mocked der Führer, unable to resist the temptation to ridicule his ugly appearance, a reflection she believed of the ugliness within. Her disdain for the dictator was palpable, quite evident in her scornful tone and cutting retorts "Let's start with your journey to Dulag Luft..." Began the interrogator, only to be swiftly interjected by the y/h/c, who steered the conversation away. "Or how about every single American got shot down in the town we were in before we got to Frankfurt?" 

Redirecting the topic, avoiding the initial line of questioning, y/n's strategic shift hinted at a reluctance to divulge certain details to protect others and conceal her own involvement. "Oh my goodness- What town?" Questioned the brunette, genuinely concerned for the lives lost. "Rüsselsheim." She replied flatly, her tone devoid of emotion. "That's tragic! I will add that to the report." He murmured, fetching a pen and notepad to document the information. Despite his duty to conduct the interrogation, the gravity of the situation wasn't lost on him, and he recognized the significance of the loss, and more so the retaliation that might come along.

"Your colleagues, the ones who were killed, if you give me their names and rank, I can pass it on to--" Wagner started, but the girl quickly cut him off, admitting that she had no knowledge of their identities. "Just happened to be put together." She frowned, a realization dawning upon her. She understood that her response was exactly what the man wanted to hear — an acknowledgment that she wasn't captured by the police, but instead, was undercover the entire time. "Look, I really appreciate the drink, and would like a thicker blanket too, but as far as what you're gonna get for me... It's gonna be my name, rank and serial number, as per protocol."

"Yours is O-699611." Mused the brunette, glaring dead into her eyes. . "I already know everything I need to know about you, Bremen Bomber." He added with a sweet smile. "You were born in y/o/l, moved to Casper, Wyoming when you were no more than 10 years of age, and enlisted in the Air Force when you were only 18; that makes you the first and only woman in a field dominated by men, especially in times like these." He revealed, laying bare her personal history. "Other than that, are you married? Hmm... from what I heard, definitely not. Not after the little incident on 8th." He smirked, implying knowledge of her relationship with Gale Cleven.

"Squadron: 351st, occasionally assisting the 418th; Group: the 100th Bomber Group — H for Heavy, headquartered at Thorpe Abbotts." Lieutenant Wagner recited, each detail landing like a heavy blow, leaving the y/h/c's face pale with astonishment. This enemy interrogator possessed more intimate information about her than even her own aircrewmen did, unsettling her with the depth of his insight into her life and military service. "Do you have a passion for baseball, Major?" He inquired, his tone carrying a hint of curiosity. "Or perhaps, like your assumed... dare I say, boyfriend... sports aren't quite your cup of tea?"

"Certainly, that's not a national secret — your proximity to Major Buck Cleven." He chuckled deliberately. "You two grew up together, yes?" He cocked up a brow, leaning back in his seat with a smug expression. Silence hung heavy in the air. "Cigarette?" The brunette then offered politely, lighting one for himself first. "Sorry they're not as good as your American brands." He sighed apologetically, handing her one after she nodded softly. "Lucky Strike is my personal preference." He told her, attempting to establish a casual rapport amidst the tense atmosphere of interrogation. "Do you miss him? Buck Cleven." He questioned bluntly, his eyes fixed intently on her, searching for any flicker of emotion in her response. "No? Yes?" He pressed.