Questions Need Answering (JT/Erik)

[Stephen Colly]

It was just a dream…just a dream…I am going to wake up any second now and be back at the base camp in England… he had tried it a million or so times…always the same. Closing his eyes and then opening them again a few minutes or so later, his vision always blurry with tears.

It was early morning; the boy knew that from listening to the outside noise. His ears picked up the marching of boots, in time. A few birds sung in the trees that he could not see. He was all alone, the room was completely empty apart from a bed that was chained to the wall, the bedding had been used before…it wasn’t hard to figure out…obviously the last occupant had pissed himself in bed…

It had been a terrible night, he had tried to sleep but his dreams had been full of ghastly images – Edward’s face had turned into one of Hitler, and then it had disappeared in a puff of smoke to recreate the café scene…but then it went back to Edward’s face and the circle started again…it was madness…his mind was a complete mess.

It was obvious that he had been crying, if he hadn’t been having that same dream, he had been awake the other amount of time, crying quietly, and then rubbing his eyes so they were red and blood-shot.

But at the minute, he was sitting on the floor of the room, its hard cold surface making his bottom go numb, he had stopped crying, his hands were grasped around his knees, shaking slightly as he stared at the door that hadn’t opened since that last evening. The food that they - yes, he would not ever call the Nazis people ever again - had given him wasn’t much at all – steal bread and hot water….He hadn’t touched it naturally, it was where they had left it…on the floor by the door.

If I am to die, let me remember the nice friends and family I have had and who I will never forget… he thought to himself. He drew his legs close to his face and buried his face into them, rocking slightly as if to make the horrible night mares and images go away…but one question still remained….why had Ed turned him in? Had Ed really turned that evil and mad?

[∬: Erik Schneider]

"Geehrter Herr, sind Sie über dieses so sicher? Er ist nur gerade angekommen und wir werden bereits auf dem Brechen des armen bastard fixiert. Niedrige Zuteilungen, dunkle Zelle, hartes Bett, Entzug des Schlafes und überlegte Abführung. Sie sagen, dass Sie ihn in Zelle 101 legten? Die schlechteste Zelle. Sie kennen die Gefahren, korrekt? Sind Sie, sure, das wir nicht auf ihm zu rau sind. I obwohl es klug sein würde, Informationen heraus zu versuchen und zu erleichtern, wenn er uns noch mag?" Schneider strolled down the line of "special" cells beneath the actual holding cells, where only those of the most interest were ever sent. The dim corridor was only lit by ceiling lamps scattered above with several wooden doors flanking the men. Behind the doors were the cells and their captives, each door designated with a number. At the far end of the corridor was the coveted Cell 101, which was rarely actually occupied. There had been a design flaw during the construction of the underground facility, when an extra room had been added on accident. There were many safety flaws surrounding it, mainly the fact it was directly below the busy entrance to the POW camp.

There had always been fears that with weak enough ground above it that a prisoner could actually hear the outside world, that it might perhaps cave in one day. Which had grown to be the entire point of the cell. You were the fortunate one to not be isolated from the song of birds or even the stamping of boots, but you were the unfortunate one that was threatened by death every waking second. Beside the Obersturmfuhrer, was Untersturmfuhrer Muller, a young, anxious officer who had found a sacred spot below Schneider. "Ich zweifele in hohem Grade, dass der Mann uns während Freunde sieht, nachdem wir ihn in einer Gefängniszelle geworfen haben. Wir leckten Informationen von ihm in den Kaffee und in den Geheimnissitzungen. Jetzt schlagen wir die Informationen aus ihm heraus. Wir können über Regelungen, Muller überspringen, aber es gibt eine hohe Möglichkeit diese lebenswichtigen Informationen der Manneinflüsse. Informationen, die er eher sich von uns verstecken würde. Sein Fehler. Berichten Sie, Untersturmfuhrer?"

Muller shot his superior a confused glance, before he remembered he was carrying the man's leather dispatch case, or suitcase. He nodded and murmured a "Ja", before reaching in and pulling out a few documents of what information they had gathered. Schneider skimmed through it, noticing they were mainly observations and written orders of the Obersturmfuhrer. Information like name, rank, unit, etc were missing from the files and instead there were reports on the man's actions, sleep, etc. Briefly, he looked through it before handing it back into his subordinate's palms. The man accepted the papers and gently placed them back into the case with delicacy, all the while attempting to keep up with Schneider's increasing pace. As they neared the end of the hallway, Schneider grabbed the case out from the Untersturmfuhrer's hands. "Muller, erlöschen und finden Sturmscharfuhrer McMillan. Er sollte Morgenübungen mit den Männern heraus tun. Dass Enden bald, also ich Sie erwarten, mit ihm in mindestens fünfzehn Minuten zurück hier zu sein. Das erhalten? Gut. "

The Junior CO took off down the corridors as directed and Schneider felt a little safer holding his own case that held all his documents. In silence, he ventured down to the end of the line of cells to Cell 101. A Sergeant was lingering at the end of the hallway, his MP40 at the ready as the Obersturmfuhrer approached. Various guards were scattered among the halls, holding the keys to the cells and the weapons to defend them. Waffen SS soldiers, trustworthy men were constantly at guard. The small, mediocre sized POW camp was stationed just outside of the town. When military occupation grew larger, the POW camp had been upgraded slightly with a nearby military base that simply extended out of the encampment. Much cheaper and easier production, which efficiently housed nearby soldiers and POW guards. One of those guards, the Sergeant, was approaching and eying Schneider as if with suspicion. "Obersturmfuhrer Schneider. Ich bin hier für Zelle 101 und Befragung. Öffnen Sie die Tür bitte. "

Now, the Sergeant was aware of who the man before him was. He hurried to the door and opened the metal vision slot, peeking in to see the prisoner lying on his bed. Seconds later, the slot slammed shut and the heavy, wooden door was unlocked and pulled shot. Hand at his hip, near his holster, the Obersturmfuhrer slowly entered the room followed shortly by the MP40 wielding Sergeant who hovered in the doorway. With limited knowledge of English, he could only give the prisoner basic commands. "Up." He watched the man abide by his will and rise from the hard bed. "Come." The conversation was quick and simple. It was time for interrogation and Schneider would not hesitate. Within moments, the two were out the door and the Sergeant was locking up and trailing behind with his submachine gun. Schneider led through the dim halls, arriving at an interrogation room further up the corridor minutes later.

The door was opened and the soldier pushed inside roughly, where a bare table and two chairs awaited. Inside, a translator awaited the interrogation on time. Schneider placed the prisoner at the opposite side of the table, at the far end of the room without words. Once the Sergeant was inside, a new guard took his place at the door and locked the three inside the room. Silently, the Obersturmfuhrer set his dispatch case down against a wooden leg of the table, slipping his papers out into his hand. Placing the papers down onto the table, as well as a pen he muttered to the soldier was all the way across the long table. "Guter Tag und Willkommen zur Befragung." Behind him, the translator spoke the words in English slowly as the patient Lieutenant placed his hands on the table. "Lassen Sie uns nicht zögern. Name, Rang, Maßeinheit und irgendeine zusätzliche Information." Once again, the German was translated into understandable English.

Translations:

- "Sir, are you so sure about this? He has only just arrived and we're already fixated on breaking the poor bastard. Low rations, dark cell, hard bed, deprivation of sleep, and deliberate exhaustion. You say you placed him in Cell 101? The worst cell. You know the dangers, correct? Are you sure we are not being too harsh on him. I though it would be wise to try and ease information out when he still likes us?"

- "I highly doubt the man sees us as friends after we have thrown him in a prison cell. We leaked information from him in cafes and secret meetings. Now we beat the information out of him. We may be skipping over regulations, Muller, but there is a high possibility this man holds vital information. Information he would rather hide from us. His mistake. Report, Untersturmfuhrer?"

- "Muller, go out and find Sturmscharfuhrer McMillan. He should be out doing morning exercises with the men. That ends soon, so I expect you to be back here with him in at least fifteen minutes. Got that? Good."

- "Obersturmfuhrer Schneider. I am here for Cell 101 and interrogation. Open the door please."

- "Good day and welcome to interrogation."

- "Let us not hesitate. Name, rank, unit, and any additional information."

[Stephen Colly]

The cell room door opened, it wasn’t Ed or anyone with food, but it was the nasty leader man who had been on the forefront of Stephen’s capture. Another man was hovering in the door way, awaiting commands…

The leader came forward slowly, speaking in limited English – ”Up”, Stephen did as he was told, staggering to his feet and then a short ”Come” and this Stephen did, walking over to the man who then led the three out. He did not look at anyone, he did not look at the different cells that flashed past, just his hands and his feet…The other man was trailing behind with a gun and in moments they were at a door, a thick, metal-looking door.

He was pushed roughly inside and nearly stumbled at the sudden un-timely movement. The room was completely bare and empty apart from a table and two chairs, one was already occupied by a man who Stephen assumed to be the translator or…someone else…he walked towards the table and stood behind it, his eyes darting from each man as they came into the room and then a key was turned in the lock of the door…he was locked in…

Out came some papers from the leader’s case and putting them on the table, he then spoke in German to the man sitting next to him who now spoke English to Stephen.

"Good day and welcome to interrogation."

Right…

"Let us not hesitate. Name, rank, unit, and any additional information."

The questions came thick and fast, Stephen’s tied and red eyes widened slightly as he listened to what was being said…he couldn’t possible…possible answer those could he?

”I d-don’t think I-I’m a-allowed t-to t-tell y-you…” he muttered, his voice stuttering over the basic words, he grasped his hands together, feeling them become sweaty. The translator translated this to German….now what?

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

McMillan wiped his dirt and sweat ridden brow as he climbed back to his feet from exercise. Was one of the few moments he truly relished about the barracks life, he almost had a smile on his face, but he just couldn't bring himself to be in a good mood with Colly stuck in a cell, it almost enraged him. That was the main reason he had skipped sparring this particular morning, fearing he'd get a bit too heated and seriously hurt someone and that wouldn't look too well on him. After taking a quick drink from his canteen, before he could even put the cap back on a rather prim and proper Lieutenant approached him and notified him that Schneider requested his presence, but before he could finish asking if could complete his morning drills the man shook his head and started to mention an interrogation. Edward didn't have time to hear the rest of it, he set out at full sprint toward the exterior door, his canteen bouncing on the ground, water was still pouring out of it when he disappeared into the facility.

He slowed to a stop upon entry and nodded to the men at the door, luckily his gear was still locked in his room otherwise he may have been in a pinch when asked about why he left it behind. He looked down one hallway and then the other and realized he hadn't waited around long enough to find out where exactly he was supposed to go. He looked sternly at the man behind the desk and simply spat "Schneider!" and with that the man thumbed through a clipboard and pointed down the hall to his left and calling out the room number and what floor it was on. Ed made quick work of the corridor making it to the end and hopping down the stairs three at a time before picking up the quick pace once more until he arrived at the looming metal door, he ran his fingers through his hair and took a couple deep breaths before entering the room. Hey snapped to and threw the proper salute "Strumscharfuhrer McMillan herr." his eyes darted around quickly...noticing that he was in the wrong room entirely, it was vacant. He scrunched his face up and turned quickly to step back into the hallway. Looking further down he could have slapped himself, of course it would be the one that actually had a guard outside the door. HE bolted over and repeated the process once more, except this time, there was actually someone to listen, and there was Colly. Poor little scared looking Colly. McMillan couldn't bear the sight, and even though Schneider couldn't have known, Edward was beginning to build a misplaced hatred for the man. He couldn't have known the relationship between Ed and Stephen, none the less it was irrational and the Sturmscharfuhrer wasn't exactly in the right state of mind to realize this.

[∬: Erik Schneider]

There was the hint of fear in the boy's eyes. No, there was more than just a hint. He stuttered and cracked under the pressure, seemingly beaten down so soon. Psychological torture was the word for it. Violence or physical torture only to be brought into the fray if desperately needed to obtain information. It seemed the boy couldn't handle the fear of his room caving in on him, the completely enclosed pitch black room, stale bread and dirty water, or deprivation of his precious sleep. If the words of fear he spoke now weren't exactly what the Obersturmfuhrer wished to hear, soon they would be, whether the boy liked it or not. Schneider watched the boy perspiring profusely and playing with his hands somewhat, as the man beside him spoke the words back into beautiful, fluent German. The language of the Aryans.

Chuckling, he slowly made his way to the opposite end of the room, keeping close to the edge of the table. The Nazis had been made out to terrible monsters who wouldn't hesitate to kill a Briton in propaganda, especially the coveted Waffen SS. The boy was in no danger of pain in the interrogation room, for now at least, but yet he still feared it. Psychological pain could be just as bad as its brother, physical pain. Without hesitation, his mind ran wild with ideas of pain and torture that Schneider would put him through. It was already taking its toll on him, without the Obersturmfuhrer even laying a hand on the soldier. Fear could truly commandeer your mind and lead it down the wrong path. That path was beneficial for the Obersturmfuhrer who stood now before the boy, looking him in the eyes with a devious grin spread between his cheeks.

"Sit. Sit." The horrible English slipped out between his lips, skipping over the translator this time. He signaled for the boy to take a seat at the aged, cracked chair beside him. Schneider made sure the boy did so, working his way around to the rear of the chair and gently placing his hand on the prisoner's left shoulder. The Sergeant became more focused, slightly raising his MP40 in fear of the close proximity of the two men. The cowardly sack of shit in Schneider's grasp would not try anything, practically squirming beneath the Obersturmfuhrer's grip. "Oh, glaube ich, dass Sie jetzt erklären können mir. Er würde Ihr Leben soviel einfacher bilden, wenn Sie sogar interessiert sind, an, ein Leben zu haben. Seien Sie ein guter Junge, also kann ich durch die Bücher gehen und alle sind fein. Jetzt lassen Sie uns noch einmal versuchen. Name, Rang, Maßeinheit und jede mögliche zusätzliche Information sehen Sie Sitz, um von zu sprechen."

The dark figure loomed over the informant's shoulder, gently releasing his grip on the boy. He had been assigned to the mission by an officer high up in the chain of command. So secretive, he only allowed let a handful of men needed for the mission to know, so it would be carried out successfully. The officer had failed to list any vital information on the informant, but even if he had it would hardly matter. McMillan had said that it was a second generation informant and the Standartenführer might not even know of that. The aging man had been hospitalized, because some problems with his heart. If the man did not speak now, perhaps McMillan would know. Schneider had begun to walk back to the front of the room, awaiting for the long process of translation. Speak of the devil, the Sturmscharfuhrer arrived in the room snapping to attention and saluting his Obersturmfuhrer. Behind him, the heavy metal door slid shut.

The room was dark and crowded now, only illuminated by a trail of ceiling lights littered above the table. The Obersturmfuhrer returned the salute quickly, before returning to a normal stance and approaching the translator's side. McMillan had been called to the scene, but would only be used if actually required. It was possible the informant would feel more comfortable around the man he had gotten to know, but it was also entirely possible he would be enraged at his betrayal and despised McMillan. It didn't seem that way to Schneider, there was some... different connection between the two soldiers. Something, he couldn't quite lay his finger on. He shrugged it off and slowly wrapped his fingers around the pen, hoping the words the translator would speak would be what Schneider had asked for. If not, perhaps Schneider would have to ask a little harder or be just a tad bit more influential. He smiled at the prospect of causing the poor soldier pain, but it most likely would not happen today, at least. It was entirely possible it might not happen at all, if the boy cooperated. Then, his treat would be transfer to a normal cell... as well as the fact every British and American soldier would know he was traitor and spy. The would be pleasant for Schneider as well.

Translators:

- "Oh, I believe you can tell me now. It would make your life so much easier, if you are even interested in having a life. Be a good boy, so I can go by the books and all will be fine. Now, let us try again. Name, rank, unit, and any additional information you see fit to speak of."

[Stephen Colly]

Chuckling? This was not a laughing matter! To be quiet honest Stephen was further from laughing as he had ever been. He grasped his hands even tightly, finding reassurance in this simple move for which he had never felt before, they were comforting as he knew that if he had control of his hands then he wouldn’t been in much danger…physically wise…mentally…he was unstable as it was, many people bore witness to it – Niamh and her cousin Rowan being the main two witnesses – that cold, rainy night in the graveyard had taken its toil on the young Devonshire lad.

The man had stood up, and was walking around the table towards Stephen who stepped back automatically. The man loomed over him like a hunter on its prey and smiled, the German eyes boring into the frightened “rabbit-like” ones of the boy who shrank in fear, becoming 10 inches smaller it seemed.

”Sit. Sit. the man could not speak much English at all it seemed as he had only managed a few words during this whole time. Signalling to the old chair that looked like it was about to break if anyone heavy should sit upon it. Shuffling over to the chair, Stephen did as he was told and sat, placing his hands on his knees and looking straight ahead, staring into the shadows that had begun to appear around the ages of the room as it got slightly darker and darker.

The boots clicked on the metal floor as the Obersturmfuhrer walked around the chair, placing a hand on Stephen’s shoulder – a sudden feeling of immense fear shot up his spine and he felt his body become suddenly very still, his breathing quickening.

A paragraph of German came from the mouth of the man looming above him and then the translator began to translate – "Oh, I believe you can tell me now. It would make your life so much easier, if you are even interested in having a life. Be a good boy, so I can go by the books and all will be fine. Now, let us try again. Name, rank, unit, and any additional information you see fit to speak of."

The hand was removed and Stephen became a little less uptight, not completely calm but just a tiny bit better then he had been three seconds before. A loud bang made the boy jump and he glanced over to see the door closing and yet another man entered…

Edward!

It w as him! He was here…..was that a good thing or a bad thing? The strong, handsome man stood smart and to attention in his uniform, saluting. Ed…Ed…help… Stephen tried to catch his friend’s eye but it didn’t work and he felt the other man’s eyes on him and so he turned, seeing the face lit up like a ghost in the dim light.

If he had not been in this position, the light would have made him fall asleep, he was tired as it was – he had not been allowed to sleep, a soldier had been placed near him all last night, if ever he were to doze off, his shoulder would be roughly shook and so he had not been able to get a wink of shut eye, he had not eaten even, he had been alone as the soldier who had been guarding him hadn’t really been a good companion…he rubbed his left eye as he felt it start to flicker with tiredness…

”I…I…I…” he stuttered badly over the letter “I”, this time it wasn’t just fear, it was something a bit more that made his voice not pronounce the vocals and letters correctly, ”S…S…S….” he stuttered again, ”S…S-Stephen Colly, Corporal.” was all he could say, he wanted this mental torture to end. Why was Edward just standing there? Doing nothing?

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

Ed looked on as Stephen sat in the piece of crap chair, tripping over his words, lord knew the young man was exhausted. None the less McMillan kept a straight face, how long he could hold it was anyone's guess, that probably coincided with how nice Schneider was going to be, and for how long as well. Didn't anyone realize that a person, any type of person, was more prone to helping another out if they were in a good mood? Granted this was probably on Ed's mind because Colly was the subject matter for the time being, had it been some other poor soul things would have more or less been completely different for the Sturmscharfurer.

Weather Stephen was too tired or too scared, he was digging himself into a hole and Edward was in no place to help him out, no place at all, he had to find a way to become valuable to this proceeding, and he needed to have done so quickly. A few thought processes ran through his head of how he could help Colly, he had to help the Officer to help Colly, and if he could get rid of the other translator that would be a huge plus as Ed would then be given the task. He couldn't speak to Colly though, not yet anyway, that would only look bad for both of them and McMillan needed to keep on the good side of the occupants if he wanted to help. Erik wanted information, Ed had a bit, maybe expired, but he still felt slightly off at the thought of giving up his old friends, yeah he had turned on them, but he didn't send them into the fire...except his tank crew.

"Herr, er sind ein Mitglied von der Siebten Gepanzerten Teilung, auch bekannt als die „Wüste Ratten“. Er ist ein geschickter Reiter und ein junger Junge, der in der Welt verloren worden ist, die im Krieg verloren worden ist. Ich hatte in der gleichen Einheit gedient. Er war eine rührende Entschuldigung für einen Soldaten, aber er war die einzige Person die ich behalten konnte Kontakt mit und versuchte, eine Art der Informationen von ihm zu erhalten, als ich weiter gegangen bin. Er hat Truppenbewegungen ein paar Zeiten, fast immer sie hatten abgelaufen versorgt. Ein paar Versorgungslinien leiten, wieder nutzlos um, bis wir könnten machen unsere Wege zu ihnen sie nicht mehr in Gebrauch waren. Ich habe sogar ihm auf dem Feld des Gefechts mich selbst einen Monat gegenübergestanden oder so hinter, nicht glaube ich, dass er einen Schuss gefeuert hat, und habe mich schnell zurückgezogen. Mein Darm erzählt mir, den ein guter Leiter Soldaten wichtige Details von solchem niedrigen Kaliber nicht gibt, ist das, wenn Sie meinem Wort vertrauen, versuche ich nur, Sie waht Sie zu erhalten, brauchen so schnell wie möglich." he cleared his throat when he finished. It was all information that was on file more or less, a small personal detail thrown in for added realism to gain belief and a bit of lying to hopefully help Colly out of a horrible situation.

McMillan looked on at his current superior, in rank, but before he could answer, ponder, or shoot Ed a look for interupting he added, "Vielleicht, wenn Sie haben gegeben mich ein paar Minuten allein mit ihm ich etwas passender von ihm überreden könnte, aber nichts ist, Herr garantiert." Yes, Ed had no good intentions for such an action as far as the Furher was concerned, but they probably weren't going to get anything useful out of Stephen anyway, the lad spent most of his time away from anything war related and when he did it tended to land him in the hospital for long periods of time. After all, he wasn't even the actual informant, hopefully no one else showed up with that same knowledge and screwed this entire foul up into a blender.




TRANSLATIONS:
Herr, er sind ein Mitglied von der Siebten Gepanzerten Teilung, auch bekannt als die „Wüste Ratten“. Er ist ein geschickter Reiter und ein junger Junge, der in der Welt verloren worden ist, die im Krieg verloren worden ist. Ich hatte in der gleichen Einheit gedient. Er war eine rührende Entschuldigung für einen Soldaten, aber er war die einzige Person die ich behalten konnte Kontakt mit und versuchte, eine Art der Informationen von ihm zu erhalten, als ich weiter gegangen bin. Er hat Truppenbewegungen ein paar Zeiten, fast immer sie hatten abgelaufen versorgt. Ein paar Versorgungslinien leiten, wieder nutzlos um, bis wir könnten machen unsere Wege zu ihnen sie nicht mehr in Gebrauch waren. Ich habe sogar ihm auf dem Feld des Gefechts mich selbst einen Monat gegenübergestanden oder so hinter, nicht glaube ich, dass er einen Schuss gefeuert hat, und habe mich schnell zurückgezogen. Mein Darm erzählt mir, den ein guter Leiter Soldaten wichtige Details von solchem niedrigen Kaliber nicht gibt, ist das, wenn Sie meinem Wort vertrauen, versuche ich nur, Sie waht Sie zu erhalten, brauchen so schnell wie möglich.
Sir, he is a member of the Seventh Armored Division, also known as the "Desert Rats". He is a skilled horseman and a young boy lost in the world, lost in the war. I used to serve in the same unit. He was a pathetic excuse for a soldier, but he was the only person I was able to retain contact with and was trying to get some kind of information from him as I went along. He provided troop movements a couple of times, almost always they had expired. A few supply line routes, again, useless by the time we could make our ways to them they were no longer in use. I even faced him on the field of combat myself a month or so back, I don't believe he fired a shot and retreated quickly. My gut tells me that a good leader doesn't give important details to soldiers of such low caliber, that is if you trust my word, I'm only trying to get you waht you need as fast as possible.

Vielleicht, wenn Sie haben gegeben mich ein paar Minuten allein mit ihm ich etwas passender von ihm überreden könnte, aber nichts ist, Herr garantiert.
Maybe if you gave me a few minutes alone with him I could coax something more pertinent from him, but nothing is guaranteed, sir.

[∬: Erik Schneider]

The interrogation room was growing far too crowded. The five men were crowded within the stretched room. The long table took up the central area of the room, with only enough space around it to allow about two men to walk. Behind the the less than desirable chair the nervous soldier sat on, was a few feet of space and then the wall. On the opposite side, near the door, there was more room to fit maybe four or so men, but even then the room felt compact and small. With only two ceiling lights giving out its dim beams over the table, the rest of the men were lurking in the dark recesses of the room. The translator turned to him and spoke the soldier's words, which the Obersturmfuhrer had already made out by the general fear in the man's tone. All he had spoke was his name, Stephen Colly, and his lowly rank. A Corporal. This Corporal was an informant? What the hell kind of information could he have?

Schneider sighed and dropped the pen back onto the paper, rubbing his eyes and nose a bit with his thumb, index, and middle finger. He was slightly irritated with this "informant", who acted like a moron instead of a man who knew things. There was another voice in the room now, this time the Sturmscharfuhrer's. He spoke before Schneider could even ask the man the question and spoke as if he knew the man well. This was interesting though. If McMillan's words rang true, he served with this man before he... well... became a German soldier. Was there something else here? There was a slight suspicion as the Obersturmfuhrer glanced between the two men. Though if McMillan spoke the truth, Colly was utterly worthless. Perhaps, the could kill him and rid them of this mess. Oh no, it would be much more enjoyable to throw him in with his "comrades".

"Sehr gut McMillan. Wenn er keine nützlichen Informationen hat, möglicherweise könnten wir auf höhere Mittel der Befragung zurückgreifen. Wenn dieser Mann als Berichterstatter diente, bin ich sicher, dass er etwas Informationen haben muss, die uns nützlich sind. Fürs Erste zwar, haben Sie fünf Minuten mit Colly. Alleine. Als möglicherweise, wissen wir was, mit ihm zu tun. " The Obersturmfuhrer rolled his sleeve up gently to check the time on his father's old watch. He didn't exactly trust the Sturmscharfuhrer and now, especially since he knew and served with this man, he was interested to see how it would all play out. He summoned the translator and the guard, before requesting the door be opened by the guard outside. The large steel door opened with a ruckus, the small quantity of light outside somehow blinding. The three men stepped out into the narrow corridor, the steel door slammed shut behind them. As was required, it was locked from the outside.

Schneider had gathered his dispatch case and papers, before leaving and gently set them down on a chair. The MP40 wielding Sergeant stood next to the guard, with his fellow guard standing on the opposite side. "Wir fordern nicht mehr Ihre Dienstleistungen, Soldaten. Sie können jetzt gehen" Schneider muttered to the translator, who quickly saluted the Obersturmfuhrer and took off down the hall. Sitting upon the steel chair, he settled his right leg over his left and set down his case atop the firm base for writing. As he filled out the information Colly and McMillan had provided him with onto some paperwork, he conversed with his underling, Untersturmfuhrer Muller. He enjoyed the Junior Officer's company, molding the young man into a fine officer of the Waffen SS. He had found memories of his old Hauptmann, Rafael Wolfram, who had helped him along the way. Then he chuckled about his old, childish feud with Nazario Battista. In the end, Schneider felt as if he had won. He grinned and continued with his writing, glancing at his watch every few moments.


Translations:

- "Very well, McMillan. If he does not have any useful information, perhaps we could resort to higher means of interrogation. If this man served as an informant, I am sure he must have some information useful to us. For now though, you have five minutes with Colly. Alone. Than maybe, we will know what to do with him."

- "We no longer require your services, soldier. You may leave now."

[Stephen Colly]

The room had suddenly got crowded, shadows danced on the walls as people moved about. At the last count, there had only been three men in the small room, maybe the reason for Stephen to be so uptight was because there were actually five people who stood in the small room. The dim ceiling lights swung gently, casting an eerie light over the table and the chair that was becoming rather uncomfortable for Stephen to sit on.

Before the officer could speak again, another voice broke the silence. This time it was Edward’s. Stephen glanced over and saw his friend speaking in German….fluent German…?! He’d learnt quickly! The boy was left in slight shock by the words only spoken by the enemy up until now, coming out of his best friend’s mouth.

Pause.

And then another few words of German…

Silence.

Then the officer-type person spoke suddenly, and then picked up his papers and file, moving towards the door, the translator stood up and walked towards the door also, they both exited along with the guard. The heavy metal door slammed shut and a key turned in the lock, locking them in.

Silence filled the room once more.

”Ed?” the boy muttered softly, standing up from the chair, ”Ed…I am so sorry…I should never have come to that café.” his voice was now much calmer, but still held a hint of nervousness and unease.

”If I die Ed, then…t-then…it won’t be your fault…nothing will be your fault Ed, nothing…it was my fault…” he bit his lip, tears welling up as the realism of the utter shit he was in began to take affect, he was rambling, just wanting to tell Ed what he thought…this may be their last time speaking so freely.

He just stood there, watching the man that he had this odd feeling for, waiting for what he would say.

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

McMillan nodded quickly and snapped to as the Officer prepared to leave the room. He watched out of the corner of his eye as they exited and the door was closed, being locked shortly after. He rushed around the table to Colly's side, listening to his apologies. Die? Ed couldn't believe this, and he was still a bit on the upset side about this whole thing. "No need to worry about such things Stephen, I need you to stay strong for me...for you...for Joey...for the Rats...for Liam...and for God sakes to show your dad he is a very small person and possibly a coward! Your situation here is one shared by very few people on this earth..." he paused as he thought Better leave out the part that even fewer live to tell the tale. He continued "...your grandchildren will sit before you in awe when you tell this story...if you want to change it a bit so maybe I'm not such an ass that would be appreciative, but for right now, for this moment, so that you can have that moment in the years to come, I need you to stay strong and listen carefully. Can you do this...for us both?" may have sounded like something that just needed to be said to get his mind in the right place, but Ed's tail was hanging on the line here too, if things went too horribly wrong they might both find themselves on the wrong side of a firing squad.

Ed took a very deep and shaky breath before starting again. "Alright, listen closely, I'm going to have to hit you...physically hit you in the face, now don't get all worried, this is what must be done to get us at least through the day. I'll apologize later and buy you braces if need be." he smiled after that last part as it was merely a joke...hopefully. "If it knocks you a little loopy, then great, if not, just act like it, maybe pass in and out of consciousness or whatever. I'm gonna find a way to get rid of that translator and I'll take his place, the bruise on your face will set to rest any suspicions they have of me trying to help you. I'll translate to them what you say...the less you say the more I can pawn off as you having told me while they were outside." He clasped his hand to his forehead and pulled it aggrievedly down his face. What the hell was Colly doing in Italy anyway? there wasn't the time for such questions. He had to spill the plan and spill it fast. "Alright, the Rats are moving to the north in force, don't correct a single word of this, the more I believe it the more they will believe it. Alright, the Rats are making a large push to the north, almost entirely Infantry but...uh...the armor is going to make an over exaggerated sweep to the south anticipating the German forces to reposition to intercept. Yeah that sounds good. Oh and if it comes up the air support is grounded due to weather reports. Let's see, Liam will be with the Armor...and that new Lieutenant, arrogant prick, he's moving with the Infantry. The more small details you can give the better, what was his name? Martin? Mathew?" He looked up from his rushed planning while starring toward the floor to look upon Colly. What was going through his head?

[Stephen Colly]

Edward had come round to Stephen’s side of the table and was speaking in a soothing voice. "No need to worry about such things Stephen, I need you to stay strong for me...for you...for Joey...for the Rats...for Liam...and for God sakes to show your dad he is a very small person and possibly a coward! Your situation here is one shared by very few people on this earth..." was that meant to be comforting? It was making him feel even worse…but no matter, no matter right now anyway…the boy sat down on to the chair as his legs gave way. Then, after a short pause Edward spoke again.

"...your grandchildren will sit before you in awe when you tell this story...if you want to change it a bit so maybe I'm not such an ass that would be appreciative, but for right now, for this moment, so that you can have that moment in the years to come, I need you to stay strong and listen carefully. Can you do this...for us both?"

Stephen nodded. ”You’re not an ass.” he muttered softly, staring at Ed in the eye, this man would be his life saver. Stephen was not prepared to for what was spoken next…

"Alright, listen closely, I'm going to have to hit you...physically hit you in the face, now don't get all worried, this is what must be done to get us at least through the day. I'll apologize later and buy you braces if need be."

Stephen begun to shake his head at the idea of being hit in the face…”N-no –“ but Edward spoke again, hurriedly now. "If it knocks you a little loopy, then great, if not, just act like it, maybe pass in and out of consciousness or whatever. I'm gonna find a way to get rid of that translator and I'll take his place, the bruise on your face will set to rest any suspicions they have of me trying to help you. I'll translate to them what you say...the less you say the more I can pawn off as you having told me while they were outside." and then he spoke about the plan –

"Alright, the Rats are moving to the north in force, don't correct a single word of this, the more I believe it the more they will believe it. Alright, the Rats are making a large push to the north, almost entirely Infantry but...uh...the armor is going to make an over exaggerated sweep to the south anticipating the German forces to reposition to intercept. Yeah that sounds good. Oh and if it comes up the air support is grounded due to weather reports. Let's see, Liam will be with the Armor...and that new Lieutenant, arrogant prick, he's moving with the Infantry. The more small details you can give the better, what was his name? Martin? Mathew?"

Stephen just sat there, not realizing that a question was being directed at him. He stared at Edward. ”I suppose g-getting hit may be just like…like with dad…” he ran a shaky hand through his hair, tears rolling down his cheeks, ”I just want to go home.” he muttered, staring helplessly at his friend. He reached a hand up and stroked Edward’s frowning face, his fingers ever so gentle. The hand then fell down back into its owner’s lap. The boy rubbed his own eyes, ”I’ll just s-stay quiet, I w-won’t say a word.” a pause. ”H-Hit me then.” he braced himself, the tears still falling.

OOC – Hope you don’t mind me posting…just well…Erik couldn’t do much really…sitting outside…on his own…

[∬: Erik Schneider]

The light hanging from the ceiling of the underground hall rocked gently back and forth, it's spray of light shifting across the corridor. Like a guillotine, swinging freely in the air. A disgruntled Unteroffizer stepped forward and batted it quickly with the butt of his MP40, as if the pain would make it stop in its track. Quite the opposite, as the light began to swing violently, the man reached out and grabbed it . The Sergeant practically tore the blasted thing out from its roots in the concrete, but instead he merely held it in place until it slowed. Some dust that most have coated the bulb had come free and now drifted down, illuminated in the beam of light. One might question why any man would sit there, mildly fascinated, and observe the light's adventure. Schneider, on the other hand, set his pen down upon his papers and watched without hesitation.

Sighing, he closed his eyes and reclined in his seat, the silence in the confined hallway overwhelming. A habit of his, he rolled up the sleeve of his uniform once more, watching the hands of his bruised, battle-scarred watch tick by. He caught an intruding Muller watching him from his chair. The Obersturmfuhrer made eye contact and the nervous officer seemed to want to retreat from the situation. "Es war meine Väter. Er gab mir es der Tag, den ich im Wehrmacht eintrug. Es ist zwar viel, in beiden Kriegen gewesen. Es hält noch die Zeit tadellos, trotz seiner Narben." Muller seemed to nod, as if intrigued, yet still held a shimmer of fear within his eyes. There were times when Schneider despised Muller and questioned what he was doing in the Waffen SS, but he still admired the younger man. There was a fatherly connection between the two, perhaps to fill a void by an orphan Untersturmfuhrer.

Muller was a bastard child. Orphaned at a young age, he grew up in the slums of Berlin during a rather brutal time. Muller was a scoundrel, a liar, a cheat, a thief, and most importantly of all coward. Though, past all of that, was a brilliant mind, a loyal heart, and hidden courage buried within. He had been the cream of the crop, that was why he had became a Waffen SS soldier. It was still there though. That fear, his lying and cheating (most likely the reason he became the best in officer school), and his stealing. Schneider watched and studied him from time to time. He took credit for others achievements , stole and cheated to climb to the top, and backed away from a true challenge. In short, he was a terrible soldier and a terrible officer. Yet, his mind was susceptible and he was eager, enthusiastic, loyal. Muller was perfecting for carving an ideal soldier out of.

Schneider could see it in the way Muller watched him. He looked up to the Obersturmfuhrer and changed, somewhat, for the better. Perhaps, he was too scared of Schneider's punishment to show any of his negative traits. Now, Muller was eying his commander strangely, in an awkward silence. "Erkläre mir, Muller, wie Sie werde einen Kampf kämpfen, wenn Sie weg von Ihrem Obersturmfuhrer kauern? " The young, junior officer was taken aback by Schneider's words. At first, the man was embarrassed, but that quickly gave away to anger. Enraged and baffled, Muller struggled to put up an argument. All his worlds came out to be were babbling and he quickly gave up the fight. He settled himself down and glanced down the hall, away from the Obersturmfuhrer. The man couldn't even win an argument. Schneider grinned and his eyes shifted back to the door.

Translations:

- "It was my fathers. He gave me it the day I enlisted in the Wehrmacht. It has been though much, in both wars. It still keeps the time perfectly, despite its scars."

- "Tell me, Muller, how are you going to fight a battle if you cower away from your Obersturmfuhrer?"

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

Edward looked on As Colly spoke and cried, McMillan had never had feelings of such magnitude and sorrow well up in him as greatly as they had that very instant. It was enough to send him slumping back into a nearby chair. He couldn't think of another way out of this horrid predicament. Now he had trouble finding a way to keep the tears from leaking out of his eyes. The room became very blurry as he sat there and put his hand to his mouth, slightly pinching his lower lip, trying to work up some magical plan to fix everything, but he was at a loss. All he could think about was what Stephen had said about this reminded him of the boy's own father. Even if Ed could get him out of this he would only be sending him right back into the care of the same poor circumstances. He finally realized that his own actions had jeopardized the very thing he was trying to save, but there was no backtracking, he had burned too many bridges during his journey, his head began to spin, but was halted abruptly when Stephen's hand touched his face. Ed looked over to the young man and the tears came, in force, there was nothing he could do to stop them. The only true friend he had in the world was sitting right next to him, in trouble, and there wasn't a thing Edward could do. His only option was to talk them out of there, but he knew they wouldn't believe a word if they walked back in to see a Senior Sergeant sitting there in tears.

McMillan took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before he wiped his face as best he could before standing to turn toward the wall. If he had been the strength to help Colly through this he had to remain steadfast, he couldn't been seen like this, he cleared his throat. "Stephen...?" he muttered barely loud enough to fill the room "...you know, you're all I've got?" hopefully this would bring a smile, even if only a small one, to the young man's face. Ed took a quick breath before spinning around with a cocked right arm. He clenched his fist as he looked over Stephen's head, he couldn't bare to look him in the eyes. A quick jolt and McMillan could feel the impact course up his arm as Colly's head bounced off the end of his fist before coming to rest looking straight down. Again the tears came, and his breath began to stutter uncontrollably. Edward stood up straight and shook his right hand a bit and pulled his uniform tight as he sniffed a bit as the stinging in his eyes had loosened his sinus cavities a bit. Again McMillan wiped his eyes as he whispered to himself "I'll get you out of here...one way or another." his breath fluttered one last time before he walked over to the door, gained his composure quickly and knocked a few solid times to signal that he was finished being alone with the prisoner. If they asked, the boy spit in his face.

[Stephen Colly]

Stephen watched Edward in the chair in front of him, the tears were welling up and as Stephen rested his hand away from the other man’s face, the tears fell heavy and with great force. Edward McMillan was crying. Indeed, it was a first, he had never seen him cry and it made the boy rather worried that if Edward was crying, who was the stronger of the two then surely they were in a worse predicament then first thought.

McMillan exhaled slowly, taking a deep breath and then stood up, turning to face the wall. Stephen wiped a hand across his own face to try and make the tears go away; they were starting to stop flowing which was a good sign. Then Edward said his name and he looked up, looking at the Staff Sergeant’s back.

"...you know, you're all I've got?" A smile did indeed spread across the young man’s face at this, he was about to say something else to this remark when Edward had turned around and a feeling of pain flooded through his head as he was thrown from his chair and on to the floor with a slight thud, the chair been knocked over. His head spun, he couldn’t see straight and what with his head already hurting from lack of sleep, it doubled and he let out a slight yelp of pain.

Where was Edward? There he was, standing by the door and muttering to himself before knocking on it, awaiting the presence of the officers.
The boy was breathing hard, his head was really hurting. Pushing himself up to lean against the wall, he clasped his head, trying to stop the spinning and the aching. For a moment there he had had a flash of his own house and his own father hitting him drunkenly come up in his mind’s eye, but it had gone as soon as it had appeared and the small, dark, grey-walled room came back into focus once more.

”My head…” he muttered more to himself then any body else. He knew the Nazi officers would be in the room any moment, he would act slightly “out of it” as Edward had put it, well, he had been hit over the head by a very hard fist so it would be more than likely if he was out of it and indeed he was a bit, his head was spinning, he could see stars….

[∬: Erik Schneider]

The knocks caught Schneider off guard, who had once again been glancing at his watch. Counting down the seconds as a bitter Muller pouted about his treatment. McMillan had finished with the prisoner earlier than he had anticipated. Did it mean that he was having no luck obtaining information or that the task had been too simple for the man's former comrade. The MP40 toting Sergeant nearest the door briefly inquired what his orders were with his eyes. Schneider nodded, before lifting himself off of his chair. As he shifted to the left to grab his dispatch case up from off the ground, he found Muller as furious as ever. The man was amusing, Schneider had to give him that. Kept him a bit more sane, somehow. The Obersturmfuhrer was fond of his underling.

The large metal door swung open, the Sergeant stepping inside without hesitation. His MP40 was at the ready, scanning the room quickly before he pointed the weapon directly at Colly. Schneider stepped in afterward, sliding past a disheveled looking brute of a man that had been slightly blocking the entrance. His jackboots clicked against the concrete floor, echoing throughout the dimly lit interrogation room. There was a bang from behind as the door slammed shut and locked into place from the outside. Schneider almost thought he heard Muller's sigh of relief through the thick steel door, but shrugged it off as his mind playing tricks. No doubt he was relieved to be out of his belittling superior's presence though. God damn that Muller, probably cracking jokes with the guard right behind his back. Schneider almost grinned at the thought, before he saw Colly.

The young man was out of his seat, awkwardly balancing himself up against a wall as if wounded. His chair had toppled over with quite the force as well. It was not hard to make the connection. McMillan had struck the boy with some force. Why? Was there more between these two men that the Obersturmfuhrer had not been able to discern? Schneider gestured towards Colly's bruising face with his eyes, making it apparent to McMillan that he knew what had happened here. He set the leather case down against a leg of the long table, his eyes still watching the beaten boy. He did not condone of the physical abuse, not preferring that type of interrogation except in "special" cases. What had been done had been done, however. McMillan didn't care as much as it had seemed about the boy prisoner. "Colly. Sitzen Sie sich hin. " The officer said, his finger pointed at the chair, hoping it was fairly obvious what he wanted him to do without translation.

Turning to face the Sturmscharführer, he observed the man's face with a little more intensity. It was wet with something, maybe spit, tears, or even sweat. He didn't bother asking the man what it was, quite frankly, he didn't give a shit. "Sturmscharfuhrer. Erreichten Sie, alles aus unserem Gefangenen heraus zu erhalten? "

Translations:

- "Sturmscharfuhrer. Did you manage to get anything out of our prisoner?"