Reincarnated with a Country Creation System

The interrogations began in earnest. Each captured agent sat in a starkly lit room with little more than a metal table and two chairs, observed through one-way mirrors by John Taylor and his team. The best interrogators in Valoria had been selected for this task, each known for their psychological insight and ability to break even the most resilient operatives.

In the first room, the interrogator sat across from the man captured at the factory, his expression unreadable. The agent—who was still unknown to them as Major Grau—maintained a steady gaze, his face impassive.

"You're in Valoria without documentation, without a job, and with absolutely no ties. That's strange, don't you think?" the interrogator asked, his tone casual.

Grau responded with a single, silent nod. He knew better than to break his composure, especially in the first few rounds. This was a game of patience, and he was trained for it. The interrogator tilted his head, observing the man carefully.

"Don't feel like talking?" the interrogator continued, giving a faint, insincere smile. "You know, it's easier if you cooperate."

Grau's expression didn't change, but Taylor noticed his hands were slightly tense. He turned to his aide. "Make a note of any physical cues, no matter how small. Sometimes the body betrays what the mind can hide."

In the adjacent room, Lieutenant Lind faced a similarly intense interrogation. Her interrogator leaned forward, scrutinizing her carefully. "We're aware of your movements. You've been speaking to locals, observing factory schedules, listening in on conversations. Why? What's your interest in Valoria's industrial systems?"

Lind didn't flinch. She sat with her hands folded in front of her, appearing almost casual. She knew the interrogator's tactics—starting with a barrage of questions to unsettle her, aiming to exploit even the tiniest hesitation or slip-up.

"Do you think I'm here on vacation?" Lind finally responded, her tone calm but laced with just enough sarcasm to appear dismissive.

Her interrogator suppressed a smile, intrigued by her response. "That' weird…because we are not even accepting foreigners yet as our immigration are still fixing some policies so there's that."

The interrogator's comment lingered in the air, probing at the inconsistencies of Lind's presence in Valoria. He watched her closely, looking for the slightest sign that his words had hit a nerve.

Lind gave a slight shrug, feigning indifference. "You're asking the wrong person. I only go where the work takes me. If your government's confused, perhaps you should take it up with them."

The interrogator's smile didn't waver. "Oh, I think you're well aware of why we're asking. A foreigner with no record, slipping through industrial zones, is more than a simple worker." He leaned back, crossing his arms. "You can keep pretending, but that won't get you out of here any sooner."

Lind met his gaze, her expression as neutral as ever, masking the growing fatigue from the prolonged questioning. Silence settled between them again as the interrogator waited, hoping the tension would nudge her into a mistake. But Lind remained still, refusing to give anything away.

In the next room, Major Grau was undergoing his own round of probing. His interrogator adjusted his chair, breaking the silence with a slow, deliberate question.
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"Tell me," he said, with a feigned casualness, "what's the first thing you noticed about Valoria when you arrived?"

Grau didn't respond right away, weighing his options. Finally, he said, "You have impressive factories."

The interrogator's eyebrows lifted slightly, pleased that Grau had finally spoken. "Indeed. Quite impressive. In fact, one would think that's precisely why someone might want to gather information here. You weren't just admiring the view, were you?"

Grau let the silence stretch, keeping his expression blank. He knew the interrogator was fishing, and he wouldn't be the one to give anything away. "Like I said," Grau replied, "just a factory worker looking for an honest wage."

The interrogator let out a soft chuckle. "I've met a lot of factory workers, and they don't have your poise or silence under pressure. But we'll see just how long that holds up."

Taylor observed from behind the one-way mirror, his arms crossed as he watched his best men chip away at the agents' defenses. The agents' resilience was formidable, but the smallest details—the lingering glance, the subtle tightening of a jaw—told him his team was making progress. He turned to his aide, who had been taking notes.

"Have each interrogator escalate slightly. Switch the tactics—test their limits," Taylor instructed. "They're trained for this, but we're not here to be polite."

The aide nodded, relaying Taylor's orders to the interrogators. Within minutes, each agent found themselves facing a new tactic. Lind's interrogator, previously passive and probing, began pressing more aggressively, demanding explanations and challenging her responses. Grau's was subtly trying to shift the subject, introducing misleading questions in an attempt to confuse him.

In the final room, Hoffmann, the communications expert, had watched the dismantling of his equipment with grim silence. His interrogator, noting this, decided to press directly.

"You're quite good at putting things together," he began, gesturing to the scattered parts on the table. "Tell me, what are you trying to do with all of this?"

Hoffmann let out a short laugh. "If you're going to accuse me of something, at least make it interesting. You took my equipment. Why don't you tell me what I was doing?"

The interrogator smirked. "Fine. Let's make it interesting, then." He leaned in close, his voice lowering. "Each piece of this equipment is unique. Either you're very resourceful, or you're backed by someone far more powerful than you let on. So which is it?"

Hoffmann kept his expression cool, his gaze level. "It's not my fault you don't keep up with technology. Maybe if you spent more on communications, you'd understand how this works."

The interrogator narrowed his eyes, studying Hoffmann's face for even the smallest sign of strain. "That might be the case," he replied smoothly, "but you seem well-versed in more than just casual tinkering. Most radio technicians don't piece together highly specialized equipment with military-grade encryption."

Hoffmann kept his expression neutral, resisting the urge to react. He knew his equipment had likely given them some clues, but revealing frustration would only confirm their suspicions. He shrugged, his tone dismissive. "Well, maybe you just haven't met the right technicians."

Outside the room, Taylor watched with keen interest, noting how each agent held up under the pressure. He knew their silence wasn't simple defiance; it was strategy. These were highly disciplined operatives, trained to withstand even the most relentless questioning. But he had no intention of giving up either.

He turned to his aide, who was recording the interaction, and gestured to increase the intensity.

"Escalate again. Let's see how they respond under different stressors," Taylor ordered.

In the room with Lieutenant Lind, the interrogator shifted his approach, his tone now direct and cold. "You've been moving in circles, speaking in evasions. Do you think we don't know why you're here?" He let the words hang for a moment, allowing the silence to press down on her. "You're not fooling anyone, and you know what happens to spies here.

It's only a matter of time before your allies abandon you."

Lind looked up, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Allies?" She raised an eyebrow. "That's an interesting assumption. Maybe I just like to travel. Valoria's factories have such a... scenic appeal."

The interrogator leaned forward, his voice dropping to a barely audible whisper. "Valoria's industries are not your playground. And if you're here to play games, I guarantee you'll lose." He studied her closely, searching for the smallest flicker of unease. Yet Lind held his gaze, her posture unwavering, unyielding. It was a standoff of wills, one that she'd been trained to endure.

Back in Grau's room, the interrogator decided to switch tactics entirely, adopting a conversational tone. He folded his arms, relaxing back in his chair as if speaking with a friend. "Listen," he said, lowering his voice. "We're not so different, you and I. We both know what it's like to work in... complicated fields.

You're no ordinary factory worker. So why don't we cut the act?"

Grau looked back, his expression impassive. "Is that right?"

The interrogator nodded, as though genuinely sympathetic. "People like us, we know what it means to live on edge, surrounded by secrets. Valoria could use someone like you, someone with your skills." He paused, letting the offer hang in the air.

For the briefest second, a flicker of curiosity crossed Grau's face. "You think flattery works that easily?"

"Not flattery," the interrogator replied, shrugging. "Opportunity. You think you're here for a reason, but what if there's something better?"

But Grau, sensing the trap, leaned back, resuming his silence. He had heard these tactics before and would give nothing away, even under the guise of a friendly offer.

Watching the exchange, Taylor's expression remained neutral, though he felt a faint flicker of satisfaction. He knew these were small, incremental victories; breaking operatives like these required patience. For now, they were simply looking for clues, anything that could build a profile on their intentions. He turned to his aide.

"Note every response," Taylor ordered. "Every word and every shift. These people are trained to resist, but they're still human. We'll find a way in."