Chapter Text
LATE AT NIGHT
SOMEWHERE IN THE MIDWEST
MOTEL...
The room was silent except for the soft hum of the air conditioner and the faint crackle of static from the old television. The news played on, showing endless footage of destruction: homes reduced to rubble, streets torn apart, people moving like shadows through the wreckage, looking beaten but not broken.
Nico sat cross-legged on the bed, staring at the screen. The reporter spoke in clipped tones, her voice detached but firm:
"Volunteers from over fifty nations have joined the fight in Ukraine, with many enlisting in the International Legion. These fighters, though untrained in some cases, share a common goal: to stand against tyranny and defend freedom."
The Camera cuts to a group of soldiers boarding a plane, their faces grim but determined. One of them, a young man with a patchy beard and flag sewn onto his jacket, spoke into the mic.
"We're not doing this for glory. We're doing it because it's right. Because if Ukraine falls the Baltics and the west is Next."
Nico leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. The right thing to do. The words clung to him, wrapping around his chest like a vice.
His phone buzzed on the bed beside him. He glanced at the screen.
Will: Hey. Haven't heard from you in a few days. You okay? ❤️
Nico stared at the message for a moment before locking the screen. His chest tightened, guilt prickling at the edges of his mind. But he couldn't go back. Not now.
Instead, he grabbed his phone, opened the browser, and began typing.
The form was simple. Too simple.
Nico stared at it before typing out.
Name: Nico di Angelo
Nationality: American
Ethnicity: Italian-American
Age: 18
Relevant Expereince:
He hesitated at the last question, his thumb hovering over the blank box. What could he say? That he'd faced monsters, shadows, and gods? That he knew how to wield a blade better than most soldiers?
He typed slowly:
"Survival training. Hand-to-hand combat. Experienced under high-stress conditions."
It wasn't a lie, not entirely. He hit submit, the screen blinking for a moment before displaying a brief confirmation:
"Thank you for your application. A representative will contact you shortly with further instructions."
The words seemed final, like the tolling of a bell. He sat there staring at the screen, before finally tossing his phone onto the bed and burying his face in his hands.
'There's no going back after this.' was all he thought.
The Next Day
Nico opened his eyes as he groggily woke up, he reached his hand out to grab his phone, seeing a notification his eyes widened as he looked at it, reading it was that his application was accepted and he was to make his way to Ukraine via way of Przemysl.
After having breakfast, he simply left the motel towards the Greyhound station, with a lot of money thanks to Hades, he had enough to get him far and he was soon approaching the Greyhound station which reeked of stale coffee and exhaust fumes. Nico sat near the back of the bus after getting on, his hood pulled up over his head, watching the rain smear against the window as the engine roared to life.
The bus rattled down the highway, its tires humming against the asphalt. The other passengers were quiet, most of them dozing or staring out the windows. Nico kept his gaze fixed on the darkness outside, his reflection flickering faintly in the glass.
Time felt slippery here. The hours blurred together as the bus moved eastward, leaving the familiar behind. Towns flickered past, neon signs casting brief halos of light against the dwindling sun going down, night was upon them. Every so often, Nico's mind drifted to Camp Half-Blood, to faces he didn't want to think about... maybe he likes to think about Will, but not the rest.
When the bus stepped for a brief rest break, Nico stayed in his seat, clutching his duffel bag tightly. He watched people shuffle off, some stretching their legs, others buying overpriced snacks from the vending machines.
The driver then announced, "Next stop: New York City."
Nico didn't look up.
Eventually after a few more hours on the road they had arrived, and as the bus stopped near the terminal for JFK Airport, Nico immediately got off as he walked up to the entrance.
'Guess I'm doing this huh?' Nico thought as he then strolled into the airport.
JFK Airport was a mess of noise and motion. Busy and Packed made it available for Nico to move through the crowd like a shadow, keeping his head down and his steps purposeful. He'd purchased his ticket online with cash, a one-way flight to Warsaw. The clerk at the desk gave him a cursory glance but didn't ask questions.
At security, he slipped of his boots and placed his bag on the conveyor belt. His heart pounded as the bag went through the scanner, but no one paid him any attention. He was just another traveler in a sea of faces.
The gate was crowded, the chatter of other travelers mingling with the faint voice of the intercom announcing delays and departures. Nico found an empty seat near the corner, away from the others. He pulled out his phone, scrolling aimlessly through the news.
Images of bombed-out streets filled the screen. Civilians holding rifles. Soldiers embracing their families before heading into battle. His stomach churned, but he didn't look away.
It didn't take long however for the gate and flight to be called, and standing as his group was called forward, thought back on this moment.
'Am I really going through with this? No turning back now.' thought Nico.
The plane shuddered as it took off, the ground falling away beneath them. Nico stared out the window, watching the lights of New York fade into the distance.
The flight was long and restless. Turbulence jostled the plane every so often, and the faint hum of conversation buzzed around him. He didn't speak to anyone, keeping his headphones even though no music played.
At one point, the flight attendants dimmed the lights, and the cabin grew quiet. Nico leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes, but sleep wouldn't come. His thoughts were too loud.
Eventually the captain alerted them a few hours later that they were landing in Warsaw, it took a while but eventually he was off the plane, through security and in Poland, heading towards the train station.
The Warsaw train station was colder than he expected, the air biting and sharp. He bought a ticket to Przemysl with cash, the Polish words unfamiliar but easy enough to navigate.
The train was old, the seats narrow and worn. Nico sat near the window, his duffel bag wedged between his feet. The countryside rolled by in muted grays and browns, fields stretching into the distance
A Man across from him fiddled with a patch on his jacket-a Canadian flag. He caught Nico's eye and offered a small nod. Nico returned it but said nothing.
The closer they got to the border, the quieter the train became. Conversations fell away, replaced by the low rumble of the tracks and the occasional crackle of the intercom. Nico rested his forehead against the glass, the cold seeping into his skin.
Eventually the train hissed to a stop, steam rising from the tracks as passengers disembarked. The platform was crowded with volunteers, soldiers and refugees.
Nico followed the flow of people toward a checkpoint near the edge of the station. A sign above the tent read: LEGION VOLUNTEERS.
A stocky Ukrainian officer stood at the entrance, clipboard in hand. His voice barked above the noise: "Name?"
"Nico di Angelo."
The officer squinted at him but didn't comment. "Passport."
Nico handed it over, his fingers numb from the cold. After a moment, the officer handed it back.
"Group D. You'll receive instructions inside."
Nico nodded, stepping into the tent.
The camp was a maze of tents, trucks and makeshift barracks. Soldiers moved with quiet purpose, their boots crunching on gravel. Nico kept his head down, following the directions scrawled on the paper in his hand.
He passed a fire where a group of volunteers sat, their laughter cutting through the cold air. He paused for a moment, the glow of flames tugging at something buried deep inside him.
But he shook it off and kept walking.
The barracks were stark and cold, rows of metal bunks lined against thin walls in spaces. Nico claimed a bed in the corner, dropping his duffel bag onto the mattress. He sat down, leaning against the wall as the room filled with murmured conversations.
For the first time in weeks, he felt the faintest flicker of purpose. He didn't know if it was enough, but it was something.
The lights flickered off, plunging the room into darkness. Nico leaned his had back, staring at the ceiling. The shadows pressed close around him, an for once, they didn't feel unwelcome, and just like that, he was fast asleep.