Chapter Text
Nico took a step into his air conditioned room and felt the tingling sensation between his hair follicles as he took a sigh of relief. A towel was wrapped around his neck with two of his fingers gripping on them tightly. He pulled it off hanging on his shoulders and let it drape against his clothes rack. He turned his back towards his bed and closed his eyes, letting himself fall onto the thick queen-sized mattress. The mattress basically consumed him. Nico opened his eyes to meet the ceiling light giving him the spotlight. Finally, book-out day. A day to rest from those darn Privates and their stupid questions and enthusiasm. He’s never felt the bed on his back for the longest of times. The Commonwealthers back in Germany had absolutely no bunks of any kind for the more senior officers and it pissed him off more than he thought it would. Being back at home with his dog, Zeus, was probably heaven on earth.
Speaking of Zeus, it came running to hop on the bed to join Nico relaxing during his one day of break to snuggle. Nico accepted the dog sluggishly, bringing it closer and hugged it tightly. He pulled Zeus away, a smile fading from his face. “Nope, you’re taking a shower.” Nico told Zeus as if he understood anything. Nico lifted it up from his bed, keeping Zeus a distance away from him with his arms straightened.
Nico was halfway to the bathroom when his phone started ringing. He sighed softly and dropped Zeus down right at the entrance of his bathroom, urging Zeus to wait for him there. Zeus looked indifferent, settling down on the carpeting right outside the bathroom. “Don’t follow me.” Nico instructed, pointing his finger at Zeus who just tilted its head in response. “I’ll be back soon.” Nico reassured his dog, running to get his phone back in his room. Once he opened his door, he was met with Vettel’s picture on his screen. Not a person he talked to a lot during his military days but he was a rather familiar person to say the least. A fellow Colonel but had more medals than him. Nico was more of the administrative one but when they needed him on the field, he would deliver. He pressed onto the answer button and lifted his phone to his ear.
“Bothering me on my day-off, Vettel? Don’t tell me today of all days that I need to go back.”
“Then I’m ending the call.” Vettel replied in a serious tone, ending the call almost immediately.
To say Nico was surprised was an understatement. Guess Zeus is not getting a shower of any kind at all. Vettel did send him an email after the call which ended abruptly. Maybe he thought Nico wouldn’t understand why he ended the call all of a sudden but it was filled with more information he thought it would have. Yes, it was a recruitment letter (to be sent to those who have yet to be enlisted) but below contained more than just that.
“Hülkenberg to be sergeant for the first platoon. Hülkenberg to be stationed at Yakutia, Russia.”
Seemed like a copy paste from whatever email Vettel wanted to send to other Colonels but they were planning to shift him to a sergeant rank instead of letting him do the administrative work like he always did as a Colonel. When he told Vettel before he left base that he wanted to do something new instead of sitting at a desk all day, he did not expect to get deranked. There was a footnote at the bottom of the email.
“P.s don’t worry, I’ll be posted with you ;)
- Colonel Vettel”
Gabriel was brushing his teeth in his bathroom when he heard the ring of his doorbell and his naggy mother calling him to get it. Gabriel rolled his eyes before putting down the toothbrush and spat out his toothpaste. He rushed to the gate of his house only to see Brazilian military officials standing right behind the gates, holding up a letter of sorts. “You’re Gabriel Bortoleto I assume,” one of them asked Gabriel, shaking the letter in their hand. Gabriel was hesitant to nod his head or even say any form of agreement. He knew the day would come from the multiple threats politicians made over the news and all the articles the media conjured up. The missiles being launched across the sky, Gabriel swore he saw some passing by. Just in case, he texted his friends to give each other updates where they would be posted to.
Gabriel’s eyes immediately lit up with determination and the soldiers behind the gate were almost stunned and confused. Gabriel took a breath before reading the letter the soldier was holding up.
“Dear Mr Gabriel Lourenzo Bortoleto Oliveira,” it read, “you are selected as part of our wave 2 draft to Eastern Europe/Asia. You are to arrive at Guarulhos–Governor André Franco Montoro International Airport at approximately 1400 on 17 November. Do note that only on the day itself will you be notified of the exact location you would be posted to. No ‘trades’ or ‘switches’ can be made. Do our country proud, citizen. Well wishes, Ministério da Defesa.”
Wave 2. Some of his friends were drafted in wave 1, which they were lucky and got posted to places in South America. That was the purpose of wave 1. If Gabriel was not wrong, from the news he had been recently watching, wave 3 was where the third group of people would be posted–the main war which was in Europe in general. He just had to pray he didn’t end up in a country where the war was going to be active. He greeted the soldiers goodbye with a salute and one last question. “Do you know exactly where the people in wave 2 would go?” The soldier glanced at Gabriel and sighed. “Ukraine, Russia, Belarus, Estonia, Japan, China, Vietnam, the Koreas…I think that’s it.” The soldier replied with a tired voice. “Don’t get your hopes up, people in wave 2 and 3 are usually sent to the front lines in active warfronts.” They added before moving to the next house. Gabriel was speechless. He didn’t know what to say. Was he supposed to be proud that the government chose him because they thought he was one of the better people suited for the war or should he be on his knees bawling because there’s a chance he may never return to Brazil again.
“So?”
Gabriel turned to behind him and saw his worried mother standing a distance behind him, hiding behind the doorframe. Gabriel took another glance at his letter and back at the almost crying eyes of his mother. He plastered on his face an awkward smile, trying his best not to look as worried as her or even worse. “Got drafted. It was expected, wasn’t it?” He told her, walking to the door to show her the letter. She pulled the letter closer to her and adjusted her glasses. A tear was already streaming down her face before her eyes crossed the first line. Gabriel lowered his eyebrows, looking more like a puppy that doesn’t know what it did wrong than a worried twenty-year-old Brazilian. His mother looked up to Gabriel, she looked back down at the paper and the hiccups started uttering out of her mouth. Gabriel ushered her back into the house to get her to sit. “I’ll be okay.” He said, repeating it to her many times as reassurance. She was sobbing softly to herself, reaching out to the nearest box of tissues for one. “Your filho is strong and will make it out.” Gabriel whispered. No, he was not going to make it out alive. No, he’s not strong. He’s just going to give his mother false hope but he had to do something to make sure his mother wasn’t crying and didn’t think her son was going to die every second he would be out, fighting for his country.
“We’re on the winning side, don’t worry,” Gabriel continued comforting her, slowly dragging the letter away from her possession.
“Our country could have zero deaths by the end of the war but that doesn’t mean you’re not going to be hurt, Gabriel.” His mother sobbed, wiping her tears away, “You could be in a coma and never wake up for 50 years and they would still say there would be zero deaths from the war.”
She did have a point. Gabriel hadn’t really considered the other side of what ‘no deaths’ really meant. He could have all his limbs torn off, his entire body paralysed and turned into a vegetable state and he still would be counted as alive, even though he may never actually ‘live’ again. He passed his mother the same box of tissues, hesitating to say another word, knowing that if he did, his stubborn mother would argue back with even more points that Gabriel couldn’t counter.
“I’ll…try not to get hurt.” was all Gabriel could utter.
Vettel was already waiting for Nico at the boarding gate, the big monitor above where he was sitting showing their destination. “Saint Petersburg?” Nico questioned, sitting a seat away from Vettel. Vettel glanced up from his book with almost a bit of surprise but his eyes relaxed once he saw it was Nico. “Yeah, the airport we’re going to is the Saint Petersburg International one then we’re going to take a domestic flight.” Vettel explained, shifting his bag to be in front of him. The duo didn’t bring much, just their military uniforms. The strange thing you could say was that they were taking flights–international flights with normal civilians–to where they would fight. Normally, soldiers would have to walk to wherever they were invading but for the most cases for the current period of time, both sides, the Defenders and the Commonwealthers, are shifting their soldiers left and right during the current ceasefire to strategise better. Nico shifted uncomfortably in his seat, adjusting his bag strap to be slightly looser. “Yakutia…” Nico murmured, catching Vettel’s attention for some reason. “Yeah, like what I typed in the email.” Vettel muttered just loud enough for Nico to hear.
“What led the General to demoting me to a sergeant? I was quite happy doing administrative roles–” Nico couldn’t help but ask.
“From what the General said,” Vettel sighed knowingly, “the region we’re going to isn’t even an active one, it’s just there because that’s where the Defenders are. We’re just there for a ‘just in case’ and to make sure they’re not doing anything suspicious. The executives also said they are transferring a lot of the learning recruits to us in the Northern Yakutia base to train them and also hopefully, be a medical hub in Northern Siberia.”
“So–”
“Yes, you’ll get your administrative work.” Vettel groaned, “but all of us would be training the recruits regardless. I didn't even get a say in this.”
“Why’d I get demoted then?” Nico shrugged his shoulders, lowering his voice as people passed by them.
“Double roles. You’re still a Colonel.” Vettel explained, watching the planes land on runways not even close to them. Nico was about to utter another sentence but kept his mouth shut. A Boeing 737 was slowly traversing to the boarding bridge attached to their boarding gate. Nico shuffled in his seat, his eyes following a flight stewardess setting up the barriers you’d usually see in snake queues. “Seems like we’re almost boarding soon.” Nico murmured.
Vettel shuddered in his seat. “I had bad experiences with Aeroflot. Let’s hope this flight goes well.” He told Nico, gripping onto his own bag strap. Nico took a sip of water from his vacuum flask before his quiet mind was interrupted by Vettel once again. “Y’know, I was planning on just disobeying our General to get to somewhere more exciting, but apparently, Webber’s joining us at Yakutia.” Vettel mentioned whilst looking at Nico occasionally.
“Webber?”
“That naggy old dude.” Vettel sighed, nudging Nico’s shoulder, and pointed to the boarding gate, “That Colonel that’s always severely longwinded.”
“No, I do know Webber,” Nico argued, following Vettel to the boarding gate, “just…why with us?”
“Who knows?” Vettel shrugged his shoulders, almost like he was dismissing Nico, “Brace for a few years of annoying nagging.”
The land Gabriel was presented to by the military officials seemed to look like almost nothing, with tents barely able to sustain in the windy and snowy environment, and trees surrounding said tents. He noticed some Brazilian officers, by the badges they had on their uniforms, standing at the entrance of the barrage of tents. Their trucks just passed right by them, with the gap between the fences made out of tree bark being just big enough for the trucks to pass through. Gabriel wanted to commend the soldiers for their good driving, but he observed some scratches along some of the spears.
Gabriel had barely any space in the truck, with him and a dozen others squeezed in one truck bed with their belongings. Of course, it wasn’t just Brazilian people so he couldn’t even joke around in his native language. In front of him was a rather devilishly handsome man, who was freezing in the cold, who tucked his knees close to his face, hugging his whole body. His skin was so white, it almost blended into the surroundings. No way was he Brazilian in any sense, they had sun all day that took advantage of its showings. Gabriel was clearly the tannest amongst the recruits in the truck bed. However, there were some individuals on the truck bed that looked unfazed by the environment.
“Is it not cold for the both of you?” Gabriel pushed himself off the walls of the truck bed, pointing to the two people at the back, asked.
The two seem to laugh at Gabriel, not in a way that was mocking him in any sense, more like they were going lunatic, and anything could make them laugh. “Oh, China’s so much colder,” one of them chuckled, with a very clear Northern Chinese accent. The other one nodded. “I mean, I live in this country.” The other one said, presenting, with his arms, the forested area. The truck stopped, and many military officials ushered the recruits out with urgency, screaming words like “Get out” and “Weak”, whilst some of them spat at the recruit’s paths. Gabriel was one of the first to hurry off the truck, rushing to the inside of one of the tents. He honestly had thought he was going to hide in a trench like in the second World War, so even a poorly ventilated tent would do for him.
Inside the tent was an officer smoking a cigar, filling the tent with smog already. Gabriel covered his mouth as he placed down his stuff in one corner of the tent. Others quickly started arriving, blindly following Gabriel into the tent as well. The two Gabriel was talking to didn’t seem to join the rest of the Privates. He could hear them laughing outside the tent, yet again sounding like they were on the brink of sanity. “Morning, recruits.” The officer greeted them with a harsh, raspy voice, breathing out even more smog, “If you haven’t noticed, those Commoners haven’t arrived to set up base yet. So, in the meantime, we’re training your pathetic asses–”
“Sir,” Gabriel interrupted, raising his arm up like it was school, “it’s a little…hard to breathe, no?” A bunch of recruits were already coughing like it was no tomorrow, some wheezing as well. Gabriel acted perfectly fine, he, after all, was used to the low oxygen, as he lived in high altitudes. “Part of your training,” the officer coughed, “and you’re not suffering so shut up. I rather hear the suffering say something.”
“But they can’t say shit.” Gabriel argued, his hand feeling his spit.
“And so their body adapts. How did you?” The officer countered, walking outside of the tent.
“Form up in ten. Drink some water.” He continued, “Address me as Colonel Kvyat, or how I would prefer it, sir.”