1:

"Gahhh! I'm BOOOORED!"

"Ed, we're about to jump out of a plane!" Eugene shouted as absently as one can over the top of a roaring wind, checking over his gear again. He didn't even bother to look over at Edward Heffron, knowing that the man would be sprawled out over his seat, staring at the celling, waiting impatiently for the red light to flick over to green. He had been like this for the past four practice drops; and if there was one thing that Ed wasn't, it was inconsistent. A quick glance out of the doorway was enough to flood butterflies in his stomach. Dropping out of a plane, relying on a parachute that may or may not work, carrying twice his weight of gear, into a potentially bullet-filled atmosphere… well. It was a pretty hard circumstance to call anything but tedious. "How can you be bored?!"

"We've been flying for AGES! We must be the last ones up!" Not even clipped up to the rope like he should be, Edward walked to the open door and leant out into the whipping wind. He didn't get the chance to warn his idiot friend to back away from the opening; a loud, concerning curse stood out above the grumbling of the aircraft. "SHIT!" Although the medic was used to his friend swearing, the tone he was using was different to usual exclamations. Still. He was a born joker, with no viable to stop when asked thanks to his absolute disregard for signs of discomfort. No matter how many times Eugene warned him to not disturb while reading, or to slap him in the face, or to go through his stuff without a valid reason… it still happened. That is, until they joined the Army; he had no time for reading, no place for personal belongings, acclimated to kidding around for tension release. A common way Edward pranked Eugene was to fake distress- it was a weakness, Gene being the guy who would have to dodge minefields and mortars at the first scream of 'medic!'. Edward being the person yelling made it harder to ignore.

"WHAT?"

"THAT'S… THAT IS FUCKING MOSCOW!"

Eugene sighed, rolled his eyes when Ed turned to him with a terrified expressions. They had been through this in the past- only, last time it was Hitler's headquarters. Time before that, Atlantis.

Maybe it'd be better if the idjit just fell out of the plane.

"NO! I'M NOT FALLING FOR THAT AGAIN! SIT THE FUCK DOWN!"

"I'M SERIOUS! COME LOOK!"

"No, you know what?! How about I go ask the pilot!" Caught in the act- you can't dispute the pilot's word. Unless the pilot was dead. Which he wasn't, obviously, or… who else could be flying the plane? Edward watched his friend stalk to the front of plane, freeze and spin on his heels in stony silence, and run back to his side with a pale face.

"THEY'RE DEAD, ARENT THEY?"

"SO, MOSCOW, YOU SAY?!" He tried to distract Edward from going to the cockpit but the shorter soldier was too quick.

"I'LL PUT ON THE GREEN LIGHT. THAT WAY SOBEL CAN'T BE PISSED AT OUR JUMP NOT FOLLOWING PROPER PROCEDURE."

"WE'RE ABOUT TO DROP INTO MOSCOW, ED!" Heffron didn't hear; he was too busy trying to reach across the dead bodies so he could hit the switch. His hooked on the ankle of the man slumped over the wheel, and once the green light was on, he went to push Eugene out of the plane. "I'M SURE THE WAY WE GET OUT OF THE PLANE WILL BE THE LAST THING ON HERBET'S MIND- WOAH FUCK!" The unsettled dead pilot had been leant onto the gear that sent the plane twirling into a nosedive. Eugene knew they had to get out, and fast, or else the plane would pass a speed that wouldn't allow them to throw themselves off. And survive. "GO, GO, GO!"

With two feet safely on the ground, both Eugene and Edward had lost their packs on the way down. The dark haired man had a glare positively murderous leveled at his friend. For all the world, the ginger was more than ecstatic to have landed in a foreign country- an ocean and a continent away from home.

"Alright! Russia! We made it!" Half a kilometer from the landing, the plane had crashed in a big fiery mess. They were stranded, in Russia, with no provisions, and war breaking out. No foreseeable route to America other than boat, trekking, swimming, and god knows what else. "WOOO!"

How could things possibly get worse?

"Yay!" Eugene cheered sarcastically.

In the time it took for him to glance at their surroundings, Edward was trailing behind a woman; flirting. Flirting, of all things. "Hey guuurl, what'cha doin'?" He had no idea what a woman would be doing in a gigantic chain-link enclosed paddock. It must be something to do with all the other people, tramping around in ragged clothing without apparent aim. They seemed to be feeling their way with arms stretched in front of them- even though the landscape within the confinement of the fence was flat and empty.

They were not trapped, Eugene told himself, they were just on an… and adventure? Yes, like the ones they'd had as little boys in the backyard, fighting monsters and riding dragons and whatever the fuck else- who was he kidding. They were on the other side of the world at the assend of nowhere, this was not an adventure. Sobel would be shouting at the men right now, believing that they'd slept in or left the Army or got lost playing hide and seek. The rest of Easy were probably suffering. They had to get back as fast as they could. "We're not even supposed to be here. We should be in Taccoa eating orange spaghetti and running Currahee 'till we throw up… how do we get out of here?" He was paid no attention, Edward having apparently just handed the unresponsive lady his address and a wink, and a 'mail me some time, baby'. A whiff of her breath reeked of out-of-date meat and compost; deterring Edward. Minutely. "Woah! Someone doesn't use mouth wash…" A few hacking coughs, splutters, and then that undefeatable smile wormed to the surface. "…No offence. You're hot." Her head was lolled to the side, she was groaning and shuffling through the dead grass, oblivious to Edward's advances.

Come to think of it, all the people in this place were alike in that way. They hadn't glanced twice, heck, they hadn't even looked once at the two newcomers falling from the sky.

"Ed… we should leave. Now. Come on, time to go home." For a second Eugene was worried that Edward would be dismissive- and would end on him being dragged out by the ear- but thankfully the soldier started towards the nearest edge of the paddock.

"Sure. Let's find a way to get to England, yeah? These locals are so hard to get!" Edward complained. At least he was laughing slightly… because Eugene really didn't want to go trekking through Soviet Russia with a whiney Edward. Sparing one glance back, Eugene felt relief wash over him. All the people had started to follow them at their calm, snail's pace. "Where are my fucking wire-cutters?"

"We're going on an adventure!"

"Shut up and hand me your wire cutters!"

"WHERE THE GOD DAMNED HELL HAVE YOU TWO BEEN FOR THE PAST MONTH?! YOU'VE BEEN MISSING SINCE THE LAST AIR DROP!"

"No excuse, sir-"

"In Russia, SIR!"

"RUSSIA? WHAT IN GODS NAME POSSESSED YOU TO GO THERE, PRIVATE?" Even a drunken Nixon could tell that Sobel wasn't asking for an explanation. He was very possibly being a facetious little shit, and before he could give the two punishment, Edward cut him off and launched into the month or so that Eugene had hoped to never relive.

As Edward finished up relayed the adventure somewhere around catching the train filled with Krauts, biking through a barrage of British mortars, and a sneak onto a boat filled with Frenchmen, Edward smiled at Eugene, who was resolutely not looking at his best friend. He was sure that he could have explained their trip in a way that didn't sound like some alcohol-induced hallucination (or he could have just not said anything, and avoid humiliation and a more severe punishment from Sobel than they were already doomed to get).

And if Eugene was starting to hope that the whole ordeal was one, for sanities sake, Ed didn't need to know that.

The rest of the company were standing at the feet of their beds, desperately trying to hold back their laughter- Winters had to leave the room before he exploded into cackles. Sobel fixed them both with glares and whirled out of the door post-haste. Edward ran after him. "YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE ME, SIR! IT'S TRUE! ASK EUGENE!"

"LATRINE DUTY, BOTH OF YOU. UNTIL WE LEAVE AMERICA. ON A BOAT. IN THE GOD DAMNED ATLANTIC OCEAN."

"Sir!"

Down the row of huts, Winters could be heard pissing himself with laughter during the retell of Ed's story to Nixon. Edward trudged back into the hut he was sharing with Roe, Muck, Luz, Bull, and Garnier. He approached his friend, going in for a hug. They had been through so much together, and it hurt that nobody took his word for it.

So he was shocked when a hand thwacked him hard on the back of the head, and the medic's shoulder roughly shoved him into the nearest footlocker as he stormed past.

"Gene, I-"

"I fucking hate you!" The door blew shut behind him, and his raging continued as he walked away from the cabin. "Fucking latrines. You couldn't have just been normal for once in your life, could you!?"

"Love you too!"

"FUCK YOU!"