Despite the heat of battle, the sky remains cold up in the air. Few others' chest beat hard, but Feliciano's? It was racing like a car engine that is dangerously about to explode. When Ludwig comes down, his plane steamed like a kettle. The harsh rattle of the engine sound dangerous. The other squadrons are landing their steel eagles too, rolling it over the tarmac. Counting them was tedious, Feliciano usually look out for the empty spaces. The absences.
But never in Ludwig's Staffel*. He is the only one that Feliciano see when he lands. The world evaporates and goes hollow when he goes off into the sky. As if everything is sucked up with him, to places that Feliciano will never see again.
Crowds gather around Ludwig as he pushes himself out of the cockpit. Where his body separates from the landed metal hunk, to rest, eat and drink before he can return to down the enemy again, while Feliciano care and fix the aircrafts left behind. He stood there, frozen. The Messerschmitt Bf 109 was slightly damaged as there was a hole that can be seen near the bottom of the cockpit window. When Feliciano opened the box of ammos, he wasn't too surprised to see it empty. Though a bullet might be present for the pilot. Must've been a rough fight.
Ludwig vanishes from my sight amongst the welcoming crowd, which meant it was time for us mechanics to fix what can be fixed. Clean it up, refuel it and reload it in preparation for the next battle. There is a lot of work that needs to be done. Feliciano and his fellow mechanics repair and reload whenever the planes land. Once words of bombers en routing are received, the pilots jump out of their bunks, rookies and experts alike, preparing for battle. So everything has to be in shape when the time comes.
It's the rookies who usually don't last. Feliciano don't blame them. At this current rate, where pilots are thrown again and again up into the sky it not a shocker that most of them didn't make it far. Trainings are rushed, and with miniscule flight hours, being thrown into battle, meant that they hardly get enough shut eye.
As the late night was closing in, Feliciano took a seat on my tool box near the wing. Urgh... I can't sleep. The cloud heavy, covering the night sky with the moon out of sight. There might be a night flight, or it might not be. No fingers crossed but the plane is all ready to be flying again. Parts aren't easy to find these days but with wreckages lying around, it is easy to salvage it and turn into something useful.
Feliciano knows all these info, thanks to Heracles Karpusi, a calm and chilled guy. Feliciano and the mechanics would call him the 'cat gentleman' as strays of cat found near the airbase would flock all around him. Finding him sleeping with few of the felines is a normal sight for them. Though Heracles never spoke much, Feliciano is still grateful for him despite Hercales being placed the west for something offensive and was never to be seen again.
Felicano took out a fag since that is what the Englishmen would call it. He let out a few puffs with his head resting against the cool comfort of the fighter plane's wheel. The wing protecting him but never embracing him.
Feliciano stared at the thick book laid next to him. He and his older brother, Lovino love to read. That is before he ran off with a Spaniard and his grandpa to France or the United Kingdom. Feliciano wasn't sure where they are currently. But being born in Germany, the Nazis dragged Feliciano to aid in the war with his family escaping in fear of their safety. Reading just wasn't the option for him right now, as his eyes felt too heavy to stay awake.
There lies a book of written in Italian, the language taught by his grandpa when he was younger. A piece he has left that reminds him back to his family. An adventure book, where the forces of evil is being fought by a boy who has the ability to manipulate time. Who could travel the past as many time as he pleases, but never be able to save his friend from the despair, inflicted by evil he desperately tries to defeat.
When Feliciano read, the fantasy mixes with reality. He feel thrilled to observe the relationship between the two. One protecting the other, a friendship deep as the destiny that bound those two characters together. Feliciano always joked to himself that he would devote myself like this to another man. Take the bullet that was shot at him, and bleed out to see the heavens in his arm, knowing that his destiny is fulfilled. But dreams are just dreams as reality is far crueller.
Feliciano had no power to control time; that is able to stop his mother from giving birth to him in Germany, to able to save his father when he had a cardiac arrest. All thoughts are wiped out as Feliciano heard footsteps circling the plane. He straighten himself up, fear creeping up him, as he didn't know who to expect.
An inspection. His former superior, Gerhard*, who turn Feliciano's ears red from his yelling. Barking at Feliciano not to smoke anywhere near the priceless machines with his thick Berlin accent, and his tendency to grab Feliciano by the scruff of his neck if he didn't immediately jump. Feliciano has this uncomfortable feeling that somewhat tells him that he misses Gerhard's presence.
But Feliciano really did not expect him. Feliciano was about to jump up when Ludwig pushed an empty ammunition box closer to him and without any warning, sits down.
Staffel = Squadron
Gerhard = A character that I made up.
