Stepping off the bus he takes a deep breath, eyeing the military base in front of him. The snipers in the towers were armed and ready as they guarded the gateway into hell. This did not scare him the least; he knew what he was doing. He would walk through that gate and never come out again other than of course, in a body bag. He stood motionless while this thought lingered, heels teetering on the curb. The sunset sat behind the base like a sea of blood as the sun sank deep within it. Though it was beautiful it seemed to have a sort of, depressing feel. This is the last sunset he will watch before he becomes a slave to the Soviet Army. He watched his freedom wash away by the light of the moon as it shone from behind him, dragging his black soul towards the gates. His thoughts were broken by a stern voice beckoning over the flat empty land between them,
" Soldier! Did you step in super glue? March boy!" Shrugging his bag back onto his shoulder he walked up to the man who, by the look of his uniform, was a Sergeant,
" What's your name Soldier?" The Sergeant bore a cap with a visor shadowing the top half of his face. The Emerald's that shone in his eyes were hardened with creases of sternness and abhorrence as a neatly groomed black caterpillar sat a top his pencil thin lips. He wasn't a big man but held himself as if he were 6'10". The intimidated young man struggled to undo the button on his chest pocket, mumbling his response with divided attention,
" Felonius…" The Sergeant, displeased with his response closed the space between them. The young soldier pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket just as he felt the warm breath of his superior at his face,
" When I ask you a question I expect a god damn response and I want it loud enough so I can hear it. Now Soldier, what is your name?" The young soldier locked his big blue eyes with the Sergeant's dark stare,
" Felonius Gru, Sir." He extended the paper in his hand, which was quickly ripped out of his grasp. The Sergeant's eyes darted back and forth as he skimmed the contents while Felonius stood awkwardly, eyes at his feet. After a moment his superior stepped to the side, motioning for him to move forward. Entering the army grounds everything seemed so black and white, nothing but lots of guns and lots of men holding them. He halted as he heard footsteps behind him. His Sergeant circled him like a tiger, stopping before him with a look of hunger for fresh meat,
" My name is Sergeant Niko Dmitriev. I will be in charge of your quadrant. You will report to Sector 456 for duty at 05:00. Failure to arrive on time will result in harsh consequences. Are we clear Soldier?" Felonius nodded his head uneasily. Niko raised an eyebrow while extending his hand. Once he had accepted the handshake the Sergeant's grip tightened to a bone-crushing strength. Felonius struggled to hide his pained expression as he felt numbness flow through his hand down to his fingertips,
" You know, you are a lucky man, usually we don't take in criminals." Pulling him close, Niko spoke softly into his ear,
" Cross me and I will make your life so miserable you will think the prison showers were a spa." Finally released the intimidated soldier stepped back, wiggling his fingers in attempt to regain feeling. A strange smile of satisfaction crossed the Sergeant's lips as he saluted and returned to the gates. Felonius froze in place; maybe this wasn't such a good idea. He had a feeling he was going to be labeled based on his past but being he had barely walked through the gate and already received grief had him quaking in his boots. He came here to get away from all the labels and accusing eyes and take on the identity of 'Soldier'. He joined the army to forget his past and become a mindless drone like the rest, willingly walking into his impending doom with his head held high. He didn't want to die a criminal, he wanted to die as a sort of hero; maybe then she'd be proud of him. Swallowing his pride he began his search for Sector 456 hopeful someone there will be a little more welcoming.
The base was enormous and confusing. There were no signs or numbers on the buildings. He walked aimlessly till he overheard two soldiers speaking of Sergeant Dmitriev. Doing a 180 he whipped around and started towards the combatants. He pursued them at a fair distance so that they were unaware of his following. The two men entered a building that looked strangely like a metal barn. The interior was full of young men sitting about round tables with beer and cards in hand. Laughter filled the air as they told stories with drunken tongues of war and woman. This was obviously not the building he was supposed to report to. Reaching for the door handle he felt a hand sit heavy on his shoulder,
" Oye, you lost buddy?" a hard lump formed in his throat as he attempted to swallow it down and turn towards the person who was addressing him. As their blue eyes met, they scanned each other intently. The young man looked to be around the same age though his physical stature was at a much more impressive muscular form while he, himself, was a little more round in the middle with arms and legs that resembled that of spaghetti. The soldier before him had broad facial features with a chinstrap lining his jaw. His head was shaved but you could see a small layer of dirty blonde prickling through. To be honest the man looked as though he was better fit for films than War. Felonius removed his eyes and returned them to his feet timidly,
" No, well yes, I mean, sort of…" The handsome soldier stuck his hand out in a welcoming gesture,
" Not to worry my friend, the name's Myke Fedorov and if I do say so myself, you look like you could use a drink. Come, let's have some Vodka." He accepted the handshake, wincing once he realized he had given the one that had previously been crushed. A smile consumed the man's face, swinging his arm around Felonius's neck. He guided the coy young man towards an empty table,
" Put your bag down, relax, I will go get you a drink." Felonius wasn't really sure what to do. On the one hand he could probably make a break for the door and continue his search for his cot and a good nights rest but on the other hand a drink did sound nice though he wasn't completely sure about the company it came with. Allowing his bag to slide off his shoulder he sat down in the cold metal chair. Two glasses filled with clear liquid were popped onto the table as his newfound friend took a seat across from him,
" What's your name my friend?" The muscular gent took a large swig of his drink while Felonius batted his back and forth between his hands unnervingly,
" Felonius… Felonius Gru." Myke took another large gulp,
" Felonius eh? That's a dumb name. But the last name, that I like. Sounds tough. I'm going to call you Gru. Ok Buddy?" Felonius personally always hated his first name. He believed his mother intentionally tried to find the most embarrassing name possible to give to him, you know, to make sure he lived everyday of his life in ridicule. So he really wasn't against the idea of a nickname in fact, he wondered why he never thought of it himself. Nodding his head he brought the glass up to his face and eyeballed its contents. He casually sniffed it to reassure himself it was vodka before taking a sip,
" You don't talk much do you Gru? Well maybe you'll loosen up after a couple more swigs. You know you don't have to feel nervous around me; I'm a nice guy. Ask anyone in the building." Felonius shook his head while taking a bigger gulp,
" I will take your word for it." Myke's smile reached ear to ear as he lifted his glass,
" That's what I'm talking about. So what brought you into our little slice of paradise? Where are you from?" Gru clinked glasses with him before knocking back the last bit in his glass,
" It was the only option I had left. I am from Tula, just outside Moscow." Myke finished off his glass as well,
" Tula eh? I got a cousin who lives in Tula, lots of crime out there. Good to see you are still in one piece." Felonius slid his glass to the middle of the table,
" No the people of Tula are good people it is the outsiders from Moscow that are the ones who cause trouble." Myke sat back in his chair bringing his feet up onto the table,
" Ah yes, a man could lose himself in that city. It's a place of sin and filth but a poor man's heaven." Gru nodded nonchalantly as the conversation took on an awkward religious twist. Myke pulled his feet from the table, lifting a cross from his neck to his lips,
" Let's pray for those weak hearted dopes." Felonius rolled his eyes waving away the idea,
" How bout you pray enough for the both of us ok?" Myke laughed returning the cross under his collar,
" You aren't a religious man are you Gru my friend?" Gru's smirk answered Myke's query as the buff man walked over to a counter and grabbed a bottle of vodka,
" This place makes a religious man out of all of us. When you stare death in the face you find strength in knowing you'll go to a better place you know?" Gru grabbed his glass once it was refilled,
" Trust me, I find no comfort in that knowledge." Myke returned to his seat after poring himself another glass,
" I have a feeling you have quite the back story. Let's drink to that. I look forward to getting to know you bud." Gru clinked glasses with the man across from him yet again,
" If you are lucky, you never will."