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The most important mission of all (RussiaX Reader)“Well I’ll be going then Sir.” You saluted officer Braginski and turned to your plane. After getting into the cockpit and getting settled you flipped the switch, the satisfying hum of the engines filling the small compartment.
Ivan stood and watched as you took off yet again. His heart squeezed painfully as your plane disappeared over the horizon and he turned, his long scarf swishing behind him as he walked. It was always like this.
Ivan had been taken in by your mother, one of the best pilots in the nation and the only female one. She was renowned for her impressive dives and spins and when she flew it was as if she might not come back; she looked as though she could stay up there with the birds and never return.
But Ivan had two sisters, sisters who’d been ripped away from his side and he longed to get back to, back in Russia. Though he hardly had any memory of them, he knew he had to find them, whatever it took.
As he couldn’t fly yet due to his young
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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