Another Saturday evening, another night at the bar, drowning myself in horrendous, cheap vodka. Every weekend just the same in this shithole with a military base, a small village, and absolutely fuck all else.
But then, something different happens. A new face sits next to me at the bar—a soldier just like me, but that's where the similarities end. Whereas I have lost most of my joy in life, there's a soft, yet genuinely happy smile on this soldier's face—a face, which I might add, is absolutely immaculate. If I didn't know better, I would have mistaken him for a woman in an instant. And when he speaks to me, it's a gentle, caring tone that contrasts heavily with the gruff, taciturn tone that I have developed over time. "The State provides, comrade! You're Comrade Morozov, aren't you? I've heard a lot about you when I was speaking to the officers at the base. They said you are a diligent soldier that stands as an example to the recruits and is amongst the most competent in the entire base," he explains, and I have to suppress a laugh. That's damning with faint praise.
However, in the interest of being polite to this new guy, I simply force a smile in return and say, "The State provides. I suppose I just try my best every day, comrade. I must admit, however, that you have me at a disadvantage—you know my name, but I don't know yours."
He then reaches out for a hand shake, and I accept it before he speaks again, "Ah, of course, my mistake! I am Comrade Fedorov, and it's nice to meet you! The natural beauty of this area is quite something, and so my visit here has been quite enjoyable."
Now I know he's definitely not from around here, as anyone here wouldn't be able to call this place "pretty" even if they had a gun pointed to their head. But that name... I remember that name from somewhere. And then it hits me—Fedorov, that's the name of that 3rd Battalion ace! The guy that shot up through the ranks like a meteor on account of being a complete and utter model soldier in every single way, and now outranks pretty much everybody around here. A bit stunned, I now find myself stammering slightly as I respond, "A-Ah, my apologies, comrade! I w-was not aware that such an important man was here to visit our insignificant little base..."
And yet, he just shakes his head lightly. "Don't worry yourself, Comrade Morozov. Sure, I might have risen through the ranks rather quickly, but that doesn't mean I don't feel like a common soldier anymore. In fact, my current rank just makes me appreciate the work you common grunts do all the more!" he replies, and I feel sincerity in his words. For the next fifteen minutes, the two of us chat about mundane military topics, from favorite rations to what we named our weapons, and we hit it off remarkably well. Fedorov, despite working at a far higher level than I'll ever be able to sniff, is a genial type that seems to genuinely enjoy mingling with the rank and file.
But as we happily chat away and bond over the terrible alcohol on offer in this watering hole, somebody else walks up to the bar. A medic and recent transplant, from what I can tell. Seems like he's put away quite a bit of alcohol himself, and he's evidently not an experienced drinker like Fedorov and myself, because you can tell he's drunk. He stands next to us and points at Fedorov before yelling, "Hey, new guy! I challenge you!" and then slamming a challenge coin onto the bar. Looking at it, it's a coin he got for placing first out of his group in basic training, which, given the size of the groups, doesn't actually mean much. If that's the best he can offer, he's green as shit. And somehow, this drunk bastard just stumbled his way into challenging Fedorov of all people, who outranks him to such a ridiculous degree it's not even funny.
Oh, the look on Fedorov's face as he gives me a sly grin is absolutely beautiful. And then, without much ado, he pulls a coin out of his pocket and gently places it on top of the other soldier's coin. "Comrade... Voronin, is it? I believe my coin beats yours," he simply replies, reading the name off of the other soldier's uniform—seems this Voronin isn't at the level other soldiers are where they just stop caring about keeping the name tag on their uniform.
It takes a moment for Voronin to realize what Fedorov's coin is, but the moment he does, the color drains out of his face. It's a coin of the First Comrade's Chosen, the most elite of the elite. I believe that only ten of these coins exist in the entire country, and they are the highest awards one could possibly get. "Now, I believe you owe me something, Comrade Voronin. Are you aware of the special rules of challenging high-rank comrades?" he asks, wiggling his eyebrows in my direction. There is no such thing as special rules, which can only mean that Fedorov is making something up on the fly to fuck with this newbie and I'm supposed to play along. "Bartender, your best room and some of your best booze, please. Put it on HQ's tab on the name 'Fedorov', they'll know," he then says to the bartender, who quickly grabs a key and some more high-quality bottles of vodka from below the bar and lays it out for him. "Voronin, Morozov, come along. We have some things to do..." he trails off, taking the key and the bottles as we follow him.
Voronin looks like he's about to shit himself in fear, and thus follows along obediently. I follow as well, largely just out of sheer curiosity. Arriving in the room, we find it to be a somewhat well furnished bedroom, and Fedorov opens one of the vodka bottles and takes a swig before he starts unbuttoning his uniform jacket. "Now, Comrade Voronin, as is tradition, you are now to service your superiors in every way, understand?" he asks, again looking at me to get me to play along.
In response, I nod my head and start taking off my jacket as well. "Yeah, newbie. You know what to do. Get out of that uniform and let us see what you're all about," I tell Voronin, who at this point seems willing to do pretty much anything we tell him to. Sure enough, he's completely naked before long, with Fedorov and I following suit. Two naked veterans together with a naked newbie—totally nothing gay going on here, just some good old fashioned hazing.
Us two sit down on the bed as Voronin just kind of stands there, and eventually Fedorov just tells him, "Well? Get to work."