Our Little World

Chapter One

Alfred Fredrick Jones- Given he hated that name, it was all his in this world of three-billion people. Names were so special. His was special because his mother and father gave it to him for a reason, he was named after his grandfather.
Alfred Charles Jones. He was a good man, born in the 1880's, around that time. Alfred (Fredrick) always aspired to be like him- Strong, fearless, brave... He also had any woman he wanted. No wonder, he was in the army.
He had been training since he was little to be like him. Even when he was just a little boy, any time he saw his grandfather he tried to impress him. All he ever wanted was the mans approval- which he had achieved, but he refused to accept it. He never felt good enough. He never thought he was worth it. He always had to do more, just to earn this mans respect.
He was now 22 years old, deployed in the Soviet Union, helping with the war against the Chinese. He felt noble. He had only been there for about a week, he was mainly scouting around with one of his friends. It was a very dull country, it was nothing like the states. It was so... Depressing. Grey. The streets were quiet as far as they went, the weather was cold, and the homes were empty. It was so sad.
They were scouting out a little cabin, Alfred was looking through the cabinets while his friend was searching the rooms. "This is depressing." His friend, Mitchell said. He really wasn't wrong, it was such a sad home, the furniture was destroyed, the carpets were dusty, the pictures on the wall weren't even visible through the thick layer of dust that covered them.
Alfred nodded after a moment, shutting the cabinet he was looking through and shifting his gaze to the living area. "Very." He replied, taking a deep breath as he took a step on a creaking floor, immediately lifting his foot out of shock. He let out a breath of relief and continued to move, eventually stopping and turning to walk towards Mitchell. "Let's go. There's nothing here." He said, Mitchell nodding. The two walked out, going back to their vehicle and getting in, Alfred in the passenger side.
"The Chinese really had no mercy." Mitchell said after a moment of driving. Alfred was a little zoned out- when he went into the military, he didn't expect to see all of this. He didn't expect to see photographs of families that probably were no longer alive, well, he did, he just didn't anticipate for it to have this effect on him. He had seen about 5 stuffed animals covered in ash that were found in burned down buildings. In his short time here, it still lead him to wonder- did the child that once held this survive?
He snapped out of it when his friend spoke. He bit the inside of his cheek and nodded, sighing softly. "Yeah. Women and children.. I couldn't imagine." Alfred said, looking forward at the road. There were only a few houses every couple of miles, they only had been taking backroads to avoid any confrontation with the Chinese that they could. Two American soldiers wouldn't stand a chance against an entire army. Mitchell glanced over; he had been in the army since he was 18, just like Alfred, so they were in this together.
He had some empathy toward his friend, his free hand reaching out to pat his shoulder. "Come on, man. It'll be alright. We're helping." Mitch said, flashing him a smile. When you're alone with your friend in the middle of a country you've never been to, you have to be each other's support. It can be draining. Alfred smiled back at him, looking over at him for a minute. "Yeah. We're helping." He said quietly, putting up his classic charm and taking a deep breath.
"I tell you what, though. I'm hungry." Mitch said after a moment with a chuckle. Alfred laughed, looking into the backseat of the truck for a ration. They were running low on food, and were far from other soldiers. "Yeah, we might have to share one." Alfred replied as he rummaged through their things, looking for one. "Shoot, yeah, we're going to have to stop soon. We're close to Novosibirsk, that's only a little further." Mitch said, groaning as his eyes went back to the road ahead.
"I don't want Soviet food, borscht is gross." Alfred whined and pulled out a ration, his eyes lighting up a bit as he sat in his seat correctly again. "Well, it's that or you can starve." Mitch shrugged.
Alfred sighed and looked at the ration for a moment before back to the road. They drove for a little while longer before they came into a town, and this one wasn't burned down, many of the houses seemed intact. People weren't exactly out on the streets, but shops and restaurants were opened. They drove through the town a little, awkwardly smiling at the people who stared at them, until the car stopped moving forward. Mitch went wide eyed and stared at the wheel for a minute, looking to Alfred. "It's not working." He said. Alfred just stared- what could he mean that it's 'not working?' It had to work! It was their only form of transportation! "The hell do you mean it's not working?" Alfred asked, pushing him and sitting up, looking from Mitchell's point of view. He had his foot all the way down on the gas, he couldn't find a reason why it wasn't moving. His heart rate sped up- he didn't want to be stuck with Soviet's! He didn't want to be stuck in a city with these people- he had places to be, they had places to be! They had things they had to get done, and Alfred didn't want to risk losing his troop.
He took a deep breath and sat in his seat correctly again, thinking. "We have to act tough. These people are cold." Alfred said, nodding to himself. Mitchell nodded as well, quite frantically. "So, we tell them we need help?" Mitch asked, looking over at his friend and taking a deep breath. "No. We can't ask for help, they'll think we're weak. We have to demand." Alfred replied, looking out the window and placing his hand on the door handle.
"Alright," Mitch said, nodding again and quickly getting out of his seat. Alfred got out as well, looking around. They had to act natural, as though they planned this, even though it's obvious that they didn't. There was a man who seemed to have noticed them, an older man, because he walked over and reached a hand out to shake Alfred's with no hesitation. He had white hair, a sagging face, and was dressed how you would imagine a Russian.
"Good evening, sir. Welcome to Sortavala."  He said in Russian, a kind smile on his face as he held his hand up for Alfred to shake it. He had a very intense voice, he sounded hostile, but he looked so kind. Alfred looked at the man for a moment- he was only a little bit taller than this Russian person, and he would use that to his advantage.
He didn't understand much of what he said, all he really got was 'Good evening, sir.' He didn't speak much Russian- they were deployed in a hurry. "Good evening. I am an American soldier. Do you speak English?" He asked, shaking the mans hand. Mitchell ran around the truck to Alfred's side when he heard talking, quickly hiding his panic and supervising the conversation.
The Russian man took a moment, but soon smiled and nodded. "Yes, I do. Welcome to Sortavala." He said, laughing as he joyfully shook Alfred's hand. "How can we assist you and your friend?" Alfred looked at him as he asked that. He was definitely a little confused- it was just a few minutes ago that he assumed these people were cold and evil. Maybe this was a good one. "Food! We need food." Mitchell blurted, clearing his throat and standing by his blonde friend. The man stared for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, food. I will have my granddaughter prepare a feast, and you will eat." His dialect was very old fashioned, or maybe this is just how all Russians spoke. Alfred and Mitchell shared a look, then Alfred nodded at the man. "Thank you." He said. "No need to thank! You're doing a great help for my country. Come, it would be an honor for you to meet my grandson." He said, Alfred stopping him for a moment. "Where should we put our vehicle? We can't move it, the gas isn't working." He asked, trying to keep a bold stature.
The man took a moment to translate his words. "I find someone to help. For now, do not worry about it." He said, then walking in a different direction, which the two Americans assumed was a home.
If anything went south, they had guns.
They followed him to this small house, walking inside behind him. It had a nicely decorated interior, photos were hung on the walls, and it seemed very clean. There was a woman sweeping the floors in another room, she wore a white skirt that went mid calf and a grey button up top that tucked in, she had long platinum blonde hair, and she seemed very calm.
She seemed to have noticed they were in the house when the old man started talking. "Welcome to our home." He said, allowing them inside and shutting the door behind the men. Alfred was definitely anxious, who wouldn't be when you're in a strangers home on a different continent? Mitchell seemed to have just been following Alfred's moves, standing the way he was, and letting him do all the talking.
"What was your name, sir?" Alfred asked, his gaze falling back on the man when he was done examining the room. "My name is Ivan." He said, smiling, then calling something in Russian that made the girl turn and look. When Alfred finally noticed her, he was shocked. He hadn't seen a woman in a while, and he was told Soviet women were ugly, but this woman was gorgeous. She had beautiful violet eyes and plump lips, it was hard not to stare for a moment.
Ivan said something else, then the girl set the broom down and walked over, her eyes looking on the floor with her head hung low. "This is Anya. She does not speak as much English as I do." He said, patting Anya's back. She lifted her head when she heard her name, looking at her grandpas and exchanging a few phrases in Russian, then looking to Alfred.
She had never seen an American before. She had met soldiers, Soviet soldiers, such as her brother, Dmitri. She was raised to respect men, as they were superior to her (not by her grandfather, he always raised her to kick a mans shins out, but her father taught her so.)
She smiled sweetly at the men, her heart stopping for a moment as she met the blondes gaze. "It is a pleasure to cater to you." She said in English, her grandfather placing a hand on her shoulder. "All I ask is that you don't sleep with her." Ivan said with a laugh- Anya, once again, doesn't know much English. And Russians seem to have no filter. Alfred's brows shot up when he heard that, Mitchell held back a laugh.
"Uh, that won't be an issue." Alfred said, forcing a smile. Mitchell nodded, and Ivan laughed again, looking at Anya. "Go prepare some food for our guests." He demanded in Russian, Anya nodding and turning to walk to the kitchen.
"Ah, I nearly forgot! Nikolai," he called, turning to walk into a different room, leaving the men unsupervised. Alfred looked at Mitchell and chuckled. "The hell are we going to do?" He asked in a whisper, Mitchell shrugging. "They're giving us food and they'll fix our truck. I'm hungry, let's at least stay for the food." He replied.
Alfred shook his head and looked back at Anya who was in the kitchen. "We don't exactly have a way to leave." He said, Mitchell starting to say something but cutting himself off when he noticed Ivan walking back, this time with a boy. "This is my grandson, Nikolai. He wants to be a soldier one day." He said, the boy was about 4'11, he was young. Nikolai looked up at them and smiled. "I am Nikolai!" He didn't have an accent as thick as Anya or Ivan, he seemed to have learned English much earlier on. Alfred couldn't help but smile, he got down on a knee and looked at the child, giving him that flashy American grin.
"Do you know a lot of English?" He asked, the boy nodding. "Yes! My papa taught it to me before the war started." Nikolai replied, laughing as he squeezed his grandfathers hand. "I want to be a soldier! Like you!" He said, Alfred thought this kid was adorable. Mitchell didn't seem to even want to get involved- they heard rumors about Russian children being raised to kill people for their parents at young ages. So he was still going to let Alfred take the lead. "You do? Well, I'm sure you'll do great." He said, chuckling and getting back on his feet. "Yeah, I even have action figures." The child continued to ramble for a few moments before Ivan cut him off. "Alright, Nikolai. They are probably exhausted. We must let them rest." He said, ruffling Nikolai's hair. He complained for a moment, but was silenced and sent to his room.
"Please, take off your coats and sit by the fire. Our climate is very cold." Ivan offered, Alfred shaking his head, but Mitchell complied. "Thank you, sir. But I'll be fine, it's still a little chilly." He said, chuckling with Ivan for a second. "Yes, sir. I will go get someone to help with your vehicle." Ivan said, glancing into the kitchen at his granddaughter, then to the door. "Thank you." Alfred said, then Ivan walked out, shutting the door behind himself. Alfred looked at Mitchell, then to the woman in the kitchen. "She's pretty." Mitchell whispered in English. Alfred nodded, patting around his jacket for his translation book. They had sent them to the country with little books with Russian phrases so they wouldn't be too lost. "Damn it, I can't find my book!" Alfred groaned, Mitchell grabbing his jacket and looking in the pockets, pulling out his and handing it to Alfred. "Here's mine, are you going to talk to her?" Mitch asked, Alfred kind of snatching the book. "Yeah, I'm going to talk to her." He said, looking through the pages to make a short sentence.
Before Mitch could reply, he was already walking into the kitchen to see the woman. When Anya heard footsteps, she turned to look at him and smiled. Alfred smiled back, putting the words in order in his head. But even if he said something perfectly, he would have to translate what she said into English, and the book couldn't really do that. He took a deep breath, and decided to just do it, smiling at her and finally speaking. "Hello. I am Alfred, what was your name?" He said in Russian, his pronunciation a little off, but Anya was able to understand. She was smaller than him by about four inches- he was 5'9, she was about 5'4 or 5'5.
"I am Anya Safia Braginskaya." She replied in English, Alfred was a little more than grateful because he could understand her. "I do not know much English. I am sorry." She said nodding and turning back to the counter, where she was slicing vegetables. "It's okay," he automatically replied, but quickly remembered she wouldn't understand that. But he remembered how to say 'it is' and 'okay' in Russian, so he could put two and two together. "It's okay..?" He said in a little bit of a questioning tone, hoping it was correct.
Anya smiled and continued to slice for a couple moments, then looked back at him and pointed to a tomato, making a grabbing motion. "You need this?" He asked, grabbing the tomato and holding it up for a moment, Anya nodding. He understood what she meant, and handed it to her, then she started slicing that up.
Alfred walked up to be closer to her, placing a finger on her wrist with a gloved hand so she'd stop slicing, then pointed at the tomato.
Anya looked at him, a light pink blush dusting her face. She had pale skin, a beautiful porcelain color, so the blush really wasn't that hard for him to notice. He bit the inside of his lower lip to keep himself from smiling, then tapped a slice of the tomato. "Tomato." He said, Anya furrowing her brows and setting the knife down, placing a finger on the same slice. "Tomato." She said in Russian. "Tomato. Toe-may-toe" he pronounced, Anya nodding.
"Toe-may-toe" she said, Alfred smiling and nodding. "Tomato." She said, but this time in Russian. "Toe-may-toe." She pronounced in her native tongue, Alfred repeating it. "Toe-may-toe." He said in Russian, Anya nodding and giggling. "Yes." She said in English, gently nudging his hand away and going back to slicing.

A/N
Heyy I'm back lol this is based around like a war between the Soviet Union and China, and if the Cold War never happened. So shut the fuck up because I'm not going off of real facts. Alright cya