3rd person POV
"Master?..."
"Master?!..."
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Y/n walks along a dark street, it reminded him of his home city of Kiev, the tall buildings, the straight streets, even the smell.
It was near pitch black among the rows of buildings except for a dim golden light that shone around the street corner.
Y/n couldn't see where it was coming from or what was producing the light, and he dare not look, something about the light shook him to his core
Y/n's head suddenly shoots up as a humming noise fills the air, it was pestering to Y/n's ears and he grimaced at the high pitched noise
But it started to fluctuate... up and down and up and down...
They started forming into words, the words struck fear into the usually stoic Y/n, his breath hitched, and his eyes widen
'kalinka, kalinka,kalinka moya...' the song was sung aloud, and it was getting louder.
A golden sunlike light grows as the dim golden light grew brighter
Without a second thought Y/n turns around and bolts down the street, he was barefoot. and the rocks hurt his feet, seemingly gashing and stabbing his feet every chance they got. But he didn't care.
He could see the light shining down the street, in front of him
'KALINKA KALINKA KALINKA MOYA!' The whisper turned into a shout behind the young soldier
The ground shook under him, as if an entire army was chasing him... an army made of stone. Either way he didn't dare turn his head to look
Y/n coughs, the cold air in his chest contrasting with the prior warm air caused painful spasming of the lungs but he pushed through it, the pain wasn't his biggest concern at the moment
'KALINKA KALINKA KALINKA MOYA!!!' The shout was like breath down his neck.
Time seemed to slow down as Y/n tripped, his head connected with the sharp, jagged rocks, and everything went black
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"Master!"
Y/n shoots up, immediately taking the pistol from under his pillow and aiming it forward, only to clock heads with his self proclaimed-maid
They both reel back in surprise
Y/n winces as he holds his head in pain. And Belfast whimpers ash she rubs her temples.
After looking around Intensively and realizes that he was in fact; not being chased, Y/n closes his eyes and sighs, laying his pistol beside him on the covers
His pistol was the Tokarev TT 33, it was a Russian pistol, he wasn't happy about having a Russian pistol, but it kept him safer than his old Walther p38 would have, as its cartridge was much larger. And to a soldier like Y/n: peace of mind was hard to come by.
Y/n rubs his eyes, his stoic expression never fading as he tries to get up
To Y/n, it was as if he was chained to the bed, he had been sleeping in the cold hard ground in full body armour and a helmet, and while it was protective, it wasn't the most comfortable experience for an insomniac. Many sleepless nights endured by the young kinless man felt like they were all repaid on the silk mattress of the cruise ship
Belfast bows to him
"My apologies for not waking you Master, you seemed like you were having a nightmare and-"
