Unblessed Mates

Chapter 1: Mattia and the Break Room

Nicolai above

Nicolai POV

The mug of black coffee is something that keeps me alive. Sometimes, I think it is my only entertainment in life, which is now very robotic.

I sleep, I wake up, get my coffee, go to work, work, go back, watch TV or do push-ups or another sort of exercise, take my sleeping pills and go to bed, and the next day, I wake up, get my coffee... and so on, so on, so on.

Working here in Alaska is the longest I have ever been in recent years.

I'm a soldier, or at least I was a soldier; now I'm a veteran. I served in Afghanistan and, next a bit, as a mercenary. Coming back home, I couldn't cope; I wouldn't say I liked the fact that the military psychologist marked me as not fit for another service.

I thought he was wrong until, during the heated argument in my house, I pushed my wife. She fell, hitting her head, and needed quite a lot of stitches. I've never seen her since then. Her lawyer stopped me in front of her hospital room, pushing a restraining order into my face.

The divorce was quick; the limitation of parental rights to my sons, too. The house I bought with money I earned, risking my life for my country in the desert, was gone. Honestly, I didn't even try to fight, probably because I subconsciously knew that my family would be so much better off without me.

I haven't seen them for ten years; I have only heard that she has a new husband now.

Coping with everything was a struggle; I kept myself in the army drill, working out every single day. I got a job from time to time, and that's when the problems usually started. People at work irritated me with casual chit-chats, bragging about bills or Netflix and their sloppiness. I usually got sacked quickly or quit on my own.

It also didn't help that I spent years drinking heavily. I've been sober for three years now, but the funny thing is, no matter how much I drank, I was always a very effective killing machine; guys at work used to be afraid of me. No matter how low I fall, I'm always dangerous. I got in trouble regularly, and soon, I had more and more problems securing another job.

I must say my fate was not that different from the fates of many similar veterans who came back home over the years. As always, the country loves you when you fight, but when you stop, you must fend for yourself and better not cause any trouble. Many of us have PTSD, are divorced, and struggle with alcohol.

But three years ago, by total coincidence, I met one of my previous colleagues in the army, the guy honestly I didn't like, and he helped me to stand up again on my two feet. He is the head of one of the security departments in the company "FuturaHW." Apparently, he needed people, and that's how I found myself here in Alaska, in Nenana, where there is pretty much nothing important except the research facility belonging to the FuturaHW, which basically helped the town, inhabited by around 300 people, get so much better in recent years.

Nenana is located close to Fairbanks, the location of the FuturaHW is closer to Nenana, and it's where most of the staff lives. Not that there are so many staff members, actually. The facility is rather big, but to my surprise, at the beginning, I noticed that not so many people actually work there.

Those like me, security staff, cleaning staff, and receptionists live in Nenana, but those who work in the labs live in the facility, in its living area. Some of us joke that we are divided into ground and underground staff. Not having a lot of interaction with each other.

I sigh, parking my Jeep in front of the facility and watching the other truckload moving through the main gate for a moment. It's the beginning of October, and soon, the weather conditions will make the facility totally isolated, even from the nearest Fairbanks, so every year, more supply is brought to make it self-sufficient during the winter months.