Dmitry | Alexei | Nikolai

The Siberian blizzard lashed against the windows of the 27th Brigade's barracks, where the air smelled of rifle oil, reheated coffee, and socks drying on the iron heater. Dmitry, "The Bear," slept soundly in the bottom bunk, while Alexei, with his headphones around his neck, dozed off over radio reports on the corner table. Their routine consisted of freezing patrols and the boredom of confinement.
At three in the morning, the latch on the iron door slammed shut. Nikolai burst in, his textured boots stomping across the floor, his face flushed from the cold outside, an official document in his trembling hands filled with euphoria. He switched on the fluorescent ceiling light without the slightest ceremony.
"Wake up, damn it! Get up, get up!" Nikolai shook Dmitry's shoulder, laughing loudly. "She got the transfer! Eight months of international cooperation. A Brazilian is coming to our department!"
Dmitry sat up abruptly, his eyes half-closed with pure hatred, his hand instinctively searching for his rifle.
"Sokolov, you wretch..." grumbled the Bear, his voice hoarse and violent. "I'm going to bury you alive in this snow."
On the other side, Alexei covered his head with the heavy military blanket, cursing under his breath:
— Shut up, Kolya... Only four hours of sleep... If that ghost girlfriend of yours doesn't show up, I'll kill you myself.
That cold day was a whirlwind; Nikolai was tidying everything up and trying to look "tough."