Chapter Text
Tick, tock. Tic toc. Tik tok. Tiktok-aw crap, now I need to find that video.
Alvin sat with a blank eyed stare in the middle of history class, at the miniature desk provided for his classes, wishing he was somewhere else (as usual). He glanced over at his bros, which were conveniently seated near him in just about every class.
"Jeez...this is so boring..." he groaned, looking at his empty paper, he could probably copy somebody's answer or something when they all shared out. It didn't really matter.
"I know, right? It's over a 100 years ago, get over it..." Ryan S. (the 3rd one) rolled his eyes and leaned back into his chair, scrolling on his phone under his desk.
Carl (Sour Cream Carl, as they called him) gave a half-heartened shrug. "It's honestly not that bad when you give it a read. Really, I think my favorite character so far is K-"
"OH MY GOD CARL, shut the fuck up! This is why your uncle molests you," Alvin shouted, snapping his head towards Carl, several people in the class also looking at the two of them and letting out a few giggles.
"ALVIN!" The history teacher, Mr. Potionsmaker slammed his hands on his desk. "If you're so eager to get chatty, why don't you read what you wrote?" Oh no. More laughter. Even Theodore was getting a good chuckle out of his brother having to do work.
Alvin reluctantly stood up, pretending to read off of his paper. "Uh...Nothing New In the West or whatever it's called...shows that war was really bad because there was death and they didn't have tanks yet. Honestly, I think the protagonist has a skill issue," he muttered, scratching the back of his head.
Mr. Potionsmaker sat back down and rubbed his temples. "How disrespectful. See me after school."
...well, better then the alternative.
Alvin slowly found his way over to Mr. Potionsmaker's ominous door, now he was done with math, there was nothing saving him from the teacher's rage. He pushed the door open and peeked his head into the dark classroom. "Helloooooo?"
Thunder rumbled ominously outside as Mr. Potionsmaker slowly swiveled around in his chair, glaring at Alvin behind particularly shiny and round glasses. "Disrespecting such an important book. Disrespecting all those traumatized and killed. Alvin, to say I'm disappointed would imply I'm surprised."
"I was just joking around! I'm so sorry I didn't so the work!" Alvin instantly started the waterworks, as lightning flashed outside the classroom window. He could see the magic coming off from the teacher's hands, and cried out before he was certainly killed, "I SWEAR, THE BOOK SEEMS REALLY SIGMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-"
Suddenly, he understood it himself no more.
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Alvin rubbed his sore, thumping head, only to find a helmet covering it. Was this the afterlife? Was he in hell? That would explain the dull grey skies, the barbed wire reaching up like trees, the ever-present rattle of machine guns and shelling whizzing overhead. Wait. Alvin could recognize German was being spoken somewhere nearby him, and yet...he understood it. Like it was translated or something.
He looked to his right, finding three human young men huddled in the trench besides him. One in glasses was slumped against the dirt, muttering something about physics. Another rather short one was sitting closest to Alvin, writing down something and trying to shrink away from all the noise, and the third man, the one thin as a rake, was peeking over the ridge.
The short man seemed notice Alvin and gestured for him to come over. "You must be a new recruit."
"Uh..." Alvin glanced around, suddenly realizing where he ended up, and reluctantly nodding. "Yeah, I'm Alvin. Alvin Seville."
"Well, it's a pleasure to know you for now, Alvin. My name's Albert Kropp," the short man nodded, constantly glancing around, as if to see if he should get off of his break. He gestured over the young man in glasses, and his oddly well-kept boots. "That's Müller, if he acts stubborn you simply ignore him. And that's..."
"Tjaden," the thin man finished, not bothering to look back at his fellow soliders. Or...whoever these were supposed to be.
Alvin glanced around once again in confusion. There were lines upon lines of men in the trenches. And suddenly Alvin realized just what Mr. Potionsmaker had done. "Hey uh- is there supposed to be someone else with you?"
Kropp seemed confused about Alvin's question. "Usually Paul and Kat stay near us, I suppose. I don't know where Paul went, probably got placed farther along, with other recruits."
"Aren't Paul and Kat, like...gay?" Alvin blurted out, thinking of what some of the students in his class joked about, not thinking about if it was taboo for the time.
Müller and Kropp paused and glanced over at him like they'd seen a ghost, Tjaden just rolled his eyes and kept firing over the edge. Suddenly, the two of them broke into laughter. "Joy? In the middle of this war? You've got a lot to see, comrade," Kropp shook his head, the laughter not lasting long. Alvin let out a breath, of course linguistics were different, this was World War 1 or whatever.
"Guess so," Alvin shrugged. He crept up to the ridge, looking around the yards and yards of barren ground, the shelling dropping just about anywhere it could. Certainly, he did have plenty to see. It couldn't be that bad, could it really? Mr. Potionsmaker was just trying to teach him a lesson, like detention, in a weird magical way. Only a hour.