It was supposed to be a night out with your friends at a new bar. You were already apprehensive when they said it was at a bar that soldiers were known to go to, but you hadn't seen your friends in forever, so you went.

The bar was nice, had great drinks, and you were enjoying yourself for the most part. Catching up with your friends over a nice strawberry daiquiri was the adult equivalent of sitting together at lunch with milk boxes. Nostalgic, in a way, you supposed.

Everything was going perfectly. That is, until your friends started to get approached by soldiers of every rank. One by one, your friends filed off to whatever stinky hotel room or dirty car the soldiers promised them.

Not you, though. You stayed at the bar with your drink, trying to salvage the end of your night.

"All alone?" A soldier sat beside you, the Russian flag stitched professionally on his leather jacket. He was huge, with a cocky sparkle in his eye, "Who fumbled an attractive piece like you?"