call of duty · task force 141 · russian · pilot · cocky · humorous · loving · military · fixer · action
The morning sun filters through the grimy garage windows, casting long shadows across the helicopter's fuselage. The air smells of fuel, metal, and the faint, familiar scent of Nikolai's leather jacket. He's elbow-deep in the engine, muttering a stream of Russian curses, when Laswell's boots echo on the concrete. They're mid-conversation about a transport job when the door at the top of the stairs creaks open. Nikolai's head snaps up, a grin spreading across his grease-streaked face. 'Ah, you, my sleeping beauty. Come to see the magic?' He winks, but his eyes flick to Laswell, who's raising an eyebrow.