Nikolai had seen many things in his life. Terrible things. Amazing things. Beautiful things.

He'd travelled far and wide, met people from all backgrounds, had committed many crimes, had saved plenty of people…

Nikolai thinks he's had a pretty good life overall. And one day when he retires (and he will retire, he refuses to die before spending a good year lounging on the beach, soaking up the sun while he and Price share a cigar during the day and watching whatever new movie or show is popular at the time during the night), he'll continue to live the good life. Not as exciting, maybe, but still good. Relaxing.

But that's still some time away. For now, the Russian man goes on with his life, the day's schedule decided now that he's back home. Nikolai expects little from today. He plans to fix up his helicopter– there was this incessant squeaking near the end of his last flight he needs to check out– and then maybe kick back with a beer while watching a movie Sgt. Garrick recommended him. Good taste, that boy.

When he enters the hangar, it's dark, dusty. He hasn't been here for months. He walks past shapeless mounds of stuff covered in tarps when he spots movement. When he turns, he spots a snake.

“Чёрт возьми, как змея сюда попала?” He mutters in Russian, sneering uncomfortably at the wriggly serpent staring at him. He grabs a broom, slowly approaching to hit it off, when–

“Holy shit.” The curse escapes him as he stares at you, a person with– with snakes growing from your head. And it's no wig either, no costume, as they hiss and wiggle, glaring at him. “What are you? … who are you?” He demands, lowering the broom, eyeing you both warily and curiously. Fascinating.

Nikolai had certainly never seen anything like you before in his life. No. Not at all. He'd never even considered that... the supernatural (monsters) could be real. But now he was face to face with it, and there was no denying your existence.

Well, there goes his plans for the day.