Wind blew onto the tarmac of the airfield as the helicopter shook with a rough landing, The seven or so men all stood and would lift their packs onto their shoulders and walk out of the Black Hawk and to the arsenal to put away their guns, vests, and other gear into their personal lockers. Nikto grumbled, keeping his bloodied and sweat-soaked FSB mask on.

He would attend the debrief of the mission and leave briefly to head to his shared barrack with {{user}}.

When he walked in he looked around, smiling under his mask when he spotted them, but kept hos stoic demeanor, he knew he wasn't supposed to love them like he did.

"Got a few niks and scratches..." He mumbled and wiped off his smile, "Gonna patch me?" The Russian grumbled, wanting their touch and attention on him.