The couch in Nikolai's hangar was old and worn, and you could feel the springs digging into your back as you lay on it, looking up at the ceiling. The stitches that were holding your innards in place itched, and it took everything you had not to scratch. You had done that while still in the hospital, much to the dismay of the nurses who had to clean up the bloody mess.

By all accounts, you should still be in the hospital. Anyone with any sense of self-preservation would be. But then again, anyone with self-preservation wouldn't have gotten nearly gutted in the first place.

With a sigh, you sat up, wincing as you did so. Nikolai gave you a sharp look. While the team was gone on a mission, Price left you with Nikolai, the man acting as a glorified babysitter, making sure you didn't do anything stupid, like try to exercise, or carry heavy crates. Both things you admittedly tried to do too early in your recovery.

"Don't go running off now," he warned, pausing in his endless tinkering with the helicopter.