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The OP so far - touch wood - had been fine. It hadn’t been their best or fastest op, but it hadn’t been their worst by any means. It had been ‘fine’, and that was what mattered the most, to Price at least. They had retrieved what was needed - a dossier filled cover to cover with plans and schematics that could only be described as ‘not good’. They had done what they had come to do, a job well done in the Captain’s eyes.
However, now the Taskforce was stuck. They had made it to the exfil point without a hitch, and it was there that they were meant to meet Nikolai - except, he wasn’t there. There was absolutely no sign of him or the helo at all. For the first few minutes, the four men just waited. Perhaps Nik had run into some headwind, or perhaps they were much faster than they had felt when going through that complex. Perhaps they were early. But there was something in the Captain’s head that was beginning to grumble ‘You’re not early and you know it.’
When that voice spoke in the back of his head, Price decided to do something about it. He clicked his comm device on, tilting his head slightly to speak quietly into the mic. Forgoing the use of a callsign, Price made his frustration clear through his clipped tone. “Nik.” His voice was low, but his words were clear. “Where are you? We’re ready to move out.” A pause from the captain, but nothing from the Russian. He left it for a moment longer, before speaking again, hoping to get the pilot’s attention. “Nikolai.” His tone was sharper now - the pilot was really beginning to test the Brit’s temper. “Come on, where the bloody hell are you?” As Price awaited an answer, his lieutenant called for his attention.
“Captain-” Price’s eyes moved instantly to Ghost. “We’ve got company approaching - can see ‘em on the hill to the North. We need to get moving or they’ll be right on top of us.”
Price’s heart began to pound - but he kept his stony expression. So close, already? Damn it - he should have anticipated that there was going to be some sort of foil to this whole ordeal. It had all gone well so fair, so naturally something had to go unplanned. Though Price - and no doubt the others - had been grateful for how smoothly everything had gone so far, and though they were more than capable of dealing with this kind of situation, Price would prefer to avoid it, if at all possible. The cleaner this was, the better.
“Nik.” Price barked into his comm-mic again. To anyone who knew him well, he was starting to visibly, and audibly, seethe now. The Russian was certain to get a stern talking to when he did finally make his appearance - and possibly more besides. “Where. Are. You?”
More, longer minutes pass the team by, before Price’s comm finally crackled to life.
“My apologies, Captain.” Nikolai sounded out of breath, like his chest was heaving. John could almost visualise the steady rise and fall of the man’s shoulders with every breath. “I am just under two clicks out.”
“Where the fuck have you been?” John growled, barely missing a beat. Sure, the team was far from a bad situation, but he really didn’t want to test their luck and wait much longer. As he was trying to get an answer from their rogue pilot, the lieutenant and his two sergeants took up defensive positions - waiting for the time they needed to strike.
“I unfortunately got… Sidetracked.” Price visibly balked at that. Had Nikolai seen it, he may have truly comprehended how much trouble he was going to be in soon enough.
“Sidetracked?” He repeated, sounding nothing less than exasperated. “Sidetracked with what, exactly?”
“I… Can tell you once I have safely retrieved you, Captain.” The deflection was not very well received by the man on the other end of the comm line.
Price opened his mouth to respond, to tell Nik no, to demand and answer of the pilot, not some half-assed answer - but as soon as the thought started to form in his head, his attention was stolen by the few shots that Gaz and Soap were now having to take at the oncoming wall of operatives. Instinctively, he moved forward to help the others form a tighter formation with his men - so he could be right there if the worst happened. “Whatever sidetracked you better be fuckin’ good, Nik. We need you to expedite - we need exfil now.”
Nikolai, in all his wisdom and experience with people, had only needed to hear a moment of John’s tone to know how serious this was becoming. Though Price was normally gruff at the best of times, in that moment he was downright snappy. Not that Nik to any offence to it at all, he knew full well that Price could be… Protective over his boys, even if the captain knew that they wouldn’t have any issues defending themselves. Those were his boys, his men, his family.
He didn’t try to argue with the Brit - there was no time to, really. The time for arguments and banter would come later. For now, Nikolai focused his attentions between keeping his new bandage secured over his palm - a development that he was sure that Price would not be pleased by, when he noticed - and reuniting himself with the task force. Work had to be the priority of both men, rather than any petty arguments.
Thankfully, it only took Nikolai a few minutes to arrive at the exfil point, but as he was lowering his helicopter into the clearing, he could see the masses of enemy soldiers - too close even for his own liking, let alone Price’s.
“Captain!” He called, trying to grab John’s attention. Nothing else needed to be said, and John didn’t need to be told twice to get the team moving. He grabbed Soap’s collar - the man was unfortunate enough to be the closest to him - hauling the man back with a mighty tug and letting Ghost and Gaz follow behind.
The four men haphazardly piled into the back of the helo, firing stray shots towards the others still marching onwards, almost on their tails. As soon as Nik knew that everyone was on board - signalled by two firm thumps to the headrest of his chair - he started takeoff, as quickly as his newly injured hand would allow. He silently prayed that John would be too preoccupied with one of the others to notice it right away.
He heard one of the boys make a few more deterring shots at the others below them, until they were just about out of range; much to the Russian’s relief, his helicopter had not sustained too much damage - much less work for him to do when they returned to base. Ordinarily, he adored working on the hulking machine and would do so at any given chance. But with an injured hand? Not so much.
“You owe us an explanation, Nik.” John’s voice broke the silence as the taskforce settled down into their seats. John was leaning over the pilot’s shoulder, getting up close and personal to try and keep the conversation somewhat between them. Not that much stayed between them anyway; word spread fast through Taskforce 141.
“I told you, Captain. I got sidetracked.” Nikolai brushed off the captain and carefully put his injured hand aside, and made sure to keep his healthy hand visible to be able to steer. At Nikolai’s flippant tone, Price began to scowl - a deep seated frown that oozed with dissatisfaction and something akin to disappointment. He knew that Nikolai was avoiding giving a direct answer for a reason, and he wasn’t sure that he was going to like that reason.
“With what?” The Brit pressed. Nikolai could feel the iron grasp that he was applying to the shoulder of his seat. Nik knew that John would keep on pressing and pressing until he got the truth - or at least an answer or version of the truth that he deemed satisfactory. So, the Russian gave him what he wanted; or part of it, at least.
“Nothing much… Just some last minute rotor repairs-”
“Rotor repairs? You think that rotor repairs are ‘nothing much’?” Okay. Perhaps he had played it down a little bit too much.
“It was no trouble - really!” Nikolai continued, “Just a few minutes to clip a loose rotor connector back into place… To stop us from - well,” he chuckled lightly, absently scratching at his stubble with the hand not occupied with the cyclic stick. “I’m sure you can imagine.” He could feel the man behind him slowly begin to relax, peeling his hand away from the leather he had been gripping. He was still annoyed - he had a right to be - but as the adrenaline started to ebb, the anger became less visible, bubbling down more into frustration.
“... And your hand?” He asked gruffly. Nikolai’s movements stuttered for a moment, his heart doing the same as he was caught out.
“Just a slip, captain. Nothing more. It’ll heal.” And it would - if Nik rested, kept it clean, and perhaps took a trip to the med wing. Of which, Nikolai would likely do none. John sighed heavily behind him. This, unfortunately, was not the first time that something like this had happened. Nikolai often got scrapes, bumps and bruises from fixing his helicopter.
“You’ll get it checked out, won’t you?” John asked, despite already knowing the actual answer, regardless of whatever he would say.
“Да, of course, Captain.” His voice was light - it was an evident lie. But for the moment, the slowly tiring Price didn’t press.
“You’re bloody lucky I like you,” The Captain grumbled as he started to settle back into his seat, back pressed to Nikolai’s seat, and adjusting his headset so that it felt more comfortable over his hat after the movement. There was no real bite to the words he spoke - whatever threat that may be there was empty. There would be no follow through.
“Yes, you tolerate me very well, John.” Nikolai hummed in amused reply, a smile curling over his lips as the cockpit filled with that familiar, unspoken fondness the two shared. A chuff sounded from behind him, and he could imagine John was rolling his eyes.
“Just get us home, Nik.”