NEXT DAY
It was mission day, and Lev felt like absolute shit mixed with the pits of hell. He woke up feeling like he'd been run over, set on fire, and then reverse-revived just to suffer through the aftermath.
His entire body was off, dizzy, heavy, joints aching like someone had poured cement into his bloodstream. His leg still wasn't fully healed and To top it all off, he'd left his personal gun at home. If he wasn't already legally alive, this would've been the sign to simply opt out.
Still, he got up.
He pulls on a hoodie and joggers and steps outside. he drops on the curb, the air bites against his skin as he lights the blunt he'd stolen from Sebastian. Technically he didn't steal it if it was his product.
He's halfway through when rustling behind him breaks the brief illusion of peace. The footsteps sound too soft for a soldier and too casual for backup so he doesn't bother to look. A presence settles beside him like static, and when he finally glances over, he immediately regrets it, not even pretending to hide the disgust in his face.
"I heard you were sick," Nikandr says as if that justifies anything and tries reaching for the second blunt Lev has. He snatches it before his fingers can even properly graze it and rolls his eyes hard enough to detach a retina.
"You heard wrong," Lev's voice is flat and deadpan as he stands up. Nikandr doesn't move.
"What's your problem with me, anyway?" Lev ignores him but Nikandr, being the absolute genius he is, tries to grab his wrist. Lev's response is immediate, he twists the guy's hand back without blinking. Like a one-time warning. Nikandr yelps and lets go instantly.
"Stop being a child and answer the fucking question," He is already walking away but Nikandr, like a damn mosquito keeps following asking questions and just running his mouth. Lev stops, turns, and punches him in the gut so hard the guy folds like laundry, then he grabs a nearby beer bottle cracking it over his head knocking him out immediately.
"So fucking irritating," Lev mutters, stepping over his body and heading for the basement like he did nothing.
"Where the hell have you been?" Sebastian asks, tossing him his gear like it's a dodgeball. Lev doesn't answer, just goes straight to his change room to change. The place hasn't been touched in weeks, smells like dust and vodka, do as the Russians do or however the saying goes. He suits up and makes his way back to the tactical room to review the plan again. Everyone gathers, listening.
"Everyone knows their roles and places?" he asks adjusting the collar of his new black tactical suit, courtesy of Nikolai, who had thrown all his old ones out. Some people nod. Some don't. At least they were honest.
There are two groups this time. His team, and a few soldiers from the Russian mafia, better known as his fathers men. They may not have the best relationship but never in Levs will Emilliano ever let Lev go on a mission without some kind of protection. He's been even more annoying about it after the encounter with Ghost.
He re-explains the strategy, this time slower, drilling it into their skulls like a pissed-off teacher while also reminding them this isn't a guaranteed return and even if they came back, they might not be the same.
They scatter to gear up while Lev stays put, zoned out, eyes fixed on nothing. Nikolai passes by and ruffles Levs hair a little, low-key expecting Lev to gives about 3-5 bruises in abt 2 seconds.
"Be careful. You're still sick." it surprises him when Lev just nods, not looking up. He's still salty about his gun especially since he was stuck with some factory-issued reject. At least he still had his sniper.
