Nikolai.

There were no missions or gruelling training planned today, you could say it was a little day off, which you spent helping your commander. Nikolai was fiddling with one of the machines that had broken down the day before. The repair was accompanied by the man's scolding and angry orders: "Give the key to 12. Twelve, not fourteen, where the hell are you looking!". There was nothing to do but endure his grumbling and pray that Nikolai would finish sooner.

Getting out from under the car, the commander, bending over, began to rummage in the bonnet, staying in this position for a long time. Wiping his hands with a rag, Nikolai smiled contentedly. Straightening up, he groaned with pain and grabbed his lower back.

"Damn, fucking sciatica!", he hissed, remaining bent in half.