Hunk looked at Ada with confusion. Sure he preferred to wear his gas mask during his time on a mission, but he also did it around the labs in case of a mission starting at a moment's notice. He continued to wipe down his mask.
"You're human under the mask." Ada blinked after absorbing the image. She expected to see a middle-aged man with grey hairs and a series of scars to match the experience. Hunk's attention did not break away from using his fingernail under the wipe to dig at the corners of the mask. White noise from the other agent is what he heard.
"Is that all you are here to say?" Hunk retorted. He started to scrub the corners of the mask. The wipes he used were odorless; he cannot risk a distraction.
Ada got a good look around his head as he leaned down to focus on the mask. His hair was of a dark brunette with it all kept short, but it wasn't quick to the point of baldness to be manageable.
"Is there something you need?" Hunk asked. He said as he finished cleaning out his mask.
"You seem eager to get rid of me," Ada stated as she released her weapon and it dangled by her side.
"No, not many soldiers or agents visit the range when I use it. Just a change to the environment I want to make a mental note of." Hunk waved his mask in the air for it to dry out.
"I'm not in a hurry to be anywhere." Ada stood her ground.
"Suit yourself." Hunk finished airing out his mask and straightened his balaclava. He tugged it down from his hairline, and it was in a location he preferred. He set the straps to his balaclava on the back of his neck. He glanced at Ada as he adjusted his mask.
"That Ammo Box, is it yours?" Hunk asked. He noticed a small title inscribed on the left side of the trigger guard as Ada let it twirl. He spotted the name for it.
"It is, and before you ask, I never leave home without him." Ada smiled at the thought of her weapon. Ada could recall the moments in time when she would have to shoot her way out of the opposition to complete her task. Whenever Leroy would come to play, Ada would feel a little safer on the job.
Hunk can understand the sentiment. In having favoritism for a weapon could be difficult to adjust from in on the missions that require something else. Favoritism could lead to better performance for the user, so it becomes a conditioned effect for a user to accept. Hunk mentally glanced at the table for his weapon sisters.
"With all the possible choices in the USS are any that meet the criteria for the Wolf Pack?" Ada asked as Hunk finished the last strap to his mask and his gas mask was good to go.
"I have, and the first one I want to scout is Vladimir Bodrovski, ex-Soviet Union KGB information officer." Hunk said as he stood up and walked to the range which kept all of his weapons.
"Sounds fair, I would have suggested Kalman Stern, the Mossad specialist." Ada shrugged. Her choice was fair as the Mossad in Israel would successfully collect intelligence for the country and to avoid their enemies to secure said intelligence.
"I considered Kalman as well, but he has a history of cracking under extreme pressure, that is why he was let go from the Mossad." Hunk replied as he picked up his M4A1. He wanted to check if his weapon was sighted correctly.
"Care to post your counter argument for Vladimir then?" Ada asked.
"He's forty-six years old and therefore experienced to do the task at hand. His relatives are scattered all over Russia, Ukraine, and Romania. So he has a reason to make funds that the Pack will provide if that is the central form of motivation. He joined the Russian military at twenty-two and recruited into the KGB at twenty-eight. There he learned to make do with what little information he collects. When the Union fell, Vlad decided to move his expertise to the criminal networks, sure it worked for a time, but his actions caught up to him. So that means that he had to flee Asia and Europe."
"The guy must be used up by now," Ada said the useless thought to have Hunk continue talking.
"Not in the slightest. According to the analysis of the psyche tests, Vladimir feels that he is in the prime of his fighting capabilities. He knows what it would take years a recruit to accept, he knows how to take orders, plus of his KGB background, he's prepared to do what it takes. Questionable morals and all." Hunk concluded as he loaded a magazine of live ammunition into his clip.
"We're going to check Vladimir then," Ada stated before she set her headphones over her ears.
"Yes." With that, Hunk aimed his weapon downrange. "I set up a meeting with him later today. We can discuss your Mussad candidate further if he can do some trials."
"Great," Ada replied.
Hunk said. "I'm using live ammunition now." Hunk clarified and Ada nodded in response. He clicked the safety off his weapon and fired his gun in single-fire to get a feel for the rifle.
Upper levels, USS Quartermaster's office
"Well, we have an assortment of wings to do the tasks of the labs. You'll need clearance for which wing you're ordered to patrol there. There have been incidents in the past with intruders, but they're far in between. The only thing we have to worry about is our Commanding Officers that oversee the specific wing they're monitoring." Corporal Rodriguez smiled.
Iori Kishino nodded to everything Rodriguez said about the workings in the USS. As he walked around, he noticed all the soldiers that looked in his direction. The Japanese recruit received several approving glances at him from the USS guards in the halls. They recognized the patch in his hand as he did not hide it in his pocket. Several UBCS soldiers sneered at him and made a joke at his expense. Rodriguez waved them off.
"It's best not to seek a fight with the UBCS, everyone likes to think there's this big divide between us, but it's nothing major." He said with a calm expression. During the walk, Kishino got a good look at Rodriguez, he appeared to be in his mid-thirties and had a set of shades on his forehead and had several Hispanic features. Such as his darkened skin tone and almond eyes.
Iori looked around some more to see plenty of scientists in white lab coats. It was strange to look for him, but he didn't make it so apparent from his expressions. Rodriguez explained every little detail to Kishino. Well, its Private Kishino now. For Rodriguez, he didn't like to remind the newcomers of their less than stellar rank.
"You've been quiet. Do you have any questions?"
"Are we close to the barracks?"
"We just arrived. If you need help, just come to find me. I'm on guard duty for the Bravo wing, section 3. Come here sometime, and I can talk to me." With that, Rodriguez smiled and turned around to leave. He greeted the USS soldiers on how way out, even several UBCS soldiers said hello to Rodriguez.
Kishino turned around to the barracks. It was open, and there was an arrangement of clear beds. There wasn't any labeling in place with the bed frames, so it would mean that Iori would have to guess on which bed was empty and hope no one would hassle him for it later. He looked down and sighed. He didn't like having to make guesses if he doesn't have to.
In the barracks were several USS soldiers minding their own business as they glanced at Iori but nothing happened. He found a vacant bed where it doesn't look like that didn't look like another USS agent claimed it since the neatly folded bed, and there weren't any belongings under the bed frame. Iori decided that this will be where he will rest for tomorrow for that Gas mask commander or whatever. He lowered his back and started to scrounge around with the duffle bag of the USS standard kit.
Inside was the standard USS black uniform, a grey belt, three additional pockets to be latched to the belt, black combat boots, a silver canteen, a black helmet, and a sewing kit. He took the needle and stared at the three possible threads to sew. It would be black, red, or grey to sew onto his uniform.
Iori looked around, and it would seem that he would have nothing better to do so he just sat on the bed and carefully sew on his patch. There was no meaning behind it, and he didn't care about it that much. For Kishino, he was just content with how he was no longer on the streets of Japan with the Yakuza breathing down his neck to join them or the police eager to arrest the street rat.
He sat there with the needle. When he chose to sew with the red thread, he heard a series of boots clapping along with the metal floor to his bed. Iori looked up to the see three USS soldiers. Each of them in full uniform with the masks and helmets. It must be the time to haze the new recruits, and well let's see how this will turn out. Iori thought as he looked up.
"Well recruit, how do you like the USS?"
"It's all rather new to me," Iori responded.
"We all felt that way recruit. Just so you know, the mess hall opens up in three hours, do you want to be woken up when it's time?"
Iori blinked. From this gesture, he never expected among these mercenaries, that some of them would do something for the benefit of a recruit.
"Yes, I would." Iori heard himself say before his mind could object.
"Okay then." The one USS member that looked down to Iori and walked away. The second USS soldier offered his hand to Iori.
"Welcome to the Umbrella Security Service." The leader nodded when Iori took his hand. The leader turned around and left the area to catch up with the other USS soldier.
"We don't believe heckling the recruits in the USS. You've proven that you're worthy to be part of the ranks from the instructors. Just get that patch on, and I'll wake you up when it's time." The USS soldier turned around.
"The name's Corporal Wilson." The soldier waved off. He wasn't in his mask or helmet. He was a man in his mid-twenties and with black hair, grey eyes, and had a dark complexion but he didn't look like he was from Africa.
Iori looked down and just by looking at that patch, he could feel that it was something he had to do at that moment. He straightened his patch and with the needle, Iori carefully stitched the USS emblem on his new uniform.
USS Labs, Shooting Range Floor
"Clear," Hunk said as he lowered his M4 and ejected the clip and clicking the safety. He looked over his shoulder to see Ada wasn't in the range with him. He shrugged as he took hold of Elise to test her out once more before leaving the field.
Maybe Night Hawk would like to meet again later to discuss what adjustments Hunk could recommend for his helicopter to command.
It made Night Hawk's job much easier. Hence, it'll improve for Hunk as well when he goes into the field.
USS Labs, Omega wing section 2
"Well my boy, here we are, the UBCS, the real men who keep this company in working order." Nikolai Zinoviev spoke loud enough for the other soldiers to hear. The ones that were close enough nodded and shouted along with Nikolai. From there several of the soldiers of UBCS walked up to welcome Carlos. Many talked of their lives as it were nothing and others wanted to learn more about the kid. Behind them, were the rest of the recruits accepted into the UBCS. It was the same routine that happens every month. Soon it just got annoying to the Mikhail Victor, a sergeant to the UBCS.
"Hey Nikolai, can you round up this lot? I want to stretch my legs." Mikhail asked when he made his way through the small number of recruits. So far of the twenty-nine in total, the USS passed up twenty-two after the selection was sorted out.
"Understood, I'll take care of them." Nikolai turned away from his co-worker.
With that, Mikhail Victor walked out of the UBCS barracks and made his way done a narrow corridor meant to transport equipment, but the soldiers like to use it to traverse through the base quickly. The UBCS do love to walk around the station as part of the job, but it could get boring rather quickly. For Mikhail, he didn't have to deal with that because on the other end of the hall would be several USS guards. The noticed him as he walked by, neither of them reacted to him because Mikhail made no effort to be at odds against the USS. He continued to walk down the stairs, the sounds of his boots echoing along the metal. Near the bottom of the lab, would be the records room. There was always a guard down there, but on today's schedule was someone that Mikhail had no trouble in talking. He reached the bottom of the staircase and opened the door which didn't need clearance because this area was off the books. It was forgotten, but there always has to be a capable guard there still in case of something were to happen. Mikhail opened the door.
"Ready for another round… of drinks… comrade?" Vladimir nodded once he recognized his guest. Here in the farthest east wing, here were the filing cabinets where all the older Umbrella records stored. It was here that Vladimir stationed for the last five years.
"Indeed comrade." Mikhail nodded. He walked in and took off his green beret. The UBCS and USS soldiers sat on opposite ends of a small foldout table as Vladimir took out a deck of gambling cards. The two would meet for a game every so often.
"Were all… the recruits rallied… better this time?" Vladimir asked. He took out the cards and proceeded to shuffle them in his hand. From his life, he had plenty of time to master shuffling cards.
"No, all of them except eight were worth something. Like usual, the USS got seven of them. The only one is an ex-south American guerrilla fighter. The rest will probably be thinned out in the next large skirmish or be asked to volunteer for the experiments." Mikhail said as he leaned down to get two large plastic cups.
"Nothing happened… as yet, but it'll… probably pick up… soon." Vladimir shrugged.
"Can we not do poker, I don't have anything to gamble with this time. Is chess okay?" Mikhail asked as he walked to the closest filing cabinet and took out a large bottle of straight vodka. It was something the two of them preferred to drink as comrades.
"Sounds… good." Vladimir said in Russian. With that, the two set the chair closer to the table. When working in records after the data has been transferred over to computers, the records room was all but vacant and ignored in the past several years so it would be ideal to put a guard to be forgotten. In the case on which the guard would be, that's Vladimir Bodrovski.
"Time for another battle of wits," Mikhail responded in Russian as he poured the vodka a fourth of the way in the plastic cups. Neither of them actually would drink a whole bottle; that would destroy their livers. It was more of a remembrance gesture from the old days when the Soviet Union was still functioning.
"Any word yet… on the getting the… body armor shipment?" Vladimir asked as he set up the chess pieces as did Mikhail.
"Yes, we got the new body armor. That should make some future missions easier. That last one in the Middle East cost us a good number of men. The ones who were wounded were shipped off to another division for medical attention." Mikhail replied as he moved his first pawn to start the game.
"The Middle East, the graveyard of nations," Vladimir remembered how Russia launched the invasion back in the 80s, it seems so long ago, but the memories were so vivid. The soldiers of 73rd Paratrooper division were part of the invasion of Afghanistan. Vladimir served the Union around the same time as Mikhail before the KGB recruited Vladimir. So even though the both of them did not come across each other, they were loyal to what the Union stood for, as well as the 73rd division.
Vladimir moved his pawn, then Mikhail moved his knight piece.
That is what sets Vladimir and Mikhail apart from the Umbrella military of when it divides the troops. Both the Soldiers and Special Forces have to work together. In Afghanistan, sure the 73rd didn't trust the KGB, but Vladimir was part of the strike teams to deter the population when the American CIA would send in Green Berets to get the people into functional militias. The KGB did its best to the shatter the resistance, and the Soviet government was already struggling since it was the end of the Cold War. Several battles that lead to many dead brothers in arms. Vladimir and Mikhail completed their tours, while the government failed in its mission.
The Afghanistani rebels unified despite the KGB's efforts. The paratroopers did what they could on the front lines.
Vladimir made room for his rook piece to move. Mikhail was ready to counter with a bishop.
It wasn't until fate that the two would come across each two years earlier in the mess hall when Vladimir had his left sleeve rolled up. It was then that the signature tattoo of a soldier with a golden parachute with dual planes with a red star in the middle. A symbol for members of the division, Mikhail recognized the image and later asked Vladimir about for him to show his dog tags of when he served the Union.
Vladimir had his knight take away Mikhail's bishop. Mikhail had his rook take away Vladimir's knight.
The two were brothers from the Union and are comrades in Umbrella.
Over time, the two would meet in various areas of the base whenever either of them would survive the missions that Umbrella asked of them. Always swapping stories of their youth and preparation for the war that never came. The war that the Union was supposed to have with the United States. The one war these two men spent their lives preparing for:
Never happened.
"You're slipping comrade." Mikhail laughed as he was finally to put his queen piece into play.
"Not at all… I just wanted to give you a chance." Vladimir downplayed the tension.
The Training Area, four years earlier
Vladimir prepared his knife sheathed from his lower back. Mikhail had his blade on his upper right chest. The two had the arena to themselves. Outsiders need not watch.
As soldiers of the Union, they must test each other if they're still worthy to keep such a title. The only one that can confirm that is the one who was robbed of his fate and had each other to prove to themselves. Should one of them die, so be it?
Vladimir made the first move, and he sprinted forward as Mikhail stepped back and braced his arms for the attack. Neither of them drew their blades yet. Vladimir clenched a right fist as he dashed forward with his left hand he tapped his fist and launched it for the punch. It came in and struck Mikhail's upper right shoulder as he brought his fist around to punch Vladimir back who ducked down in time.
When that happened, Mikhail lunged forward and took hold of Vladimir's right arm before he could escape. Mikhail smiled as he tugged it forward to lean his forehead to Vladimir's to force his brain into a stunned state. The KGB prided themselves on being excellent hand to hand fighters, yet here he was, trapped by Mikhail.
It wasn't over yet, as Vladimir shook his head and reversed his arm to have Mikhail grunt in pain and took a step back. Vladimir reacted by straightening his left arm and brought it around to strike Mikhail in a sideways chop to the throat. The attack had Vladimir released from the grip. He rolled forward and turned around. His black uniform with specs of dirt from the training floor. Mikhail rubbed his throat as he focused back at toward Vladimir.
It was the moment of truth for both men. Each of them drew their blades for the task. Even though the two weren't soldiers of the Union anymore, they still were in spirit. So from here, Mikhail reversed the blade in hand as he brought the edge close to his chest in a defensive stance. Vladimir kept the knife in the correct position as he lowered his shoulders and had his limbs prepared to be agile in the attack.
Vladimir made his approach by walking in a mentally prepared state and Mikhail ready to counter slash to whatever Vladimir would do. When he was in range, Vladimir lunged forward and slashed toward the middle of Mikhail's stomach. If it would have succeeded, then it would have opened his body for his inners to spill out and bleed out. But it wasn't today for Mikhail. He jumped back and brought his arm down to slash Vladimir at the forearm. When the attack failed, Mikhail felt confident, then he felt a stinging sensation on his hand, he noticed that along his knuckles was a line of red. It wasn't threatening too much because all of the bones were still intact. It was enough for him to understand that Vladimir meant business. It was then that Mikhail looked down and felt the sensation for the war that never came with an opponent that understood how he felt.
Mikhail jogged forward and flipped his blade into the correct position and pull back as the blade was over his left shoulder. Vladimir adjusted himself barely in time as Mikhail tossed his blade forward for it nearly plant itself in Vladimir's neck. His knife was raised in time for Mikhail's blade to be deflected but not stopped at the tip of it grazed Vladimir's cheek. Mikhail sprinted forward, and Vladimir leaned back so Mikhail couldn't pin him to the ground to be ended by him. In Vlad's defense, he had his arms upward while his legs boosted Mikhail to the opposite side of Vladimir. He rolled forward and retrieved his knife. The two stood before each other again.
Mikhail charged forward, and so did Vladimir, and the two countered then re-countered each move the other put out, by the end of it, Vladimir had seven slashes on his body. One on his left cheek, three on his back, and three on his legs. The same went for Mikhail as well, except the face slash was for his right shoulder. They stood at the end against each other, nothing the either did nothing as their vision faded and the both of them took a knee of exhaustion.
"We can't keep… this up." Vladimir said in Russian as he was eager to fall to recover.
"Truce?" Mikhail asked in English.
"Truce." Vladimir accepted, and the two fell to the ground in exhaustion.
Mikhail smiled at the lights of the gym and felt a bead of water drift down his cheek. The bead was not sweat. Vladimir groaned as he rolled to his left shoulder and ached in pain.
Records Room, 1996
"And I win again." Mikhail laughed asn Vladimir begrudgingly tipped his King piece over as Mikhail checkmated him.
"Best... of three." Vladimir shot back.
"You're on." Mikhail laughed.