Present Fic for Fangirl! Hope you like Chapter 1! Hope you all enjoy it.

"What the fuck do you mean by that?"

"It's not an insult Captain, he's here to evaluate. The Russians have a branch of S.O.U. they're damn good. But you know as well as I do that they don't have the men we do. Those boys over there need some help-

"You're damn right they do. They might be the best over there, but their resources ain't shit compared to us. But I just don't know you want me to do about it? Alpha team is set, we don't need any more soldiers."

"As I said before... Captain, he's here to evaluate. Do some research on how we do things over here. Your unit has the best record of success and highest rate of return agents. Just... carry the weight for a little while, I'm sure things will be fine. Give the man an old fashioned American welcome if you need to. We'll appreciate it."

"So you want me to babysit some commie who probably can't wipe his own ass as some kind of a reward for good behavior...? Yeah alright... whatever. Just make sure the son of a bitch keeps his hands off my missions and out of my hair because my unit and I don't need this shit right now."

Not a problem Captain, not a problem. He'll be gone in two months, not a second longer."

"THE HELL?! TWO MONTHS! THAT'S BULLSHIT!"

If Chris Redfield wanted a tag along boyscout on his missions he would have quit a long time ago. Stupid accountability for assholes like this one were the reasons good men got killed. His team worked hard enough bringing their own boys home, but having some Russian prick dancing his way into his top rated team, under the pretense of 'research' to 'advance' the their own company was just going to mess things up. It was just pissing him off further. Lying bastards didn't need two months for that. He didn't want anyone on his team, fucking with his shit, or getting in the way. Particularly not some Russian with a complex because he was a designated captain in the ranks. Particularly not one that got in the way all the damn time. Always asking too many questions, always so nosy. If Chris had known they weren't just giving him an agent; but they were giving him another Captain, he would have sent the bastard home himself, and paid for the plane ticket. He didn't need a second weapons specialist working in his unit to get in the way of the first one, or telling his men what to do because he thought he knew best.

Sucking in the smoke of his menthol lights, Chris ignored the swirls of smoke rise from his nose, like a raging bull. Like what he was; a volcano about to erupt. Taking one more huge puff, Chris threw the tiny butt to the ground, cursing the cherry bead with the heel of his boot, smashing it down to nothing a few more times and watching its life flicker out, dashed on the linolium beneath his feet. Who cared about no smoking when they were forcing not only one problem on him but two. First problem was to find out why this asshole was really here. Second was to get rid of him. One more cigarette, he needed one more. Rolling his eyes, Chris lit up another weapon to calm his nerves. Drawing out the crushed and crinkled packet, pulling free the white stick that rested contrasted against his rough stubble and tight drawn lips, pulling back from his teeth after a sampling; bearing them when he sucked in the fumes that immediately filtered into his mutilated lungs. Appeased by its smoky goodness; the man hurtled forward, palm thudding powerfully against the steel doors that parted like a woman's legs; coming full stride out and passed the man who had dared to wedge himself inside the confines of his tight knit little group. Chris knew the worst when he passed him the first time when the directors had called him in, but not it was further irritation to know he'd probably still be standing there like a dutiful fucking lapdog. Alpha team was a family of noxious attitudes and belligerent men who did not get along with assholes like the one now trailing him wordlessly. People didn't just walk off the street and expect to get along with these types. They were the only kinds of men that made a team effective. They were hard asses. Hard asses who were as patriotic as they were violent. None of them were going to approve of a Russian captain joining the regs out of the blue. Especially if he was a gutless son-of-a-bitch who refused to open his mouth and interrupt the stride taking them ponderously toward freedom. If he didn't say something before they reached the his unit he certainly wasn't going to spare this guy his explosives boys, not that he would save him from them anyway. They were going to tear this man a new one just before Chris chased him home to his fat little czar and poor hovels.

"Capt'in Redfield."

Ah there it was. Pity he didn't just keep following like a goddamn puppy. It would have been funny watching him have to explain himself in front of Alpha without any help. Of course, he'd still have to aid him and induct him no matter the case, but now there would be less merriment poked at commie's expense. "Captain Geevo... I was wondering when you were going to make your presence completely unbarible..." Chris snorted, slipping his cigarette between two fingers and admiring it and the silence before finally huffing, those monumental shoulders heaving once before tossing the stick to the ground in disregard, taking slow dedicated steps to turn and face the man daring to infiltrate his peace of mind.

"It is Captain Gvorik."

"You just need to turn your commie ass around and go back home; you are wasting your time here." Mahogany eyes rose, and still four inches shorter than this ogre, Chris still managed to look down on the man in front of him. He'd be startled by the ice blue if he wasn't so completely unimpressed by the man owning them. Particularly with the moxie this guy had to dare meet his stare, eyes narrowing where the Russian's were naturally so regarding one another. Bemusement threatened in the eyes of his imposter Captain; Chris pouting out his lips as he pretended to take in all the over dressed, ironed and shined uniform the other Captain wore, along with his posture. This guy was an exact opposite of him, in aesthetics anyway. Blue orbs to brown. Blond slicked back to brunette ruffed up. Straight backed and perfect posture to the snorted hulk of Chris' person years of combat giving him the self assurance not to resort to posture for attention. The only thing they shared was the fact that they were both in their thirties, and that they were both rough muscled men with an impressive build that could make an average man put his tail between his legs. A good thing Chris wasn't any old bitch ready to roll over and submit. "What can I do for you Captain? Point you to the nearest airport? Because let me tell you now, I'm not playing host to the foreign exchange program because you and Headquarters seem to think I need to lead the tour bus on how it's done. Read a 'for dumb asses book,' let that be your enlightenment get the fuck out of here." Just the existence of this guy and his tight drawn lips and well pressed uniform was making Chris miss his bottle. But then, with this man being a soviet, it would ruin the taste of a perfectly good vodka. Whiskey tonight, definitely whiskey.

Thin lips drew back to reveal teeth, somewhere between a sneer and a sardonic smile, snorting out through his narrow nose at Chris' introduction as a complete ass not falling short of what he had been warned to expect. Nor that of the description of his person. For a captain, Chris was very slack. He was in regulars, but they were all askew and rumpled. Chris stank of cigarettes, booze, and disobedience, about as intimidating on the whole as being confronted by a washed up pencil pusher who seemed to have a god complex. "Capt'in Redfield, I was assured dat despite your obvious reluctance to take on dis assignment, that you would be completely compliant in de matter." Two men carved of stone glowered at one another, holding firm even through the allegation that Headquarters had assured a Russian that Chris was a whore and was just going to roll over and take it. From the look of captain Redfield, he was a Molotov cocktail of insubordination and anger management issues. Far from awe inspiring as the blond had been led to believe he was. "I would very much appreciate, an introduction to your team as soon as-

"Save it Captain." Chris threw a hand up, naturally narrow eyes drawing open wider at the sudden snarl cutting him off, Chris spitting on the ground between them as arms huge with bulging biceps drew across his chest, tightening. "I know what you want, and I know what Headquarters is making me do, but none of that involves me having to listen to your fake polite bullshit. I'll introduce you to Alpha team... sure. But make sure you get it through your head commie... I am not your pal, we are not friends or comrades and I sure as hell don't need your commie ass around my squad. I am the Captain, the only Captain of that unit and you will respect that and them. If you so much as think of giving my men, or me an order, I won't hesitate to put a round through your face and empty your Asiatic brain out through the back of your skull. Write a letter for your wife and kids and stick it in your pocket for when that day comes because trust me when I say I'm looking for a reason to put you down. Understand... Captain? You are not one of us, you aren't even close to it... so just do what I say, and stay out of my way. Follow that and this can be a semi-bearable torture for me." There was silence between them yawning on and on before Chris nodded for both of them; spitting one more time to make the point of what a foul taste this left in his mouth, turning away and walking, not hearing the echo pair that had been following. Good, maybe the stupid bastard will do what's best for him, go back to the Kremlin-

"I understand what you want capt'in, but let me assure you of something." A white, pale hand raised up, slicking through corn stalk gold hair, slow pace drawing a drag in the gravel under their feet until the crunch stopped just behind Chris' broad form. "I am not under your command capt'in. You do not like this, almost as much as I don't like you. A drunkard is not my ideal companion, let alone one who's been given a position of power. However. We are both going to tolerate one another because my country requires it, and I am not above what my country needs, are you? Hate me or not Captain Redfield, you will learn to work with me." Gvorik snarled, greeted by the sickly sweet scent of the first cigarette of a new pack intentionally lit up to accent the drunkard line not being Chris' only vice, getting a chortle from further plaguing this new Russian tightwad. Knowing any other man, they never would have made an effort to blow smoke directly at their new addition. It would never have graced his nose here in the states, except this was Chris, and pointing out his 'flaws' only made it more amusing to point out the others, huffing out a huge breath of smoke up at the poised pale flesh for the accusation that he was a 'drunk.' Glutton for punishment... that's who this was, even if he had pegged the truth of that statement without fully comprehending it.

"Alright Captain... alright. You want to meet your new assignment so bad? You got it commie."

An approving scoff, and they were on there way, Chris letting insults slide off his shoulders than full out decking this man, and the other ignoring the putrid scent huffed into his offended nostrils. Letting the Russian draft him like a car that was driven on auto pilot toward the training grounds where all the units could sharpen their skills or in Alpha unit's case, let loose; Chris headed the way. It was a long walk of silence, a long walk that led and would end with certain doom for this man, and Chris had no intentions of reining in his men. If this guy wanted to play super soldier with the best of the best, he was going to have take every second of the ass kicking they'd give him just for presenting himself to them like some kind of award, even though to these men, it was like telling them all their new team mate was lice. There were consequences for calling Chris Redfield out. It took a longer walk and a truck drive across base just to get to the training grounds properly, neither still conversing with each other even as they both got into the base's utility truck. Throwing it in gear with the never removed keys in place, Chris began the way, pulling up the gravel and giving a kick when the terrain changed from stones and grit, to lumpy uneven earth and grass, bucking them around inside the cabin like an amusing comedic act of god. Watching two stoic statues of men jostled about in the front cab of a Dodge Ram, if there wasn't the wasn't the fear of getting shot, one might laugh; plowing through the grooves that lolled them around like baggage in the underbelly of a plane. Chris considered a tour of the place, but then he also considered punching this guy in the face. He wasn't stupid, he knew why Captain Gvorik was here, particularly after that jab at his lingering addiction to the bottle. It certainly wasn't just because the Russians wanted to play nice. Tumbling along the worn down, trampled grass, Chris made sure not to kick up the land, paralleling the shooting range where there was a team of men standing some argument of over the top voices hitting his ears, one of which he knew from a mile away. It drew the first smile of the day on Chris' face pulling up alongside the hanger a good distance off, nodding at the picnic table that left a track of mud and dirt showing its path from outside along with four pairs of boot marks and the wearers, guilty as charged, perched atop the thing having an incomprehensible conversation. Throwing the gears into park, Chris manhandled the shifter, giving it a smack as he swiped jingling car keys and throwing them over the dash, ignoring the other captain's apprehensive countenance while Chris threw open the door.

"Well Captain?" Chris sneered, hatred in his eyes as he panned out his expansive flexed arm and splaying his hand toward the hanger. "Come meet your new assignment." The other captain raised his head, looking at the group of men, intimidation lacking and yet the anticipation rising icy blue watching as Chris left him behind, a roar of all the voices at the table giving a huzzah! as Chris rejoined his team, clasping hands with each in turn. They were a litany of singularly talented men and it was the basest of intimidation to force him to join them like a red carpet had been laid out, Chris nodding toward the truck as the door opened, the mass of a Russian emerging, standing tall. "Gentlemen... may I introduce you to Captain Luka Gvorik, Russian S.O.U. Intel and our new... guest, of Alpha unit." The table of men clasping hands and comically yammering to one another went quiet, all of them turning attention to the captain standing straight backed, giving them each a once over in turn apparently waiting for an introduction, greeted with nothing but twisted expressions and disgust. "Well boys... make the new captain feel... welcome."

Alpha unit was made of young men. Old warhorses like Chris and this captain stuck out like a sore thumb comparatively. Among them there was only one that immediately stood and snapped his hand up at attention, only managing to get an entirely different reaction with a hand out to shake his. He was young, just like the rest of the team, all of them appeared just a tad shy of thirty years old, except this young man. He was stumbling for some kind of intro only further managing to pry looks of disgust from the team. "Sit down Macauley, what are you a fuckin' lap dog?." Gruff and snarly, square jawed, the larger of the bunch stood, propping one hand on his gun and the other smacking Finn backward on his ass, landing with a thud onto the picnic table with a clank, there was an over all resounded murmur everyone staring at the Russian captain like a museum artifact no one wanted. As the novelty of Chris intro crumbled away, they already began the slander. Background murmurs of 'damn communist bastards,' already hoisting in into the air. Eventually the man who'd shoved his only taker on the hand shake, broke the silence, Chris' half cocked smirk in evidence. If this man couldn't hold up to the scrutiny then he shouldn't be here, because it was only going to get worse from here. Still it showed in stark contrast, this pale faced, solid man was not concerned or even taken aback by the continued reluctance Chris took to properly induct him. "Agent Ben Airhart. S.O.U. Alpha team," A gloved hand smacked out, taking the Russian's, Luka without a smile, running the other hand through his hair and giving a shake and looking at the next man to take a stand. Another hard ass with a smirk, giving the captain a once over and not offering a hand, but rather flopping back down on the top of the table with his knees spread, a mock gesture of something the captain had very often seen in his own country signaled unnecessarily to the soldier's crotch. Andy gave a flick of a salute made only with his middle finger, a round of laughter tumbling from Chris' own lips.

"A pleasure. And you are?" Bright blue gracefully swept the short distance back to the youngest of them who had stumbled through his own first attempt at an introduction. Peeling his fingers from Ben's, he gave the man regard, before stepping the extra distance and crossing the threshold within the hanger, taking the extended hand immediately even though it trembled slightly. Chris could see it even there. He's evaluating even the rookie... "Your name, soldier?"

"His name is agent kiss ass. He specializes in rimming, why don't you bend over and let him show ya."

Finn immediately stuttered, drawing the first real smile from the Russian commander, patting him once on the shoulder. "Very nice to meet you Finn." Eyes traversing the group he noticed the habitual roll of eyes on Finn's account, and the way each man seemed to quell apart from Chris as he locked eyes with each. Noting the overall disinterest in his presence from Andy, who turned his attention back to Chris and immediately started railing about what the hell a communist Hitler was doing on their side of the wall. So many loose racist comment in one ill conceived rant being throw around in a single sentence, while Luka silenced a snarl of his own, taking a singular outstretched had from the man lying down on the top of the table, pulling himself upright when the hand was taken instead of using it for the intended purpose of a hand shake, using strength that barely lurched from the blond as leverage, a lazily salute following that resembled a mock Russian one. "And you are?"

"What the HELL is wrong with you Walker! Stand your asses up before I stand them up for you!" Tenor malevolence shook through the hanger bouncing off the metal curvature mingled with boot falls of hard rubber on the concrete; coming right behind the Russian captain. Chris openly chuckled with a shake of his head, watching every one of the men at the table stand, reluctantly, but stand. "Your captain gave an order Alpha team, I should expect every one of you to do as your told, unless of course you want to set the example for S.O.U. standards being old men who couldn't fight their way out of a plastic bag. And trust me Walker if you don't stand up before I finish talking I will make certain its a pine box you are fighting your way out of." Chris' expression mirrored that of the new captain, amusement behind hardened eyes, wondering when the blond Intel officer would get the gull to either turn around and give Chris the satisfaction of showing his back to see the man who came right up behind him, or continue the discomfort of baring it to an unknown assailant. It didn't last long, a rifle butt greeting the ground in front of 6'6" and imposing, with a smaller lithe man who's eyes never came up to properly meet his as he came around the front side in two strides. Hazel flickered up the uniform and back to his crew; but gave a brief, albeit completely annoyed, nod of the head, keeping his attention trained on the unit. Luka was regarding him and tilting his head, looking over the form in front of him, sniper scarf wrapped in place and over the lower half of a profile that had the soviet smirking. "The next person who gives lip to an S.O.U. captain, from this country or not, is going to spend the rest of their pathetic life trying to get my boot out of their ass. Understand!"

"Captain Commie...," Chris smirked, splayed fingers displaying his unit standing grudgingly on display for the Russian, who was still by that matter running his hand through his hair every thirty seconds and giving a quizzical look toward the young man at his left, rifle barrel tucked at his shoulder and meeting only Chris' eyes, never turning to fully introduce himself, despite that overall impressive display to put men on their feet in regard for their new comrade. "This is my partner. A.T.L. Piers Nivans." Piers turned, still not raising his eyes to those starling blue ones, throwing up a salute and ignoring the handshake, plucking up the rifle and taking a few more steps regarding Chris with a nod that was mirrored by his captain, one foot propped on the bench part of the table, forearm rested across it horizontally to support his hunched over form.

"These fine, slack jawed idiots are agents: Andy Walker, Carl Alfonso, Ben Airhart, and rookie agent Finn Macauley, explosives expert." Piers' eagle sharp oculars narrowed, his full lips pursing as he bore holes in the back of Andy's head for his disrespect before tipping his head up, finally meeting eyes with the Russian before them. In full uniform of a national S.O.U. agent it was a bit out of place, as ill fitted as Chris' regulars were on his huge broad chest. He wasn't as mountainous as Chris, but it was his height that made his wide structure all the more impressive. "Alpha team, this captain, who has every right to reprimand every one of you, is Russian S.O.U. Captain of Intel, and weapons specialist." Icy blue met those seemingly unimpressed hazel, not holding them long as they fleeted back over his person. Piers wasn't openly disregarding, but his eyes expressed everything. The words were by the book, but he evidently wasn't keen on him either, even though the man wasn't afraid to obviously enjoying the respectful tone while giving him the returned once over. By an easy once over the man was perfection, but then so was his record. Of course H.Q. had informed Chris' second-in-command. Piers had a reputation for getting the job done and he was in charge of Alpha unit when it's captain was busy being anywhere but here. "Captain Luka Gvorik spent ten years working in the Russian military before helping to construct the Russian Special Operation Unit, along with being proficient five languages, highest ranked in their program, and being solely responsible for bringing down the terrorist threat of Las Plagas running through underground circuitry in St. Petersburg. Meaning Andy, he's the reason you got to get drunk all last month instead of H.Q. hauling our asses out there to fix it. Show some respect." It seemed the entire unit was standing a little smaller as Piers was chastising them, and Luka stood taller, not breaking eye contact with Piers until Chris finally spoke again.

"Welcome to Alpha Team, Captain Gvorik."

Thanks again for reading my work all you wonderful fans. Leave a comment or complaint, either way I need the feedback! Helps me learn. Hope you guys will continue to enjoy my work! We'll go more into this suspicious new comer in the next chapter!