Sasha was barely watching the movie, to be honest. He hadn't quite lived in America long enough to appreciate the cultural nods and references, and the plot seemed a bit odd. Then again, he had never really been much of a TV watcher growing up, either. His childhood home had been rather sparse. He lived in a lower class side of Kazan, and his father wasn't exactly parent of the year. They had only had one TV, and his father spent most of his time in front of it. 

Occasionally, the dead eyed man that Sasha called a father would have his old pals over. They would drink, watch sports, and sometimes play poker. There wasn't much room in that mix for the lanky, timid child he had been. Sasha would spend most of his time in his room, reading books he'd stolen from the library. All he could thank his father for was keeping food in the refrigerator, mostly leftover take out, and keeping the heat on in the winter. Even then, sometimes dear ol' dad didn't come through.

Sasha wasn't even all that bitter about the general mess that was his childhood home. Not the days when he went to bed without eating, or the nights he shivered under an old, musty blanket. Hell, even the occasional drunken arguments that usually ended with him getting his ass beat didn't leave him quite so cold hearted towards his father as did the lack of concern over his cries for help. As a boy, Sasha had struggled to keep his grades up. A struggle he faced alone because his father was about as helpful as a sack of bricks. He was often bullied by other kids at his school, mostly because he wore old clothes that were usually ill fitted. The one instance that left the worst scar on his heart was when one of his father's friends come stumbling into his bedroom one night, drunk as hell and obviously bored with the game on TV. Sasha couldn't quite remember, but he thought he had been about seven or eight at the time. The man had crawled into his creaky old bed, which had seemed strange at the time because it was clearly too small for an adult. The things that followed had made the young boy very uncomfortable, and the slurred 'don't tell your dad' hadn't made it any better. 

Sasha [i]did[/i] eventually tell his father about a year later, only to have the incident brushed off because either his father genuinely didn't care, or he just didn't believe him. 

That had, most likely, been what eventually prompted Sasha's rebellious teenager years. As a lanky, too-tall-for-his-own-body teen, Sasha had found comfort in drugs and alcohol. He never did anything real hard, but he could easily roll a joint by the age of fifteen, and he could proudly chug a whole glass of vodka without puking. In fact, by the time he had reached his late teens, he was a borderline alcoholic. He had given up on school, spent most of his time in the shadiest places he could find, and only came home about three times a week. 

It would have seemed like he was on a fast and steady road to a young death. The only thing that saved him from the inevitable was joining the military. Sasha was still not quite sure why he did it, but the main reason he could think of was to get away from the hellhole he called a home. He had barely been eighteen when he realized his life was going nowhere. The first time he applied to join, he was denied due to his alcohol addiction. When he quite cold turkey, it had been absolute hell. The withdrawal had been a cold, hard wake up call to the young man, and after that, he was sure to never become reliant on any kind of drug again. 

The next year, he was sober and able to join the army. His smart mouth got him in more than a little trouble. His nasty attitude eventually turned into something productive. The stubbornness that had once caused him to defy orders turned into determination. The brazen boldness that he used to challenge the meanest of drill sergeants turned into the guts it took to put other's lives before his. Once he learned to use the skills he had for his advantage, he began to succeed. 

The military offered more than just a way out. It offered him the education he failed to receive. Sasha found out that he was, indeed, a very intelligent young man. All he needed was to be given half a chance. He also found out what a real family felt like. The men he worked with and served with day to day became closer to him than anyone he had ever known. He had enjoyed it, until his first deployment came.

After getting a real taste of what really happened across the border, Sasha found that he couldn't stomach it. He couldn't take orders that kept him up at night, guilt eating away at him. He figured he needed to be the one calling the shots, so that he could let his conscience decide what he would and wouldn't do. That was the whole reason he went into the private field. Three other men from his platoon had followed him, forming the bare bones of his old team. 

Sasha had gone glassy eyed, no longer paying the movie any attention. He was drawn out of this by the sound of singing and upbeat music. He looked up just as the young nurse got up to dance, having the time of her life. A small smile took to his face, and finally the antics earned an actual laugh. A short, half hearted chuckle at best, but it was the closest he'd come in a while. When Nancy looked at the others, trying to get them into it, Sasha was quick to refuse.

"Hell no," He said from his chair, his chin still rested on the back of it.