Hello! This will be a multi-chapter fic regarding the back story and life of Irina Spalko. For two reasons this story exists: to give Spalko the depth of character she deserved in the film although they didn't bother to give it to her, and to prove that an antagonist can have depth without being 'one of the good guys.' I loved Spalko's character, even though she strongly resembled Willy Wonka from the Tim Burton reboot (the resemblance is uncanny). But I thought she could have been made a more complex character and been developed further. So I've decided to to that.

Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own Indiana Jones. That franchise has been around since before I was born, and I don't have the cash to buy rights. And yeah, this probably doesn't protect me legally, but this is fanfiction and nobody cares about it enough to do something. I hope.

"I must be mad," Irina Spalko whispered to herself, striding with confidence through the sea of boys. They looked the part of men, but she had learned through her two years of training that if she judged by character and not appearance, the Russian Army was made up of boys.

There were wolf whistles. There always were. Throw a woman -any woman between the ages of ten and thirty- into a room filled with war hardened, emotionally constipated adolescents, and there would be wolf whistles. Although the last person to make a move on her had paid dearly for it, this was whole new order of soldiers. She expected she would have to train this lot to stay away just as she had the last, only this time she would see them die and have to shove away the guilt over her attitude towards them.

Needless to say, it had been quite tempting to lie about her a marital status on all of her formal registration papers for the mission. It might have kept the crowd of wild animals quiet.

"The new captain has arrived," one of them crowed with a grin, to see how she reacted. She neither flinched, nor looked his way as she approached her quarters at the end of the hall. As long as she was wearing a commander's uniform, she might as well take advantage of it and snap her soldiers into line as soon as possible.

She rounded the corner, only to nearly run into another soldier on his way out. "You must be the new captain," he said, tipping his hat before brushing past her and out the door. She nearly smiled at the show of respect.

With her knowledge and unique skill set, she had gained leadership of an infiltration unit bound for Europe. Indeed, she must have been mad to accept such a title, but there would be a lieutenant to serve as her second-in-command and back her up when the soldiers got rowdy and decided that they did not want to listen to a woman.

Indeed, it was strange for a woman to be in the military, especially a woman of her age -she was older than most of the recruits- who were only schoolboys enlisting with big dreams, anyway- but not nearly old enough to be considered a politician in uniform. Nonetheless, she had a great deal more practical knowledge, and a number of political assets on her side.

For one, her father was in a good position with Stalin. He was the one who had put the idea of enlisting in her head in the first place, when she realized that university would not agree with her. After all, she was a visual learner -which was what had gotten her so far ahead of the other recruits so quickly. She had learned at a young age that she was hyper-observant, noticing every detail and deducing them all with a sharp mind.

Thus, she had become somewhat of an outcast to the other children when her skills were made known, for some thought her a witch and others thought her telepathic. She had never been a socially apt person, and she had greatly enjoyed their reactions. And so, the rumors went about until she was in complete isolation. Not even her teachers had known what to expect of her, for she had joyfully deduced their lives aloud on the first day of classes. No, university had not been an option.

Then Stalin had gotten word of her talents through her father's talk, and some strings had been pulled to get her into the military, where she had worked and trained to equal and then better the men in her units, until they feared she could injure them both mentally and physically.

It was too bad, she thought, that she would have to train a whole new batch of soldiers to feel that fear -it really was the only way she could keep their hands and voices off of her, unless she incapacitated them all. Which she was not by any means beyond doing, but she at least had a common sense of diplomacy.

She scanned her temporary quarters, memorizing every detail of the room. As she turned around, she could hear footsteps beside her, and she whirled around like a frightened cat to confront whoever dared to sneak up on her.

"Letter from the general, Captain. Instructions and information about the invasion." The recruit was small and young; no older than eighteen. He must have been a draftee, or else he would have seen a couple of birthdays on the front or died in the process.

She nodded to him curtly and took the paper, dismissing him with a small wave, but the soldier did not budge.

"Yes, Private?"

"There is a request to speak with you."

"From whom?"

"I-" He coughed. "I would like to speak with you."

"Very well then," she said without emotion. "What inquiries do you have?" If she were being truly honest with herself, she had little idea of what to do in such a position of command. She was used to taking over control, yet not to being handed control as if it were rightfully hers.

"Am I qualified to ask who your second-in-command is?"

"No." In truth, she didn't even know that herself, but she had been informed that he would arrive at the base camp the following day with orders and maps for the infiltration. They would be marching out two days after that. "Are there any other questions?"

He shook his head, and she brushed past him without another word. She had learned long ago that if she wanted men to respect her instead of ogling her she would have to make them fear her, because at the age of these soldiers nothing short of pure fear would force respect out of them for a woman barely older than themselves. So she left him with an icy glare and continued on her way, filing through the telegraphs he had delivered.

The first few were typical messages, detailing the old casualty reports and soldiers' records. The letter at the bottom of the stack, however, caught her attention. It was a telegram from the army post in western Ukraine, stating the arrival and information of her second-in-command.

"Well you have certainly made a name for yourself," she said to the documents, reading them over. The young man had ascended ranks nearly as fast as herself. He had been stationed in an area with mass casualties on his first deployment, so it was only natural that he had to take leadership eventually, but his superiors had certainly commended his brains.

Brains, she thought with a smirk, You don't see much of that around here. No one needed mental brilliance for the army. They only needed to be able to handle a rifle. All the schooling they'd ever had went out the window when they got into a trench and learned how to fire a machine gun. They didn't need such complex knowledge as maths and philosophy and psychology anymore. Trying to think deeper than the surface hurt their heads.

Spalko had sworn, when she had enlisted, not to lose her mind. She had seen soldiers go mad in the past. She knew what the war could do to people. But her mind was all she had. It was her everlasting tool. Most men kept themselves sane by suppressing logical thought. Spalko fed off of order and logic, allowing her thoughts to take control. If she tried to prevent herself from thinking any deeper about war, she would lose what sense of sanity she'd ever possessed. Which, she admitted to herself, had never been a lot.

Deep thought and conversation were not exercises many soldiers engaged in, especially during wartime. What scrambled most minds cleared hers up. It was no wonder she had easily isolated herself throughout her lifetime.

This lieutenant, she considered, looking over his papers one more time, He thinks in strategy. He thinks like me. Her mental gears were turning. If his skills matched her own, then they would be unstoppable. They could be the most skilled team of soldiers in the field.

It was a goal. A motivational force- something to focus on in the distance. And that was what she so needed at the moment.

So she brushed the wrinkles from her uniform, and stalked toward the bunkers, with the knowledge that success would depend on her soldiers, not just herself.

The bunkers were loud and disorganized, and she hated entering, but it had to be done. Any new captain had to establish their rules.

"Assemble!" she shouted into the makeshift houses. Nothing changed. "Soldiers, assemble!" she called again, but their raucous frivolity continued. Finally, Spalko kicked the door open.

"I said assemble," she hissed as eyes turned to her. But they did not move.

She approached their table, raising one dark eyebrow. "Poker?" she inquired skeptically, inspecting the cards on the table.

Private Arman appeared to be winning at the moment, and apparently he was also feeling quite audacious, because he shot her a cocky grin and said, "Strip poker, actually. Care to join?" He winked smugly.

Their former captain had been far too soft on them.

In a flash, Spalko had the young man pinned against the wall, her elbow inches from his face and his arm twisted behind his back.

"I could break your arm," she hissed softly, "if I so desired. But that would send you away to a military hospital, and I would be one man short. I might not be what you expected, Private. I may be a woman, but if you can't keep you're salacious comments to yourself then I will be the reason you piss your trousers in fear tonight."

It wasn't pretty, but it had to be done. Even as a woman in uniform, she had little to no respect from the daring young soldiers surrounding her. But respect, like rank and honor, could be earned. And she had every intention to do so, even if she had to smack a few men back into line. She only hoped her lieutenant would be a bit more cooperative.

She released the private, her icy blue eyes scanning the room. "Does anyone else have something they would like to say?" She spoke in a low, dangerous tone. They were all silent. Arman was trembling in his chair.

She turned away from them and left. "Rise early," she commanded, "Train early, and during midday you will be briefed as to this unit's assignment."

They watched her disappear from the bunker in silence.

You should review. I will hypnotize you to review. Review. Review. Review. Review. Is it working? Review. Review. Review. Okay, I'll shut up now.

Also, thank you to my wonderful beta reader for sending this back to be before I went on vacation and brainstorming with me throughout the plotting process :)