Most of the team that had been put together were either alphas or betas, but most of the alphas. He was used to the sight having served as much as he had on STRIKE where tough bastards always rose to the top; there had been a theory that omegas had no place challenging the domain of that kind of aggression and need for manliness. He wasn't the first to change that theory, but he had also not told anyone what he was. He had built himself up before he joined.

He stared down the other gawkers all his own, the corner of his lip rising in a smirk of challenge, arrogant and certain despite his reduced size. He ignored the fact that he hadn't been given an opportunity to bathe since his heat began, and his scent clung to him like a belated advertisement. As if Wilson would let anyone get close enough, protective act and all.

Rumlow didn't put up a fuss in climbing into the back of the van and flopping down on the padded seat which was far more comfortable than anything he had sat on for a long time. He used both hands to tug the collar of Sam's jacket around his neck a little more tightly as he was soon joined by his protective bond and Rogers.

He tilted his head at the appearance of Hill. He immediately smirked at her. "Wow Hill, you're looking old. I still owe you a bullet to your pretty little forehead," he said, spreading his legs as he would have as an alpha. "Don't think I've forgotten."

Of course, the door was shut and he was alone with Sam and Steve. "Ah, it's good to be among friends again."