This was originally going to be the end of a sort of re-imagined version of Black Ops III, but there's just no way I have time to write the whole thing. I've moved things around a bit and reworked them so it can serve as an alternate ending on its own. It's not the well-circulated "dead all along" version of the story but it can be taken as a wild alternate theory on the ending.
Then I forgot about it- and the disappointment that was Black Ops 3- for about eight months before finishing it.
As far as I know, the protagonist is anonymous in the game. In this, her name is Mikalya Lynch, a name with some significance. The implied romance between the protagonist and Rachel Kane remains intact... sort of. I guess she's bisexual. Because it's 2070.
The first thing Mikayla Lynch noticed was the light. It was a pleasant light, a soft light. A blurry colorful light above her eyes. She could stare at that light all day, but even in her dreary state she knew that she couldn't just lay here and stare at the pretty lights forever.
It didn't stay a colorful light, though. The blurry colors coalesced into lines and shapes. Her sense of time was horribly skewed, so it seemed to take longer than it actually did. The only light above her was a panel light in the ceiling. The other thing she had thought of as a colored light was the face of a concerned woman.
It was at this point that Mikayla became aware that her throat was extremely dry. She tried to ask the nurse- must be a nurse- for water, and managed something between a croak and intelligible speech.
The face disappeared for a moment, then returned with a drab white cup of water with a flexible straw. The woman cautioned, her voice seeming to come from far away, "Take it easy. You're still in shock, and it might take a while for your motor functions to come back completely."
Mikayla grabbed the cup, almost crushing it between her fingers. She sucked back what seemed like litres of water before realizing something was amiss. She stared at her hand. A metal-and-plastic prosthetic stared back. "What the fuck?"
"Do you remember what happened?" The woman seemed closer this time.
She really had to focus to answer that question. Egypt. Extracting the minister. Escaping the airfield. Being attacked by robots- she cringed at that memory- and... "Where's Hendricks?"
"You really don't remember, do you?" the woman asked sadly.
"Remember what, nurse?" She realized her mistake almost immediately. "You're not the nurse, are you?"
She shook her head slowly. "No. I'm Rachel Kane, a CIA agent. We... worked together. You really don't remember me, Mikayla?"
She thought hard about that one, too. There was definitely a sense of familiarity with this woman, but nothing she could pin down. "You seem familiar."
Rachel sighed. "I- we were afraid this might happen. How much of the last five years do you remember?"
"The last five years- which five years?" This was getting confusing, but she was starting to piece it together. She knew what amnesia was, but didn't feel amnesiac. Although, would an amnesiac realize it? "What did you do?"
"The year is 2070. You've been working black ops for the past five years," Rachel answered. "As for your second question, we induced a state of altered consciousness with your DNI connected to the network. We- you, actually- looked at all the options and figured this would be our best shot at stopping a rogue AI. Unfortunately, we guessed wrong about the risk. It was fried in the process, and it seems it took the past five years with it."
"That's how long I've had it," Mikayla guessed. "I lost my biological hands, so I was given a DNI to go along with my new ones. The DNI failed and took my memories with it. Am I on the right track?"
Rachel nodded.
"What the fuck, Rachel? I didn't even know this was possible!"
"It's never been anything but a theoretical risk until now," Rachel admitted. She perked up slightly by Mikayla's use of her first name. "I see your mind is still-"
They were interrupted by the hospital doors opening and an elderly man walking through them.
Rachel immediately snapped to her feet. "Senator Mason! Sir, I can explain-"
He dismissed her with a wave. "Relax, Agent. I'm not here to grill you. I'm just here to see my daughter."
"Your... daughter?"
Mikayla grinned stupidly. "Hi dad."
Rachel glared at the other woman. "You never told me you were Senator Mason's daughter!"
She answered, "I like to keep it on the down-low. Or I did. Apparently still do. I took my mom's last name a long time ago."
Rachel moved to leave. "I'll leave you two alone."
Senator Mason grabbed her arm, his grip surprisingly strong considering his age. Before letting her go, he told her. "She'll come around again."
"I hope so, sir."
Mason turned to his daughter. "So I heard you're all fucked up in the head."
"Yeah, that's what they just told me," Mikayla snarked.
The senator laughed. "I guess it really does skip a generation, huh."
She was perplexed. "Skips a generation? What?"
"Way back, shit, a century ago, your grandpa was captured by the Soviets. The planted a bunch of numbers and shit in his head. It's one hell of a story..."