"Vorkuta Skies"

WARNING: THIS COULD CONTAIN SPOILERS IF YOU HAVE NOT FINISHED/PLAYED THE GAME. CONTAINS YAOI, SLASH, MALE x MALE, (etc.). IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH IT, DO NOT READ IT. Thank you.

Rated for possible future chapters, contents, and of course, language.

Pairing(s): Alex Mason/Franks Woods, possible Viktor Reznov/Alex Mason.

Summary: Woods miraculously survives the explosion after crashing through the window. He is captured and held captive at Vorkuta, Russia. When Mason receives an anonymous message about Woods's location, he's determined to save Woods with or without help. But with his brain washing not fully broken, just what will being back in Vorkuta do to Mason?

Disclaimer: Call of Duty Black Ops rightfully belong to Activision and Treyarch.

AN: Written because I felt Mason/Woods needs more love. First story on . Told from Frank's POV.

In the original message accessed on the terminal, it's stated that Woods is being held at Hanoi Hilton, but I wanted more climax to the story so I changed it to Vorkuta with upgraded security.

Mr. Mason-

Woods is alive and remains the sole remaining American guest at Vorkuta.

Thought you should know.

- X -

"Mason, listen to me! We can't just charge our asses into Russia over an anonymous message!" The shaven head CIA practically begged the other who was already making his way out of the division.

Alex Mason turned quickly on his heels towards the man following him. His handler, and previously, his interrogator.

"Fuck off Hudson! If Woods is alive, we need to get him!"

Jason Hudson could only grunt at his friend's anger. All over a message and his refusal to go save Woods who could be alive or not. But him being alive wasn't the problem, the problem was Vorkuta. As he said before, they couldn't just bust their asses into Russia to save a man who could be alive or dead. Mason was getting impatient, he practically glared at the others eyes through those fucking shades he always wore. Mason was half-tempted to rip those things off of his head and throw it against the wall.

"Look," Hudson started, "we don't know who sent that message, or where it came from. For all we know, it could be a trap to lure us there, Mason. You have think about it a li-"

"I don't fuckin' care!" Impatient Mason was never a good Mason. "Woods has save me countless of times! If there's a slightest chance of him being alive- I don't care if it's a trap- I'm going to rescue him! If you won't help, I'm going to do it myself." He spat angrily before turning and resuming his leave.

All Hudson could do was pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Son of a bitch.. MASON!"

The heat in the mines was unbearable. The air in the tunnels almost suffocated everyone who breathed in it.

Still.

Lift. Swing. Hit. Repeat. Lift. Swing. Hit. Repeat.

The same damned thing everyday. My arms were sore. It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. So why bother with it? I question myself with that too.

If I was right, it's been nearly six months since the day I almost died. Almost. Too bad I didn't. Death was so much more appealing than this. How I ended up stuck in this shit hole, I never dreamed it. Vorkuta, a labor camp in Russia. It was the closest thing to hell, I guess I can say I belonged in here. The chances of me going to heaven were laughably slim, if you believe in stuff like that. But I would have took my chances. I was never religious, but if god was willing to let into heaven, I wouldn't have thought twice about it.

Lift. Swing. Hit. Repeat. Lift. Swing. Hit. Repeat.

This same routine was going to drive me insane. Maybe I already was.

"WOODS!"

The sound of my friend's voice haunted me like a ghost. Alex Mason. I wasn't even sure if I saved his life that day. I would have rather died not knowing. How I survived grenade explosion at point blank was beyond me. Maybe someone likes me up there. Ha. That bastard, Kravchenko, his body had absorbed most of the shock. I didn't survive without a price. My hand stalled for a moment as I ran it on the burnt skin on my left arm and neck. The SOG TOUGH tattoo no longer visible. When I woke up, I was dragged away and before I knew it, I ended up here.

Eavesdropping on guards and prisoners earned you what you needed to know in here. I learned that Nova 6 was disposed of. I could only believe that Mason had gotten what he wanted. Dragovich was dead, Mason had gotten his revenge. Mason. Where was he now? Was he even alive?

"Эй, вас!*" My thoughts broke when a Russian guard spat at me. I never understood much Russian. "Назад, к работе!**"

My only way of understanding was guessing. It was frustrating, every fucking word they said pissed me off. I hated them. There were multiples of reasons why, guess I never liked Russians, Weaver not included. If I hadn't picked up the pick-axe, they would have killed me right there. I didn't care if I died or not. I didn't fear dying, but I'd be damned if I ever let any of these communist bastards take my life.

Because of a man named Viktor Reznov, the security of Vorkuta had been upgraded, was what I heard. New cells, new doors, new locks, new guards. Gurads stood at every corner, watching us like prey. I hated feeling like prey. You couldn't even take a piss in private. Viktor Reznov wasn't alone. He had help of an American prisoner, which I would guess it was Mason. Mason was here, I knew that much. For a whole fucking year. I was here for six months and I wanted to shoot my brains out. Alex survived a fucking year...

The hope of being rescued left me after the first month. After all, I was a dead man, supposedly. Like I said before, I was never religious, but I prayed for the first time in years. Maybe for a miracle. I didn't know, I just wanted to die, or get out. Obviously god hates me because I'm still here.

Sweat rolled down from the bandana I refuse to take off, onto my exposed chest. Out of all my years of service, I never found myself wishing so badly for a shower. I was covered in sweat, dirt, and blood that was over a week old. Everyone stunk. They rarely let anyone shower. Maybe once everr week and a half. Two if you were lucky.

I wiped a calloused hand over my sweating brow. The exposed cuts stung like a bitch, but it still didn't beat the pain of my aching muscles. Everything just fucking hurt.

"I heard they transfer American here. Like you." A barely audible whipser came from the man working next to me.

"What?" My voice was more louder then I originally intended to make it.

The Russian shook his head, but I had heard him the first time. Why he was telling me this, I didn't know. No one in Vorkuta was my friend. Not even aqquantince. I was basically the fresh meat when they threw me in here. Despite my wounds and burns, they jumped at me like a pack of hungry wolves. It was entertainment to them. You were only allowed to eat, sleep, and work. Entertainment was something you needed to create yourself. It was a dog eat dog world. Otherwise known as cannibalism.

The inmate had not repeated himself, because by that time, a Russian had barked at me again.

American. Was if too much to think it might be him?

I had to laugh at that. That was something I told myself was useless. Wishful thinking. More commands from the communist. I turned, glared, but unhesitatingly lifted the pick axe again.

Lift. Swing. Hit. Repeat. Lift. Swing. Hit. Repeat.

The time, I didn't know. I don't know what day it is, what time of day, the month. There was only one time in Vorkuta, work until you're dead. The weather, that shit didn't matter either. It was humid with a chance of you-might-be-shot- aka, raining blood.

Hands grabbed me. The pick-axe yanked from my hands.

"What the fuck?" The angry Frank Woods mode immediatly switching on as soon as I heard those guards speak.

More words I fucking still could not understand. They yanked me back. I fought from they're grasp, yelling all the insults I could possibly think of. Inmates turned their attention from their work to look at the commotion. The entertainment.

They yelled back at me furiously, grabbing at my arms. I didn't care the hell they were saying. I DID NOT like being manhandled by communist dogs.

I continued to struggle, before I felt the familar sound of a gun being cocked. It was pushed to the back of my head. Fucking bastards. On pushed me to the ground to me knees, I spat at him. They violently restrained my arms behind my back and forced me back up to me feet. They grabbed me again, and forced myself away. But the Russian with the gun rammed it into my temple. With teeth gritted, I allowed myself to be forced away.

They lead me to a bunker, where they kept the cells to hold inmates. I didn't recognize this bunker, which meant I was being transferred? No one ever got transferred. Were they finally deciding to kill me? It frustrated me, I didn't know what these bastards were planning, or why they were transferring me.

When we reached a certain holding cell, they opened the bolted doors and freed my hands. I would have taken that chance to punch each mother fucker in the jaw but I was soon shoved into the new cell. I was able to catch myself before hitting the ground.

"Communist son of a bitch!" I shouted angrily, turning to glare at them. The door shut in my face, there was darkness.

Silence.

Someone was here. I turned quickly to the other party in the small room. It was dark, and my eyes barely adjusted. I squinted. I could see the outline of the other man. And then vaguely made out his face.

I swore I shit bricks.

"Mason?"

There was silence.

Shifting.

And then silence.

For a second, I would have doubted myself. But I know what I see. Confusion and disbelief mixed together in the pit of my stomach. Mason- it was fucking Mason. What the hell was he doing here?

"Woods?" A croaked response from a voice I knew too well. It was Mason.

I saw him shift slightly on the second bed in the cell. He paused in his movements. Though it was dark, I could feel his eyes train on me. Mason's outline stood and walked over to me. Hands were place on the sides of my head. From the look on his face, he was in as much disbelief as I was.

"Woods. No fuckin' way..." Those hands started idly turning my head from side to side. He gripped it like he was afraid I might lose it or something.

"Is.. that really you, Woods?" Mason's hands traveled to my sweat soaked bandana, to my hair, and then down to my nose, and unshaven chin.

"Yeah, Mason. It's me." I was barely able to hide the incredibly relief tone in my voice. I removed the hands that were currently trying grasp the fact that I was here.

Then a realization. Mason was here, in Vorkuta. I could even say- again. Even if I wanted to believe my friend was here to save me, he had gotten himself caught and locked in this hellhole to die with me as well. That was the last thing I wanted. And how many men were captured as well. Was Hudson or Weaver with him? Shit.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Mason?" I hissed, even though I was grateful for Mason's good intentions.

Mason went quiet. I could see him a little bit clearer now, he was staring right at me. I didn't even know if he had caught my question. My brows knitted together as I opened my mouth to repeat my words. But my friend cut me off.

"What- I don't.. Save Woods. To save Woods." Alex spoke in broken English. I saw him raise his hands to his head as if to block out any noises he didn't want to here.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

"Mason, what's wrong wit-"

"I HAD TO FUCKIN' SAVE YOU WOODS!" I was taken aback abit by Alex's sudden outburst. If it wasn't so dark, I would have confirmed the look of insanity on his features.

Everything went quiet again. I could only look at him in disbelief. Something was definately off about Mason. Come to think of it, he's been a little bit.. different ever since leaving Vorkuta. He wasn't the same. I caught him talking to no one in particular from time to time, but I always chose to ignore it. There was no doubt in my mind it was because of Vorkuta. Something happened here.

There was tension in the air. Neither of us spoke again for another minute or two.

"How- did you know I was here?" I finally asked. I hadn't intended on the suspicion to raise in my voice.

He looked away from me, like he was trying to find an answer in the wall.

"There was.." Alex closed his eyes, as if trying to remember. By the expression on his face, I could tell he was straining to do so. "A message. It told me... FUCK, what did it tell me?"

There was something definately wrong. His arms rose and then fell. Before I knew, his arms started punching the wall while he let out frustrated yells.

"Mason! Calm the fuck down!" I didn't like seeing Alex so.. well, insane. I made several attempts to grab those arms before he started to break his fists.

"NO! THOSE FUCKIN'... NUMBERS! UGH! GOD. DAMN IT!"

Numbers? What numbers?

"Mason!"

"REZNOV! WHERE'S REZNOV?"

Viktor Reznov?

More disgrunted groans from the other.

I didn't know exactly what happened next. I felt my body being pushed back. By back made contact with the wall, and then Mason was still.

The room was filled with deep and heavy silence, except for his panting.

"What the fuck did they do to you, Mason?"

(*) "Hey, you!"

(**) "Get back to work!"

Translated by Google, so I don't really know if it's accurate.

Thanks for reading the first chapter! Reviews are greatly appreciated! C: