A/N: Sooo this is basically AU, because, like, it has characters from AW, Ghosts, Black Ops and MW. Yeah. What's up everyone! I hope my long hiatus didn't make anyone lose interest in my stories. Well, I'm back with an Ilona-centric fic! Ilona-centric because she's cool af and deserves more fics starring her.
The cover is, as always, made by OperationKingfish. That girl got talent.
"Not going out to the sea, Gideon?" Mitchell grinned at his captain. "Or is it too hot for you?"
Gideon grunted, his face hidden underneath the evening hat Joker had given him. He was leaning back against a foldable chair, safe from the rays of the sun from under the large sunshade. Mitchell, on the other hand, was sitting on the sand, applying sunscreen on his legs and arms, the glorious heat soaking into his skin.
"You've got the six pack done, boss," Joker snickered, glancing at Gideon through his sunglasses. He was on the sand, too, next to Mitchell. "Hogging on the sunshade isn't cool, you know. Get your tan on, and all the chicks will dig you."
"I thought all the girls already love me with my sexy accent and all…" Gideon sounded as though he was drifting off.
"Maybe if you stopped being an ass, they'd actually start noticing you," Mitchell rolled his eyes, causing Joker to snigger, and eliciting a grunt from the captain.
The beach was vast and the sea almost never-ending, stretching far into the horizon. The blue-jade waters shimmered under the rays which were just as brilliant as the heat. Birds sang overhead, palm trees danced to the wind, feminine laughter off in the distance. There was no crowd today. Just a moderate amount of people, which was perfect for a relaxing evening by the beach.
As Joker realized with dismay there weren't too many girls around, he turned to Mitchell. "Too bad Ilona didn't follow. She should seriously come up for air every once in a while."
"Oh, you know her…always working on her skills," Mitchell said absent-mindedly, closing the sunscreen. "Alright, I'm gonna go catch the waves."
Joker stood up with him and the two jogged over to the waters. They noticed a group of girls in the sea not so far away, and when they noticed the two men were staring, began to get coy. Joker smirked, "So…what do you think of the view?"
Their feet touched the water and Mitchell tore his gaze away from the women. "Meh, I've seen better," he looked back at them, eyes slowly moving away, "This one time I saw…saw…whoa."
"What?" Joker looked past Mitchell to see what he was looking at. Slowly, his jaw dropped. "Whoa."
On the highway of sand, in the distance a figure was slowly coming into detail. She strided closer, her hips swinging in a way that was unintentional but attractive. The brown hair curling inwards around her shoulders was wavy, blown back from her face by the breeze, revealing the blood-red lipstick adorning her harp-like lips. A white, one-piece swimsuit outlined her hourglass-shaped body.
Compared to the other women, she was the picture of perfection.
Mitchell squinted, cupping his hands over his eyes. The woman looked so familiar. It wasn't until a few minutes later after she drew closer did realization dawn upon him. "Oh god, that's Ilona."
Joker's jaw dropped to the floor. "What. But I thought—"
"Apparently she changed her mind," Mitchell grinned at him, amused at the other's disbelief.
"Well, she's smokin'!" Joker grinned back, rubbing his hands together. He walked past Mitchell with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "If you'll excuse me…"
Mitchell arched an unimpressed brow. "Seriously? You're gonna fail."
"Never know unless you try~" Joker sang, paying no attention to the other's warning.
At first, Ilona was insecure about coming down to the beach. She thought about the reports to file in, the recruits to train…and realized she was working too hard. As Mitchell said, she should take some time for herself every now and then.
So that's what she did. She bathed, changed and walked down to the beach since it wasn't far from Atlas base, but Ilona didn't miss the stares she got as she exited. The soldiers knew better than to whistle at her, or else risk a bullet in their balls.
It had been ages since anyone looked at her like that.
As she walked, she saw Joker's ridiculous polkadot sunshade and went there. A little ahead of her, in the sea, was a group of women…and they were glaring at her. Ilona glanced at them from the corner of her eyes, fighting off the smirk that threatened to play on her face from the jealous aura they were emitting.
Suddenly she saw Joker approaching her, his eyes not focused on her face but elsewhere. Her lips tugged downwards in the slightest, displeased with where he was looking, but decided to let him go this time.
"Ilona?" he called out as he approached, his lips spilt into a goofy grin. Her adept eyes didn't miss the once-over he gave her, with his gaze lingering half a second longer on her tits. "I didn't think you'd join us."
Ilona was as stoic as ever as she looked off to the side, not slowing down, forcing Joker to follow her back towards Mitchell's direction. "I've decided otherwise," she replied simply, richly-accented voice confirming her identity.
"Well, glad to hear it," Joker seemed a bit distracted, and she knew all too well why. "You…um, look different."
She cocked a brow at him. "Oh? How so?"
"Urm…you look—" he struggled, biting his lip, cautious. She smirked, and he broke a sweat. "Really weird. I-In a good way! I…" Joker reluctantly looked away from her and wiped his forehead, exhaling heavily. "Is it just me or did it just get hotter around here?"
"It's just you," Ilona said stolidly.
"Right," Joker's eyes fell to the sand, running out of pick-up lines.
They stopped just in front of the sunshade where Gideon rested, unaware. Ilona nodded at Mitchell, who simply grinned and went off to swim. She returned her attention to Joker, barely managing to stop the disgust on her face when she realized he was giving her his most 'charming' smile.
"Yeah, listen," he said, voice low. Ilona inwardly grimaced, he must have thought he sounded sexy like that. "Would you like to go somewhere…tonight maybe?" Joker lifted a hand, and it ghosted over Ilona's bare shoulder.
Goosebumps tickling her spine, her first instinct was to grab his arm, twist it, and throw him on the ground. Which was exactly what happened, leaving Joker in pain on the hot sand before he even realized what hit him.
"Shit! What the fu—" he paused, gaze meeting Ilona's death-stare.
Her eyes darkened with malice. "Touch me again, and I will feed you to the sharks." Scared, Joker gulped, nodding quickly, and suddenly Ilona smirked, turned on her heel and left him there. On the sand.
"Good boy. Now, if you'll allow me, I'm going to take a stroll."
Rorke slammed Merrick's arm onto the table, laughing out loud as he did so. "Haha! It just goes to show, you can't mess with me, boys. I'm still the king."
"Yeah, yeah, shut up and drink your beer," Keegan murmured, sipping on his own drink as Merrick cursed and rubbed his sore arm.
Rorke bellowed with laughter again and patted Elias aggressively. "See, Elias, if you're gonna lead a whole team, you're gonna have to—ooh, hel-lo…" his eyes followed the lady passing by their table. His voice was loud enough to capture her attention, and as she walked by, her chocolate eyes threw an uninterested glance at him. Despite this, however, she felt rather shy by his compliment.
It had been ages since she felt pretty.
He would never let a babe like that out of his sight. Being the outgoing man he was, Rorke grinned at her. "Well, greetings, sugar! What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"
Ilona stopped, turned and cocked a brow at him. "This is a beach. Why shouldn't a girl like me be in a place like this?"
Merrick snickered at the way she made his line look ridiculous. Rorke glowered at him briefly before smirking at the lady. "Wow, that's quite the accent. Listen, how's about you sit here next to me?"
She folded her arms. "Why would I do that?"
"Because I just beat these losers in arm-wrestling, and I need a queen to bask in the glory with me," Rorke grinned, and Keegan nearly choked on how cheesy that sounded. Ignoring him, the older Ghost continued, "Come on, we'll spare you a drink…"
Ilona pondered. "Hm. Alright." She approached them, taking the spare chair, but instead of sitting with Rorke, between him and Elias, she sat oppposite him, between Merrick and Keegan, who made space for her without qualms.
Rorke mock-pouted. "Sugar, what're you doing? You don't wanna sit with those limp-dick losers." He dodged the can Keegan threw in his direction.
"Let's arm-wrestle," she said flatly, putting her arm on the table.
For a moment, the whole group was silent, until Rorke burst out in laughter. "Oh hell no, sugar, I don't want to break your arm."
"Or are you scared of the queen, Rorke?" Elias chuckled.
Keegan and Merrick laughed, plus Elias' intimidating smirk, Rorke snorted and accepted Ilona's challenge. "Fine. Don't say I didn't warn ya, sugar…"
Merrick counted down, and when the round started, Rorke's arm almost immediately fell to the table.
For a moment his eyes widened, completely caught off guard by the defeat. But he recovered quickly. "I was going easy on you."
"Don't," Ilona tilted her head, face neutral, but grip strong. There was a darkness in her eyes. Like she was warning him.
Merrick counted down again, and the second round started. Rorke applied pressure, and the more he did, the more the opposite force fighting him. He scowled, looking up at his opponent. Ilona's face was expressionless. But her eyes were determined. Faint outlines of muscles showed slightly as she strained her slim arm, the veins coming into view. Slowly, Rorke began to realize this wasn't just any woman—he was dealing with a soldier. And even under pressure, she was beautiful.
She captivated him.
Before he knew it, a bead of sweat was rolling down his forehead, she was smirking, and his arm was slammed onto the table. The roar of his friends proved the reality that he lost.
"Well, it seems you're not as good as you proclaim," Ilona said smugly, leaning back. She turned to Keegan. "Drink, please?"
Keegan handed her a can of beer, still snickering. "Damn, after what you did? Anything for you, sweetheart."
The can opened with a hiss and she drank half of it in one gulp. Her eyes met Rorke's, returning his careful smirk with a superior smirk of her own. Abruptly, she stood up. "I need to go. Thanks for the drink."
"You've got my respect for shutting this sonovabitch up," Merrick grinned at her. "You want a drink, beautiful, just come by anytime."
"I'll keep that in mind," she smiled, walking away.
"Wait!" Rorke called out as she left. "Can I get your number, sugar?"
Ilona chuckled, not looking back. "Nope."
It wasn't long until she came across a group of men playing volleyball. The borders of their arena was drawn out in the sand and Ilona nearly smiled with how they made up for the lack of a proper net.
There was a pair of men on one side, and only one on the other. As she drew closer, she heard as one of them shouted, "Come on, give it up, Menendez! Mason and I versus you, it's two against one! And it's boring with you losing all the damn time."
The one he called Menendez was the lone man on the opposite side, scowling at them. The one referred to as Mason nudged his yelling friend, frowning. "Stow it, Woods. He lost, fine, but don't rub it in that psycho's face."
"Fucking Americans," Menendez growled. "I want a rematch. I will win this time."
"Yeah right," Woods scoffed, and at that moment he spotted Ilona passing by from behind Menendez. From across the field, he whistled at her. "Hel-lo, baby!"
Ilona became irritated. She couldn't go twenty meters without getting called out by someone.
She returned the flirt with a cold stare and continued walking. Mason rolled his eyes at his friend's goofiness and shouted to Menendez. "Hey, if you want a rematch, get a partner. It'll be a fair fight, then, and you could finally stop asking us for the goddamn rematches."
Menendez was quiet, before grunting out in resignation. He looked around for the nearest person to claim as a partner, and that person, was, of course, Ilona.
"Excuse me, la belleza," he called out, and she looked over her shoulder. She wasn't very far from him, and since he was already approaching her, Ilona decided it was useless to keep walking.
"Sorry, I don't speak Spanish," she said, crossing her arms and resting weight on one foot.
He paused, as though identifying the accent. "Oh, you're Russian," he smirked, and it took her a few moments to realize he said that in her mother tongue. The surprise didn't show on her face, but she was inwardly impressed.
"Yes, I am," she replied in English. "Is there something you need?"
"Those arrogant bastards have me at a disadvantage," he nodded towards Mason and Woods. Ilona followed his gaze, only to frown when Woods winked at her and Mason facepalmed. Menendez continued, "To have a rematch, I need a partner."
"Why would you want me to be that person?"
"You're the closest one around here, and you seem fit enough," he smirked, but was smart enough not to look her up and down. When she didn't budge, however, Menendez raised his arms. "Ah, it's alright if you don't think you're good enough for a simple game…"
A sting of irritation made her eye twitch. She knew he was doing that on purpose. "Fine, I'll join you," she gave in, following him into his part of the drawn-out field. "You certainly know how to provoke a woman."
Menendez gave her a sly grin, before turning to Woods to begin the rematch. During that time Ilona studied her partner. Tan skin, dark hair swept back from his handsome face, and attractive dark eyes. His build was sturdy, too, with broad shoulders and a lean body. Ilona smirked, oh yes, she was enjoying the view.
It had been ages since she did any window shopping.
"Get ready, bitch!" Woods shouted, ball in hand. Hastily, however, he corrected, "I don't mean you, baby, I meant that asshole you're partnered up with!"
Ilona rolled her eyes and poised herself. Eyes on the ball, she asked her partner, "So, what's your name?"
The ball flew across the field, and Menendez leaped, hitting the ball back. As he landed on the sand with ease, he huffed, "Raul. You?"
"Ilona," she replied, taking her cue when Mason hit the ball back towards them and it flew over Menendez's head. As she returned the ball with a firm hit, she turned to the other. "Nice to meet you, Raul. I like your name."
"I could say the same for you," he laughed. "Ilona…it rolls off the tongue." Despite the banter, his focus never lessened. Putting up a good game, he sent the ball back to their opponents without difficulty. "That's just another thing to like about you."
Ilona found his voice and his faint Spanish accent attractive. "Oh? What else do you like about me?" She jumped, stopping the flying ball with her chest serving as an obstacle. It stopped, and, bouncing it off her knee, slapped it over to the other side. Menendez whistled, impressed.
"La belleza, I know better than to make comments about your body," he replied, eyes never leaving hers. "Unlike that useless American over there, I actually respect women."
Hearing this, Woods cursed at him from across the field as he headbutted the ball to Mason, who then headbutted it across the field. Ilona stifled a chuckle as she hit the ball back with little difficulty.
The ball flew back towards Woods, and, much to everyone's surprse, it went past him. "Shit!" he cursed, turning around just as the ball hit the sand.
Menendez threw his arms up and laughed at his victory. Mason laughed, too, but only because Woods was so disbelieving. Ilona, on the other hand, simply shook her head and smiled.
"Yes! That should teach you, Woods!" Menendez bellowed, grinning.
"Yeah, yeah, your flirting with the pretty lady on the battlefield almost made me puke," Woods muttered, giving him the middle finger. "And you've only won once, don't get so full of yourself." Then, he looked at Ilona, "Look what you've done, baby! You let the bad guy win."
"This bad guy is the only one who hasn't been staring at my sis'ki," Ilona crossed her arms just as Menendez snickered. "Besides, sometimes girls like bad boys."
Woods asked Mason the meaning of the Russian word she used and he translated it to tits. Which caused Woods to give her an embarrassed grin. "Oh come on, you can't deny your assets."
Ilona rolled her eyes at his shamelessness. "Are we done here, Raul?" she inquired.
"Of course, bella dama," he bowed slightly, a smirk playing across his attractive face as their eyes met again. "You have my gratitude."
Ilona nodded and proceeded to walk away, leaving Woods to shout obscenities at the smug-looking Menendez.
Near the end of the beach, there were three men camped out there.
One was wearing a skull mask, running around as another, dark-haired man chased after him. They ran past her, one laughing and the other cursing. She smiled, for they reminded her of little children, when in truth they were grown men.
"Goddamn it, Roach!" The dark-haired man shouted, relentless in his chase. She noticed the British accent. "Give me back the goddamn mask!"
"Who told you to bring it to—ah!" The one called Roach fell as the other caught him by the leg, causing both to trip over. Roach started laughing uncontrollably as he wrestled to keep the other's arms from getting the balaclava.
Ilona watched them, half-amused by their childishness, but slightly jealous with how much they were enjoying themselves.
"Ey, control yourselves, or I'll kick both you numpties into the sand," a third man reprimanded, his accent peculiar. Ilona couldn't put her finger on it, but it sounded nice.
"Yeah, yeah, MacTavish, if Roach doesn't give me the mask, I'll pummel his sorry arse into the sand!"
"Relax, Ghost, you know he's messin' with ya."
Roach somehow slipped free, and the chase began again.
Ilona chuckled and approached the third man, who seemed to be the only adult of the group. As she drew near, she folded her arms and smirked. "So, are they your guys?"
Soap didn't look up from what was in his arms. "Huh? Yeah. They are. Lucky me, eh?" He finally glanced at her. It was normal at first, but as he took in her beauty, he seemed to stutter slightly. "Um…are they bothering you?"
Roach scream-laughed in the distance. Ilona shook her head, peering at Soap with interest. "No. So you're MacTavish, huh?"
"It's a Scottish name, lass," Soap chuckled, glancing at her, almond-shaped eyes returning the gaze with equal interest. "And you are?"
"Ilona."
"Are you Russian?"
"Yes." Ilona looked at what was in his arms, and both her eyebrows rose. "Is that a Dragunov?"
Soap paused, checked the sniper rifle in his arms, then looked at her. "I'm surprised you know that."
"Know it? This weapon is quite the classic," Ilona drew closer to see if the gun was real. It was. She met his eyes cautiously. "Are you planning to kill someone?"
"What? No, of course not," Soap found the idea ridiculous. He pointed out a few empty glass bottles to his side. "I wanted to test my skills. The gun is filled with test-slugs."
"Ah," Ilona nodded in understanding. She picked up a bottle, feeling its shape and the smooth surface of the glass, and glanced at him. "So, how's your aim?"
"Not so bad," Soap smirked at her, adjusting the rifle in his arms. "Okay, give me a tough one."
Ilona smirked back, and threw the bottle high up. He pulled the trigger and the bottle broke in pieces. The sound when the gun fired was loud enough to surprise Roach, giving Ghost the advantage to take him down. As Ilona whistled, impressed by Soap's shot, Roach and Ghost started wrestling again.
Roach's laughter soothed Ilona more than the brilliant view did. She stood with Soap for a few moments in silence, revelling in the beach's atmosphere. Then, she turned to him. "Let me try."
"What?" Soap looked at her incredulously.
"Why? Don't think I can do it? I might surprise you."
"You've already surprised me with your looks," Soap gave her the weapon, cautiously and hesitantly. "If you're telling me you're the whole package…"
Ilona smirked at him. "I think I'll meet your expectations."
"I have a feeling you'll exceed them," Soap said, bending down to take a bottle. He gave her a few moments to be ready, before throwing the object into the air. Combined with the strength of his arm and the light weight of the bottle, it flew high and far at an incredible velocity. He was convinced she would miss.
Soap flinched when the bottle shattered.
"Don't go easy on me," Ilona sighed, glancing at him with annoyance. She was honestly getting tired of that.
Soap stared at her incredulously. "What? That wasn't—that was as difficult as I could make it."
"Oh?" Ilona put a hand on her hip, leaning the rifle against her shoulder. "Then our perception of 'difficult' is very different."
"It took the best of the best of my snipers to ace a shot like that," Soap frowned, remembering how Archer was the only one who could shoot the bottle when it was him who threw it.
"Huh. Then I guess they'll need more training."
"From you," Soap chuckled, taking the Dragunov back and setting it on the sand. Roach was lifeless on the sand a bit ahead of them as Ghost pulled the balaclava away from him and stormed off. "You're amazing. I don't think I've met anyone like you."
"Yes, I don't think you have," Ilona nodded. In fact, she should've said that to every man she came across today.
Silence settled between them. Ilona seized the time to breathe in the fresh air, and she realized that she really enjoyed her time here. A pity, that it was all so rare.
"Do you come here often?" Soap asked, almost hopefully.
That question made her think. Perhaps Mitchell was right. She should really take time for herself every now and then. She didn't have to work all the time, for she's already proven herself in Atlas. Moments like these—talking to new people, relaxing, staring off into the distance—didn't have to be rare.
"As a matter of fact," Ilona smirked at the Scot, "yes."
She turned around and began her journey back to Joker's sunshade, leaving Soap staring after her. "And I look forward to seeing you again, MacTavish."
It had been ages since she actually dated anyone.
A/N: Hope you liked it! And hopefully you didn't mind the warped timelines.
Be sure to review!