Chapter 2

Group C outpost defensive post 1, Siberia

August 20, 2016, 12:29:27

It was a scene straight out of an old Western film; the good guys, outnumbered and disarmed by the bad guys who had them stuck in a street. There was even a slight wind blowing that stirred up some of the loose snow on the ground that added to the scene. The other helicopters were landing and disgorging more soldiers, until there were around 40.

Soap and Price had the pistol-wielding Makarov under a steely glare. Here was the man himself, the madman that was partly responsible for an entire world war. Price's hands were actually trembling with the urge to scoop up his RSASS and put a bullet into his smug face. Their comrades didn't have as an emotional reaction to Makarov as them – to Richtofen, Dempsey, Takeo and Nikolai the Drunk, he was just another bad guy threatening to kill them.

"I must say, I was surprised when I spotted you all here," Makarov said to Price. "The infamous Captain Price and Captain Mactavish with four new friends for their futile cause." He started to examine the four strangers to him, starting with Richtofen.

"A neo-Nazi? How interesting. You must really be running out of men, Price, if you're recruiting lowlifes like this."

Of course, Makarov didn't know that Richtofen was a real Nazi, and the Doctor was quick and eager to point it out. "How DARE you! I am a TRUE Nazi, you schweinehund! I am Doctor Edvard Richtofen and now you are on my death list, number 497!"

"If you don't shut up you'll be on the dead list!" Makarov shouted, and several soldiers behind him aimed their PP90M1s at Richtofen.

Makarov continued to examine the zombie killers. "An American in an old Marines uniform, a Japanese in an Imperial Japan outfit, and a Loyalist? Really, Price, just look at these men around you."

"I'm not a Loyalist! I'm a Russian!" Nikolai the Drunk proclaimed, not knowing the two were often one and the same.

"And you have just proven yourself an idiotic Loyalist," Makarov replied.

"I can sense you have no honor in you," Takeo said.

"Makarov, these guys are from WWII, so don't think they're newbies! They've fought hordes of zombies in the past," Price said.

"You do realize the irony of calling me mad, and then saying something like that?" was Makarov's reply.

"Oooh, you're mad too! So am I! Hooray!" Richtofen exclaimed giddily.

Meanwhile, Yuri and Nikolai the Pilot had seen the helicopters touching down and were now stealthily moving from ruin to ruin searching for their friends.

"Ugh, why did we even split up?" Yuri complained.

"Hey, Price thought it was for the best, and you can't blame him," Nikolai the Pilot replied.

A couple of minutes passed before the pair heard voices. Nikolai the Pilot grabbed Yuri's shoulder and said, "Shhh! Listen!"

They strained their ears and cautiously moved closer to the source. Peeking over a smashed wall, the duo saw five helicopters on the ground, a row of soldiers, a lone man in front of them, and their friends without their weapons.

"Whoa, I think that guy is…" Nikolai the Pilot squinted "…Makarov."

As soon as he heard the name, Yuri froze up. He was instantly transported back to the past, to the year 1996, when he was a young man eager to do as much as he could for the Motherland…

Pripyat, Ukraine

Winter 1996

Yuri woke up from his nap and stretched. He was in the back seat of a jeep, with Makarov at the wheel. Outside, Imran Zakhaev was arguing with the arms dealer. Makarov turned and spoke to him.

"Yuri, wake up. Zakhaev wouldn't want you to miss this. This deal will generate millions for our cause. Money can buy many things. Even power. The road to our future begins here, my friend."

Yuri looked out the window, where the argument was heating up.

"What do you mean, it's not enough? I thought we –

"Yuri? Yuri!" Nikolai the Pilot shook him, bringing him back to the present.

"Huh?"

"Did you hear what I was saying?"

"No, sorry."

"It's okay. Anyway, I said that we're busting them out of there. I'll go over to that street and take care of the soldiers while you stay here to snipe Makarov and his cronies. You take the first shot."

"Okay, got it." Yuri readied his RSASS while Nikolai the Pilot headed over to the aforementioned street with his MG36. He was low on ammo for the sniper rifle, but that didn't matter. It would only take one bullet, one shot, one kill.

Makarov was still talking to Price. "I see that your pilot friend Nikolai and Yuri aren't here. Oh yes, I know that you brought them with you. They always follow you. You think that they're your aces in the hole, but soon you will see that that is just a mere delusion."

For a split second, Price was astonished. How did Makarov know about Yuri? Then he spat out a two word phrase that definitely wasn't a compliment. Makarov smiled and swiftly kicked him in the gut, sending him to the ground gasping and wheezing. "I know how your men think, Price. They'll take the best opportunity they can find. And in this case, that opportunity is the street to my right."

Yuri brought the rifle up and looked through the scope. Shifting the RSASS, he was able to locate Makarov, who seemed to be mocking Price. Yuri then witnessed Price getting kicked in the gut while the other five cringed. Inhaling slowly and holding his breath, his finger tightened on the trigger…

Nikolai the Pilot hoped that Price was okay after that kick. He was still waiting for Yuri to fire, and thought to himself that he was probably savouring the kill. Then he watched the row of soldiers suddenly turn to face the street that he was in, and heard Makarov shouting "Surrender yourselves or my men will slaughter everyone! And don't try to kill me, because then they'll do the same regardless!"

Yuri heard Makarov's demand and cursed. He had them in his hands, all right! There was no way he and Nikolai the Pilot could take down all of them in time. Still cursing, he bitterly stood up with his hands raised. Nikolai the Pilot did the same, and the two grudgingly walked over to their enemies.

Soap's heart sank when he saw Yuri and Nikolai the Pilot emerge with their hands raised in defeat. They were truly screwed now, at the mercy of a madman. Makarov gestured with his pistol for the pair to join their friends, and the two did. Dempsey said, "Well, we're in a deep load of shit now."

"My thoughts exactly," Makarov said. "Now I have rounded up your little group and defeated you. Now…I shall kill you all. Hell awaits," he concluded with a grin.

"No! I'm not ready for hell! I've got nozhing to vear!" Richtofen wailed. The others looked on in confusion as they digested this outburst.

"Clothes or not, you have an appointment with the devil," Makarov said. He raised his hand and the soldiers aimed their guns. He walked back to his men, raised his arms, and shouted, "Goodbye everyone!"

BOOM! An explosion from an RPG round shattered the moment as several luckless soldiers on the end were hurled into the air. Everyone ducked instinctively and whirled around, trying to see where the projectile had come from.

"SAM!" the cry rang out. It seemed to come from all sides, from over a hundred throats. Makarov and his men didn't know what was going on, but Task Force 935 did.

"Samantha!" they said at once.

Immediately Samantha's soldiers poured out from behind the ruins around the area which they had lay hidden. Another RPG was fired, and this one smashed into one of the helicopters parked on the ground. It exploded in a fireball, sending Makarov and his men to the ground.

"Retaliate!" Makarov shouted. His men got up and started to return fire. Some of them landed hits, but they were outnumbered by over three to one. And Samantha's soldiers could fight back too. Ten of Makarov's men were killed as bullets flew back.

"Come on, my friends!" Richtofen shouted. He grabbed his MG36 off the ground and gleefuly started pouring lead into Samantha's soldiers' ranks. His fellow zombie killers followed suit, but the Task Force 141 men were a little hesitant.

"I'm not sure I can stomach fighting with Makarov," Price said.

"Be honorable and fight! We're on the same side now!" Takeo replied.

Task Force 935 still had their force fields (surprisingly), and were the only ones successfully killing the enemies. More RPGs were fired, increasing the chaos. They began slowly retreating to the helicopters and also where Makarov's remaining men were. They didn't have the luxury of force fields, and their numbers were down to the last ten. Makarov himself was still alive, and watched as Task Force 935 ignored the hail of lead smacking into their force fields.

"How…" he began.

Price pushed him aside just as an enemy's bullets occupied the spot where his head was a few seconds ago. He quickly sniped the enemy and grabbed Makarov. "Get your remaining men and get to the chopper! And I'm doing only doing this because we now have a common enemy, so don't think we're best buddies or something!"

"No problem. I feel the same way," Makarov said. He bawled out orders to his last seven men, and everyone hurried to the four intact helicopters, with Task Force 935 covering Makarov's and his men's backs. The pilots that had stayed behind in the choppers started up the rotors when they saw them coming. However, the pilot of the one that Task Force 935 got into was more than reluctant to transport his leader's former enemies. A couple of words from Dempsey's foul mouth soon sorted that out, and soon four helicopters lifted off amid a hail of bullets pinging off their armored exteriors. Everyone was glad that Samantha's soldiers had seemed to run out of RPG rounds.

"Escaping vas a bad idea!" Samantha's demonic voice boomed through the air. "And soon zhe vorld will suffer for your mistakes!"

Makarov came over on the radio to Task Force 935. "Who the hell was that?"

Soap went in the cockpit (he was closest) and replied. "It's a long story".

"Doesn't matter, Captain Mactavish. It's a long flight to Prague," Makarov said. Soap shrugged and began to recall their adventure at the Group C base to their enemy-now-friend.

Meanwhile, Price was grilling Yuri on how Makarov knew him. Yuri hemmed and hawed, and Nikolai the Drunk said, "Come on, you're making me impatient! And that's not good because I'm already mad at not having vodka!"

Yuri said, "Promise that you guys won't chuck me out of the helicopter?"

"Of course. Why would we do that?" Nikolai the Pilot said.

Yuri sighed. "I was young, and patriotic, when I first met Vladimir Makarov…"

Pripyat, Ukraine

Winter 1996

Yuri woke up from his nap and stretched. He was in the back seat of a jeep, with Makarov at the wheel. Outside, Imran Zakhaev was arguing with the arms dealer. Makarov turned and spoke to him.

"Yuri, wake up. Zakhaev wouldn't want you to miss this. This deal will generate millions for our cause. Money can buy many things. Even power. The road to our future begins here, my friend."

Yuri looked out the window, where the argument was heating up.

"What do you mean, 'it's not enough?' I thought we had a deal!" Zakhaev was shouting.

A flash on top of a distant building caught Yuri's eyes, before they were drawn back to Zakhaev as a sniper round tore off his left arm. Only then was the gunshot heard. Another round smashed one of the jeep's windows, and Yuri hastily took cover. The door opened as a bleeding Zakhaev staggered into the jeep, and Makarov quickly drove them away from the site.

"Zakhaev never forgot what we did for him that day. Our reward was power…but power corrupts."

Al-Asad's Safehouse, Middle East

October 2011

Yuri walked up the steps and emerged outside. In the distance, the city where American forces were battling OpFor could be seen. He didn't know what was going to happen, but he had a feeling that it would happen soon.

Makarov turned to him and said, "Today, we show the world our true strength. Perhaps it will give you some as well."

His cell phone rang and he answered. "Is everything ready?" he paused for a couple seconds. Then, two words that would spell doom for thousands of humans. "Do it."

He hung up and watched the city.

"Thousands of souls extinguished by the push of a button."

All of a sudden, a blinding flash replaced the city and Yuri shaded his eyes. A massive blast wave rushed outwards and swatted down American helicopters as if they were toys. It was only then that Yuri realized that a nuclear bomb or device had been detonated. As he stood there, both terrified and fascinated, Makarov looked at him and said, "Understand, Yuri. This is only the beginning."

"This wasn't war. It was madness."

Zakhaev International Airport, Moscow

August 2016

Yuri struggled against Kiril and Lev's grasp in a futile attempt to escape. He was about to resort to kicking and punching until he heard a voice, once coveted, now feared, by him. Makarov.

"I know what you have done, Yuri. I know what you have told them. My friend. My ally. My betrayer. What happens here today will change the world forever. Nothing can stop this. Not even you."

Makarov pulled out his Desert Eagle and shot Yuri in the stomach. Gasping and wheezing, he fell to the floor. The other three men stepped over him, and he was helpless to try to prevent what was going to happen.

He didn't know how and when he got to the elevator, only that he did. Weakly jabbing at the button, he heard in his earpiece the words that terrified him the most.

"Remember – No Russian."

He yanked the earpiece out, not wanting to hear it anymore.

The doors opened and Yuri stumbled out. He was too late. Already innocent men, women and children lay dead around him. Fighting the urge to throw up, he feebly grabbed a P99 pistol off the ground beside a security guard who would never need it again, and tried to follow Makarov. He started swaying and fired the P99 in a desperate attempt to kill Makarov. He missed. Yuri finally passed out and let blissful darkness envelop him.

Later, he opened his eyes as a medic found him. "Makarov…is he…" he muttered softly. The medic didn't hear, and as he put an oxygen mask over his face and called for help, Yuri passed out again.

"I was a soldier of Russia, not a taker of innocent lives. But in his eyes, that made me the enemy. That is why I hate Makarov so much, and why it's even more difficult for me to fight alongside him."

Dempsey gave a low whistle. "Man, that's some deep stuff."

Takeo said, "You were honorable to fight for what was right."

"You're a real Russian, not like that Makarov!" Nikolai the Drunk proclaimed.

"And zhank you for more insight on zhe modern vorld," Richtofen said.

"I'm sorry that you had to go through that, Yuri," Price said sympathetically.

"I'm glad that you came to us!" Nikolai the Pilot said.

"Thanks. You guys are great," Yuri said.

Soap came back from the cockpit. "So, what's up?"

Yuri began retelling his story as the helicopters droned on, towards Prague, towards…freedom?