A/N: The rating has been moved from M to T for now, since I don't believe it is going to become really graphic any time soon, violence wise. I'd like to just say that this will be a crossover story- Modern Warfare and Black Ops 2. I had so much fun writing my first story, that I felt as if I had to continue it! Just another reminder, this *can* be read alone if you have not read my previous story. Enjoy!

On the Job (Through the POV of Captain Petral Levark, age 31)

Perhaps I'm used to hard work, having been an army doctor back when I lived a stable life in America. But still, I have to ask myself what was truly harder- killing Vladimir Makarov with my fiancee, Captain John Price, or going through official British Task Force training?

I thought I had seen it all. Clearly I hadn't.

While I had military experience back in America, killing Vladimir Makarov was something that I had never intended to happen. I was fighting on the American front in Afghanistan, trying to tend to dying patients in the broken-down hospital as bombs rained down around me. As the building collapsed, I was saved by three men- three men who ultimately changed my life.

And yes, while it was me who was able to take Makarov down in the end, I still consider John Price to be the true hero of my story that I've kept to myself since the trigger was pulled. I wasn't the one who pulled it, but as he keeps reminding me, I was the only reason he died in the first place. I don't like thinking about the details- about how Yuri looked when he was shot three times in the head by Makarov, or how Captain MacTavish looked when he fell limp on the table in front of us while I watched helplessly. But it was behind us now. We won at the price of losing two good men, and countless others before I joined the team.

But in order for me to continue working with the Task Force, which with all I had been through in the past, I believed it wasn't an option, I had to go through training. In a class of thirty men and only one other woman besides myself, I nearly didn't make it.

But I pulled through. I did learn that, while I enjoyed hiking when I was younger with my mother and father, I most certainly did not enjoy it while having to complete a forty-mile hike in under twenty hours up and down steep mountain terrain. That was probably the most challenging part of my training course- I had broken my ankle tripping down a steeper part of the hill and had to continue another eight miles. It was torturous, and the group had to leave me behind. I still made it- with five minutes to spare.

But among endless weeks of training, I somehow pulled through and became an official member of the Task Force 141. While news of Vladimir Makarov's assassination swept across the world, our names went unmentioned, to my relief. While media influence continued to grow with each passing year, I was glad that the soldiers were at least given the respect of privacy. We didn't want attention, and we didn't want our names known.

But despite it all, we were proud of our work. And I was able to find the love of my life along the way, which was something I could say was a proper accomplishment in itself. That was another thing John and I fought to keep as quiet as possible- we knew it would only cause problems within the team if it were to spread. We discussed plans of marriage quietly, and we knew that if we were to get married, it was to be a very small, private service. As leaders of the newly formed team, we knew that professionalism came first. And I especially would be given a higher expectation, being a woman leading an elite Task Force that, until within the last five years, was reserved strictly for men.

But as months passed, the Task Force was rebuilt. But the tiredness on John's face never seemed to fade. He was determined and strong as ever, and more than eager to rebuild his fallen team with fresh warriors, but I couldn't deny the fact that he was growing weary of leading. He had watched far too many men die- that much I knew, even though he never had to come outright and tell me. And I think it grows on you after a while. Perhaps I would experience a similar experience once I reached his level of experience.

I always put my team before anything, however I made sure that while the months turned into a year, and a year into two, I stood by him both physically and emotionally.

He didn't let on much, but I know he appreciated it.

And we could both agree that ordering around the FNGs was fun. I thought of that as our bonding time.

With World War III over, we didn't have anything major to worry about. Being on the Task Force, there were always levels of stress surrounding you. You were always on-duty, no matter what. But that was the kind of stress you got used to quickly. Without any major wars going on, we weren't concerned with losing soldiers, or going on any missions that would mean certain death. For a period of about six months, staying in-shape was our biggest concern- along with smaller missions that our team and I were assigned to.

I never considered going back home to America. It held too many unpleasant memories that I would much rather prefer to keep buried. When the Russians attacked New York City in the midst of World War III, my home for nearly my entire childhood, they took everything- including the lives of my parents. I had no intention of ever going back, if I could help it. Still, I felt as if it were inevitable.

But now, stationed at a military base in Wales, I began to think that perhaps the world was done fighting. At least for a little while.

As I made my way into my daily gym visit (Wales by far was my favorite place to be stationed at- it had a gym right on the base), I noticed a couple other of the younger men, boys, really, occupying a couple of the weight-lifting machines. I nodded to them in greeting, planning on just making a couple repetitions on the bench-press, when somebody shouted my name.

"Captain Levark! Captain Levark?"

I looked up, frowning a bit as Second Lieutenant Mark Johnson came hurrying into the gym. He was a bit of a hot-head, not exactly my favorite to work with. But he was honest enough.

"Yes?" I walked out of the gym into the hallway, still in my t-shirt and training shorts.

"A representative from Parliament is here to see you and Colonel Price."

I often forget how John had gone up in several ranks since the assassination. He was no longer "Captain Price", although it was rather difficult for me to get used to.

"Can you tell him I'll be with him shortly?"

He nodded, turning to hurry down the hallway again. I hurried to my bunker, changing into my proper uniform, and walking down into the meeting room where John and a man I did not recognize were already sitting.

"Hello, Captain Levark. My name is Anthony Cain," the man greeted me.

He stood up to shake my hand. I accepted it, giving him a small smile as I took a seat next to John. The man was in full business attire, and had placed a small black suitcase down on the table in front of us.

"Is that door locked?" he asked. I glanced behind me and nodded, curious as to why he bothered to ask.

"Good. Colonel Price, Captain Levark, I am here to discuss with you a special assignment that Parliament feels only members of the elite Task Force, such as yourselves, could accomplish...I believe a representative has come and spoken with you before, have they not?"

He was right. Months before, I had met with a man that had told me about a new, possible threat...something that involved what he explained as "the undead". It was almost too supernatural-sounding to believe, and I had almost put it out of my mind completely until now.

"Yes...a couple months before," I answered slowly. "But what he said sounded more like a story than something actually happening. And we waited for further word on it, but no one ever contacted us again."

He raised his eyebrows and nodded, looking carefully between John and myself.

"Yes...it does sound like a story indeed. And I assure you, Captain, there is good reason why this has been kept under the radar."

Looking a bit anxious, he unlocked his briefcase and pulled out several photographs and several pieces of paper that looked old and yellowed, just as the man several months ago had. He pushed the photographs at us. Some of them were black and white, very, very old-looking, and some of them looked very modern.

The modern ones showed horrifying images, and I nearly gasped aloud. They were creatures- almost human-like in their stance and figure, but whatever they were was definitely not human. They were decayed, rotted, almost as if they had been dead for a long time. The photographs were blurry and unfocused, almost like the photographer had taken the photo in a hurry. The black and white ones were equally as disturbing. People in testing labs, people with looks of pure agony upon their faces.

John too looked disgusted, almost more irritated than disturbed. I looked up at Cain who sighed.

"I too had the same reaction...you see, this is an issue that had apparently taken root dating back to Nazi Germany, which I'm sure you've already heard about. These things, these test subjects grew out of hand...but somehow, the government managed to keep it quiet. Somehow, somebody got ahold of the recipe that created these creatures...some group, some organization. We're seeing the same creatures with the same chemical makeup attacking people now. Parliament can't keep it quiet for much longer."

"What exactly are you asking us to do?" John asked, trying to get down to the point.

"We're looking for intel," he explained. "CIA agents back in the states are performing an investigation of their own, seeing as many outbreaks have been occurring within the past year and a half. We feel like we need the UK on the job as well. I have been told that the Task Force 141 is the best for this type of assignment.."

"You mean outbreaks as in people have already died? People have already gotten attacked?" I asked slowly.

Cain nodded. "Only in very rural areas. But we have very little intel. If this gets released into the media, it will cause total panic and we cannot have that."

"So you're keeping everybody blind." I said shortly, feeling myself getting angrier by the second.

"Not blind, just-"

"People are dying and you're not even going to cause for an evacuation?!" I demanded, standing up in my seat. "You'd rather let people die and just wait around until we solve the problem instead of keeping innocent people safe as your first priority?!"

I was hyper-aware of John's eyes on me.

"If we release this into the public, Captain, it will only cause widespread panic. More people will be hurt than saved."

"You don't know that," I growled.

"And neither do you, Captain! Although you may not realize it, we are trying to find a solution to the problem here!"

"By using us as your test dogs?" I demanded. I noted that John made no move to silence me. "You're just going to send us out, searching for intel, and hope that all goes well?"

Cain looked flustered. "Yes, that is exactly what we are doing. You are lucky that we are giving you the option to do this in the first place. This isn't an order- this is a desperate request."

John spoke up. "We'll do your bloody work, Cain, but we're gonna need more information. Locations, dates, transport. You can't just expect us to throw ourselves out there with little to go on."

"That's exactly what I wanted to show you next."

He pushed the old documents in front of us. They were short, but their information was astounding:

October 9th, 1941

Doctor Ludvig Maxis

Test chamber #5

Test subject eight-zero-eight has responded typically to treatment. While the decay of the skin is swift, decay of the mind took 7 days, as opposed to eight-zero-seven's 5 and a half days.

Was put down at 13:44

Typical one-ounce dose of Element 115 was given

Double amount of Xenopsylla Cheopis was given- improved decay rate

Ferritin amounts are at a high level

NOTE: Doctor Richtofen continues to show signs of instability

I looked up at Cain, a bit bewildered.

"So these...these test subjects got out of hand?"

He nodded grimly. "Yes. And somehow it is occurring yet again. Our field agent was supposed to gain more evidence- he managed to send these photographs that he found, and these ones that he managed to take back to us from his sanction over in Berlin, but we have not heard from him since...that was nine months ago."

Xenopsylla Cheopis...that was the rat-flea, infamous for causing the massive epidemic hundreds of years ago known as the Black Plague. Did they really use something as horrible as that on innocent people?

Of course they did. This was Nazi Germany.

"The creatures looked horribly decayed...was the Xenopsylla Cheopis used to decay their skin? Otherwise it would just kill them, wouldn't it?"

"That's what we were thinking," he replied. "However, something gives these creatures their super-human strength. As mentioned in several of the documents, element 115, which is Unupetium on the periodic table, was used to cause their nervous system to go rapid."

"So you just want us to gather intel on who's behind this?" John asked, growing impatient.

"Yes. We'll take it from there."

He nodded, glancing at me. I gave him a tiny smile of reassurance, even though he probably did not need it, I knew he appreciated it.

Cain spoke again.

"We will need you to go into Berlin- that's where the origins of this entire project took place. Our specialists have already managed to gather documents from there but were unable to stay. Keep in mind this could be a dangerous mission. Exact coordinates and location spots will be given shortly. Another key location is the Salyut 1, the first space station in Russia that has been long-abandoned for quite a few years now. We will give more information as needed."

We both nodded in understanding.

He looked at us both. "There is still...a danger present. These locations are...unknown as to whether or not they are infested with the creatures. But usual weaponry should prove to be fine, unless otherwise requested."

"Good," John said calmly. Cain stood up, still appearing somewhat anxious.

"As much as we need this mission done, it is requested that you do not bring your entire regiment...we're looking to keep this as quiet as possible. I'm sure you understand. In return, the government would be willing to make any changes or accommodations to the Task Force if so requested."

I didn't like the sound of it, and I knew John didn't either. But, we nodded in understanding.

"Thank you for meeting with me today, Colonel Price, Captain Levark. We will keep in touch."

We thanked him, a bit grudgingly if anything, and he left without another word. I sighed and turned to look at John, and he just seemed very, very tired.

"You up for this, old man?" I chuckled, putting a hand on his shoulder comfortingly.

"I don't like the sound of this. There's no bloody way the government could have kept something this secret for so long, especially if it dated all the way back to World War II. I'm gonna contact MacMillan on this and see what he says- he's due to retire soon, but I trust the old man's judgement on this kind of thing."

I nodded, remembering the brief time that we had talked with MacMillan, also known as "Baseplate", right after Captain MacTavish died. John had seen a lot of death in his time, but I knew Captain MacTavish's death had hit him hard. They had been partners- best friends, even, before I had ever met them. I caught myself thinking about Yuri, who had also been on the mission with us and had a history with Vladimir Makarov. He had been so kind to me near the end of his life…

Shaking the thought from my head, I followed John into the hallway and into his private office. He immediately grabbed his laptop- the same one that he often used during our endless weeks on the chopper- and immediately began typing.

"I'm sending a request out to MacMillan."

I nodded. "What for?"

"I'm gonna ask if we can get special permission for this. Cain said Parliament wants only the best men for the job- so I'm gonna give 'em the best we've got. I want Nikolai with us. Things are beginning to quiet down over in Russia. Nikolai is probably getting bored."

Nikolai was our pilot, and an excellent source of support back when we were tracking down Makarov. As a member of the Loyalist Russians, he gave us crucial support that we needed on our mission. Many times, if it hadn't been for him, we wouldn't be alive.

"Sounds good. You think he'd be ready for another death-mission?" I said, half-jokingly.

"As far as we know, this is only for intel and surveillance. We shouldn't have to be rainin' any bombs on anyone. Can't say I'd be too disappointed if it came to that anyway."

I chuckled. "Sounds like a plan. Do you want me to start making an announcement?"

"No. Do it quietly...pick out our top ten, and make sure Johnson is on that list."

I groaned inwardly. "Johnson is a loudmouth with no respect for anyone but himself."

"Then I'll beat the respect into him until that kid is bleeding from his ears."

"I'll hold you to that then."

He snickered and looked at me, giving me a rare, small smile. Standing up, he placed a small kiss on my cheek and left the office, a bit hurriedly, I noticed. He wasn't one for physical affection, at least not typically, but little things like that reassured me that he wasn't so cold after all.

I grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil and began scribbling down the names of the men that had proved themselves above the rest over the year and a half I had spent working with them. I'd review them over with John once I had narrowed it down to roughly ten or eleven.

It was time to get back on the job again, and to be honest, I couldn't be more excited.