"You've done good, Reddie," Shepherd told Ryuka as he inspected the device that she had brought back with her during the debrief. He did not tell her what it was for, only that they would be in dire states if the Russians got their hands on it. "You don't know how many lives that you would've saved."

Ryuka, on the other hand, wished that he could spare the pleasantries. Ever since she had been on an "indefinite loan" from the Japanese Defense Agency (the official name for the Japanese Army) to the United States Armed Forces, she had been working under Shepherd. She knew this man like the back of her hand. He, among all other people, had a talented eye for talent itself, and would stop at nothing to reach his goals. Five years ago, she had also served under him, when 30,000 Marines had been obliterated by a nuclear bomb in that obscure Middle East country, and she remembered that he shown not a single hint of emotion… If she had died out there in the field, Shepherd would just leave her there.

"Sir, with all due respect," she cut Shepherd mid-sentence, one of the rare times that she had shown any sign of defiance against him. "I've been out there for two whole weeks, I've tortured and killed a hundred men, and now, you have all the information on Makarov you need. I really need a bath."

Shepherd looked at her and nodded. "Well, you deserved it Reddie," he replied, placing a hand on her shoulder. This young one was not only perfectly capable, she was feisty and steadfast, and if she played out her cards right, she would come nothing short of a leader that the 141 would need in the future. She saluted him, and turned towards the door of his office, but just as she was about to leave, he added, "Your father would be proud of you."

Her father, like all the Algrens, had been a soldier as well. He had been the Commandant of the Marines, but had retired upon Shepherd's Middle East fiasco, in protest of the general's indifference towards everything that had conspired. However, he did not let his personal grudges stop his own daughter from entering the Task Force 141, only reminding the man that she was his youngest daughter, and that he would not want to see her come to any harm.

"I will pass your greetings to him," Ryuka returned, and dropped into a Japanese bow before she set foot outside his office. Unzipping the Kevlar corset around her waist, and flinging it onto her shoulder, Ryuka quickly walked through the base and headed for her quarters, which was the only one with an attached bathroom, seeing that she was the only female combatant in the field. At times, it was the only place in the world, where she could be herself, just Ryuka, a woman who liked what the next woman liked: sleek roadsters, expensive shoes, some cosmetics, and the perfect peach-scented shampoo.


MacTavish had followed her ever since she had emerged from Shepherd's office. He had seen her take off that infernal corset of hers (although its use apart from protecting her torso from enemy fire was rather redundant), and enter her own quarters with a bang. Hence, he crept slowly into the room, and closed the door as silently as he could. Within mere minutes, he could hear the sound of water rushing down, and the waterproof media system in her bathroom blasting a mix of Japanese and English rock songs…

She emerged from the bathroom about forty-five minutes later, all the dirt and grime removed from her hair and her body. And the moment she had opened the door, he could have sworn he had seen a red-headed angel, all wrapped up in a green towel. "Hello there, John," she greeted, with a highly seductive smile, which only he had seen before. A Ryuka after her bath was a Ryuka that was perfectly agreeable, which was what he preferred at the moment of time. He knew that she could sense him coming, she had told him, a long ago, that Japanese swordsmen were trained in the concept of "Ki", the internal energy that surrounded all beings.

Taking slow strides, he walked towards her, and wrapped her in his powerful arms, feeling her warm hands upon his well-sculpted chest. "I missed you," he said into her ear, his voice, a mix between a low growl and a whisper. Her reply, was a soft purr when his hot breath met the skin where her neck ended, and her shoulders began, her fingers lightly touching his ruggedly handsome face.

"And I you," she replied, placing a peck on his cheek. "However infuriating you might be." She could have gone on, but he silenced her with a straight kiss on her lips, one that quickly changed from that of sweet reunion, to that of deep passion. She could tell from that kiss, that he was more than just worried for her, but she knew that it could only be made known between the two of them, for they were soldiers, they were used to danger, they were used to the feeling that at any time and place, someone they knew and they had cared for, would be dead or dying.

She could feel him backing her against the wall, her hands held to each side of her head while he dived in closer for yet another kiss. Bringing her slim legs around his waist, she moaned as he began to nibble on one of her collarbones, easily slipping off the towel that she had wrapped around her body, the utter embodiment of perfection of the female form.

"Have you no sense of propriety, you perverted asshole of a Scotsman?" she asked him with a little chuckle. Her dark eyes, they seemed to be glazed with a film of thick desire, and yet, she was still exhibiting a massive amount of self-control that he himself would have lost in moments like these. In fact, she was teasing him, something that she had always done. Of course there was no propriety when Ryuka was concerned, the redhead had him wrapped around her finger from the moment they had met one another…

MacTavish said nothing else. He took one of her soft brown nipples in his mouth, sucking it gently. He knew, like all women, she preferred foreplay over the actual act itself. "You're right," he replied, now licking a trail from where he had just attacked, down to the valley of her cleavage, right up to the other mound of flesh that he could barely cover with his large, calloused hand (hence, her lack of need for the corset unless to protect her from enemy fire).

"Captain…" she murmured, something more substantial than a moan, utterly grateful for the gesture, and the fact that he had her pinned against the wall. And then, it came, that smirk that told her that he had a very, very evil idea up his head. "MacTavish, don't you dare try anything…" she warned, and felt his hands encircle her waist. Within mere milliseconds, she felt her body leave the surface of the wall, right in the center of her quarters, and a long ways from the bed.

"And here I was, thinking that the great Ryuka Algren was half an acrobat," MacTavish said, raising an eyebrow as Ryuka sought to free herself from his arms. Whether it was leaping from tree-branch to tree-branch, or through rocky terrain, her lithe form was nothing short of astounding when she would display her highly impressive set of skills. However, right then and there, she would be at his mercy… "Don't worry, I won't let you fall."

If they were hanging over a cliff, and she had been cling onto him for dear life, she would have trusted him. If they had been in a life and death situation, she would have given everything in the world to hear those words. She smiled nervously, and raised her eyebrow sheepishly. "I will kill you if you do," she told him, making sure that he did not try anything that she would regret.

Thankfully, MacTavish did nothing of the sort; instead, he just laid her on the bed, and crept on top of her, stopping when she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Get some sleep, Ryuka, you probably need it more," he said. He could see how tired Ryuka was, particularly from the dark circles around her eyes. "You look more like a panda more than a Japanese dragon."

It seemed that at that time, Ryuka decided to follow his lead, and crept into his arms, after he pulled the blankets around her. It had been two weeks since she had done anything like this, and frankly, she preferred it more than a more… passionate reunion anyways. That, could be saved for later.


The dark Pyongyang winter's night, was more than just cold, it was down right terrifying. Rows and rows of fully-guarded mansions dotted the streets, one more impressive than the other. They had been fighting from one end of the residential district to the other, dodging more than just bullets, but also several flamethrowers, and several Molotov cocktails.

"We're freaking low on ammo!" Roach complained as he shot down yet another North Korean soldier. "Reddie, where the hell are you?"

Ryuka, was not as free as Roach was. "I'm a little bit… tied up right here," she whispered into the comms. Things were going bad. She was still trapped in the garage of the North Korean general whose mansion they had broken into. Amongst the fleet of Rolls-Royces, Ferarris and Bugattis, she was taking cover against another sharpshooter. "Give me ten minutes, I promise that I will get there."

It seemed that the sharpshooter heard her, and fired a round of bullets at her, causing her to leap high into the air, landing on the roof of a rather beautiful SUV. "Looks like our little kitten has finally come out," that man's voice was rather light, but cold, with a highly evident Russian accent. There seemed to be nothing in that voice, only the dark rage, a frosty age that had traded a more masculine tenor into a mezzo-soprano. She could tell that whoever this man was, he was pure evil… However, what was a Russian doing in Pyongyang?

"Come over here and we will see who is the kitten," she challenged him, emptying her used clips, and unsheathing her katana instead. She could not see the man's face through the ski mask that he had worn, only his mouth, and his eyes, and those eyes, were ones that she had never laid eyes upon before in her life. Heterochromia iridium had been a common rarity, and she had seen many with that strange condition, but she had not seen eyes of blue and green so intense in her entire life.

Quickly disregarding her fascination of the man, she quickly launched an aerial attack upon him. If she had planned it right, she would be able to cut him down and split him into two vertically. However, he was no ordinary fighter. This man, he looked at her, and raised his AK-47 above his head, causing her katana to cut through the weapon instead. "You are without a doubt a Daughter of a Dragon," he told her.

At that moment, she did not think how and why he had known this fact. All she knew, was that she was pressed for time, and she had to fight him back if she was to get to the LZ in time. Getting into her stance, upon bent knees and her left foot before her right, she sheathed her katana and dashed towards him, a double attack; the first, a blunt strike to his waist with the saya (or sheath) of her katana, and the second, would cut his back with the cutting edge of her katana.

The man had taken the first, false strike, but he was a fast learner, and quickly leapt out of the trajectory of her attack. Instead, he held her back, forcefully, looking into those dark eyes of hers, just as she had looked into his just moments prior. "Who are you?" she asked him, in awe, and partly in fear. She had not met a man that could anticipate her every move, not even adapt to her attacks.

"I can become all that you wish me to be, darling," he told her, trailing his fingers down her soft, red hair. Those words seemed to work as an immediate catalyst. Without even thinking, she pressed her lips against his, and kissed him with all she had in her, even the hope that she could get out alive. The very moment she knew that his attention had been drawn from her, she tightened her hold on her katana and slashed his leg before back-flipping towards the door. It was not a cut that could have severed his entire leg off, but deep enough to have him kneeling on the ground in pain.


This dream… had once been a memory. A year ago, Ryuka had come face to face with a shadow that had haunted her ever since she had started her career as a soldier. A year ago, she had met eyes with the man that they in the Task Force 141 has been formed to destroy. And thanks to what she had done in Russia, they would be one step closer to achieving that goal.

She only hoped that for this once, they would not be following a false lead. She had been haunted by him, by the memory of him, the shock and the pang of fear that she had never felt before, when she had met him. And above all, she had been frightened, by how easy it had been for her to come up with a tactic like that, to draw his attention by a kiss, and how… unwilling she had been, to bury that memory into the deepest vestiges of her own mind…