"Touch me again, and I would kill you…"

Those were words that Ryuka wished that she could have uttered to Makarov, but there had been no way back out. Not when she had already given herself to him, not when she herself had initiated such a public and passionate kiss with Makarov, not when she had said those words to him…

They were now in a limousine, where she had rested her head on his shoulder, saying nothing at all. Her fingers were clasped in his, a gesture that he thought had worked to calm her down, somewhat. "Ryuka, why are you so silent all of a sudden?" he asked her, tipping her chin slightly, indirectly forcing her to look into his heterochromic eyes.

She forced a smile and looked away. "It is nothing of concern," she told him, her voice softer than it usually had been. She only clutched her katana closer to her, and continued, "I miss my family… I have not seen my parents and my sister in a long, long time." That had been partly true as well. Ever since she had joined the Task Force 141, she could only go back to Kyoto to visit her parents once in a blue moon, and it had been almost a year since she last saw her family.

"How are they?" he asked her, once again, sounding as if he had been truly concerned about her.

"They are well in Kyoto, before we went to Rio," Ryuka answered, and said nothing more. "No doubt, you are giving my sister hell, indirectly." If Makarov could have discovered who she was, he would most probably already found out who her sister was as well. What was strange was that he had chosen her to haunt, and not Ryurei…

Makarov nodded, and said, "The CIA are always having their hands full, darling." Still, that sour expression on her face had not been removed. "I thought that you relished the free air, Ryuka, why the long face?"

"Makarov, why are you always asking me everything that is so obvious?" Ryuka asked him in return, more curious than frustrated. She knew everything there was about to know about him, where he had been, what he had done… But she knew next to nothing about him when it came to him himself, Vladimir Makarov, the person, and not the terrorist, not the former Ultranationalist leader nor even the former Soviet soldier. He could read her like a book, but she could not even see past where he would bring her for dinner… It was… highly unfair, and she was growing to tire of it.

He did not answer her, only giving her that smirk of triumph that she had sworn never to see again ever since she had first failed to kill him; One that she had failed to wipe off his face, no matter how hard she tried. Pulling her closer to him, he planted a kiss on her forehead, his fingers tracing the curve of her neck ever so slightly. "To each his own, darling," he told her in the end, and positioned her so that she was straddling his lap. "Has anyone been riled with your preference in using a katana in combat?"

That question actually made Ryuka smile a little. "Only one…" she answered, bringing an arm around his neck as he inched his lips closer to hers. Despite what Makarov actually thought, Ryuka rarely used her katana in the field, save for ultimately desperate situations, which seemed to be happening whenever he had been near her. "It has never left my side since I was fifteen,"

That had not been a long time ago, Makarov mused. Ryuka was young, to say the least, her rank despite her age had already shown the world just how capable she was. However, it could not be forgotten that she was trained to be a soldier since young, no; she was born and bred to be a soldier. How strange it was, that he was lusting after a woman twenty years younger than he was, not that he minded it, but she was technically young enough to be his daughter, upon hindsight.

Makarov too, had a weapon that he had used since young. It was the M9 that he had used to kill Joseph Allen with, the very same weapon that Zakhaev had given him, shortly after his dismissal from the newly-formed Russian Army, shortly after the UN-US led Human Rights tribunal… That pistol, was as old as she was, and was still in perfect condition. "Zakhaev was like a father to me," he told her. "If you think that I am utterly 'out of control' now, you have not known me then… He taught me how to still my anger, and how to channel my hatred… If it were not for him, I would most probably be rotting in Guantanamo Bay now…"

"Guantanamo Bay has been defunct since Obama's days," Ryuka reminded him gently, subconsciously meeting her forehead with his. She knew that it was an inside joke, where terrorists had been sent there during the height of the American's army military days.

This was not the Vladimir Makarov that she had known at all… Where was the bloodthirsty terrorist that had gunned down all those civilians almost two weeks ago? Where was the man who had crashed a tram into Piccadilly Circus when she was but a child? Where was the man who had sent them on a wild goose chase time and time again, making them think that they would be able to stop him, when he initiated another attack on the innocent?

"Who are you?" she asked him, bringing her free hand to his face. It was a rhetorical question, quite unlike those that he would bombard her with, because he loved to see her furrowed brows, and slightly infuriated expression. "Which is true, Makarov? Are you just a former Soviet soldier, blinded by hate, too stubborn to embrace change, or are you a terrorist who has no heart?"

Makarov raised her hand, which had been still joined in his, and kissed it. "It is a little bit of both, darling," he answered, drawing her into his arms. He did not allow her to speak further and only pressed his lips against hers in a kiss that was softer, and gentler than the ones that they had shared before. "I hope that one day, you would learn more about me, as I have with you…" Now, it was her turn to be silent, and he smiled. At that exact moment, the limousine stopped, and they were right before another restaurant. "I hope that you are able to stomach shark's fin, darling."

Ryuka rolled her eyes (she was always doing it this past week, so she noted to herself. "I grew up eating whale burgers," she told him, reminding him of her Japanese heritage. She would not be afraid of something as paltry as shark's fin. He shook his head with a smile, and led her down the limousine.

He was right, winter during that time of the year was rather cold, and with the dress that she was currently in, she really began to appreciate the fur shawl that he had given her. However, it all just made her miss her Arctic-catsuit, which was lined with synthetic fur from within… What she would not give to be in the height of battle, and not in such conditions…

"Koutatsu, this is Kurotatsu," Ryurei said into her comms. There she was, dressed as one of the waitresses in that opulent restaurant, hiding in the kitchen. With the microphone that Ryuka had attached behind her earring, was also a small in-ear earpiece. There was no doubt that her sister could hear her. "I'm with Jiji and MacTavish… Be careful, we think that Lee is on high alert. He doesn't trust Makarov so much, now that he knows of the Task Force 141."

Ryuka smiled, and looked towards Makarov. With her binoculars, Ryurei could see her sister tuck a loose lock of hair behind her ear, and flex her fingers. "Reddie says that she got the message," MacTavish translated, "And that Makarov has two men with him, fully armed."

"How did you know that?" Ryurei asked him, and then shut her jaw when she realized what was going on. "Your organization is indeed a well-prepared one, MacTavish… You even invented your own sign-language." The older Algren sister was impressed indeed. "Not even the CIA could have thought of this."

"Well, all you need is a few drunk men," MacTavish offered, and explained no further. As with Chinese-fashion, Makarov and Ryuka were ushered into a large private room with an equally enormous table, and before the doors were closed, Ryuka touched the center of her décolletage with the pads of her fingers and nodded. "She told us to be careful."

Ryurei chuckled. "You seem more concerned that you should be," she said to MacTavish. "Don't worry, MacTavish. My sister is more than capable of handing operations like this. The only one that you should be worrying about is Makarov right now."

"Makarov, you have deceived me, my friend," Lee said to Makarov after they had all finished eating, and the dining-table had been cleaned up. "You told me that no one knew of our operations, and now, my sources have confirmed that there is this...Task Force 141 who is hot on your trail."

"The Task Force 141 is already defunct," Makarov replied. "Although they have hunted me for the past five years, they could do nothing to stop me, and now, their remaining three members are WIA and are wanted by the U.S. army for high treason."

Lee raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure of that?" he asked Makarov. "They are formed by high officials in the USSOCOM, why would they be wanted by the US for treason, of all things?"

Ryuka was the one who answered that question. "They were betrayed," she said, with no hint of emotion in her voice, taking a sip of red wine as she spoke. "And now, they are destroyed, fully. Those three that are still alive, they will not pose any threat to us at all."

For a second there, Makarov was almost as stunned as Lee had been. They were lucky that Lee could not recognize the emblem of the Task Force 141 upon her arm, but even then, not many now knew how it looked like. It just resembled a very strange, and gothic design, and nothing more. "Take the word of a beautiful woman, Lee," Makarov pressed further. "Your mind would be at ease."

"My mind would be at ease when news like that stop coming out into the open," Lee replied. At that moment, Ryuka knew that Lee was not a prime target at all. His Intel had been five years late, and not only that, he still relied on Makarov to give it to him. Even if things were to go downhill per Murphy's Law, he would not be a serious complication, and she was completely thankful for it. "The airfield that you plan to purchase from me, it is worth more than you think."

"An airfield in Harbin?" Makarov asked in reply. "It is barely even a strategic location, Lee." Even Ryuka did not know what the General was talking about. If the airfield was valuable if it was located in a place where no one would even think to look, then it could be logical, but… could there be other reasons at all?

Lee hung his head in exasperation. "The soil, Makarov, the soil!" With a snap of his fingers, his assistant gave him a map of the surrounding areas of the airfield. "Do you not know what you can grow using this soil? The profits that one can yield?"

Makarov sighed. Lee was such a person, always calculating every single possibility to earn a quick buck or two. Well, if he did not have that kind of personality, he would not be negotiating with the General at all. "I will give you a million hectares of this land all across Indonesia if fertile land is what you wish, what with the latest eruptions covering the earth with a fresh layer of volcanic ash and lava…" The Chinese were among the easiest to deal with, give them land, and they would give everything they had in exchange.

However, Ryuka still did not understand one thing. Why an airfield in Harbin? Would Makarov not bring the war to China as well? What would Lee have to gain from this exchange, apart from a heap of volcanic land?

At that moment, one of Makarov's henchmen entered the room with a laptop. "Sir, Vorshevsky is on the line."

Vorshevsky? What did he have to do with anything?

"Boris, I have secured the deal," Makarov said to Vorshevsky. "General Lee has been most gracious to grant our request."

The image of the President of Russia looked pleased indeed. Through the use of a translator, Vorshevsky said to Lee, "Thank you, General; the treasures of Russia's air force will be well-protected thanks to your help…"

Two pieces of paper were brought out by Makarov's men. Two copies of the contract that described the deal that they had just made, and the signature of the left on both contracts, it had already been signed by Boris Vorshevsky, in the President's own handwriting.

"They're gonna frame Vorshevsky for selling Russian aircraft to China…" Price concluded. When the President of the Russian Federation committed such a serious offense, only one thing could happen… If Makarov's feud with the ruling Ultranationalists had been but a false move to take the eyes of the world away from their other activities, and that he had double-crossed the Ultranationalists as well as the rest of the world, Makarov would cease power over the Russian government, the instant the deal would be laid out in the public, and take full military control, given his previous experience in the Soviet Army.

And if Makarov took full control of the Russian military, there was no telling what would happen to the world, given his hatred towards all Western countries…

HAN: If anyone thinks that there were any racist connotations regarding the Chinese, please be reminded that I am Chinese myself. Harbin is on the Russian-Chinese border, located in south-east Russia, or north-east China, depending on where you see it.

P.S: It's been a long time since I've heard from anyone... Please review! This girl needs reviews to keep going! ^.^ (So much for shameless self-whoring!)