AN: Hey, everybody! I've been working on this fanfiction for a year now, and honestly I'm still very anxious about sharing this. But here it is! I hope you appreciate it, and feel free to comment and help me out to improve! Just please be nice to me.

Since this is Call of Duty, I would like to apologize in advance for not being knowledgeable enough to know military jargons. Everything I'll use here will be based on what I heard in the game and what I've watched in the movies. If you do know some jargons, you can inform me via comment or Private Messaging. I would appreciate that very much. :)

As for the timeline, I am sticking to the FIRST Modern Warfare triology. But there will be a few references to the MW 2019. The events in this fanfiction will be very similar to the missions of MW 2 and MW 3 with a twist of my own sooo...spoiler warning if you haven't watched/played the Modern Warfare triology.

Anyway, that's it for me for now. Happy reading and have a nice day! :)

CHAPTER 1 – "STELLE CLARKE"

MARCH 10

06:13

URAL MOUNTAINS, RUSSIA

It's been a long time since she heard her own voice; a long time since she saw something outside of this hell hole. If she dies here, the old man won't let her hear the end of it in the afterlife. But is there one? After what she's been through, she'd like to think so.

Another normal day, she thinks, after she jolts awake to an icy cold water being poured onto her entire being. Boris's stupid smile is the first thing she sees. "Good morning, princess!" The man said in Russian. "Come. It's time to play." He walks away from her and lets his two men pick her up from the floor.

Still half-asleep, the men drag her to the torture chamber, where she has been spending most of her time ever since she was caught. But today was different. Every once in a while, her consciousness comes back after hearing explosions from a distance. The world would shake, and the vibration is felt on her chest.

Boris and the two guards stop on their feet, looking up. Dusts fall from the cracks on the ceiling as the earth trembles, and lights flicker.

Boris turns to his men. "Has the threat not been dealt with yet?"

One guard shrugs. "They said the situation is under control."

He points up. "That doesn't sound like we have everything under control, do we?!" He spins on his heels and continues walking. "Vedenina will have my head for this."

All four of them arrive at the room. Boris flicks the lights on, and his men carelessly lay her on top of the steel torture table. Just as they're about to secure her in place, the alarm suddenly started blaring. Someone from the intercom mentions a unit to be stationed in an area.

"What the hell is going on now?!" Boris says annoyingly.

The guard immediately grabs his radio and talks, "What's the situation up there?"

"The intruders are making their way down to the second basement!" Shouts a man from the other line; his words barely audible from the noise of guns shooting.

The guard was about to say something else when Boris snatches the radio from his hand. "This is our territory. We have an army! Kill all of them; leave no man alive." He tosses the radio back and the guard barely catches it.

In frustration, Boris sighs, putting his hands on his hips. Then, he turns to the girl on the table. He stares at her before slowly walking closer.

Her eyes are half open and she can only make out his blurred figure, but she knows Boris when she sees him. Spending two whole months with him, every single day; she's gotten to know him like the back of her hand.

Boris grabs her face with one hand, squishing her cheeks so hard he might break her jaw. "If Vedenina's assumptions are right, these intruders came for her." He turns his head slightly to his men. "Hide her in the showers for now," He pauses and gives her a wicked smile, then whispers, "Don't miss me. We'll play soon." Boris pushes her face violently and motions for the men to take her away. "Stay with her in case she does something stupid…again."

The two guards nod and comply.

The sound of chaos is getting closer, as if catching up to them. Groups of men run pass them hurriedly, shoulders bumping against each other. Either they don't see her being dragged or they did and just don't care.

Whenever she opens her eyes to get a glimpse of where they are, the world spins every time. She feels lightheaded but heavy at the same time. On their way to the shower room, she suddenly vomits at one guard, earning herself a slap in the face after being called a bitch.

When they arrive, the place is flooded. Some showers are left running, faded white tiles cover the wall and floor; some of them are cracked, while others are missing in place.

"Get up, you bitch!" Screams one guard after she slips for the third time.

She doesn't comply.

"Fuck," he mumbles before letting go of her other arm. "What do they want with her anyway? If she really is working with them, why does Vedenina want her alive?"

"Does it matter? I don't give a shit about their business," replies the other, also letting her go. The girl falls to the floor; stomach flat on the ground."We have our own job to do. You focus on that."

"But doesn't it make you wonder?"

"I told you: I don't give a shit."

What a bunch of idiots, she thought. She's weak, but she's not deaf. She wanted to get up, but her mind and body aren't in-sync with each other.

Before, when she still had her strength, she considered it an insult to be left with just two guards. She can take them down; just like that. Almost got a way the second time. But Boris made sure her actions didn't go unpunished.

Apparently, he was only holding back before – the first few weeks. But she has been very naughty; always giving them a hard time, always killing their men when she had the chance. Since then, she's never sober enough to try anything anymore. It would have been the perfect moment, too. She could've used this infiltration and escape, and no one would've known she'd gone.

"Fuck," she says exhaling.

She stops shivering from the cold when her clothes get soaked all the way by the warm waters from the shower.

And if not for some of it flowing in her mouth, she won't realize how thirsty she is. She doesn't think twice about swallowing. The warmth feels good as it travels down her throat. But for some reason, it also feels rough. There's a hint of metallic taste. She hopes it's not blood.

The girl blinks a few times to make sure she's not dozing off again. Her two guards start walking away from her to guard the entrance of the shower room, still hung up in their own conversation.

She musters all the strength she can and manages to move her hands, crawling her way to a wall.

Agony; pure agony is what her entire being are screaming right now.

Water splashes as she moves her arms and legs, surprised that the bastards don't hear her. Maybe she has the alarm to thank. Maybe they're idiots to drop their guard now of all times. Maybe they're just deaf. Maybe it's all of the above.

When she's finally close to the wall, she pushes herself up and leans against it. Her arm trembles at her weight, but she succeeds and relaxes to catch her breath. All that moving took so much effort that it makes her not want to move again.

A shower just above her is left running. She looks up at it and soon, the alarms started fading to the distance. She focused on the sound of the water splashing against the pool. It so relaxing to her ears, making her remember a memory with Gideon.

They went trekking a lot. Gideon was gone most of the time; his job required him to be. And because of it, she felt distant from him. The whole thing was his idea just so he could bond with her when he's not in deployment. She thought it was stupid at first, but she eventually came through.

During their trip to Brecon Beacons, she remembers seeing a waterfall. They've been walking for hours, and by that waterfall was the perfect place to rest and catch their breaths. They stayed there for a while as Gideon shares stories from the places he's been to; and her, during the time he was gone. It's a warm memory.

She hasn't thought about Gideon and the moments they've shared for a long time. It always broke her, and she goes back to the person she doesn't ever want to be again.

Memories of him are her weakness. Memories of them…

She's snapped back to reality when her throat suddenly develops an itch. She tries to clear it, attempting to soothe the irritation, but it isn't enough. Soon, she's coughing uncontrollably; phlegm popping from the inside followed by a metallic taste. She forces herself to stop, covering her mouth in the process. But a painful tension forms in her stomach as she runs out of air. Her entire being struggles between inhaling and coughing.

The two guards turn to her direction. "Hey!" Exclaims one and starts striding back to her.

Clawing her possibly bleeding throat, she looks away from the man when he raises a fist, ready to knock her out. Her whole body tucks in; arms over her head, knees to the chest, eyes close shut. She waits for the impact but hears a loud thud instead followed by the sound of a couple of metals against the tiled floor.

She's startled when a heavy weight slams down against her, forcing her to look. The Russian guard's lifeless body lays on top of her. Struggling, she tries to push his heavy corpse aside.

"Don't move!" An English male shouts. "Stay where you are."

She froze in shock, not sure if she heard the accent right. Her gaze travels back to the shower entrance where three men are walking closer, all their muzzles pointing at her. And two more staying just outside the shower room as lookouts.

"Hold your fire," a different man says with a Scottish accent.

The two leading stop on their track, while a third man walks pass them through the middle. He halts when he sees her, lowering his weapon. The men do the same. After a brief moment, he continues his pace until he's beside her, then kneels to help push away the dead man.

She just sat there watching him in confusion. It sounds weird that she's not hearing Russian anymore, or people speaking English with a thick Russian accent. That's how long she's been in this place. She should be relieved. Well, she is, but still a little confused. She still doesn't understand what's going on or who these people are.

The Scotsman has a military style mohawk, exactly like what Gideon used to have when he was young and new in the army, she thought. A scar over his left eye crosses from his forehead, down to his cheek, cutting his eyebrow. The stubble on his face are growing, but not too long, which kind of compliments his jaw and chin quite nicely.

His blue eyes stare into her before looking at her every feature: she's pale and thin from lack of sunlight and food. Her black hair is long with uneven ends. Her dark brown eyes looking back at him without fear, but instead trying to read his thoughts; probably anticipating what he's about to do next.

"Ghost," the Scottish man says without breaking their gaze. He holds out a hand to the skull-masked man a few feet behind him, "can I see that picture again?"

Ghost complies, pulling out a picture from his vest, then handing it to the Scotsman.

He then holds the picture up, next to her face as if to compare. His stare travels back and forth between her and the picture before saying, "shite. It's her." He pockets the photo in his vest and shifts in his position to straighten his posture. "Hey, can you hear me?" He says as subtle as he can. He extends his hand to cup her face.

She flinches at the first touch, then relaxes after feeling the warmth of the man. Automatically, her ice-cold hands touch his, demanding for more heat; sliding them down to his exposed forearm, and wrapping her fingers around them.

The Scottish man's forearm is slightly bulked with muscles. Her gaze travels up to his refined biceps and strong shoulders. She bets he can knock someone out with a single punch. She smiles softly at the thought.

That would be really cool, she says in her head.

"Hey!" The Scotsman calls to her again, shaking her lightly. "Can you hear me?"

She blinks a few times before nodding.

"I'm Captain MacTavish," he says carefully, as if giving her time to process the words. "Are you Stelle Clarke?"

Stelle Clarke – a name she hasn't heard in a long time. Her name. It sounds like anyone by now. There is familiarity, but it doesn't feel like it's her own anymore.

She knew this was going to happen; that she'd forget. So, she chanted her name like a song every time after Boris threw her back in her cell. But she stopped when they'd put her back half-awake. And the words became distant in her head. She'd still try, but then she'd fall asleep in the middle of it.

Like a lyric to a song one's forgotten. A single word as a trigger, and you'll be singing the entire song before you even realize.

Her name is the trigger. And the rest of the song followed in her head.

"Yes," Stelle tries to say, but rough air just comes out. Then, she starts coughing again. Covering her mouth and pushing the Captain aside, she leans over to her right and lets the liquid flow through her fingers. With a bitter and metal taste, the thick blood drips down to the flooded ground; red mixing with water.

Her whole body trembles at the sight. She doesn't mind blood on her skin; wounds heal. But this is coming from within her, and she does not like that.

"Sir," Ghost says stepping in after listening from his radio. "We've got to go now."

MacTavish looks at her for a few more moments before standing up, turning on his heels, and starts walking away. "Ghost, take her."

"Sir," he replies, setting aside his weapon, and rushes to pick Stelle up.

The Captain pushes a button on his comms and says, "Gaz, MacTavish. We've secured the HVI. Heading to extraction point now."

In one swift move, Ghost pulls her up, effortlessly, not needing to exert strength of her own. "Come on." He moves his left arm around her waist, while her right arm goes over his shoulder. He secures her arm by holding her at the wrist and keeping Stelle close to him as much as possible. When she staggers, Ghost makes sure she doesn't fall.

Stelle clings onto Ghost like her life depends on it, which is actually the case. Captain MacTavish wastes no time, refusing to be pinned down in an area and let the enemies pour in endlessly. They fire back and push forward at the same time.

But she's feeling like a burden to the team. She can tell that Ghost is much, much more capable than this, but he has no choice because he's stuck babysitting her. He'll hide Stelle behind a cover as he shoots back at the enemy. But he can't maneuver to a better position because soon, they'll be up and sprinting again.

And with all this running, she is bound to vomit again anytime soon. It will bother Stelle so much if Ghost catches some of it. Once in a while, she feels that bitter acid climbing up to her throat. If she opens her mouth, she knows it'll all flow out of her endlessly. All her strength is focused on not doing that.

They keep ascending in what feels like the hundredth flight of stairs and her legs are now numb from the pain. Ghost can't "carry" her anymore; he's too busy providing cover fire.

On the next step, Stelle misses and hits her shin on the edge of the tread, causing her to fall forward. Luckily, her hands are still fast enough to keep her face from hitting the edge, too.

She grits her teeth in pain, careful not to force her throat in a voiceless scream.

"On your feet!" Ghost shouts over the noise as he pulls her up with one hand.

More shots come flying from behind them. There's no cover to hide behind to this time. Immediately, Ghost lets her go to grasp his MP5 with two hands and starts firing back. Two of his comrades move in to shield Stelle, one is right beside him, and Captain MacTavish is already at the top of the platform, also dealing with the enemy. With all of the gentlemen's plate full, no one is left to help Stelle up but herself.

She grips the metal baluster left of her with both hands to support her balance as she half-walks-half-crawls up the stairs, ignoring her straining muscles. Slowly, progressing to where the Captain is, Ghost and the rest of the men ascend with her as they continue to fire back.

A couple of bullets ricochet right next to her, and she flinches ever time, reminding her to keep her head down. But at the same time, she doesn't care as long as it doesn't pierce her flesh.

Nearing Captain MacTavish, Stelle notices from the corner of her eye one hostile charging for him from the catwalk. Fortunately, he doesn't have a gun, but he pulls out a combat knife while sprinting for the Scotsman. If she only had her voice, she could warn the Captain.

Stelle picks up the pace, racing against the enemy. For this moment, she forgets how heavy and tired her entire body is. She manages to reach the Captain's side faster than she expected.

MacTavish offers a hand to her. "Come on, hurry!"

Stelle takes it with her right hand while her left reaches for the Captain's side arm strapped to his thigh. As he pulls her up, she unholsters the weapon at the same time, and spins on her heels to face the charging threat. Probably muscle memory, her legs remember the stance that Gideon taught her when she's about to fire a weapon.

The gun feels heavy on her hand, like she's back to the beginner phase. And its coldness sends shivers to her entire body.

She inhales then exhales to prepare herself, carefully aligning the muzzle at the enemy. Then, she squeezes.

The recoil is stronger than she last remembered, too, that it startles her after the first shot. She rocks back a little bit, bumping against the Captain's muscled arm. She blinks multiple times to get back in focus after realizing that she missed her target.

Nine meters away; she fires again. And again.

Stelle hits him on the shoulder. He grunts in pain, falling backwards and dropping the knife in the process. That catches the Captain's attention and puts the poor bastard out of his misery.

The shooting stops but the alarm is still going. Stelle remains unmoving; her arms are giving in to the weight of the Desert Eagle, slowly moving downwards.

"Clear!" Ghost shouts.

Captain MacTavish walks pass Stelle and toward the dead soldier to confirm his kill. "Clear," he says back. He then turns and still finds Stelle's eyes stuck on the corpse, her shoulders and chest rapidly rising and falling. He sighs before walking toward the shocked woman.

Carefully, he places a hand on top of the weapon. He inserts his index behind the trigger, while slowly lowering the weapon and pulling it from Stelle's hands.

She exhales before looking at MacTavish. Sorry, she mouths with an apologetic look.

The Captain looks back at the body, then to her again, somehow a bit impressed. "You alright?"

She nods.

Ghost and the others catch up and joins them at the catwalk.

He puts the Desert Eagle back in the holster. "Let's go."

After what feels like another eternity in this hell hole, then end is finally in sight. Giant double doors are open, revealing the world outside. Stelle's eyes focus on what lies beyond.

She wants so much to just bolt for the doors and leave everything behind. If only she could fly. Then again, she already feels like she is. With the speed their moving right now, she won't be surprised if they actually start levitating.

As they near the open doors, gush of winds blows stronger and stronger against Stelle; cold enough to freeze her petite physique. And if not for Ghost, surely the wind would've blown her away.

The sky isn't as bright as an afternoon. In the east, a cool blue starts to emerge from the horizon, mixing with the bitter grey sky above them. Two hundred meters from where they are, there's a tree line leading to a forest, but not after crossing and open area.

Stelle slows down as she approaches the stairs, and Ghost letting her go for a while to provide covering fire towards the angry men right on their asses.

Just before she steps of the last tread, she stares and the ground wide-eyed. The half-frozen earth is new to her sight, and yet it feels familiar at the same time.

The soil is dark in color from moist caused by the patches of snow randomly scattered everywhere. It awes her that she's no longer staring at polished cements or metal floors.

This is it, she says in her head. I'm finally outside.

She lets a foot step off the tread and cherishes the feeling of the earth giving in to her weight. For a quick moment, she flinches at the stinging feeling of the coldness against her pale skin, freezing her veins.

She exhales in relief, careful not to irritate the throat, as she blinks back the tears forming on her eyes.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Ghost says running past her. "Let's go!" He grabs her hand and bolts for the tree line.

Stelle suddenly forgets the situation she's in. Her eyes are still glued to the ground and witnessing the soil seeping through her toes, while a stupid smile starts forming on her lips.

Captain MacTavish, who's leading the group, stops and turns on his heels. His turn to provide cover for his men. "Go, go, go!" He shoot down their pursuers one by one when suddenly, more keep dropping dead. A smirk emerges on the Captain's face. He presses his button to talk, "Appreciate the assist, Roach. Gaz. I'll see you at the extraction point."

With the gloomy weather and thick trees, it was easy for them to lose their pursuers. Captain MacTavish gives the clear signal and tells them to catch their breath while he contacts the extraction.

Just up ahead, there's a clearing; perfect place for a chopper to land. But the Captain advices to stay hidden and stay low.

Stelle leans back against a tree and let herself fall to the ground. That's the most workout she's ever done ever since she got here. Every breath she draws, puffs of air escapes her mouth.

"You broken?" Ghost asks her.

Kind of, she wants to joke. Instead she just gives him a small smile and shake her head.

"You need water?"

She nods.

He reaches for the back of his war belt and takes out a canteen. Ghost hands it to her. "Here."

Stelle takes it with both hands.

Cold water lands on her tongue, then soon begins to fill her mouth. She chokes after swallowing, spilling some of it on her. She swallows the remaining water in her mouth before coughing uncontrollably again.

"We should have your throat checked later. It doesn't sound good." Ghost says reaching for the canteen and placing it back on his war belt. He receives a command from his radio, then turns to Stelle after listening. "I'll be back. Stay here."

She nods and Ghost jogs away to their little group gathered together, crouched in a circle.

Just then, from the far right, two more men appear walking casually towards the huddled men. One man is wearing a cap with the Union Flag sewn on it, the other has his entire face covered, except for the goggles that revealed his eyes. Both of them are carrying a long gun.

MacTavish signals for them to pick up the pace, and they both jog carefully to join their comrades in the discussion. Ghost greets his fellow masked-man with a fist bump.

As the men have their own meeting, Stelle stays unmoving on her position.

She looks down at what she's wearing, suddenly feeling conscious that she's with men. Then again, she was held by many men during her captivity. Why should this matter now?

Her then-white camisole is stained with god knows what. Patches of dried blood in some areas. And in others, brown stuff that she doesn't want to know. And because it's soaked, her black brazier is clearly visible. Her black shorts only cover one-fourth of her thighs, while the rest of her legs are exposed.

Maybe it was better when she was half-awake and didn't care about how much skin she was showing.

But as she sits there, she notices the bruises on both her legs and arms. Tiny cuts here and there. Stelle remembers how some of it were inflicted. And for a moment, she's pulled back to the torture chamber and Boris's face haunts her.

Shaking the thought away, Stelle takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself and clear her mind.

Now is the time to process everything. Everything that happened. It's all so fast. She's still not sure if she is just dreaming. But the feel of everything on her skin is real: the soil, the cold wind, the warmth of a person.

Is she finally outside? Can she really go home?

Home – again with that familiarity, but it doesn't feel like she has one. The memory is so distant that it's like a dream she had a long time ago.

Stelle grabs a fistful of cold soil from the ground and opens her palms to left some of it fall between her fingers. She dusts her hands together and smells the fresh earth from her palms. She smiles.

Suddenly, cold water drips on Stelle's arm, and then another on her stretched legs. She looks up to the dark sky, and soon enough, rain starts falling everywhere. The icy cold water splashes on her face with tiny drops. Petrichor fills her nose.

Struggling, she stands up, not tearing her eyes off the heavens. She has a childish smile plastered on her face, as if seeing rain for the very first time. So, she holds out her palms, surrendering to the weather.

A chilling breeze blows and her hair dances with the wind, as her soaked clothes cling to her pale skin. Goosebumps form on her arm, but she doesn't care. This is real. There's no denying it.

Savoring the feeling, Stelle closes her eyes and just let the rain fall down on her. But a memory begins to play in her head:

"I won't be here forever," Gideon said to her.

Him and Stelle took shelter from the rain under a massive tree. Although they were already wet, the trek was long and cold. They needed time to let the rain pass.

From where they were, they overlook more of the forest below them. Thick trees and tall mountains stood far beyond. It was a beautiful sight.

They both had their camping gear with them. She laid on the ground, using her backpack as a pillow; eyes closed but not asleep.

Gideon sat left of her, adjacent to her legs. He sat with a leg up and his elbow rested on his knee, while his other arm supported his balance from behind. He was looking far into the distance. "Who's going to take care of you after I'm gone?" Then he turned to her with a sad smile. "Before I leave, I need to know you can take care of yourself."

Stelle's eyes fly open when she felt herself sway out of balance. Fortunately, she composes herself before she can collapse to the ground.

Her gaze travels to the soldiers who are still crouched together, conversing quietly. And then she meets the Captain's eyes. They travel past her at first, but he looks back when he notices her standing.

MacTavish half-whispers, half-shouts, "Get down!"

Before she can comply, Stelle flies forward from where she's standing.

"Contact!" The Captain warns his men, and all of them fire back. Others break from the circle and maneuver to different positions.

Hurriedly, Stelle crawls toward anyone who's the closest. But the soldier who Ghost greeted before is already sprinting towards her. He grabs her by the arm and pulls her away from the crossfire easily. As he does, a sudden pain rises from Stelle's left waist. She grits her teeth together to prevent a voiceless scream from escaping her mouth.

The masked soldier turns her, back against the ground, and sees blood spreading across her camisole. He applies pressure on the wound, and shouts something to his comrades that Stelle can't make up anymore.

Everything is moving in slow-motion in her eyes now. She can see pieces of wood fly from the tree barks as bullets hit and pass through them. The noise slowly fades into nothing. And the last thing she gets a look of are the worried eyes of the soldier through his goggles, before everything turns black.

AN: The "Gideon" mentioned in this chapter — and will continue to mention in the future chapters — is the same "Gideon" from Call of Duty: Advanced Warfare. I just thought you should know.

Okie, that's it. Bye! :)