The four of them sat round a simple wooden table. In the room, the only light came from a small hanging lantern that sat suspended above them. All in front of them, were countless papers and documents, all pertaining to the same topic.

Yuri studied the papers with caution. "Arms are one thing, but nuclear warfare?...This is madness..."

"Now then." Makarov said, breaking the silence of his small council. "Lets go over it one last time."

Anatoly nodded. "I've already taken the liberty of contacting and briefing Sergei. He and his men will meet us there. From there, you will be in full command."

Makarov gave a brief nod and turned to Viktor. "What of the explosives?"

Viktor took a brief pause, inhaling on his cigarette. "No complications. They have been delivered and will be set up before we arrive."

"Good. Have the detonator wired directly to my control. I don't trust any man to this task but myself."

"I shall do it."

Vladimir Makarov looked at the plan one last time. "This will be just a simple ambush. By the time we strike, this weapon will be good as mine."

"Let us hope..." Yuri thought in silence.

"22 Hours Later..."

A blowing hail of snow lashed at Yuri's face as he guided his horse across a fallen log. Beside him, Vladimir Makarov gave a tug on his black satin scarf, muttering curses to himself on account of the weather. A gust of wind sent old leaves flapping though the night air, like a flock of ravens.

"More omens..." Yuri thought to himself. They seemed to be popular in the recent days.

Yuri eyed Makarov beside him, seated on his dark black horse. He was not a good rider, even in decent weather, and the blizzard of snow and ice made travel that much harder. Horses may have not of been the most advance mode of transportation, but it was an entirely different world in the northern reaches of Siberia. The rules here was different.

The two rode with a guard of a dozen men, all silent as they rode along. They must of been riding for what seem to Yuri hours, before they spotted the glow of a signal flare ahead.

"Captain Sergei." Makarov announced as he sighted the crimison glow. "Finally."

The column approached the flare, and soon, a silhouette appeared in front of them, holding the red flare.

Commander Sergei was a bear of a man. Overgrown beard and dark sullen eyes had made him appeared much older then he seemed. However, the man had lived in the cold, and Northern Siberia had harden him to the point of rough steel.

"So, Vladimir Makarov has graced us with his presence." Sergei said as Makarov dismounted. "How was the ride?"

"Cold." Makarov muttered, studying the man. "Cold and unforgiving."

Sergei laughed. "She is quite something." He said with a smile. "Siberia is like a murderous bitch. She may be cold and hard, but she is someone you love overtime. If you survive her harsh judgment..."

Makarov raised a leather gloved hand. "Enough. I have no time for simple banter. The lookout, if you would be kind."

Sergei studied him briefly before motioning them to follow. Yuri walked with Makarov behind the giant man, a simple lantern leading the way. They walked until they reached a small bunker overlooking a cliff. A pit had been dug and a white canvas laid over for camouflage and protection from the elements.

The three of them stepped into the pit. Yuri was glad, as it allowed them to get out of the biting wind. A small radio had been set up, with a pair of optics, mounted on a tripod.

The place was the perfect vantage point to survey the entire area below. The only problem was, that it was near impossible to see anything. The white torrent of snow made seeing anything in front of you a near impossible task. Somewhere down in that valley, was a set of train tracks, and a couple hundred men, lying in wait.

"All the preparations have been made, according to your order." Sergei said as Makarov looked out. "The men are all ready, though this might be more difficult now with the conditions."

"Its a double edged sword." Makarov spoke, always the stagiest. "It makes us invisible, and stealth is crucial for this plan's success. It can be worked around."

"As you say." Sergei replied, still somewhat unconvinced. "My scouts have told me the train ison schedule, its ETA now less then a hour."

Makarov nodded. "Good. It will give us time to finalize our position. Go join your men down in the valley and stay in radio contact."

"Will do." The old bear said, lumbering out of the bunker. "You two try not to freeze your cocks off."

Yuri smiled to himself at Sergei's dry humor, but Makarov shook his head in disgust. He focused his attention on the binoculars that rested on the tripod.

"Useless." Makarov declared, looking through the optics. "This blizzard blinds everyone."

"We'll have to have Viktor tell us the precise time to detonate the C4." Yuri said, taking a seat next to Makarov.

Makarov agreed, and briefly spoke to Viktor over his cell phone, explaining the change of plan.

"Now..." Makarov said after finishing his call. "We wait."

Yuri sat in silence, staring out into the cold, wintery abyss. Somewhere, down in the valley, was a company of soldiers, lying in ambush. No doubt freezing their asses off too.

He glanced over at his friend. Vladimir Makarov was not one for the cold. He sat stiff, his arms clenched tight around his frame.

"Damn this cold..." Makarov muttered, closing his eyes as if to transport himself someplace warmer.

Yuri managed a small smile, reaching for a thermos he had brought with him.

"Maybe this will help." Yuri said, pouring a glass of hot black liquid into a tin cup. He handed Makarov the glass, the heat creating a small cloud of steam on its surface.

"Coffee?" Makarov said, almost not believing it before his own eyes.

Yuri nodded, pouring his own cup. "Dark. Not the most elegant brew, but it will help keep the cold at bay."

He took a large swig, the bitter liquid burning the inside of his throat. Yuri barely felt the pain. The heat traveled through his body, seemingly rejuvenating his entire being.

His cup was empty in a matter of seconds, and gladly helped himself to a second. As he was in the process pouring, he noticed Makarov staring into the cup, deep in thought. A strange and rare sadness was in his eyes.

"What?" Yuri asked. "You don't like it."

Makarov glanced briefly and shook his head. "No, it's not that..."

He sighed, still staring into his cup. "I remember days like this when I was a child. Back in my village, when the wind and snow swept through, unforgiving..."

Yuri looked at his friend in stunned surprise. Makarov was very reserved, especially about his personal self. Not even Yuri could say that he knew all about Makarov's upbringing. To speak of it now, it seemed out of place.

"I remember such times..." Makarov said, staring off into the unknown. "They seem like a different life entirely."

"My home was an orphanage, if you can consider that a home..." Yuri said quietly. "Your lucky you have memories of a home and family."

"I consider it unlucky. I wish I could forget such things. But some memories are impossible to erase."

"That they are..." Yuri agreed silently , knowing all to well what Makarov meant.

The two sat in silence, drinking their coffee and staring out in the blizzard. Yuri looked over at Makarov. Despite having the warm drink, he looked colder and more depressed then ever.

Yuri decided to go out on a limb, and break the silence. "I guess you knew a lot of the girls in your village pretty well, am I right?" He said, trying to lighten the gloomy mood.

Makarov glanced at Yuri out of the corner of his eye, confused. "What?"

Yuri smirked. "You know. Girls. That you knew well. Very well."

Makarov paused, processing what Yuri was trying to say. "Girls in my village..." He repeated to himself, trying to comprehend.

Yuri rolled his eyes, hanging his head in complete disbelief. "Either he's avoiding the subject or he really has no idea what I'm talking about."

"I knew all the kids equally in my village, regardless of gender." Makarov answered , sipping his coffee. "I didn't really have any good friend."

"Oh really?" Yuri said, a dark grin on his face. "Cause Anatoly mentioned to me someone named Lynsa..."

Makarov nearly choked on his coffee, coughing and gagging at the mention of the name. Yuri was doing all in his power not to burst out laughing.

"I remember him telling me how you were her little shadow..." Yuri continued on. "He told me you did everything to try and impress her. I believe he told me you went as far as-

"Whatever Anatoly told you, it was a lie." Makarov snapped, trying to hide the crimson on his face. "Your a fool to believe everything that man says Yuri."

"And an even bigger fool to believe that..." Yuri thought to himself, smiling at his little game.

Makarov, finally having composed himself, pulled his coat sleeve to check his watch.

"Nearly half an hour." He declared, returning himself to business. "Make sure your ready Yuri."

Yuri nodded, staring into the swirling white storm. In half an hour, he would be stealing a nuclear weapon in order to win the trust of a radical middle-eastern leader. What a life he lived.

He glanced over at the black haired Russian sitting beside him, still shivering from the cold.

"But at least I don't have to live it alone..."