Capt. John "Soap" MacTavish
Task Force 141 – Disavowed
Accra, Ghana.
Soap had intended to have a quiet evening back at the hotel with Anya, away from the others for a change. However, life had a way of being more dramatic than a soap opera and decided to throw a curveball at his plans.
As they were walking in town after they had some ice cream at the beach, they chanced upon the news at the window of an appliance store. "Russian President Missing!" read the headlines. Seeing those headlines made their stomachs sank, particularly after what Anya had briefed them about not even an hour ago.
"Allen speaking," Anya said on her phone once it started to ring. "Yes sir, we will go back to the hotel now."
"Price?" Soap asked. Anya nodded. "Looks like the date's over," he announced as he beckoned her to get on the back of the motorcycle. "I'm sorry, love."
Anya smiled and kissed the back of his neck before putting on her helmet. "Don't worry, we'll have all the time in the world when all this bullshit ends."
In less than fifteen minutes, they were already in Price's room back at the hotel. Both Yuri and Price were huddled over their laptops, finding every bit of information that they could gather.
"The Russian President never arrived in Hamburg for the peace summit," announced a news reporter when Yuri clicked on the latest video from the leading news portal. "With his whereabouts currently unknown, no one is certain what this means for the peace treaty…"
"Looks like Makarov's just played his next hand," Soap said, poring over the notes that Price had already compiled.
"If he puts himself back on the grid, he wants it to be known," Price barked.
"So where do we start hunting?"
Yuri shared the contents of his screen. New information had come from the Loyalists. "Makarov's been using local paramilitary groups to move shipments into Sierra Leone," he read, while showing the others the video clips that were included. "From there, they go towards Morocco, and into Spain."
"He's moving north…" Soap said, trying to trace a pattern.
"Right towards Her Majesty's doorstep," Price said. The other nation that Makarov hated more than the US was the United Kingdom, whose government he had blamed for the assassination of Imran Zakhaev. "What's the cargo?"
"Some sort of weapon, probably," Anya answered, pointing at a redacted invoice that was on Price's computer. "I've seen that logo before. Alex the Red uses it for Makarov's weapon shipments."
"Alejandro Rojas is dead," Soap confirmed. "We threw him back to the Brazilian cartels in Rio once we were done with him."
"Makarov has more than one weapon-maker, sir," Anya added. "However, I have not met the other one. They said that he was even more mysterious than Makarov himself."
"Whatever it is, it's important to him," Yuri answered. "Kamarov says that one of his top agents, Alexi was sent there to ensure that the shipments went out on time."
"Then I want it," Price said.
Soap agreed. "We can use the river to get in close," he said, directing them to a map of Sherbo airport, which was next to a river. "There's a factory in the camp where they store the shipments. The PRF's been waging genocide in the highlands for months, they'll be everywhere."
"Makarov wouldn't let this travel lightly if it didn't serve a greater purpose," Price added. "Chances are that the bastard will be there personally to see things off. If he's back on the grid, then so are we."
Yuri
Task Force 141 – Disavowed
Sierra Leone, Africa.
As they surfaced from beneath the river, Yuri realized that he was going to see how the Task Force 141 operated for the first time. He had seen how Anya fought and was impressed, but his interest was piqued because she had been instructed by Soap, and naturally, Soap by Price. The three of them had come from the same stock.
"Nikolai, we're just outside the village," Price informed Nikolai over the comms.
"Copy, I'll pick you up in one hour."
"The factory isn't far from here, Makarov's cargo should be there," Price added. "Keep it silent, let's move."
"Maintain a low profile, the militia's all over this area," Soap continued.
Anya could not help but roll her eyes, ensuring that only Yuri could see it. It had not been her first time fielding a mission with both captains, but it felt like it for her, because they had not been fighting for their very survival this time. It just felt like a routine mission.
"Soap, try not to die this time," Price warned.
Soap chuckled. "You worry about yourself, old man."
"Better get a room, sirs," Anya pretended to cough, adding to the fire. She felt a nudge on her arm from Soap and smiled.
Their entrance into the village had been relatively uneventful, even though its denizens were on high alert. It could mean that Makarov must have been expecting them, but they were not a great enough concern for him to deal with. "Sirs, I have a bad feeling about this..."
By the time Anya aired out her concern, they had already reached the factory where the shipments were meant to have been manufactured. Everything was too quiet. "Breaching now," Price announced and kicked the door down. "Clear..."
"Clear?" Soap retorted. "This place is bloody empty."
There was no more time to waste. They had to get out of the factory to continue their pursuit of the shipments. "Nikolai, the factory is a dead end," Price said through the comms. "No sign of Makarov."
"He must have moved to the militia's headquarters at the center of town," Nikolai guessed.
Countless thoughts raced through Anya's mind, and Yuri knew what she was thinking about. Although Price was confident that Makarov was there, they knew that if Vorshevsky was missing, Makarov would most likely have him. If that was true, it meant that Makarov could not have been there. At the same time, if Makarov had Vorshevsky in his hands, with his influence that remained within the party, he would essentially be the leader of Russia unless Vorshevsky could stand up to him.
"Anya, look out!" Soap shouted towards Anya when he saw one of the PRF approaching her position from the rooftops, bringing their attention back to the present. She made short work of the person, by shooting the man right in the ear. "Lassie, something's on your mind. Better spit it out." He knew that look on her face, that pensive look. It was a look when she was running all the possible strategies in her head.
"Yes, sir," Anya returned. "I might not have known about these shipments, but remember that I told you that Makarov is planning something big in Europe in the sub? What... what if the shipments aren't just going to London, but all over the continent, at the same time?" It was a question that Yuri had asked himself as well. While it was true that Kamarov had sent them intel that Makarov was in Sierra Leone, Yuri himself knew that Makarov had operations on the continent. However, he did not know what they were for he had been observing Anya for the past year for Makarov. There would be times when Makarov would leave them at certain cities, and he would set off somewhere else before regrouping with them.
Anya's question made Price's heart sink. What was Makarov playing at, building weapons in Brazil, having them completed in, and shipped from Africa, to bring them to Europe? "That's why we have to stop whatever that's leaving from going out now." he pressed. "Let's move! We need to hit the church. We're running out of time."
Soap found a drain tunnel that could act as a shortcut. "Through here," he advised, and went in first.
"Nikolai, approaching the church now," Price announced. "And you're sure the cargo will be there?"
"It's the only area that they could have moved it to," Nikolai replied. "If it's not there, then, it's already on its way to Europe." The word that Anya used at the submarine base was "blitzkrieg", if Price remembered correctly.
"Anya, go straight for the church, we'll cover you!" Price instructed once they exited the drain. Anya was smaller, therefore, lighter and faster.
"On it, sir," she replied, and ran up towards the hill that led to the church. "Watch out, boys, they have hyenas," she said as she shot a hyena down from a distance.
"Price, there's the bird!" Soap shouted, pointing at the helicopter that was circling the church.
"We're out of time, get to the church now!"
"I have a positive visual on Alexi!" Anya reported. "Permission to engage, Captains?"
"Leave 'em, Anya," Soap replied. "Focus on the cargo!" Although one of Makarov's closest agents would have provided them with a fountain of information, they needed to reduce the damage that Makarov would have caused should the shipments be allowed to reach their destination.
When Yuri caught up with Anya, she was already in the church, and had managed to clear it for them. "Stack up on the door," Price instructed. "Let's do this."
When Yuri kicked down the door, he was jumped by a hyena that went straight for his right hand. While on the floor, he could see that the doors of the helicopter were already closed and it started to lift off with a load of several boxes underneath it, secured by a rope.
"Oh my God, Yuri!" Anya exclaimed upon seeing his predicament. But before she could do anything, Yuri had grabbed the hyena by the muzzle with his right hand and shot it in the head with his pistol. By that time, the helicopter had left.
"Damn!" Price cursed. "Nikolai, the shipment's gone. We missed our window."
"What about Makarov?" Nikolai asked.
"Must've done a runner, just get us out of here."
Soap tried to open one of the remaining boxes with a crowbar that was lying around. "Empty," he said. "What do you think Makarov was after?"
"We'll ask the bastard when we find him."
Cpl. Maria "Anya" Allen
Task Force 141 – Disavowed
Sierra Leone, Africa
Anya had been poring over their maps ever since they returned to the hanger where the Loyalists were preparing to find their next destination. Where could Makarov have brought President Vorshevsky? Where would have Vorshevsky's men hidden his daughter? How long could Vorshevsky endure without knowing of his daughter's safety? What weapons were in the cargo? Those questions burned through her mind, and she could not find a solution.
There more she pondered, the more she realized that she did not know about Makarov's operations, that everything that she had found the past year barely scratched the surface, all she had found were minor weapons caches and a list of officials that he had kept tabs on. She knew that he had weapons made in Brazil, but she could not anticipate that those weapons would be sent to Europe, and for what purpose.
Was fear all she knew? Did she fear for her own skin that much that she was not willing to risk more?
"Here, have this," Price said, handing her a cup of coffee, bringing her out of the depths of her own thoughts. "You don't look too good, sweetheart. What's up?"
"In the past year, I've been to more cities with him than I'll ever go to as a soldier," Anya said. "But now, I cannot pinpoint where he is, or what he might do." She rubbed her temples and let out a frustrated growl.
Price put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. "Sweetheart, no one expected you to read his mind," he said. "If anyone could do it, he'd be the one in the gulag three years ago, not me." Self-blame and survivor's guilt came part and parcel in the life of a soldier. Anya was young and had much more to experience before she could even comprehend what was happening to her now. "Besides, you cannot be blamed on what even whole nations couldn't do."
Anya sighed. "I just wish that I could have done more," she replied. "How do you deal with this… guilt that you could have gone further, or stayed longer?"
"You don't, Anya," Price said. "We're soldiers, we never know what's coming for us, so we just do all that we can." He then gestured towards Soap, who was busy helping Nikolai to load some equipment onto a plane, with his chin. "Soap was just like you after the Second Russian Civil War. He often thought that he should not have been left alive, but he survived. I'm not asking you to keep your head down and work through the pain and grief, that's a path that no one can benefit from. Sweetheart, you need to know that what you've done so far, have saved enough people to make a difference, even if it was just one."
"Thank you," she said, taking a big gulp of coffee that Price brought her. "I needed that."
"You're a good kid," Price added. "None of us ever wanted to be the ones who must save the world, but here we are. We just deal with whatever cards we've been dealt with, one day at a time."
Nodding, Anya looked towards Soap. "I can agree to that," she smiled, a small one, but a genuine one. "I might have lost my previous hand, but it does not mean that I am out of the game. I am alive, and I've still got you boys with me."
"That's the spirit, sweetheart," Price praised. "Now, run along. I think Soap needs saving from Nikolai."
"Nikolai, if anything happens to MacTavish because you've overworked him, I'm taking my money back!" Anya exclaimed as she jogged towards Soap and Nikolai.
"What, and lose your position as the top financier of the year?" Nikolai rebuked. "Why don't you just ask nicely to have your boyfriend back? I would've given him back freely!" Even the Loyalists around them started to chuckle at that remark. Anya became as red as an apple and found herself speechless. Flustered, she decided to let the matter rest and leave Nikolai and Soap to go back to her maps. "Does that mean I get to keep Soap?" Anya did not answer.
Yuri looked toward Price. "The world would never know that someone who gets red as easily as Anya was a deep cover CIA agent," he joked, gesturing at Anya.
"Anya was the only woman who served in the 141," Price explained. "I wasn't with her long before I was sent to the gulag, but I remember that she was very eager to please. She wanted to prove that she deserved a place among us, and tried to be as professional as she could, although she already did by just being there. Didn't help when Soap is prone to dramatic shows of heroism on the field."
"So, she didn't want anyone to know that Soap liked her too?" Yuri asked. "The man has stars in his eyes whenever he sees her. You could see it from a mile away."
Price chuckled. "That's young love for you," he said.
"You should have seen your face back there," Soap teased when he came to Anya's table, giving her a discreet peck on her forehead. "I could've sworn that you looked like a tomato."
Anya rolled her eyes, her mood still sour from what Nikolai had said. "I will kill him if that's the last thing I do," she muttered under her breath. "Top financier my ass..."
"You can't afford to that, love," Soap continued. "Even if you had a whole mine of diamonds..."
"Diamonds are registered, anyone will be able to track me the moment I sold one."
"Not if you own the mine that diamond comes from."
The very mention of diamonds jogged Anya's memory. "Makarov owns a diamond mine," Anya exclaimed, her sapphire eyes widened like saucers, as if she had just come out from a trance.
"What are you talking about, Maria?" Soap asked. "I don't follow."
"When he bought me that necklace in Dubai, he told me that he owns a diamond mine," Anya explained, attracting Price and Yuri's attention as well. "Diamonds the size of the ones I sold each have a serial number so that their origin can be tracked. I don't have the documentation of the necklace with me, but if we can find the serial numbers of the remaining ones I have, we will be able to find the mine where they came from..."
"...leading us to a possible location where Vorshevsky might be hidden," Price concluded, following Anya's train of thought. "Great job, sweetheart."
Without a moment's hesitation, Anya passed the sandwich-bag filled with diamonds to Nikolai but kept the largest one for herself. "Nikolai, if your men can find which mine these diamonds come from, you can keep all of them."
Nikolai balked. "Anya, I can't possibly..." Anya was adamant. She wanted to get rid of them anyways. She only kept the largest one because it represented the future that she and Soap were fighting for. "Da, it'll take some time. These'll need to be sent to a lab."
"Hopefully, the President will still be alive by then," Soap said, taking Anya's hand in his quietly. He felt her press the diamond that she kept into his palm and instantly understood why she did that. It was because of their conversation at the beach back in Accra. They were going to use it to build their future together, a future after the war and the fighting, whatever shape it may take.
Anya nodded. She hoped that her hunch was right. In the meantime, there was still much to do. They had missed Makarov and his cargo there in Sierra Leone, but they would ensure that they were prepared for the next challenge.