Lt. Simon "Ghost" Riley
Task Force 141
Firebase Phoenix – Afghanistan
"I don't like this at all," Ghost said to those around him in a low voice. "I'm alright with getting more recruits, but why another Ranger, and more importantly, another Ranger who can be a designated sharpshooter?"
It has been six months since Anya had left for Makarov's side, and she was doing so well that they were now able to at least anticipate Makarov's movements. It was with her Intel that they were able to move so far… It was just unfair that Shepherd sop openly asked them to witness the selection progress of the one that would replace her.
"We can't do anything about that, mate," MacTavish replied. "Shepherd's only doing his job. Anya may fail her mission at any time, and she won't survive if she does." He knew that although the Task Force 141 was a glorified international elite organization, the very reason that they existed was the capture of Makarov. If one way failed, then the other must work. They had to be prepared.
"If anything, we can't make the new guy look like he's Anya's replacement," Meat offered. "He's just another dude who's supposed to be the designated shooter like 'Tavish, Anya and Pr…" He was about to name another, but he knew that no one wanted to remember that name, not out of hate, but out of their reluctance to remember what had befallen that person.
Ghost nodded. "True that," he said, and sighed. He had due reason to be concerned, after all, for Shepherd's habit of recruiting large numbers of soldiers that he deemed fitting to the cause of the 141 came out of the fact that he never cared for his subordinates so long as they served their purpose.
There was a short silence amongst them, and before long, a Sergeant named Gary Sanderson came into the Pit to be tested.
"Let's hope that we get a good one," MacTavish prayed. "I don't want to cover another coffin with another bloody flag."
Cpl. Maria "Anya" Allen A.K.A. Ultranationalist Codename "Anya"
Task Force 141 / Ultranationalist Terrorist Cell
Makarov's Safehouse – Caucasus Mountains
His safehouse was one that she did not, and could not, expect. From the helicopter that they came in, the estate at the foot of the Caucasus Mountains looked like it came out from a postcard. "It's beautiful!" she could not help herself from exclaiming, looking towards Makarov to judge his reaction of her praise. She received a half-smile from him, and she knew that it was the best she was going to get.
Anatoly, who was always in a talking mood agreed with her. "You'll like it even more when you get see the lake when the mist clears up," he added. Without a doubt, Anya's expression brightened immediately when their helicopter made a further descent, nearing the surface of the lake that Anatoly had spoken of.
Such natural beauty was unknown to Anya. In her whole life, she had only known huge cities in her hometown of New York, and the deserts of the Middle East. Even when she was traipsing across Russia with the 141, killing Ultranationalist after Ultranationalist, there was no time to even savor the natural beauty of the countryside at all.
"If you are asking, I didn't kill anyone to obtain this estate," Makarov told her jokingly. At the statement, she raised an eyebrow and he elaborated, "It was my grandfather's, it was handed down to me when he passed before I joined the Spetsnaz."
"Now, it's the center of your operations," Anya continued, looking towards the beautiful house. She knew that on the outside it would be beautiful and pristine, but on the inside… she knew that it would be in complete, but ordered chaos, as were all things that Makarov endeavored in.
They entered the safehouse once the helicopter landed, and Anya took a deep breath mentally, bracing herself for whatever waited for her behind the ornate, wooden doors. Once Anatoly and Makarov opened the door, she was greeted by the sight of men occupying two rows of computers, guns in every visible corner, the voices of heated discussion heard so clearly even from the doorway.
Makarov was planning something big, and she knew that she may the only one who did not know what was going on. The moment he entered into the safehouse, every single one of them stopped what they were doing and greeted him. It was evident that he commanded a great amount of respect from his men; the sheer amount of followers that he had literally reinforced the fact that if she were to try anything to endanger Makarov's life, she would be killed immediately.
"We are glad to have you back, sir," said of them, a man of medium build and height. The way he carried himself was different than how the others did, and immediately from the sight of him Anya knew that he was one of relative importance along the ranks of Makarov and his men.
Makarov nodded and gestured for Anya to come next to him. "I believe that you have not met Anya," he said, introducing Anya to him. He then turned towards Anya and told her, "This is Alexi, my second in command." It turned out that Alexi was the one responsible in overseeing all of Makarov's military operations. Whatever he had to be in charge of would have already been planned by Makarov, and was already in motion. She knew that it would be too find out anything from Alexi, her prime source of information was still Makarov as always.
"It's an honor to finally meet you, Miss Anya," Alexi said, shaking her hand with a smile. He said nothing more, but she knew that he was sizing her up in his mind, for she saw his eyes scanning her up and down as he greeted her. Her sapphire eyes carried judgment as well. She could feel that this man was no less cruel and cunning than Makarov was, however, she could not decipher anything else from just a handshake.
When Alexi returned to his work, Makarov went with him, leaving Anatoly and Viktor to bring her around the house. Indeed, it was large enough to house many more people than those that could be found there, because there were five bedrooms in the least, along with a massive kitchen and dining area. Each and every inch of the establishment reeked of forgotten riches and the bloodshed was to come, and each step she took made her feel more and more uneasy.
There was nothing that she could do, only to hope for the best, and find a way to contact the boys back in the 141.
Alexi
Ultranationalist Terrorist Cell
Caucasus Mountains – Makarov's safehouse
"What are you plans for the girl, sir?" he asked Makarov once Anya was out of earshot. So far, he and his men were the only ones who have not met Anya, and he did not like Yuri's reports on her at all.
"She continues her work with me," Makarov answered. As always, no single operative under Makarov's wing knew the big picture of his plans, only the specific part they were responsible for. Alexi did not know what Anya's function was in Makarov's grand scheme, and it made him even more unsure of her. "Alexi, there is no need for you to question her presence," he added, reading Alexi's mind immediately. "She is here because I am in need of her skills."
Alexi raised an eyebrow. If anything he wanted more clarification on the issue. "Sir, if you wanted an able sniper, we could have easily found one for you," he pressed on, bringing only a sigh from Makarov.
"Anya's talents lie in her ability to project any possible enemy activity," Makarov explained. "She is our third eye, and that's all I will say." He did not like repeating himself, having already justified her position within their ranks to Yuri. He was sure that Yuri would have given Alexi whatever information he needed.
The truth was, Anya had been almost indispensible for the past six months. Any single location could be a chessboard for her, and she could quickly find the advantages and disadvantages of an area. But there was a catch, of course, one that Makarov did not reveal to any of the others. They were successful in any operation that Anya helped to plan, but in those where she did not, in those where she did not play an integral part in, those suffered the greatest losses. The NATO soldiers that encountered they encountered in Malaysia were successful in whatever they endeavored, and nothing could have stopped them at all. Oftentimes, it was Alexi that brought the bad news to him, and he often had this nagging feeling that the girl could be the one responsible for everything that happened.
"However, I will indulge you," Makarov said suddenly, looking over to Alexi, who was busy preparing for their next operation. It was a large one with tremendous repercussions, involving the death of many civilians. Of course, it would be a part of their greater plans, but still, it needed to be pulled off like clockwork. "Let's say, hypothetically, if Anya was really a spy, as Yuri suspected, what would you do when you discovered that fact?"
Alexi did not understand why Makarov was even asking that question. "I would find out who she really is and then kill her," he answered. It was what anyone would have done, to prevent the spy from doing any more damage to their organization and from marring their chances of future successes.
"That is where you leave no 'Plan B' for yourself, Alexi," Makarov chided mildly before leaving Alexi and walking up the stairs that led to the main bedrooms. Alexi could only scratch his head and return to his work. He believed that all will be revealed in time, and certainly, that snake that Makarov always kept close to him would soon reveal her fangs. When she does, he would most certainly be the one to sting her with her own poison.
Cpl. Maria "Anya" Allen A.K.A. Ultranationalist Codename "Anya"
Task Force 141 / Ultranationalist Terrorist Cell
Makarov's Safehouse – Caucasus Mountains
"Your right hand man doesn't really like me, am I right?" Anya asked Makarov when he got into the master bedroom. Anatoly and Viktor had just told her that she was to share it with Makarov for the most obvious of reasons. The most obvious sign from Alexi was the lack of warmth in his eyes, and his… apprehension upon first looking at her. She knew that he did not welcome her at all.
"Give him some time," Makarov explained. "He isn't used to working with a woman." He knew that she was not at all offended with Alexi's reaction to her, but those were words that needed to be said, even if they were alone. There was still a wall between the two of them, each of them guessing the other's next move within the confines of their own minds. He had to admit, being so physically close to her, yet knowing that her mind was far, far away from where they were at that moment, it gave him a certain thrill, especially when he tried to anticipate whatever was going in that head of hers.
Anya sat down on his bed and sighed. She knew that there was more to Alexi's suspicion towards her, that it was more than the fact that all men were threatened by the thought of a woman being capable to do whatever was it they did best. "Well, it doesn't matter," she said, standing up once again, looking around the relatively large bedroom. "Our paths would not cross in our lines of work anyways."
"Do not be so sure of this, Anya," Makarov warned. "Who knows, perhaps one day you will work together…"
"Then you will be the one ordering it," she continued absently, looking at the books he had scattered all over the room. She was right; of course, he was an educated man despite his rather savage tactics. The paintings in his room she recognize as the work of masters of ages long gone, and the single volume titled Philosophy, Politics and Poetry spoke many, many things about him. "Anyways, I don't want to talk about work anymore," she said after stretching her body lazily, a conscious effort in making the light from the windows shine through her white blouse, subtly revealing the color of the black silk bustier she wore beneath it.
Whether he was a bloodthirsty war-mongerer, or a genius with a penchant of sordid methods to be deployed in politics and warfare, he was still a man. Anya knew it well enough because the next thing Makarov did was to stop her from entering the bathroom after she had located a towel for herself. She knew that he saw what she meant for him to see and bit her lip when he approached her from behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.
"Do you think your good friend Alexi will back down when he realizes that I'm in fact your paramour?" she teased him, turning around to face him, her fingers buried in his dark hair.
Makarov kept his silence and neared his mouth to her ear. "Why don't you try it?" he whispered, tipping her chin for a kiss that she readily gave. "I have not touched you at all since Paris…"
She smirked, and slowly pulled away from him. "I wouldn't want to risk being shot at," she told him, and ran into the bathroom as fast as she could, locking the door behind her. She knew that Makarov would not have mercy on her the moment she got out of the bathroom, especially since she teased him so. It was the effect that she needed, to prove to herself that she was still in control of herself that she was not slipping out of control, that she still had the ability to resist his advances if and when she wanted to do so.