Vladimir Makarov

Ultranationalist Terrorist Cell

Moscow – Makarov's Apartment

The more he made Anya and his men train for the coming attack on Zakhaev International Airport, the more he realized that Anya was a born soldier, through and through. Every single instruction given to her was carried out in true precision, and whenever he watched her train with his men or by herself in the warehouse that he had bought off a local drug lord, he realized that she was just like him in his youth; that they were just as idealistic and patriotic as one another, however, Anya was with one flaw, and it was one that would be a fatal one. Her spirit was easily broken once she had lost all hope.

"If I move one more muscle, I'll just fall down and die," Lev complained and she plunked herself down near him, drinking from her bottle of water. She had cleared the mockup maze in about half a minute with the precision that only an elite soldier could ever achieve. His boys were men who had served in the field longer than she was a combatant, and still she was able to follow their pace… or perhaps it was the fact she was young and lithe.

"What about Anya?" Anatoly asked gruffly, gesturing towards the girl with his chin tipped towards her. "She's still energetic!"

Makarov looked at her with an appreciative eye and cocked a half-smile. "Anya is in her prime," he explained, helping her to stand. "It is the gift of youth."

Artificial…

The expression on her face, the way she carried herself… It was all too artificial, like the time when she had first come to them. He remembered how she had feigned eagerness, and ideals. They had disappeared from the moment she woke up in that Malaysian hospital after the bullet had been taken out of her system, the bullet meant for him. She had felt more… real as her personality started to show. She was a sharp woman, humorous in her disposition, intelligent.

Now, she was not the same person, although she was still sassy to his subordinates, and charming to him. It was so evident that she was hiding her emotions from the rest of them. The men had their suspicions that something happened between the two of them or something else that only time would reveal to them what really happened.

"Thank you for the compliment," she told Makarov, emptied the rounds from the pistol in her hand. "But it won't give me a raise, would it?" As always, the men burst into laughter, while he only chuckled. Of course, with the kind of work that they embroiled themselves in, they were all lucratively paid, having actual shares in the money each mission brought to them. There was no doubt that Anya would not complain about what she was earning at that moment in time.

"You're welcome," Makarov replied with a curt nod and began to address them all as a whole. "Now, I think it is time that we left this place. We have a big mission tomorrow, and I will not have it fail because any one of you lacked sleep tonight." Each and every one of them wished each other luck before leaving. As always, Anya left with Makarov as they stayed in the same apartment.

Once they had locked the entrance to the warehouse, they got into his car in silence for the most part. Ever since he had confronted her of her reaction towards their upcoming operation, she had decided that it was best that she kept quiet. She was tired, too damn tired to put up any more of the charade. The worse thing was that she would have to go down as the murderer of countless innocents, regardless of the rewards that she could have sown when the day when she was able to truly put a stop to his evil. At that point in time, she could not see if there was any hope for herself, and the only thing she could do was to sigh just before Makarov got into the driver's seat after a strangely short call that contorted his brow in ways that she could not imagine.

To that end as well, while putting on his seatbelt, he sighed even heavier than she did. "What's wrong?" she asked him, not noticing that her hand was upon his.

"Nothing, just a minor incident that I'll have to resolve before we start the attack tomorrow," he answered raising her hand that she did not know she had given him to his lips. "I will send you back to the apartment first, I have other matters to attend to."

It was during times like this when she knew that she had not the authority to even ask about what was going on. Makarov would reveal it when the time was right, and by that time, she could have done nothing to prevent anything bad from happening… just like what she was going to do.

When they reached their destination, Anya just gave him a kiss on the cheek and walked back towards the apartment without saying another word. He sped off the moment she got off the car, and she did not look back. It was a good thing, because she did not see that scowl he had on his face, one of the rare moments when he actually let his emotions show through.

This time, when they were so near the end of the beginning of their great work, it was he, and not her, who could afford any mistake before her. He would have to be careful, very, very careful indeed if he was to sway her fully to his side, but to do so, he must first destroy all traces of those who would make her see otherwise.

Yuri

Ultranationalist Terrorist Cell

Mainstream Ultranationalist Subterranean Bunker – Moscow

The half-bald man was standing in front of him, his eyebrows furrowed. Of all his years in the service of the FSO, Commander Leonid Pudovkin had never seen a man like Yuri. Yet, he had heard of him before, way back when Russia was still the Soviet Union. A prime soldier who was best friends with another prime soldier, who had gone downhill since the name "Zakhaev" popped up. "What makes you think that I should trust you?"

Inside, Yuri smirked. If this was the head of the President's security detail, then Vorshevsky could not have lasted very long should Makarov even try to attack him; he dropped his head for a moment and looked up into the commander's eyes. "That is because I know that the Government has been keeping tabs on me. How else would I have been contacted by the American general?" His answer, of course caused Pudovkin to take a step back.

Makarov was difficult to track, because he was silent, and constantly moving under false documents. With his vast monetary resources, he was able to bribe off high numbers of "strategic individuals" under various pseudonyms. It was a horrifying nightmare to even try to pin him down. The NATO armies, well, they had to sacrifice one of their finest soldiers in order to discover Makarov's last current location… On the other hand, Yuri was not. In the heyday of Zakhaev, this man's name was available on most operations involving the terrorist cell, and Zakhaev did not try to even cover his tracks, not like his beloved protégé.

"If Makarov knows this…" Pudovkin muttered, glancing at him sideways. It could well be a trap. This man was one of Makarov's most trusted agents, could it even be possible that he was going to defect from Makarov's side to theirs?

"He does not need to know," Yuri explained. "He will not find out about it, I assure you. Even if he does, he would already be dead." The girl would be the key. Ever since that they had purposely revealed to her that she had been betrayed by her own superiors, her spirits have been low, so low that she even rejected Makarov's advances several times. At any rate, her drive to see Makarov defeated would increase, so that his plans cannot continue.

Pudovkin looked at the picture that Yuri slipped to him. It was a photograph of a woman between her mid to late twenties with blond hair and blue eyes. She was not severely beautiful by any culture's standards, but there was something that could be seen from the photograph about her, she seemed that she actually knew she was being followed. There was suspicion in her eyes, her brows furrowed as she looked upwards, searching for the person who she knew was following her.

"This girl is the spy the Americans planted," Yuri added. "I guarantee you that she will be the one who will defeat Makarov when given the chance."

Still, Pudovkin was not convinced. "She looks more of a scholar than a warrior," he reasoned. "How will she ever do it?"

"Makarov thinks that because she knows of betrayal by her superiors, her spirit is already broken. I will convince her that the only way to change her fate is to kill him." As a person who knew Makarov for many, many years, Yuri had realized that Makarov's own weakness was his pride. He operated with his own assessment of others, never giving them allowances for growth, and that was where he intended to prove him wrong.

Looking at the commander of the FSO, Yuri knew that the man had no other choice but to trust him. As dubious as it sounded, there really was no way to stop Makarov unless they used Yuri's plan. Russia may have deeply conflicting interests with America, but these differences should not, and needed not, be settled with the use of force. There was too much at stake. With whatever cost that they could pay, war must be prevented from happening.

Makarov must be stopped before he was able to do any more damage.

"Do not act on your own," Pudovkin said finally after a long silence on his part. "If Makarov really is going to attack an airport, then we will have to find out of it is true."

"We have no time!" Yuri argued. "The world has no time for this, you must act now! The girl is alone in his apartment as we speak, you must contact her!"

Pudovkin straightened up and told Yuri the truth that he already knew, but deigned to hear. "Listen, I don't know if this is a trap, or you have really defected. Either way, the security levels in Zakhaev International Airport will be increased, but until we know what is really going on, we can't do a thing about the situation."

It was only until then did Yuri realize the truth in Makarov's words that the government's rampant bureaucracy was stifling. Even a matter as serious as his former superior's eminent attack on a highly public area was taken with little caution. However, he knew that he had done what he could.

"It's your choice whether to believe me or not," he said, giving up in the end. "After all, I'm not the one with the responsibility of thousands of lives on my hands."

Without saying another word, Yuri walked out of the designated meeting area and lit a cigarette. Tomorrow, the world would be a drastically different place, surely. He doubted that the government would be able to defend the airport in time anyways. Makarov had several failed attempts in the previous few years, but only because the NATO armies were constantly on the watch. Now, an American general fooled the world, collaborating with Makarov to start a new war…

He would be right there, watching as it happened.

Cpl. Maria "Anya" Allen / A.K.A Ultranationalist Codename: Anya

Task Force 141 / Ultranationalist Terrorist Cell

Makarov's Apartment, Moscow

Her phone had been ringing ever since the clock struck twelve, and whenever she checked her registry, it was a private number she had never seen before. Following those calls, were text messages asking for her to head to the parking levels of the apartment complex. She did not know if it was a trap, or a test by Makarov.

At that point of time, she was afraid that it was both.

The only way she could salvage things now, was to act that the precise moment in the operation when Makarov's guard was the lowest, and it would be at the moment of victory.

You don't want to know what it cost to put you next to him, it will cost you a piece of yourself…

Those words were spoken to her by Shepherd even before she accepted the mission. She knew the price to pay for Makarov's downfall was her soul early on, and she would pay it nonetheless.

It will cost nothing compared to everything you'll save.

HAN: Wow, finally we've reached the end of the beginning of this story, entering the storyline of MW2. The next chapter will depict the events of No Russian as seen through Makarov's and Anya's eyes.