Vladimir Makarov
Organization Data Updated: The Inner Circle (Formerly known as Ultranationalist Terrorist Cell)
Inner Circle Safehouse – 50 KM from Moscow
"What the hell was that?" Viktor demanded once they have set foot in the safehouse off Moscow, far, far from Zakhaev International Airport. "How did you know that Anya was an American spy?"
Makarov sighed. It was high time that he had been honest with his men. It was time for him to tell them what he had told Yuri a few weeks before the attack was even planned. "I had my suspicions, early on, even before our little trip in Malaysia," he explained. "However, I was not able to confirm that fact, until the day that her superior contacted me."
"You took her in, even though you knew that she was a spy?" Anatoly asked, but Makarov had already anticipated such a question. He knew that there would be more of the same. At least, Anatoly realized that whatever Makarov did, he did it for a reason. "You must have thought of a use for her," he sighed, and looked towards the direction of the airport they had just escaped. "She might not be dead, might she not?"
Makarov nodded. "No, I injected a serum to make it look like she was dead," he answered. "I have also made sure that the FSB would hand her back to our brothers, I will have a proper place to house her until she is ready to join us."
"A proper place?" Viktor interrupted him. There was only one place that Makarov used to house prisoners that he could not kill immediately. "You will send her to the Monastery…"
He nodded. "She has a long forgotten brother there, who I hope will help me destroy their own organization from within… I believe that it would bring the Task Force 141 into peril, and they will kill the ones we need dead."
As he said those words, he could hear her soft chuckle whenever they would hold most of their discussions together, flirtatious in tonality, but serious in content. Her sapphire eyes, they sparkled when she withheld him in her vision. Those moments were real, he knew, because those little gestures, those little signs that her personality was there, was not present when they were all together, along with the rest of his men.
"With you, I will only be Anya,"
Those were the words that she had told him, he remembered her telling that to them one night in his Moscow apartment, when they were sharing nothing but their thoughts, and the warmth of one another's bodies. She had said those words with earnest, for her heart was beating still, and she had gazed into his eyes, watching his every move, waiting for his reaction to those words.
Her words were true, and her half-smile was paired with that smoldering gaze that he was sure that only he had seen before. Soon, she would be his, and only his.
"She better be good," Viktor declared. "Makarov, I don't care what you say, but if you want her back, you are going to have to make sure that she was even better to us now than she was then."
"I promise you, she will rise like a phoenix, she will…"
Prisoner 627 (Formerly Known As Capt. John Price of Task Force 141)
The Monastery, Petropavlosk.
For three years he had been rotting in the cell he had been in, but he had never, ever heard of the coming of a new arrival. He was there, because he was the leader of the squad that killed Zakhaev, because Makarov himself had set a trap for him. He had been in there long enough to even grasp whatever crude Russian his guards were speaking.
"We're having another one in this very wing," said one of them one morning. "It seems like she's really made the boss angry to want to put her here, next to old 627…"
A woman? Why would Makarov place a woman here?
A few hours had passed, but the woman in question was not be seen anywhere. Just random mutterings of the guards, hinting that perhaps she was very, very close to Makarov, even becoming his lover once.
A few more hours passed, and still those men did not stop their gossip. They were worse than women, he scoffed, only to have his thoughts interrupted by the loud bang of the steel doors opening, and wheels being pushed frantically against the stone floors.
He looked up and through the bars of his cell, and saw a flash of gold, and a feminine hand, white like snow. There was no doubt that she would be very decent looking woman, and the very moment she was wheeled into cell that was directly opposite his, he caught a glimpse of her face... Where had he seen her before? "When has she been administered the antidote?" the doctor asked one of the men in suits. He could not make out the answer, but it must have been a positive one, because the doctor continued with, "Good, then it would not be hard to stabilize her condition."
"I don't understand," said one of the guards that accompanied the doctor. "Why would Makarov even keep her alive, even after…"
"What Makarov does is ever up to him," the doctor sighed. "We have no right to question whatever he does. Be sure to inform me when she awakes next. Makarov would want to see her then as well."
Makarov wants to see her? Well, he knew that the woman would most likely be a great threat to the bastard, and any threat to Makarov, would be his ally. He would have to see if he would have any chance to gain information from her, it would be ultimately bring him some new news about the front, and wait he did, he just hoped that it was worth it.
Cpl. Maria "Anya" Allen / Secondary Status Updated: Prisoner 628
Task Force 141
The Monastery, Petropavlosk
Where the hell was she?
That was the question that arrived into her head the very moment she opened her eyes. She should be dead, one way or another… She felt the sting of a syringe and the sound of a bullet being shot at her, how could she not die?
"I am glad that you are awake, my dear…"
It was that voice again, of all voices; it was one that she deigned to hear again: Makarov, the man that served as her target, her tormentor, and everything else in between.
"Why the hell am I here?" she asked him in English, in her real voice. It was different from how she had spoken English in the year that she was with him, which had a slight Russian twang to it. Amused greatly, he moved from the chair right next to her cot to the edge of it, and tipped her chin.
"You are in Petropavlosk," he replied, looking into her eyes. If looks could kill, he would have been long dead, but still, she could not sense any… evil intent on his behalf. But then again, he had known that she was a spy for weeks now, if he wanted to kill her at all, he would have done so a long time ago. "To be precise, you are in a gulag, where I keep all of my enemies as my prisoners."
To that end, she sighed, and turned away from him. "So, you won't let anyone who has betrayed you the release of death," she commented, looking at the walls around her. If what he said was true, that she really was in a gulag, there would be no doubt that she would die there in the worst manner possible… Unless of course, she was of use to him; which might just be why she was not dead, for the time being, that was.
"You know that you can further my plans, but yet, you do not know how," Makarov continued. "It was… always a problem for you this past year, was it not?" She did not even need to answer that question. He had been watching her every move ever since she had been there, and as she knew, he was a man whose thoughts could pierce through that of others. "You can gather what may happen in the future, but you think that you can do nothing to prevent it from happening…"
That was exactly what happened and she knew it. It was the end of the line for her already, but the very fact that she was alive, well, kept alive, she knew that there was something more that Makarov wanted, and in that case, there was only one end that he would have to cut loose… "What you have done will start a new war," she told him. "You don't even need me, other than to stop Shepherd from killing you."
His heterochromic eyes lit up the very moment he heard those words. "Would you agree to it, though?" he asked her, kissing her shoulder ever so lightly. This time, their roles would be reversed. It was he, who had to seduce her, and he knew that it would not be difficult. She might have nerves of iron, but her resistance towards him, was not.
"I refuse," she whispered back, and took the M9 in his possession, the same weapon that he had used to shoot her after he had injected her with some sort of substance that knocked her out cold. She did not know how many days it had been since the attack at Zakhaev International Airport, but she knew that it would already be too late to act on anything already. "I should just kill you now and end it all…" He remained silent, obviously giving her the chance to rethink her decision.
"You know that this is the only way," he told her, backing away from her, knowing that she would not hesitate to shoot him if he had uttered the wrong word. "Anya, you are not a fool. Shepherd has already put America on the warpath, you cannot stop it. However, your faction, on the other hand…"
She immediately lowered the weapon and threw it onto the floor. The primary function of the Task Force 141 had been to discover Makarov and bring him to the light. She had been planted next to him, acting as his paramour and an informant back to the 141 for the past year, giving Shepherd what information he needed. There was no doubt that Shepherd would want to cover his tracks, and it was impossible that the 141 would be safe from him at all… "If Shepherd is dead, who is to say that you won't kill all of us too?"
"My dear, I promise you that no harm will come to you and your brothers, so long as you do not interfere with my plans," he told her. "I will assure you that on my life."
"Impossible," she shot back. "We will come after you even after Shepherd is dead, at all costs."
Makarov sighed. "Then you leave me no choice, my dear," he told her. At his signal, his guards opened the door for him, but he did not leave without stealing a kiss from her, and it was a long one. He took her in his arms, and deepened it more than she would have liked, making last as long as it took for her to muster the ability to push him away from her. It would be their last kiss, and he wanted to make a lasting impression on her. "You will have twenty four hours to reconsider, but I must warn you, death awaits you if you refuse me."
He knew that his threat was needless. The idea had been planted into her head, and he knew that she would act upon it. The ultimatum had been introduced, and she was presented with no other alternative. All he had to do was to wait for the right moment.
"Sir, there has been a report from Brazil," one of his agents from the Inner Circle informed him as soon as he had gotten out of Anya's cell. "Rojas is dead, and so is his assistant."
There was no need to tell him that their enemies had traced the weapons used to attack Zakhaev International Airport with. "Then we would need to act fast," he replied, and quickened his pace towards the helicopter. He remembered that once he had accepted a call from this very facility regarding the antics of another prisoner that he had left there to rot and die, and there was no doubt that Rojas would have told them any shred of information to save himself, although in vain. "Tell Alexi to thicken the defenses here. 628 and 627 must not escape if there is any show of military force to spring them out."
"Understood, sir," the agent said, and went to carry out his instructions.
His helicopter was already there when he had reached the main courtyard, and as if by pure trick of fate, the pilot flew past the window of Anya's cell. He could see her looking out at the sea, and up towards the helicopter. "Soon, my dear, we will meet again," he mouthed, and she just continued to look at him, wondering what he had just said.
If they met each other again, they would be on different sides of the chessboard in the truest sense of the word. If she really was successfully freed, then she would once again fight under the insignia of the winged sword below the skull wreathed in laurel. There would be no excuse for her not to kill him, and vice versa. But if it was of any consolation, he would make sure that he would give her a quick death, and he was sure that she would do the same to him.