Cpl. Maria "Anya" Allen (Formerly Known As Prisoner 628 and Ultranationalist Codename: Anya)
Task Force 141
Task Force 141 Submarine Base – Off the coast of Petropavlosk
She was welcomed back in open arms the moment they returned to the submarine which first deployed her into Russia about a year ago. It was the submarine that the 141 used frequently for their missions across the world, and it was there that she met many old faces, and even a few new ones.
"So, how does it feel to be back?" Ghost asked her, and she smiled, and thought about his question.
She, on the other hand, did not know how to answer him. Part of her wanted to return, but part of her knew that she should not be there. She had failed in her mission, and she knew that Shepherd would surely destroy her to cover his tracks, she did not want the others to be covered in her own mess as well. "It feels good," she told him, the only thing that she could say. Her sapphire eyes looked towards the second in command of the 141, she added, "I miss being back."
Ghost patted her on the head. "I know that you've suffered a lot in Moscow," he told her, not spending any time beating around the bush. "It's been different without you."
"You just miss my ass," she shot back, rolling her eyes. "It's the only one that you could actually look at without puking, Riley." Ghost actually laughed at her words, showing his agreement, and so did the other men who heard her words. It was not that she encouraged the direct objectification of women, but it was the fact that she been around them for so long, that she knew that men hardly brought anything into consideration of that manner once they knew that she was actually inaccessible to them.
Chemo joined in as well, saying, "Hey, hey, hey, we have plenty of nice asses, right boys?" Needless to say, there was a whole chorus of men adding to his claims. She did not say anything further, and let them say what they wanted. All she needed to hear was their voices, and the knowledge that they would not disappear the next time she opened her eyes. She would really scream if she awoke the next morning back in her room in Moscow, and she would not hold herself accountable to whatever she would do to Makarov.
Thankfully, her anchor to reality came in the form of MacTavish, who was holding a clipboard in his hand. "Alright now, lads, settle down, we've got our lassie back and we're really happy about it," he said, pushing his way through the throngs of his men to get to Anya. "Shepherd wants you and Price in a conference call, now."
As much as she dreaded facing Shepherd, she knew that it must be done. America and her allies must know what Makarov was up to. That was why she followed MacTavish to the room where several cameras and computers were lined up together, where Price was already waiting for them.
"All good, Allen?" Price asked her, and it relieved her to finally hear someone, a superior, call her by her last name. Very few in the 141 did, preferring her callsign instead.
"Great," she replied with a wink and traced her eyes towards the door. "It's good to be back with the boys."
As they spoke, MacTavish slaved away at establishing a conference call with Shepherd, tapping at the keyboard, focusing the cameras properly. For many a time, it would be he that would start these conference calls, only he knew the codes in which to contact Shepherd. It was a security measure, so that there was no sign of treachery to be found.
"Uplink nearly complete," MacTavish said, still busy with the computers. "General Shepherd, you're online with Captain Price and Corporal Allen."
The look on Shepherd's face when he saw the both of them alive and back in the 141 was priceless. It was one mixed with parts of annoyance and those of surprise. It was evident that he had not counted them to even be in the Monastery, or that they would actually survive whatever fate Makarov had planned for them.
"Back from the brink," he greeted them, there was a hint of amusement that Anya found in his voice, but she said nothing about it.
"Yes sir," she replied, knowing there was little else she could say to Shepherd anyways.
Price, on the other hand, begged to differ. "Out of the frying pan is more like it," he butted in with his arms crossed, already smoking a cigar. "This world looks more like hell than the one I just left."
It was a truth that Shepherd acknowledged. "We thought that we'd recovered the ACS before the Russians could crack it, we were wrong… Then Makarov turns the U.S. into his scapegoat, and next thing you know, there's flames everywhere." Although she had no part in the retrieval of the ACS module, Anya had given Intel that Makarov had acquired an airbase in Kazakhstan long before the satellite carrying the ACS module was shot down. It did not take long for the U.S. military to discover what Makarov had done when they discovered that there was a satellite missing. "Now, what we need, Allen is for you to tell me what Makarov has in store for us."
It was evident that Makarov had already successfully ordered an invasion on American soil, but Anya did not know how that would progress. However, if the Americans won, it would mean terror for the rest of the world. "If he can't take America, he'll take Europe instead, followed by northern Asia," she said. "I don't know how he'll do it, but Makarov will plan a blitzkrieg all over Europe, hitting key cities like Berlin, London, Paris and Prague."
"How much time do we have left?" MacTavish asked, and it was a question that Anya knew that she could answer at all.
"I don't know the specifics, I never did, sir," Anya answered. "What I do know is that we'll have to crush whatever forces he's brought to the eastern seaboard or Europe will burn."
Shepherd sighed. "Allen, are you sure about this?" he demanded. With Makarov, nothing was definite until it happened, and that was the dangerous part. Even if all of his subordinates gathered round and discussed his plans, they would be unable to complete the circle, because there would be individuals taken from the outside completing other aspects of his designs. Alejandro Rojas was a perfect example of this. Not many of his other advisors realized that he had sourced their massive weapon stores from the heart of the Brazilian black market, but Anya knew that none of his personal agents realized that his military connections with the legitimate Ultranationalist government ran so deep that he was able to orchestrate a full-scale war.
"Positive, sir," Anya uttered. "I was the one who helped him oversee the final states of this plan. Makarov was inactive for years between that massacre in the Middle East until now for this reason." She worded the nuclear incident in 2011 ever so carefully. She knew what happened then; almost every single person alive on Earth knew it. "Makarov plans for everything."
"So this means that stopping Makarov's forces stateside is of utmost importance," the general concluded with a sigh, rubbing his temples as though he was nursing a headache.
It was at this time when Price's expression lit up. They had the means to increase the stakes of the battle on the American East Coast, something that he was sure that Makarov had not anticipate that they would obtain. Thus, he nudged MacTavish and plugged the flash drive he had with him into the computer. "Send this to the General, Soap," he instructed MacTavish, who had not the chance to ask Price of the contents in the files.
"What's this image you're sending me?" Shepherd asked, and MacTavish opened the files on their end as well.
The files consisted of images, and analyses of a nuclear submarine docked not far from them, with all its technical capabilities, mechanical layouts and whatnot. There plans of the base it that surrounded it, the amount of security that it had. Most importantly, the information in those files presented that said submarine had a payload of 16 megatons. It was enough to repay what Makarov had done to the Middle East five years ago.
"You wanna put out an oil fire sir, you set a bigger explosion next to it," Price explained confidently with a tip of his head towards Shepherd. "Sucks away the oxygen, snuffs the flame."
Anya said nothing about it. It could well be another one of Makarov's traps, because she was sure that the plans of the submarine were in Petropavlosk, but she did not know that they were in the Monastery precisely. It had just been a lucky guess for her, a stab of hope that she readily took in order to make Price had some confidence in her that she was not working for Makarov instead.
However, Shepherd was not happy about the idea for some reason. "Price, you've been locked away for too long, better get your mind right, son."
Price, on the other hand, received to back down. With such a payload, they would be sure to crush the Russians on the East Coast without any definite complications to their own forces. "Shepherd, are you willing to do what's necessary to win?" he asked, knowing the answer that he would receive from his superior. Shepherd was never a man who would back down from a chance of victory, especially one in his own country.
"Always," was the answer. From his voice, Price was able to tell that he was slightly drawn to the notion of ramming a nuclear warhead towards Makarov's forces, and he knew that this was his chance to reel the General in.
"We've got ourselves a pretty huge fire… Gonna need a huge bang…"
For some reason, Shepherd snapped out of the thought of Price's plan, and immediately barked, "You've been in a gulag for too long, Price, focus on taking out Makarov."
That was not an answer that Price had in mind, not from Shepherd, who had ground the importance of victory into their heads ever since the 141 was formed, and if his subordinates from across the American armed forces were to be trusted, he held that philosophy a long, long time ago as well.
"No time sir," Price interrupted. "We need to end this war today." If whatever Anya said was true, then they could not waste a second in delivering victory to the soldiers back on the East Coast. They needed to strike soon and fast before Makarov was able to lay down any new surprises for them.
"I'm not asking you, Price, this is an order!" Shepherd exclaimed, clearly losing his patience over this matter. "You're to…"
With a push of a button, the conference call was cut short. Price was the one who cut Shepherd short and disconnected the call. "Looks like we've lost our connection," he told MacTavish and Anya, who could only stare at him incredulously. It was apparent that Anya was not used to Price's style at all, but MacTavish was.
In fact, the Scottish Captain sighed and looked at Price with the same expression he had given the rest of the 141 whenever they were up to mischief. "What are ya gonna do, Price?" MacTavish asked, knowing that Price would have something planned already.
"We're gonna get to that sub for starters," Price said, looking at the map of the submarine base in Petropavlosk. "Leave the rest to me."
"Wait, what if it's a trap?" Anya offered, knowing that every part in Makarov's designs was deliberate, her sapphire eyes darting towards MacTavish, who was definitely the voice of reason among the two Captains of the 141. "Price, I was able to get those files out of pure luck…"
She was answered by a pate on her shoulder. "Then you'll have to be my lucky charm, sweetheart," Price told her before exiting the room.
"It's the only way, Anya," MacTavish told her when she turned towards him again. "We'd be wasting this chance if we turn from it now."
Anya sighed, and leaned against a wall. It was already clear enough that Price would have what he wanted, whether or not Shepherd agreed with him. "What were you thinking, rescuing your old boss who's clearly gone nuts and a clearly paranoid former honeypot from that blasted gulag?" she asked him, and received a soft chuckle from MacTavish.
"I guess it is all part of the contingency plan," he answered, and opened the door for her.
Harrumphing playfully, in line with MacTavish's tone, Anya retorted, "Well, it'd better work, or we'll all be dead."