Cpl. Maria "Anya" Allen

Task Force 141

Task Force 141 Northern Siberian Safehouse

She was in the northern coast of Siberia with MacTavish on a mission to track down a Norwegian ship delivering shipments of weapons to a known Ultranationalist safehouse in the same territory as they were. For three days they waited in that sparse log-cabin with nothing to do, but to keep watch, talk and fiddle with their weapons that they had brought with them.

"If I have to look into that God-damned scope one more time, I'm gonna break it," she huffed when it was MacTavish's turn to take watch. She left her Intervention on the mat on the floor and sauntered towards the cot she claimed for herself. Looking out the window, she found nothing else but the white snow, rocky coastline and the odd seal or two. The waters were shallow there, ships would have to be anchored in the middle of the sea, and their wares had to be transported towards the coast by the use of smaller vessels…

MacTavish chuckled. "You just need to be more patient," he told her, shaking his head at her frown. She had not complained much, but he knew that boredom was already gnawing at her insides. She was rolling her eyes more often, muttering to herself out of frustration. Thus, he decided to pull her leg. "You know, we won't be able to go back unless we find that ship."

Anya's eyes widened and he saw that she actually believed what he said. "Be serious, Captain," she warned him. Her gaze was cold, and her expression was stern. She knew he was joking, and sighed. "Right, and you'll have to be stuck with me until that ship comes here."

"I won't mind that, seriously," MacTavish replied with a wink in his eye. "At least neither of us will have to be alone and die of boredom."

Her response was to move over to his side and swat him in the arm, rolling her eyes. They remained like that for the next hour, exchanging jokes, insults and the like as they continued their duties. Soon, the sun started to set, and darkness followed. They could no longer hear the arctic animals in the horizon playing, only the lap of the sea upon the rocky beach. The stars above them shone so brightly, and often Anya would wonder why. Was it because they were at the metaphorical roof of the world?

"Anya, look!" MacTavish's voice suddenly rang, causing her to jump a little. She raised an eyebrow and allowed herself to be pulled by him towards a wider window, and he pointed up. It was an aurora high in the skies, a red one; the color of fire.

Anya did not make a sound at all. She only watched the lights of the aurora dance in the skies, her mouth first held agape, and then closed. In twenty minutes, her neck became tired, and she leaned her head against MacTavish's shoulder. Somehow, with no one to witness it, it felt right… Still, she looked up, and marveled at the beauty that he had just shown her.

"Too bad the boys back at the base turned down this mission," she said rather cheekily when the aurora ended. "They would've loved to see this… Thanks." She sealed her thanks with a kiss to his cheek, and in the darkness around them (discounting the fire in the hearth), she could not see how red his face had suddenly grown…

They did not speak of that incident to anyone, only mentioning in passing in later times that they had seen a red aurora borealis during that mission. For some reason, it just never surfaced… until now. As a man, MacTavish thought that he was of a stronger constitution, but he could not help but to look out for Anya more than he should. The boys just shrugged it off as the sign that she had been finally integrated into their tiny little faction. Besides, someone had to take care of their only girl, and who else but their Captain? Their functions in the Task Force 141 were more or less similar anyways: both of them were snipers and designated shooters, trained to cover other members of the team… In fact, if they were both deployed in the same mission, one would head the formation, while the other would have their six.

Now, as they filed in one by one into the briefing room, Anya sat between Roach and Ghost at the second row. He could overhear their whispered conversation too, due to their proximity. "So, what are you gonna do if you find Makarov?" Roach asked her, because in all technicality, she was the only one among them who had extended contact with Makarov.

"I'll put a round in his head the moment I see him," Anya boasted. It was her hope, of course, that she did so. In fact, everything that Makarov has done affected each and every one of them in such a profound way that once they get their hands on him, he would die a death that few would even wish for their greatest enemies. Makarov had taken their brothers in arms, and for some of them in the 141, their families, through his many terrorist acts… As her own of repayment for his not killing her after the incident at Zakhaev International Airport, she would grant him the quickest death she could give him. "Makarov's mine, boys, I mean it."

Price chuckled at her words. "That's only gonna happen if you find him, sweetheart," he chastised her jokingly. The rest of the room erupted in a bout of good-natured laughter as well. They quieted down when Shepherd entered the briefing room, and immediately, MacTavish fired up the projector so that the General could deliver his briefing.

One by one, the missions that the 141 had taken were all indicated as "offline", including their latest one in Petropavlosk. Strangely, their commander did not mention anything about their rouge mission, but it was mostly because Price and Anya's actions of launching that nuclear missile into the atmosphere that cut off all forms of communication. The only price (no pun intended) however, was the International Space Station. It was rather ironic, because the ISS was built in the goodwill of various nations, including the USA and Russia…

"It's been a tough week, people," Shepherd started after clearing his throat, the universal sign of demanding the audience's silence. "We've lost more than we've ever dreamed, but we will recover." As he spoke, they were shown headlines and reports about the situation in the US, and it did not look good at all. "I've got a blank check, and we're gonna spend every cent killin' Makarov. Despite what the world may say, we are not savages, we don't kill civilians. We use precision. There's an evil man hiding in these shadows, and we're gonna bring him to the light. Once his face is revealed, we will write history, people."

Once Shepherd was done with his little speech, all of them focused on what was being displayed on the projector screen. Their satellite system began scanning the various areas, and within minutes, it came up with two possible locations where Makarov was suspected to be at. One was at the Georgian-Russian border, Makarov's safehouse-cum-estate in the Caucasus Mountains, and the other was a U.S. military vehicle disposal yard, known as the "Boneyard" in Kandahar, Afghanistan, where a suspected arms deal was going to take place.

The very mention of a new arms deal caused Anya to raise an eyebrow. Makarov had already received Rojas' massive weapons shipment enough to man about ten thousand men, why would he need more weapons? There was certainly something amiss, but Anya knew that she could not say anything about that, lest she give Shepherd more reason to kill her before she could accomplish anything. "I've been to the estate in the Caucasus Mountains before, it is heavily armed and well-manned," Anya added, remembering her time there and her first meeting with Alexi, Makarov's second in command. "It was his grandfather's…"

However, Shepherd was quick to dismiss her. "These are the last safe havens for Makarov and his men," he commented, and looked at all of his combatants. They were battle-weary, itching to get into the fight because it was going to be their last. He knew that they would do whatever it took to wipe Makarov's face from the face of the world.

"Sounds like we gotta be at two places at once," Price observed. He looked back towards the boys and found determination, but from Anya, he sensed only worry… He felt it too, but it was only a nagging feeling, and attributed it to the customary nervousness and over-cautiousness before every mission that he had undertaken.

"Impossible?" Shepherd prodded further, knowing that none of them would back down from their very last challenge.

"Not for the 141," Price answered on the behalf of their unit.

It was at that time when Ghost and Anya nodded at one another. "Fifty-fifty chance to take out Makarov, eh?" he asked rhetorically, "Captain Price, request permission to take the safehouse with Roach and Anya,"

Naturally, since Anya had already been there before, she would be of great help to the team that was tasked there. Price saw no problem about it. "Granted," he told Ghost. "Soap and I will take the Boneyard in Afghanistan."

However, Shepherd had something to say against Price's decision. "Wait, Price, MacTavish, Anya goes with the two of you," he proclaimed. He did not say why, but even if it was so, there was no way they could overturn is order. However, that directive only made Anya more suspicious. What had he planned there in Kandahar?

"We will cut off all revenues of escape, this war ends now."

Sgt. Gary "Roach" Sanderson

Task Force 141

Task Force 141 Land-base – Location Classified

Those that who were either team to hunt Makarov down were now gathered at the basketball court with those closest to them. They were all excited, excited because it was going to be their last mission. "It's been a great year guys, thanks," Roach thanked all of them, toasting them with the soda-can in his hand.

"Don't mention it, Roach," MacTavish replied. "You've been a great part of the team." Roach, the ever introverted and bashful, immediately blushed, and he decided to embarrass him even further. "Clumsiness aside, mate, you're all good."

All of them rang with laughter, and they all recounted tales of how Roach almost died every single time. Anya was particularly curious of how he managed to escape a favela full of Brazilian militia and jump onto the ladder-rope of Nikolai's helicopter. However, she was not given a chance to delve in her curiosity, because the boys designated her to be the next one carrying out a speech.

"Let's face it, without you boys, I swear that I would've gone crazy back in Moscow," she admitted, regarding each and every one of them with her sapphire eyes, resting her gaze finally on MacTavish. "I want to thank you for accepting this only girl here in the 141, and for supporting me, no matter what I choose." There was a point in time during Operation Honeypot when she thought that she could never go back to them, and it scared her. She had been a soldier ever since she graduated from college, but she only truly found her home with the 141. "I promise to haunt every one of you when I die," she joked, before pulling MacTavish into the center, much to his annoyance.

Taking a deep breath, MacTavish knew that this day would surely come. "Well mates, this is it," he said to every single one of them. "Everything we've worked so hard for these few years are finally coming to an end. We've lost many of us along the way, but I promise you that they won't die in vain. We'll take that bastard Makarov down if it's the last thing we do on this mission!"

Everyone cheered, and they were prudent enough not to drag Price in. In the next remaining hour, they all said their own well-wishes to one another, taking photos as well, because there might not be another opportunity like that, ever. There were even some of the more mischievous ones who raided the mess hall for vats of soft drinks, dunking them over unsuspecting members of their fold as their last prank.

"No matter what happens, we'll always be the Task Force 141," Price said when they were all required to board their respective helicopters. "Just focus on the mission, and I'm sure that we'll see each other again real soon." He said those words with the hopes that they would truly meet again in the field of victory. He said those words with the desire to see the war end, and Makarov dead.

If only he knew that it took more than the brotherhood of the 141, their collective toils and suffering, to end the malice that was about to cover all of them.