Cpl. Maria "Anya" Allen

Task Force 141 (Organization reinstated by NATO order)

New York City, New York

Following the rescue of Boris Vorshevsky and his daughter, the Russian army retreated from Europe upon the President's return to Moscow. A purge of the party was instantly ordered, and every single Ultranationalist who had ties to Makarov was sent to the international courts, and to avoid persecution, Makarov ran away again. With Makarov still at large, Anya could not return home to Ithaca to meet her parents, for fear of their safety. Instead, the Pentagon had arranged for them to meet in New York City under the watchful eyes of a discreet security detail.

"I haven't seen my parents in a year," Anya told Soap, who was there to accompany her. After she had been rescued from the Gulag, Shepherd had told her that she had been reported to have been KIA and her parents received an empty coffin with a flag. Initially, she had thought that it would have been safer for her parents to continue thinking that she was dead, but with the media frenzy that arose following the conclusion of the fighting, there had been reports and mentions of her in the news, there was no way that she could not see them.

"You'll be alright, love," Soap replied, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

Taking a deep breath, Anya opened the door to their hotel room. Her parents were already waiting, just inches away from the door.

Mr. and Mrs. Allen were reduced to nothing but tears when they saw their daughter. They could not believe their eyes that she was there before them, alive. To them, their daughter had been killed, then labeled to be a war criminal, and then miraculously came back to life as a war hero. It had been a difficult year for them. But now that their daughter was before them, nothing else mattered.

"Mom, Dad," Anya said, after the initial explosion of emotions. "I want you to meet John MacTavish, he is my..." Anya paused because she did not know if she should introduce Soap as her boss or... whatever they had been. They only knew that they loved each other and had not gone as far as to figure out what they were.

Perhaps it was because Anya and Soap walked into the hotel room hand in hand, Mrs. Allen understood immediately and gave Soap a hug as well. "Thank you for taking care of our Maria," she thanked him.

Soap smiled. "Mrs. Allen, I assure you, Maria did the same for me," he replied. Mrs. Allen did not need to know that it was also he who handed her directly to Makarov so that she could get the medical attention she needed in the middle of a war.

Mr. Allen gave Soap an appreciative whack on the arm. "Welcome to the family, son."

For the first time, Soap heard Anya giggling. He had never heard her do that before. "Don't mind, Maria, John," Mrs. Allen said. "She's always shy about her boyfriends with everyone else."

"Mom!" Anya protested with gritted teeth, causing Soap to chuckle.

"She's been like this around everyone," Soap agreed, adding fuel to the fire, remembering the day Nikolai had purposely teased her before they infiltrated Prague.

They spent the day as a normal family, having lunch and a walk in Central Park. Anya had never felt so at ease. There were many things that she could not tell her parents, but what she did spoke volumes. Anya told them of the bonds they had formed with the rest of the boys in the 141, how she had come to love Soap, and how she had lived through her days as an undercover agent. Her parents were shocked at all that Anya had to go through. She had barely graduated from college when she joined the Army Rangers to pay back her student loans, and now, she returned to them still as they had remembered, but weighed by the horrors that she had seen.

"I was afraid, every single day," Anya recounted when they went to a cafe for a round of coffee. "It was as though his eyes followed me around. I had to know what to say, what to do, and it felt like everything I did could have started a war. But as things turned out, the war started no matter what I did."

Mrs. Allen cradled Anya's head on her shoulder momentarily. "You came up on top, that's what's important." If only things were that simple. Anya knew that since the foundation of the 141, they had known mostly defeat. Price was sent to the Gulag, Soap and Roach found the ACS module only after it was managed to be copied, while Anya was exposed while in deep cover. However, she had to admit that their victories, although few and far between, were all monumental.

"What do you guys plan to do?" Mr. Allen asked, cocking a curious eyebrow at Soap as he took a sip of coffee.

"We need to go back to work," Soap answered. "We can't stop until he is dead." Anya took his hand in hers.

Mrs. Allen chuckled. "John, what my husband means, is when do you kids plan to, you know, settle down." At the mention of settling down, Anya's face became red again. Her parents really knew how to push her buttons.

"Whenever Anya feels ready, Mrs. Allen," was Soap's answer. "We've only been together a few months ago." Throughout their time together, Anya and Soap's relationship spent much time in its budding stages, a longing gaze, a quick kiss shared during an aurora borealis that they witnessed. It had been nothing short of a miracle that they could have survived all the fighting, and now, they had become nothing but a normal couple.

Mr. Allen nodded in approval. "You know, Maria, we wouldn't be so snoopy if you told us a thing or two," he said with a cheeky glint in his eye.

"Don't worry, I'll try to call more often now," Anya reassured her parents. She could see that their security detail had approached them. The two agents had been subtly following them, of course, and only trained soldiers like herself and Soap could detect them.

"Captain MacTavish, Corporal Allen, it's time," one of them said, pointing at his watch. Anya's time with her parents had ended.

Anya nodded. "Do you have my package?" she asked, and the other one nodded, producing a brown paper envelope. "Mum, Dad, I want you to have this," she said, passing the envelope to her parents.

"What is this?" Mr. Allen asked, opening the envelope.

Anya huddled her parents close. "Think of it as a bonus," she answered. Her parents did not need to know that Vorshevsky had personally ensured that the funds given to her by Makarov were cleared as a personal favor. She saw how much her father's eyes widened when he saw the figures just by peeking into the envelope.

"What are we going to do with all this?" Mr. Allen exclaimed. He had surely not seen such a sum in his entire life.

"Spend it all?" Anya suggested with a shrug, to rousing laughter from her parents.

They then said their goodbyes, having been reminded once again that it was time to go. The security detail would escort her parents back to their hotel, and back to Ithaca the next day.

Soap kissed Anya's forehead as she shed a quiet tear when they watched her parents being escorted away. "After we kill him, I don't want to fight any more," Anya proclaimed. It had not been the first time she had said something like that. Four years as a soldier had been enough for her. "I want to walk in the sun. I want to..."

There was a blast outside, interrupting her. Anya's face paled.

Screams followed the blast. People were running in all directions. Anya looked at Soap, and the panic started to kick in. From how the blast had sounded, it meant that the detonation could not have been more than three blocks away.

"Stay here," Soap told her, motioning that he would be the one to check what had happened. Anya was already hyperventilating then. "Maria!"

Anya bolted out of the cafe. The entire street was covered in smoke, but when it passed, she saw the car that her parents had left in, reduced to nothing but a frame. Anya froze.

"Ma'am, step away from the vehicle," warned a policewoman. "Ma'am!"

There was no response from Anya, not even when Soap had arrived at the scene. By then, the police had started to move the bodies from the car. There had been four in total. Three male, and one female. Soap shielded her from the gruesome sight, pushing her head towards his chest, his back against the carnage. It had been too late. She had already seen the bodies of her parents.

She could not cry. She no longer found the strength to do so. She just stood there, unable to move, unable to do anything else until the world around her faded into darkness.

Yuri

Task Force 141

Task Force 141 Land-base, location classified.

The news of Anya's parents' passing was all over the media. Due to Anya's involvement in the war, they could only be identified as "Mr. and Mrs. A". The attack was labelled as a murder, nothing more. Soap had contacted Yuri and Price the moment they saw what happened, and a helicopter was sent immediately to transport them back to their land-base, where she could have the privacy to grieve in relative safety.

"This has Makarov written all over it," Price said, whilst Yuri watched the news.

Yuri nodded his head. "Poor Anya," he said.

Price sighed. "Poor girl's been through a lot of hell. No one deserves this." Amongst all of them, Anya had been exposed to the greatest danger, she had been pushed into the shadows, left to die and when things had been looking up… her parents were killed. The US government dared not to name Makarov as the culprit, but they all knew that it was him.

Soap emerged from Anya's room, looking dejected. "How is she?" Yuri asked him.

Shaking his head, "Not good," Soap answered. "She took some sleeping pills, but she hadn't been responsive at all." Anya did not speak, nor did she even cry. She had just become a blank shell. He did not know what else he could do for her. "I stayed until she fell asleep."

"What about you, son?" Price asked.

Soap nodded. Right now, he was more concerned about Anya. He had never seen her in this state. He had thought that visiting Anya's parents would have been a harrowing experience, only because meeting one's girlfriend's parents for the first time was always harrowing. Witnessing their death due to car bomb was another one, altogether. All he could think of now, was how he could help Anya. It pained him greatly to see her in such a catatonic state, consumed by grief that she could not speak or shed tears.

Yuri put a hand on Soap's shoulder. "You have to be strong for Anya, my friend," he said.

"Why would Makarov do this, Yuri?" Soap asked. "What does he gain from it?"

"Hatred," Yuri answered simply. "Just like how he wanted to kill me after I went to the government about his plans. Makarov wanted Anya, but she chose to fight against him. It was personal to him."

Soap rubbed his temples. His soldier's mind was racing. The bodyguards that were with Anya's parents were issued by the Pentagon, so did it mean that Makarov had access to the information to Mr. and Mrs. Allen's whereabouts before?

"She never wanted anything to do with him," Soap replied. If it was one thing he had known, was that Anya had been afraid of Makarov more than anything. He had read all the reports and her journal entries. He personally came to Moscow to see her. Each time, she would tell him of how he would try to probe into her mind, testing her mettle. Anya had been so afraid that she decided to throw all pretense and caution that she decided to just be herself, so she could at least function like a normal human being while in deep cover.

Yuri shrugged. "He knew about that," Yuri said. "Makarov once told me how he could see the fear in her eyes when she first came to him. When she found a way to deal with that fear, he thought that he could mold her into an image of himself because he thought that they thought on the same wavelength."

"He sees what he wants to see," Price concluded. "Sick bastard saw Anya trying to survive by gaining his trust, and he wanted more."

Yuri nodded. He then turned towards Soap. "I know it is not my place to say this, my friend," he prefaced. "I have watched Anya, and I know Makarov. She has been the most at peace when she is with you. I don't think that she could have made it through the war without you."

He remembered in Qinghai when he had advised Anya against encouraging Soap to acknowledge their feelings for one another. He had thought that they were on a one-way journey towards certain death then. A slip of the tongue.

Soap understood what Yuri meant. "Thank you, mate," he said. "I'll go check on Anya."

Vladimir Makarov

The Inner Circle

Dubai, United Arab Emirates

Makarov sat at a café that overlooked the jewelry store that he had brought Anya before. By then, Anya's parents would have already passed on. If he had a choice, he would not have involved her parents. He was certain that she had forced his hand.

Anya had provided Boris Vorshevsky with a list of the Ultranationalist party members that had affiliation with him. These were the ministers in the cabinet, the leaders of the Russian army that had told him that they shared similar views, similar visions for their nation. They gave him their assurances that they would support him through the war effort. However, when the Americans and their NATO allies retaliated in Europe, those men hid like cowards. The information that Anya had provided the President had them thrown into the international courts, and once again, Makarov himself was made to be the scapegoat.

Makarov had not begrudged her for her choice to remain loyal to her masters, but she gave him no choice but to act. Even if Vorshevsky was retrieved by the Americans from the Mirny mine, he would still have had control of the party by their sheer numbers. He would have been able to turn the tides. However, Anya destroyed that chance by testifying against him.

Now, he was nothing but a rat, hiding in a hole, biding his time. It would take years of planning and gathering resources to go back to the state where he was in. It was not impossible, but it would have taken much more time.

She had been so beautiful, but she had made herself his enemy.

Finding her parents had been easy. All he had to do was to have an agent to follow her parents when they were transported into the hotel where they would be meeting Anya, plant the charge and detonate it. It was an equal exchange. She had destroyed his future, and he would do the same to her.

"With you, I will only be Anya," her voice surfaced in his mind.

He knew that every word that she had said to him could not have been true. She had been an undercover agent, after all. However, he could tell when she was lying and when she was telling the truth. When she said those words, she had been telling the truth. He remembered the light in her sapphire eyes, the determination, and the strength. He desired her, truly, from then on.

It was at that moment when he knew that he had to have her by his side. That moment that most likely spelled his downfall. He remembered that mere days after she had told him those words, he brought her to the jeweler, and bought that necklace for her. He also gave her millions of Euros in Swiss accounts, but she had never touched the necklace nor the money. He thought that she had not touched the gifts because she was incorruptible, but he now knew it was because she already had another in her heart. That had not been his mistake, but her choice.

His mistake was not realizing that Vorshevsky also had access to the mine. He should have been more careful. When Anya sold her diamonds, both himself and Vorshevsky received reports of the sale, which meant that whatever evidence that Yuri had given to the FSO would have corroborated with any CCTV footage found from the jewelry store. It meant that the narrative of their operation in Zakhaev International Airport being an American operation had been reversed.

Makarov paid dearly for this mistake. With that evidence, Task Force 141 was reinstated, and Anya's word as a witness in the courts, his end was all but signed. He should have killed Anya when he had the chance, but it was his weakness that stayed his hand.

Anya had given him no further choice. To even the playing field, he had to ensure that she had been as broken as he was now. If she had despaired at the deaths of her brothers and at how he had forced her hand to take innocent lives, she would know the true meaning of the word.

The pain she had felt was only but a taste of what he would unleash for her. She would be begging for death the next time he saw her.