Cpl. Maria "Anya" Allen AKA Inner Circle Codename: Anya (CIA Deep Cover Operation: Honeypot)

Task Force 141 / The Inner Circle

Paris, France.

Anya had been sitting at a café while Makarov was off on other business. She knew that she would have wrestled her way into that meeting, but he had given her other duties. She was to continue to butter up Mrs. Zhukova, who seemed to know more than she had let on. She was still wearing the earrings that Makarov had given her and wore them as a sign that she was aligned with Makarov.

"You know, you aren't the first woman that Vladimir paraded around," Mrs. Zhukova told Anya after she had ordered her coffee. "However, you are the first that had been chosen from within the military. When he introduced you to us as Dimitri's last protégé, I had to say, I was really impressed."

"Thank you, Mrs. Zhukova," Anya replied. She knew that the words spoken came from a place where Mrs. Zhukova had not only experience, but also some form of emotional investment. She and Makarov must have had some sort of a history together, for him to know what she liked in terms of women, and also to have served her in bed with such familiarity.

Mrs. Zhukova smiled in return. "How are you adjusting to your… assignment?"

"It took some time," Anya answered. She did not know if she was accompanying Mrs. Zhukova by Makarov's request, or that Makarov had sent Mrs. Zhukova to her to test her further. The only way forward would be to fall on her strategy to lie with bits and pieces of the truth. "I fainted due to exhaustion my first week, because I was struggling to handle all of the changes that I had face as a result of this transfer."

Mrs. Zhukova nodded. "It must have been difficult for you, Anya," she agreed. "Not many are able to grasp the nuances in our country's state of affairs. Don't worry though, you are in very good hands. Vladimir will guide you and everything will come to the light."

Anya returned with a smile. However, she changed her expression to one of perplexity, one of concern. She reached for Mrs. Zhukova's hand and grasped it. "Mrs. Zhukova, how did you reconcile between the work we do and how the world sees us? How will I know if he is seeing what he wants to see, or what we are doing now is what the country needs?"

"You must never speak such thoughts to anyone else but me," Mrs. Zhukova said. "Especially Vladimir." She returned the gesture, and caressed the back of Anya's hand with her thumb. Her eyes then shifted onto the earrings that Anya were wearing. "Not many have been granted the image of the snake that you have been given. He must see much promise in you."

Anya sighed. "I wonder if I am ever deserving of his esteem," she said, looking into Mrs. Zhukov's hazel eyes. Her voice was small, but her gaze was one of determination.

"You are too humble, Anya," Mrs. Zhukov said. "Even in bed, I can see how attentive he is to you. Men are simple creatures. They will not bother with those that they do not see as deserving of their efforts."

In truth, Anya still did not understand why Makarov treated her like he did. He had no questions about her prowess on the training grounds, and he had been an attentive lover. He had told her that he would grant her more power than she could imagine, but what did that mean? What had he been planning?

Anya knew that there was no other way for her. The only way was to go with whatever direction Makarov was leading her to. "May I ask you a question, Mrs. Zhukova?" Anya asked in earnest.

"You are wondering if Vasily knows of our… escapades?"

Anya shook her head. "How do you find Vladimir?"

"He is a man of conviction," Mrs. Zhukova answered. "No matter how bleak the current situation will be, he would be able to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Name it as stubbornness or vision, he will see everything that he sets his mind to, done."

Anya understood the meaning of those words. Makarov had not been able to gain that much power and influence if he did not have those qualities. "I never understood how he was able to see into my thoughts," Anya elaborated. "He took one look at me and told me that I fought to prove my abilities, to make a name for myself."

Mrs. Zhukova smiled. "He sees a lot of himself in you," she explained. "However, you must remember, you are not him. You are your own person, Anya. You have your own life to live."

Those words struck Anya like lightning. Her eyes widened, and it seemed like a wave of comfort washed over her. Even if Mrs. Zhukova was not on opposing sides with her, it was a piece of advice that no one had given her before. She was her own person, even if she was a soldier, even if she had been working undercover. She had every right to choose.

Mrs. Zhukova's advice made Anya realize that the current choice she made was the most optimal one. To survive, she would have to present to Makarov herself, in her truest sense. In the field, she played a supporting role where she would provide support to those who would rush forwards, like MacTavish or Ghost. In life, she had been confident and vivacious. She had never backed down from a challenge. If she had not, she would have had to create a new version of herself, and she would be broken whenever her mission ended.

Her sapphire eyes brightened, and she thanked Mrs. Zhukova fervently. "I haven't been able to see a way out, Mrs. Zhukova," Anya said, now holding the other's hands with both of hers. "I am eternally grateful."

Mrs. Zhukova raised Anya's chin gently. "You are walking a path that no one can follow," she said. "I understand that you might have your doubts. Don't hesitate to contact me if you ever need guidance. Us women must help one another, especially in the same one where our men plot and scheme for power. You may call me 'Yelena'".

Before Anya was about to speak, a familiar voice interrupted her. "There you ladies are," Makarov's voice entered her mind. "I would have expected that you have gone on a girl's day out." He kissed Mrs. Zhukova's hand and did the same to her cheek instead.

"We spent the whole afternoon just talking," Mrs. Zhukova explained. "You wouldn't want to know the details."

Anya whispered into Makarov's ear, "I do not kiss and tell."

"I shall not pry then," Makarov said, taking a seat next to Anya. "Will you join us tonight, Yelena?"

Mrs. Zhukova shook her head. "I am to have dinner with my children," she answered. "They want to visit this new restaurant that is all the rage. I have to leave soon. It has been wonderful talking to you, Anya. Remember what I told you, I am always here if you need anything."

Anya clasped Mrs. Zhukova's hands in hers again. "Thank you, once again, Yelena." Of course, she noticed that Makarov had picked up that she was now on first-name basis with Mrs. Zhukova. When the other woman left, Anya laid her head on Makarov's shoulder. "She is an amazing woman."

Makarov agreed. "Vasily is immensely lucky to have her," he noted. "Come, my dear."

Anya made a beeline for Makarov the moment they returned to their hotel room, taking him by surprise. She knew that he would not refuse her, and wound her arms around his waist, her lips pressed against his. "I want you," she whispered into his ear. If she was to be his woman, then he must be hers as well. She did not afford him the luxury of having her as a plaything while she risked everything on this mission. He would be hers as well.

Makarov brought his hand around the back of her head and secured the other on the small of her back. "I am yours, Anya," he replied, eyes heavy with desire, watching her as she knelt on her knees to remove his trousers and underwear. Her eyes never left his, even when she took the length of his erect manhood into her mouth.

He hissed at the warmth of her mouth enveloping him. She felt him push her head deeper into him, and she took him whole. She knew that he wanted more, but she deliberately slowed her pace, all while maintaining eye contact. Anya then sent light, feather-like kisses all throughout his shaft, gently massaging his testicle in her free hand.

"Anya…" he gasped when she started to suck him again, his breathing hitched. She flicked her tongue at the tip of his manhood, feeling his knees almost buckle at her touch. Collecting his senses, Makarov picked her up into his arms. "Any more, my dear, and you shall finish me off before I can start returning the favor," he told her.

"What if that was what I that intended?" Anya asked him in return, kissing the side of his neck while he lowered her onto the bed. Her response made him growl, as if she had ignited a beast within him. However, he allowed her to pin him beneath her. From his body language, she knew that he wanted to see what she would do to him if he gave her free rein.

Without hesitation, she mounted herself onto him. Legs parted, she arched her back and started to ride him. She was sure that he could feel how wet she had become, even if all she had done was to pleasure him previously. Just seeing him react to her touch was an experience erotic enough to make her body ready for him.

Makarov brought his hands to her breasts, kneading them while Anya bounced herself up and down his shaft. Her grip upon him was tight, causing him to moan every time she lowered herself into him. She was near her own limits, and she rode him faster and faster until she reached her orgasm, coating his shaft with her essence.

"Have you had your fill, my dear?" Makarov asked her, switching their positions so that he was on top of her. Anya nodded, her body still convulsing in ecstasy. "Now, it is my turn to have mine."

Since she had her way with him, he would do the same to her. He rested her legs on his shoulder and thrust into her depths, taking everything that she offered. Gently, he gripped her hair on the back of her head, whispering sweet nothings into her ear as he continued his rhythm of thrusting and withdrawing.

Anya almost screamed his name when he took her nipple into his mouth. She was going to reach the peaks of her orgasm a second time, and he knew just the right things to do to push her over. He flicked his tongue over her nipple over and over, only stopping to pull out of her depths to finish in her mouth. Even as he came, he inserted his finger into her womanhood and played with her clitoris until she fell back onto the bed, arching her back when waves and waves of ecstasy hit her.

"You, my dear, are full of surprises," Makarov told her, plopping himself next to her on the bed, moaning slightly as he tasted himself when he kissed her. She knew the meaning of his words. He had never expected her to take such an active charge in bed. She had been guarded, because she was careful. There were lines he knew that she did not dare to cross. However, her actions that evening proved that she was willing to redraw those lines if they suited her.

"Would you prefer if I were to act differently?" Anya asked him in return, pulling her arms around his neck. She was getting used to the feeling of skin against hers. How could it have been possible, when she had only known Makarov for mere weeks? Why was it so easy for him to have her bare everything to him? Her decision to take an active stance in their private lives had stemmed for her need to regain control over her position. Could it have been that he saw through even that?

Makarov shook his head. "I enjoy watching you blossom in any every way," he answered her after giving her another fevered kiss. "I can see that your resolve getting stronger each day. It is intoxicating."

Anya took his hands in hers and brought his arms around her so that he was spooning her. He obliged and responded by showering her with small kisses until she fell asleep. The web has now been woven. Whoever responded with their heart would become the prey.

Task Force 141 Secure Communications Program initiating.

Connection established. 2 members in the room.

JM: Are you alright?

MA: Yes. I just needed to talk to you.

JM: What is it? What's wrong?

MA: I have decided to present all that I am to Kingfish.

JM: What do you mean?

MA: I won't lie to him. I won't act like someone I'm not.

JM: That's dangerous. Are you sure?

MA: Yes. I've allowed him to have sex with me. I will bring his guard down piece by piece. This is only the start. He intends to train me to be some sort of his equal, although I'm not sure about it.

JM: Where are you now?

MA: Paris.

JM: I'll come see you.

MA: No, you know that I'm being followed.

JM: I need to make sure that you are alright. This is for the mission. Meet me at the Eiffel Tower in two days at 1700 HRS local time.

Connection ended.

Capt. John "Soap" MacTavish

Task Force 141

Paris, France

Against his better judgement, MacTavish went to see Anya after she contacted him. It had been a month since she had been deployed, but he knew that he needed to see her. He knew that he had been endangering not only the both of them, but the entire operation as well. However, her latest reports had bothered him.

It was not the fact that she had successfully entered Makarov's bed that concerned him, that had been part and parcel of the mission. She needed to entrap Makarov from every aspect. It was a sacrifice that Anya made, and he respected it. They were soldiers, and they were already prepared to sacrifice everything.

What concerned him was her decision to open herself to Makarov. He was not afraid that her heart would be swayed to Makarov, but he knew that she was risking her life in more ways than one if Makarov had been the one that won the gamble. It was a situation where the risk was high, but the reward was great. If she won and Makarov gave in to her, killing him would be easy. If she had lost, and she submitted to him, every effort that they had gone through would have gone to waste. Even worse, if she had defected to him because of her emotions, then they would have an enemy that knew everything about them, no matter how slight that chance might be.

He met her by the Eiffel Tower, surrounded by glittering lights and tourists. It was as if she had been a different person. When they met in Brussels, it looked like she did not fit the elegant clothes that she had worn. But now, every step that she took was deliberate, confident. She was wearing a knee-length pleated skirt with knee high boots with a matching blazer. He had never seen her wearing anything like this before.

"Captain…" Anya called towards him.

He drew her into her arms the moment she had come close enough. Even if she was still being followed, it was a risk that he would take. "Maria, you are risking your own life," he told her, immediately picking up from their previous conversation, half scolding her, half praying that she would just tell him that she was done with the mission, that she would return back to base with him.

"There is nothing else that I can do, John," Anya replied. "If I don't do it… I would not be able to come back to you in one piece."

She was doing it for him. "Maria, nothing is more important than your survival, do you understand?" MacTavish asked her, raising her chin so that he could look directly into her eyes. "I want you to come home alive."

"To come home alive, I have to do what I'm doing," Anya replied. "I've spent weeks trying to figure everything out. I need him to believe me. He thinks that I am just like him, ambitious and determined. I have to show him exactly how determined I am…"

In truth, MacTavish understood every single word that Anya said. She was trying to outsmart Makarov in his own game. Shepherd had also told him that so long she decided to remain in the field, it was her decision to stay. He knew that she had been doing all this so that they could have better Intel.

The Intel she had provided had been phenomenal. They had verified that the airbase in Kazakhstan was in the Tian Shan mountains and was already operational. After the CIA combed through the files on Minister Vasily Zhukov, they discovered that Makarov had Zhukov in his book because Zhukov had previously profited off the receipt of generous sums of commissions from military contracts as the Minister of War. His position would have been forfeit if the Russian President found out about them.

However, all that would be inconsequential if Anya did not survive to see what she had accomplished. MacTavish knew that it was a dangerous gamble that she had been playing, particularly if she saw that she had no further choice. A zero-sum game fit that Makarov completely. He had been proficient at it, made it into an art. Anya was nothing but a soldier whose fault was that she valued brotherhood and loyalty so much that she was willing to risk her life for the entire team.

"I love you," he told her, knowing that if he had delayed any longer, he would regret it even further. He knew that he was endangering her fortitude by saying it. However, he was being selfish, because he did not know when he would have the chance to see her again. He needed her to know.

He watched her completely pause, her eyes widening to the size of saucers. "John…" she tried to protest, but he held her tighter still. "What did you say?" Anya asked.

"I love you," MacTavish repeated, and kissed her. "I want you to come back alive because I love you."

Anya clung onto him even after the kiss ended. He could feel her heartbeat racing, and she asked, "John, please tell me that you're not joking." There was a tear in her eye, and MacTavish wiped it away with his thumb. "John… this is very important to me…"

MacTavish chuckled. "No, Maria," he told her, caressing her cheek. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Anya returned, and leaned in for another kiss. Once their lips parted, she rested her head against his chest. "Please… John, don't come to see me again," she begged. "I can't bear to know that if anything happened to you…"

"If Makarov knew who I am, he would have come straight for me," MacTavish replied, catching Anya's meaning. He was the one who killed Zakhaev, as a result, he should have been one of Makarov's top targets. If he had been observed coming into contact with her, then Anya's cover could have been blown as well. "I just needed to see you, Maria."

Anya nodded. "I need you to trust me, John," she pleaded, bringing her arms around his waist. "I know what I'm doing is dangerous, but I need you to trust me that unless I see another way, this is the only way forward." She started to sob silently, releasing all the fear and anguish out of her system as he was with her, if only for the briefest moment.

MacTavish knew that Anya had only ever entrusted her tears to him. He let her cry until she no longer had the tears to continue. He would be her strength when she no longer had any. He would be her anchor when she had no one else to turn to.

"You need to go, John," Anya said, once all her sobbing had ended. "Please…"

Finally, MacTavish relented, but not without stealing another kiss from her. "I'll see you when I see you, love."

Anya smiled. "I like that," she said, noting on how he had arrived on a new way to address her. In the brief seconds before he released her from his arms, she gave him a kiss on the forehead and watched him disappear into the night.

Cpl. Maria "Anya" Allen AKA Inner Circle Codename: Anya (CIA Deep Cover Operation: Honeypot)

Task Force 141 / The Inner Circle

Paris, France

She found Makarov on the sofa in their hotel room when she returned from meeting MacTavish. "I said goodbye to my Captain," she told him. There was no need to hide what she had done to him. If anything, he would have been notified that she was with another man by whoever he had sent to follow her.

"How did he take it?" Makarov returned, taking her hand in his as she sat next to him.

"Well enough," Anya answered. Makarov did not need to know that she had been given the gift of hope, the knowledge that there was light at the end of the tunnel that had been her mission.

"Then, my dear, the only way you can go from here, is forwards."

Anya nodded and pressed her lips against Makarov's. He was right, the only way she could go was forwards. One day, she would have his head, and she would go back to the 141 where she had belonged, back to MacTavish, who would be waiting for her.