MacTavish nodded as he wrapped up his conversation with Command. "Sixth Fleet's moppin' up. Time to move in," he said. He pulled a tablet out of his rucksack and pulled up a file. "Long history of this buildin', and not much of it pretty." He enlarged a picture of an old, rock structure, covered in scribbled marks and script. "Started out as a castle with an actual dungeon, built to withstand any siege. Buildin' survived every brutal winter. The occupants... they weren't so lucky." 

Gal flicked an ear. Given that it was the middle of winter in Russia, and already the weather was a balmy -12 degrees out, she had half the mind to wonder if Prisoner 627 was even alive. 

"Over the last century," he continued. "It's played host to anyone the government didn't want, but couldn't kill. The place is filled with living casualties of the last war... which I swear I thought we'd won." The scoff he made sounded more defeated than he had intended and noticed the concerned, saddened expressions on his teammates' faces. Quickly, he recovered by clearing his throat and shrugging it off. "But I suppose it's all a day at the races: you back the losing horse, and this is where you end up. Six-Two-Seven is the piece of meat Makarov wants, so let's cut him loose."

"Going in hot," said the pilot of Hornet Two-Two as the F-15 zipped past them toward the misty silhouette of the gulag standing on the cliffs over the Bearing Sea. In a bright flash of orange flames, a tower on the wall crumbled like shale, and the jet veered away.

The Captain hugged his rifle tight under his arm. Jessica noticed that his chest was already heaving and she knelt beside him, touching his shoulder on her way down before taking aim, herself.

"All snipers, this is MacTavish, standby to engage," he said over the com. "Hornet Two-One, stabilize." The helicopter came to a stand-still over a tower and MacTavish looked through his scope. "All snipers, clear to engage!" It wasn't but a few seconds before the tower was cleared and he ordered Hornet Two-One to shift right. 

Jessica picked off a pair of guards in the next tower, Ghost beating her to a third before they shifted again. "Leave me a few!" she teased.

"Shoot faster then," he replied smuggly with a glint of mischevious glee in his eyes. 

They shifted once more. Just as they stabilized, one of the F-15s fired on the tower, causing the helicopter to shutter and tip, and its alarms to wail. MacTavish started to slide forward out the door when Jess grabbed his shoulder, Ghost behind her grabbing her by her rucksack and Roach throwing his arm out across MacTavish's chest. "Hang on!" Hornet Two-One said, quickly regaining control of the aircraft.

Once stabilized, they collectively let out a tense breath. The Captain was shaking as he tapped the com. "Shepherd!" he snarled. "Get those fighters to cease fire immediately! That was too close!"

"I'll try to buy you some time. One man in a gulag doesn't mean much to the navy at this point," replied the General.

"It better start meaning a lot more to them right now," Jessica growled into the com link. "This is our ticket to Makarov; we need him alive."

They could almost hear Shepherd rolling his eyes. "Like I said, I'll try to buy to some time. Over and out."

"Bloody yanks," said Ghost. "I thought they were the good guys..." 

"Ghost, Lone, both o' ya cut the chatter and stay frosty," said MacTavish. "We're goin' down." The chopper touched the snowy cobblestones inside the walls of the gulag and the team bailed out. "Go, go, go!"

Galaxy seized the first foot mobile she could catch by the face and gave him a furious shake to sever his jaw. She released him, grasping a second by the thigh while Ghost finished him off with a shot under the chin with his pistol. The great wolf shifted back and took cover beside the Lieutenant, drawing up her MP5 under her arm. 

"I'm gonna make a push for the gate up ahead," said Ghost. "Roach is with MacTavish, you want to help me clear a way in for them?" 

She nodded. "Hell yeah."

He smiled, reaching for the com. "Let's do this." Ghost looked at the Captain and Sergeant across from them. "Bravo Six," he said. "We're pushing in, follow us, we'll clear you a path for you, over."

"Copy, Ghost, let's go!"

Lone and Ghost shot out of their cover and fired into the line of tangos standing at the gate. It was almost like hunting turkeys, the way they popped their heads up one by one just to be mowed down. They passed the gate and arrived in what appeared to be a courtyard.

"I see an entrance up ahead, keep pushin'!" ordered the Captain.

They ran, more of 141 joining them from the other choppers outside and finally, they were inside the door. MacTavish stopped, looking back as the last two soldiers covered them. "This is it! We go in, grab Prisoner 627, and get out. Remember to check your corners." He gave a nodded and started in. "Let's go!"

As they rounded the first corner Roach ducked back as a blast of gunfire nearly hit him. "Five tangos, 'round the corner!" he called back. He pulled the pin on a grenade and bounced it off the wall and down the stairs to where the enemy foot mobiles were standing. There were screams and the team came out into the open to pick off the remaining three soldiers. 

"That looks like a control room up ahead!" said Ghost. "I can use it to look for Prisoner 627. I'll tap into the system and look around, see if I can find him, but it's gonna take some time."

MacTavish dipped his head. "Copy that. Roach, Lone Wolf, you're with me on cell duty. Follw me!" They proceeded down a set of stairs, engaging a couple of soldiers on the way down. 

Ghost sounded excited over the com. "I'm patched in, following your progress on the security cameras."

"Copy that! Do you have the location of Prisoner 627?" asked the Captain.

"Negative, but I've got a searchlight tracking hostiles on your floor. That should make your job easier."

"Roger that," he replied before turning back to Roach and Lone. "Stay sharp! The prisoner may be in one of these cells!" They all three stopped at the bottom of the stairs and he tapped the com again. "Ghost, we've hit a security door, get it open!"

"Working on it..." Ghost growled. "This hardware is ANCIENT!"

With a buzz and a rattle, a door opened down the hall, seeming to frighten a handful of guards standing beside it and they locked eyes with the trio of 141 soldiers.

"Ach, Ghost, you opened the wrong door!" said MacTavish, taking aim at the first tango. 

"Roger, stand by..." The door opened and he made a delighted exclaimation. "Got it!"

They charged in, wiping out the foot mobiles. Jess shifted and raced ahead, looking into each cell. Her head was weaving back and forth over the floor and the walls. 

"Smell anything?" asked Roach.

"Nothing. No one's been in these in a while."

MacTavish set his brows. "Ghost," he said. "Talk to me; these cells are deserted..."

"Got it. Looks like Prisoner 627 has been transported to the east wing. Fastest way there is through the armoury centre," he replied.

Gal nodded and pelted down the stairs to the armoury. She looked around inside and shifted, picking up a couple of extra mags and grenades. 

"See anythin' you like?" purred MacTavish, brushing past her and taking a few magazines himself. 

Roach was staring wide-eyed out of the opposite door. "Sir, looks like we've got company."

"Bad news," interrupted Ghost. "Looks like you've got three... Negative, four hostile squads converging on your location!"

"I hear them. We're too exposed, MacTavish; we've got to get out of here!" said Jess, her voice tightening with anxiety.

MacTavish took a step backward, peering down his rifle's sight. "Ghost," he said. "Open the door..."

Ghost uttered an exasperated groan. "Bloody hell, they've locked it from the hardline. I'll have to run a bypass," he said.

"Too late, they're already here." The Captain braced against the walls of the armory as a hail of bullets from all sides rang inside the small room. 

Jess shifted and curled into a ball under the heavy fire. She lifted her head just long enough to see more men coming and she felt her heart seize. "Shit, there's more hostiles incoming!" she barked.

"We're gonna need more cover, grab a riot sheild!" commanded MacTavish, grabbing one for himself. 

Roach helped Gal to her feet and she shifted back to grab a sheild. Within seconds, the glass was already cracked and chipped from the gunfire. "Make a wall, we can share the cover!" said Roach, pulled Jessica closer so their sheilds overlapped on the edges. 

The Captain crouched beside them and gritted his teeth, feeling the heat from the bullets biting into his riot shield. "OPEN THE DOOR!" he bellowed into the com.

"Almost there! Routing through the auxiliary circuit..."

The door rolled open and they charged into the room, opening fire on the tangos inside. It was a hot, bloody mess, easily ten or so soldiers around them, and not a scrap of cover aside from their riot shields. They cleared the room, only to hear the approach of even more foot mobiles.

"Recommend you bypass the lower floors by rappelling out that window," said Ghost.

They hooked up some ropes to the floor and descended to the floor below, listening as the fire above slowly grew quiet. Jessica could feel her heart in her throat and her limbs were shakey. She looked down and noticed that they were falling into complete darkness.

Shepherd's gaping mouth. 

Fire.

Roach.

Ghost.

The blaring of a church bell.

She blinked and the image melted away. Stupid waking dreams. "Looks like the power's out in this section," she said.

"Squad," said MacTavish into the com. "Switch to night vision."

As they touched the floor, the darkness erupted into the green, illuminated shapes of Ultranationalist soldiers. She shifted and bolted into the fray, breaking the arm of one soldier with her teeth and throwing him into another while Roach shot each of them. She nearly turned and shredded another when she realized it was a fellow 141 soldier. "You guys finally caught up!" she snorted.

"Got tangled up in that mess up there," replied one soldier, an American from Shepherd's side of the taskforce. 

"C'mon," said MacTavish. "Check the cells for stragglers, I can't believe there're only four tangos in here." He stepped near one cell and drew his pistol in time to blow the face off another Russian.

Gal continued down the hall, looking into each cell. Nothing. "We're clear!" she yipped.

Before the Captain could respond, the ceiling crumbled over them and the ground shook. Another strike from those damned F-15s.

"Shepherd!" Gal roared into the com. "What the hell was that?! Tell those navy fuckers to ceasefire!"

"The navy's not in a talking mood right now..." said Shepherd.

"Well, get them in one; they're not only firing on my guys, but yours too!"

He sighed. "Standby..." Shepherd went silent for a few beats and came back. "Bravo Six, they've agreed to stop firing for now. I'll keep you posted. Out."

Gal nodded with a peeved snort. "Good," she said to herself. 

The Captain sighed. "Alright... C'mon, we're takin' a shortcut." He stacked up with the rest of the squad, and Roach blew open a door with a breaching charge into a shower room on the other side. Together they pushed into the room, firing around each shower stall. All around them, the enemy seemed to crawl out of the walls. It was overwhelming, and he felt his head begin to rush like he was drowning. MacTavish focused across the shower room on a hole in the floor. "I found our way out, stick close to me!" he said, and lead the squad forward.

Jessica watched their backs as they made their way to the center of the room, only to stumble over the edge after them into the hole. She landed clumsily on top of Roach, both of them soaked with sludgy, stagnant water. "Ach... Gross..." she grumbled, shifting to shake out her wet ears and face.

"Alright," said MacTavish. "Talk to me Ghost, we're in the old tunnel system, heading south-southwest. I don't wanna be down here when those ships start firin' again."

"Keep going," assured Ghost. "Looks like you're almost there. There's two heat signatures to your left, one of them should be Prisoner 627."

MacTavish stopped them at a slightly discolored segment of wall and gave Roach the signal to plant a charge. "Get ready."

The charge blew and the wall burst open. Galaxy watched, frozen, as the prisoner grasped the guard in the room with him by the throat and gave it a sharp jerk, breaking his neck. Using the dead man as a sheild, he rushed the soldiers at the wall and promptly went for Roach's face with his fist.

WHAM!

Roach hit the ground, shielding his face from another blow, and Prisoner 627 picked up a rifle from the dead Russian, aiming it at the downed Sergeant. In a streak of panic, Gal stood over the Sergeant, her hackles raised at the prisoner as MacTavish took aim at his head with his pistol. 

"Drop it!" ordered the Captain.

"Soap..?"

That voice... Lone knew that voice. Her ears pinned back and she regonized the man's face.

"... Price?" she and Soap breathed, awestruck and bewildered. 

Soap blinked away the confusion and turned the pistol around, extending the handle to the former Captain. "This belongs to you, sir."

"... Who's Soap?" asked an American 141 soldier. 

Before Gal could answer, the ceiling began to crumble again. "Shit..."

Shepherd tapped into the com link, sounding gravely worried. "Bravo Six,  be advised, they've started the bombardment early! Get the hell outta there now!"

"No shit!" Gal barked. "Come on, we've got to get out of here!"

The squad raced toward a hole further down the tunnel where a chopper was waiting. "We can jump from there, let's-!" MacTavish laid back on his heels as the wall crumbled. "Go back, go back!"

They looked around down the tunnel, all of the walls collapsed and falling apart. "It's a dead end!" said the American. "What're we going to do now?"

"Six-Four, where the hell are you, over?" called Soap into the com. 

"There's too much smoke, Bravo Six, I can't see you!" replied the pilot. 

Gal looked up as the ceiling gaveway and Roach was buried under a pile of rubble. "Roach!" She pelted toward him, Price hot on her heels to help her dig him out. As they pulled the stones off him, they were relieved to find that, though dazed, he was virtually unharmed. She grasped him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him upright.

"Whatever you're gonna do, Soap, do it fast!" bellowed Price.

FWOOM!

The bright red plume from a flare streaked into the air through the ceiling and there was an excited eclaimation from the pilot. Gal and Price helped Roach to his feet and as a rope fell from the chopper, they tethered him to it. In seconds, the squad was hauled out of the crumbling building, the snowy ground outside far bellow their feet, and they were pulled up into the bird.

Laying on the floor, exhausted and heads spinning, the squad stared up at the pale grey sky, panting. A hoarse laugh cut the tense silence between them all, and Lone Wolf looked over at Soap.

"Holy shit!" he cheered. "Bloody hell, we made it out of that! And look who we got back!" He clasped hands with Price and pulled him up to hug him, giving him a solid slap on the back. "I can't believe this!"

Price made a weary chuckle. "To be honest, I'm still not convinced this isn't a dream yet," he said. He looked around. "But if it is, I'll take it." 

Everyone huddled around him and helped him into a seat while a medic on board looked him over. He was looking rugged now, his beard grown out and his eyes seemed heavy. His cheeks were cut up from being hit, and he looked as though he hadn't slept in a few days. He raised his steely blue eyes to each face, and finally, they landed on Lone, still sitting by the door.

For a moment, it almost felt like no time had passed, like she was looking at the same John Price they had left on that battle field two years before. Like the moment they got home, he would ask if she wanted a drink to unwind, or like he was about to offer her that genuine, easy-going smile. 

And then, she felt something. What was that? Uneasiness? Guilt? Anger? Confusion? She couldn't decide what it was, but whatever she felt, it made looking him in the eye unbearable, and she turned her face away.