Inoffensive. His home was inoffensive; wallpaper shaded with sky blue, white cabinets in the kitchen, and a few artworks of pithy quotes and pastoral scenery. A bedroom, a bathroom, and a living space. Nothing that stood out, nothing that gave a character to the house or represented any piece of him.

Any of the pieces of his psyche that he had nearly blown all over the floor last night.

The loaded gun was still in the drawer by his bedside. Unloading it would mean he was prepared to commit to not firing it, and that was not a step he was willing to take. No, better to leave it there, just in case.

He sighed and walked into his bathroom. Viktor—no, Alex Mason looked back.

"I am Alex Mason," said Alex Mason, grabbing onto the sides of his sink and glaring at his reflection. He wasn't sure if he was right or not. His hands had many scars, stained with dust and time, but they were surely his hands. He had seen them covered in blood, seen them crush mens' throats, seen them on a cool November day in Texas with a rifle in his hand—

"...seven. Twelve. Twenty-one. Twenty-five. Sixteen. Twenty-five. Zero. Twenty-three..."

"Breathe in, breathe out," he had to say out loud. He had to physically anchor himself. The flashbacks would leave him be for weeks, and then suddenly they would surge out and flood him with memories that pulled him apart.

Woods put a gun barrel to his head and pulled the trigger, screaming.

Mason closed his eyes, as if that would make the image go away.

"We are brothers, Mason. We are the same."

"I am Alex Mason," Alex Mason repeated, his breathing growing heavier. That's who was in the mirror, that was who he was, who he is. "You... you're gone, Reznov. You're long gone."

"Betrayed, forgotten, abandoned..."

"No, no!" Mason clutched his head as a searing pain carved through his mind. "You chose to stay behind! I didn't—"

"In Vorkuta, we are all brothers."

Mason stumbled backwards and leaned on the doorframe to help keep himself upright. It felt like someone had punched him in the gut and he could barely breathe, it felt like a knife had been taken to his eyes and sliced them in half, it felt like—

The phone rang.

He breathed, inhaling and exhaling over the course of a few seconds. The phone rang again, and he managed to make his way over to it. He picked it up and sat down on the couch, careful not to get the cord caught on anything.

"Hello?"

"Alex."

"Marion?" He had never taken his sister up on her offer to stay with her. Felt like he would just be a burden on her family. "How did you get my number?"

"Your old colleague McKnight gave it to me." A sigh on the other end. "Alex, why didn't you get in touch with me?"

"I..." He swallowed. "I... wanted to be alone. I needed some time to... deal with things."

"We could have helped you. We wanted to see you again. Dad was upset but... you were gone, and we just wanted to know you were alive. Alex, please, please don't push me away again."

"..." He couldn't figure out what to say to her. It had been so long since he had talked with anyone outside of his old job and when he occasionally went shopping... no, that wasn't it. He just didn't have a good justification for her. He had abandoned her.

Like he had abandoned Reznov.

"Ghh!"

"Mason? Are you okay?"

The pain lanced through his head again, and his vision went white for a moment.

"Mason?!"

Woods was dragging him out of the jungle water, leeches gripping onto his legs with the vice of a parasite. Gunfire echoed from the tree canopy as boys that were not even men took potshots at the two of them with rifles longer than their armspan.

"Mason, get the fuck up!" Woods pulled him up by his armpit. "MASON!"

"Alex! What's going on?!" Mason gasped, and he was back in his living room, the walls spinning around him and his sister's voice in his ear.

"S-Sorry..." he said, holding his head up with his hand. "I'm still dealing with things."

"What happened?" She sounded like she was on the verge of hanging up and calling an ambulance for him. "You sounded like you were having a panic attack... started mumbling about numbers."

"Don't worry—"

"Don't tell me not to worry, Alex!" He winced. She rarely raised her voice at anyone. "You nearly gave me a heart attack just now! Tell me what's going on, right now."

"Can we at least do it over food?" he asked. "I'm not too far away, just a couple towns over."

"...fine. Edna's Diner, 7:30. If you stand me up, I will get mad, and will not be held accountable for any property damage caused."

"Okay, I'll be there. Promise."

"You better."

The dial tone came on, and he hung up with a sigh. He hadn't talked to any of his family in years, let alone seen them in person. It was nerve-wracking, but... maybe this would be the first step to getting over Vorkuta.

"Step one!"

"Secure the keys," he said quietly, walking into the bathroom and splashing some water on his face.

"Step two!"

Alex Mason looked at himself in the mirror again, rubbing his eyes.

"Ascend from darkness."


I just finished replaying Black Ops. It was actually better than I expected, definitely one of the more interesting Call of Duty plots. Even with what we get from Black Ops 2, I definitely feel there is more that can be explored about Mason's mental trauma and his family (before we get involved with his wife and kid). I think I will write a follow-up to this eventually.

Thanks for reading.