A.N.: Hey guys, what's up? So this first chapter is gonna be a little shorter than what the rest are gonna be like, but that's only because there isn't much going on and the story is just starting off. That's basically all I have to say at this point, so here's the chapter. So, feel free to leave a review, send a PM, and of course, enjoy. Until next time, OPKILLERFROST, out.

Tracking… Found

Unknown

Credenhill, United Kingdom

Before I start this story, I am just going to start off by saying that things happened differently than what you know. History is written by the victor, and the victor rewrote history. As far as you know, the United States supported an attack on Zakhaev International Airport, which led to the start of World War III. But that's not what happened. In actuality, the American that was found at the scene of the crime was a deep cover asset sent in to spy on Vladimir Makarov. What that operative did not know is that his superior sold him out in order to gain the glory from this war. While this was happening, the Russians were working on cracking an ACS module from a downed U.S. satellite. Two members of an elite team known as Task Force 141 were sent in to recover the module. Their mission was a success, but they failed to recover it in time. The Russians cracked the code and managed to get their fighters over the East Coast of the United States, ready to get revenge for what happened in Moscow. While the United States Armed Forces were busy fighting the threat at home, the Task Force was sent around the world tracking Makarov and beginning the counter attack. In fact, if it weren't for them, the United States never would have pushed Ivan out of the country. But enough of that, what you need to know is that there are always two sides to every conflict. Remember that the story that you learn about and begin to know as true is not always so. Remember that there is always that other side, the unknown. This is that story.

Six and a Half Years Ago

Tracking… Found

Private Emily Hill

22nd SAS Regiment

Credenhill, United Kingdom

Have I ever mentioned that Russia was starting to become a thorn in everybody's side? First, it all started after World War II, starting the Cold War. Then there was the multiple wars in which they backed anybody that was not the United States. Now, they began to fight themselves. Russia was engaged in a Civil War between the Ultranationalist Rebels and the government. Unfortunately, if the Ultranationalists were allowed to come to power, the rest of the world would be on edge for the outbreak of World War III. As of right now, we were going to be helping fight the war from the shadows. Our next op was going to be to storm a freighter that will be crossing the Bering Strait and stop a nuke from being delivered to Russia. Hopefully, we'd get there in time. For now, though, we were going to have to train the FNGs.

As of right now, Gaz was in Hanger Three showing them how the SAS gets shit done. In the meantime, I was going to be hanging out with Riley. We were hanging out in Hanger Two, which actually housed the mess hall and rec room. There were a couple of other guys in there, but for the most part, we were the only ones that were actually doing something productive.

"Ten bucks says that one of the FNGs are gonna wander into here thinking they made it into the right hanger." I said

"You're on." Riley said

Sure enough, not five minutes later, one of the FNGs walked in, wandering around. He looked kinda cute, but he had this mohawk that just ruined the way that he looked.

"Is Captain Price in here?" He asked, his voice thick with a Scottish accent

"Nope, next hanger over." I said, almost dying of laughter when I saw Riley's face, almost like he couldn't believe that they would be dumb enough to go to the wrong hanger.

Once the FNG left, I held out my hand towards Riley, and felt satisfaction when I felt the money touch my hand. Nothing felt better than making a bet with Riley and proving him wrong. But now that I was thinking of it, I wanted to get over to Hanger One and see if either of these FNGs looked promising. Getting up, I walked over to the hanger, where I saw Captain Price sitting behind a row of TVs, watching their progress. Looking up, I saw a girl with brown hair waiting for her turn to run the course. That must mean that the Scot that walked in the hanger earlier was running the course.

"Sprint to the finish!" Price said "Alright Soap, that's enough. You'll do."

"Took him long enough, that was what, his tenth time running the course? No wonder the chick up there looks about ready to hang herself from boredom." Griffen said

I took a look at how fast "Soap" ran the course in and saw that the display read 22.2. I knew that the current squadron record was held by Gaz at 19 seconds, but I couldn't help but wonder if this FNG was trying to beat Gaz's record on his first day here. It would've been impressive, but I knew that it was impossible. Even after training on this thing for months, nobody can beat Gaz's record. The closest was Price with a solid 20. After Soap walked back over here, I looked up and saw the girl grab some flashbangs before walking to the edge of the platform.

"Grab the rope when you're ready." Followed by a "Go, go, go!" came from Price

I watched on the monitors as she went through and meticulously took out every obstacle. I guess after seeing Soap do it, she was more than ready to tackle this course. When she stepped into the red circle labeled "Finish," I looked up and saw her time. 22.1. I could already see the look of outrage on Soap's face that he had been beaten by a tenth of a second.

"Alright King, that's enough. You'll do." Price said

The new chick, King walked over to us and Price began his briefing on the cargo mission. Although in retrospect, he should have gone into more detail with it, because of the fact that Soap and King had no clue what the cargo ship mission was, due to the fact that it was their first day here.

"Gentlemen," Price said

He was interrupted by a short cough by me. He looked up and I stared pointedly at him, nodding my head towards King while I did it.

"And ladies, the cargo ship mission is a go. Wheels up at 0200. Dismissed."

After that, we all left the hanger and I walked with Riley back to the barracks. If we were leaving that early for this op, I was going to catch some Z's beforehand. We walked into the barracks and I walked down the hall into my room, while Riley went into his room. When I walked in, I saw that the other bunk was finally being occupied, with a duffel thrown onto it. Must belong to that King girl. Not a second later, she walked into the room. Speak of the Devil and they shall appear, am I right?

"Oh, hi." She said

"Hey." I said

"Um, you must be Emily. I'm Amy, Amy King."

Her introduction reminded me of 007. 'The name's Bond. James Bond.' I was almost tempted to make a joke about it, but it didn't seem right. This chick was trying to get a good first impression with one of the other soldiers here (that soldier being me), so something told me that I shouldn't screw this up.

"The name's Emily Hill. You on the cargo mission with us later?"

"Captain Price said that Soap and I were going, yeah."

So Soap was going too. Must be Price wanting to test how they were on the battlefield. Was a good idea. I would want to know if my soldiers were combat effective or if they were just a bunch of pansies who somehow made it through Selection against all odds.

"Well, you might want to grab some shut-eye. We're leavin' early, so you don't want to be tired and miss the chopper. Price would have your hide when we got back."

I saw her face pale a little, and she just nodded before changing out of her uniform and into her sleepwear. After she was done changing, she flopped on her bed, which I did the same, and we both fell asleep.

Tracking… Found

Sgt. John "Soap" MacTavish

22nd SAS Regiment

Credenhill, United Kingdom

When I walked into my room, I saw that someone was already in there, reading a book. It was Gaz. I guess I shared a room with him now. I walked over to my bunk and pulled out something that was a little more comfortable than the uniform I was wearing and changed quickly. After that, I flopped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling for a little while, going over everything that was in my head. Was I going to be good on the mission? Was I going to screw up? Would I make the team doubt me? There were so many things floating through my head, that I almost didn't hear Gaz speak.

"You'll be fine, FNG."

"The name's Soap." I said

"I know, but right now, you're the FNG. The Fucking New Guy, so I might as well use the name while it lasts. Don't worry, mate, the name will wear off eventually and you'll be known as Soap in no time."

I just looked at him, then shook my head. I pulled out the journal that I had picked up when I heard that I made it through Selection, and I began to write. I had the feeling that this was going to be the start of a big part of my life, and I was excited to see where this would take me. I guess I would find out in nine hours. For now, though. I was going to sketch in my journal and start chronicling my life with the SAS. I guess Price was right, it's just another day at the office.