Chapter One: A Long Way From Home:

United States Marine Corps Camp Pendleton, San Diego, California.

Leopold Fitz:

The base was abuzz with new recruits, all of whom had been bussed down from Las Angeles to start their journey with the Corps that very morning. Most of these young men were fresh out of High School, and were in remarkable shape. But then there was Fitz.

He was shorter than the average recruit, but not by much. He was however, very skinny. And he was the only non-American there. He was a 19-year-old Scotsman, who felt a call of duty for the country that had become his home during his engineering doctorate. After the attacks on Manhattan and Washington D.C. that had made 9/11 seem like a joke, Leopold Fitz had enlisted in the Marine Corps to go fight the enemy overseas and protect his new home from attack. But that meant he had to leave the woman he loved, Jemma Simmons, back at the University they had been working together at in the last year of their doctorates.

Fitz had denied being made an officer, instead choosing to enlist to fight on the frontlines. And here he was, one of many, his hair freshly buzzed to nearly bald, with PT gear on and looking to get started on his first week of boot camp.

And god he had never, ever, done anything this hard. he went to bed each night exhausted, barely able to move. He excelled at the memory work that all recruits went through, and ended up memorizing the Marine Corps pamphlet with the basics in it in about 20 minutes, and was the first to pass all of his memory work, being granted reprieve for an afternoon.

By the end of his third week, he was seriously regretting joining the Corps. He was exhausted both physically and mentally. He was gaining muscle, and even a little bulk. But he was still small compared to even just the other men in his squad. But he was the smartest and the fastest learner. He picked up shooting his M4 down the range to hit marksman proficiency in 2 rounds, and had the fastest disassemble, clean, and reassemble time of anyone on the base.

It was by the end of the first month that he got a letter from his girlfriend Jemma, his first correspondence with her in a month. He never had time to write, and he felt guilty about it.

Dear Fitz,

I miss you so much. It's been incredibly boring here, and it's so quiet in the apartment without you. I hope you're well, because I know how much doing this means to you. And it just amazes me how much you care for this country after only living here for 5 years. I'm so proud of you Leopold Fitz, and I…

This was as far into Jemma's letter as he got to read before some of the men in his training group had seized the letter and begun reading it aloud in mocking tones, feigning a cooing sound while hitting Fitz, embarrassing him in front of the rest of his unit. That's when a deafening sound was heard.

"What in the name of Holy Fuck are you shit birds doing?!" was the first words Sergeant Mackenzie blared into the barracks. No one even had the ability to call the room to attention, they were all shocked, and fell into line quickly, including Fitz. Great, a surprise inspection and here I am in my boxers and a shirt with my bunk a mess from those assholes trouncing on it.

"Nothing Sergeant!" came the units well ingrained response to the Sergeants question.

"This sure as fuck don't seem like nothing. Fitz, Hauc, Johnston, front and center!" boomed his voice, and the three men came forward, in varying stages of undress. They stood at attention as the much larger man that was Sergeant Alphonso Mackenzie eyed them, noticing the fluster on Fitz's face, the crumpled papers in the hands of Hauc and Johnston, and how they had been acting earlier left them a little unsteady.

"Now listen up the three of you. Uniforms, now. I want the letter and all its contents in my hand, now!" and Hauc handed them over, and one of the men in the barracks handed the Sergeant the envelope it came in. "Alright pissants, three minutes till we roll out. Go! Meet me outside. You're on the clock! Room Dismissed!" he finished, and the three men scrambled to get dressed.

Fitz pulled on his fatigues as quickly as possible, and then laced up his combat boots, which were shined to perfection. The creases in his uniform were perfect. He always made sure. And he was outside with a minute to spare. Hauc and Johnston were almost late, making it into line with Fitz with seconds to spare.

The four men marched down to the administrative offices on the base, where Fitz was sure they were gonna get tossed on KP duty for the rest of Boot Camp. They made it to the offices, the Sergeant leading the way while his three recruits followed him. He sat the three of them down before entering an office. The three of them didn't dare move their eyes anywhere from straight ahead of them, affixed to the wall in front of them, awaiting their fate.

After the longest five minutes of his life, Sergeant Mackenzie walked back out, calling forward Hauc and Johnston to follow him inside.

For the next maybe twenty minutes, Fitz heard the screams from the CO through the walls, but could not understand what was being said. The Sergeant eventually emerged from the room, calling Fitz forward.

Fitz stood at attention, remembering what they were taught to do before a superior officer.

"Sir! Recruit Leopold Fitz reporting as requested!" he barked out in the familiar manner he was used to, and the Major behind the the desk waved him to the chair, where Fitz took his seat at attention, awaiting disciplinary action.

"At ease, son. This isn't a hunt for your head." he said, more amused than anything. Fitz relaxed his body, staying in a professional manner while the major looked him over. "Alright, let's look at your file, shall we." he said. It wasn't any sort of question. It was a statement and Fitz had no say, so he kept his mouth closed as Sergeant Mackenzie looked on in the corner.

"Well recruit, I am impressed. You left a prestigious University, where you were the top of the class in the engineering department to enlist in the Corps. Why?" Major Sitwell asked him, a bemused look on his face.

"Well sir, I came to America five years ago to begin my University work, and this country has been my home. After the attacks on Manhattan and D.C., I felt a sense of duty to this country that has become my home." He replied, short and concise. No need to ramble on.

"Very well recruit. Say's here you have memorized the information packet in its entirety, finishing all of your memory work perfectly in twenty minutes. You have the highest ratings on both the rifle and small arms range, and you excel at PT and technical work. I must say I am impressed by everything but your team work numbers. You're very much a lone wolf, aren't you?" the Major asked, and he was correct.

"Yes sir, I've been used to being ostracized since a young age, and learned I was most efficient on my own or with a team of my equals. And no offense sir, but none of those men are anywhere near being my equals." Fitz said, trying and failing to hide the hint of smugness in his voice. The Major laughed.

"Well Private Fitz, looks here like you'll be an excellent addition to the Corps. But I feel we are truly wasting your talents here. We need men of action on the frontlines. Men who don't need a whole battalion at their backs, rather just a small team. A team of the best. I'm offering for you to join MARSOC, son. The best of the best. You'd leave training now with Sergeant Mackenzie, and arrive for accelerated training so we can have you out in the War in less than a month. You'd be trained as a Recon sniper, to work with a multi-national team in the field to counter terrorism and take out threats. Does that sound good to you?" the Major asked, and Fitz felt like he had been punched in the stomach.

"Sir, yes Sir. I would love to Sir." Fitz stammered, surprised at the offer.

"Alright then, Private. Welcome to the Corps. Pack your bags, grab new chevrons from the Sergeant here on the way out." he said, closing his file, allowing Fitz time to stand at attention and salute him before returning it.

"On it, sir." He said, making his way to the Sergeant before exiting.

Sitwell called out to them. "Oh and Private, I do believe that lovely lady of yours deserves a response. Let her know you graduated two months early. You'll be reporting to Camp Lejeune in North Carolina. Tell her that's your new address." Sitwell said, the two men leaving.

The two split up, making their way to their barracks, Fitz wearing the hardware of a Private, and received awed looks from his fellow recruits in the building before he remembered, he's above them. He packed his bag up, and left the room, ready to go.

He made his way to the NCO barracks, and sat there writing a letter to Jemma. Her letter had been two pages, but he knew he would only get a page at most.

Dear Jemma,

Things are so exciting here! I just got promoted out of Boot Camp to start Special Forces training. I love you and miss you so very much sweetheart. I hope the lab work is going well, and I know that by the time you're done with your degree, I'll have graduated from MARSOC. I should be able to attend your graduation. And I'll get to see you.

I have to leave you my forwarding address. It'll be at Camp Lejeune in North Carolina. And I'll have a week before I ship off to the War to be with you dear.

Love,

Fitz

Fitz picked his head up, realizing that Sergeant Mackenzie had been standing over him, laughing heartily at the younger man's look of fear, before patting him on the shoulder.

"Oh Turbo, we're gonna have good times." he said, helping Fitz off the ground. They picked up their bags and made their way to the post office, and they dropped off his letter at the bases post office before climbing into the Sergeant's car and began their drive to the airport.

"Sergeant, which airport are we…" was as far as he got before he was cut off.

"Look Turbo, call me Mack. Only call me Sergeant when we're in dress uniform okay? It feels weird, man. So, let's keep it simple. We're buddies now, anyway. They got plans for us Turbo." he said. "And we're driving to Miramar. We'll fly from there, to Georgia, where we're picking up a pure ball of sunshine from the Army at Fort Benning, and an airman from Maxwell in Alabama before making it to Camp Jejune. There, we'll meet an SAS soldier, leant to us for our task force. This ain't gonna be regular MARSOC Turbo. We're being trained to be a five-man unit that needs no extraction. And you my friend, are going to be our sniper." Mack laughed, grasping Fitz's shoulder in an act of friendliness as Fitz laughed a little.

"Who are these guys?" Fitz asked, wondering who these men he was going to be bound for the rest of his possibly short life were going to be.

"Well, we got Specialist Grant Ward from the Army. I've met him before, he's a right ball of sunshine. And I can only say that with so much sarcasm because he's the meanest son of a bitch to go through the Army since Colonel Chester Phillips himself. Then we have Antoine Triplett, a good friend of mine from a joint exercise we did a few years ago. You'll like him. And then there's Lance Hunter. A brilliant SAS officer, who is a brilliant tactician when he isn't drinking. But you'll like him, he's a good guy." Mack finished, and they looked on into the setting sun over Miramar Air Field.

And it was looking at that sunset that Leopold Fitz realized how he was part of something much bigger than himself for the first time in his life.