Three days before the events of Modern Warfare:

"What is it Gaz?" Price asked, looking up from his work on his M1911 .45 Captain's pistol as his friend and second in command stood in the doorway.

"One day I'm going to sneak up on you," Gaz muttered.

"Not today," Price grunted. "What's going on?"

"You've got a call from the Director of Special Forces, sir. MacMillan, I think his name was."

Intrigued, Price inserted the clip, holstered his pistol, and followed Gaz out of the room to a desk with a phone. The red dot that flashed on one of the buttons indicated that there was a call on hold.

"Gaz, how 'bout you go label the guns or something," Price said, staring at the phone. "You may be able to remember a few names later."

"Yes sir," Gaz said with a grin as he headed for the door. "I wonder if I should use assault rifles or sidearms this time."

Price waited until Gaz exited before picking up the phone. "This is Price."

"Hey, lad," came an older man's voice through the phone. "You been staying out of trouble lately? Or are you still waiting for another war?"

"C'mon, Mac," Price said, relaxing somewhat. "You know that war is inevitable… if it ever even ended."

"Hm, you'll never change," Mac said. "Unfortunately, I think the war is going to start soon. I just received confirmation that President Al-Fulani has been captured. Al-Asad announced that the President will be executed in three days. It looks like the team that we're creating will have to wait."

"Shit," said Price, fingering his pistol. We don't have much time."

"Time?" Mac asked dryly. "We don't have any time, son. You will be given special assignments within three days. That's actually the reason that I called."

Price heard his friend and mentor hesitate. The Captain sighed. "I know that tone. What are you about to do to me?"

"We're sending you a new addition to the team," the Mac answered. "He's good. Maybe even better than you were. Tests say he's a perfect soldier."

"Mac, don't do this to me," Price replied exasperatedly. "I hate 'perfect soldiers'. They don't know how to fail and when they do, they don't know how to handle it. Or they argue with everything you say. Why can't I just—"

"John!" Mac said sharply. "It's done. And out of our control. The most you can do is make the best of it. "

Price shook his head.

"Besides," Mac continued optimistically. "You were new once too. And you did just fine."

"I had a good teacher," Price said quietly. He sighed. "Fine. But I don't have to like him."

"I wouldn't expect you to right away," Mac said with a chuckle. "I knew a certain soldier that I didn't want around at first either."

Mac ended the call.

Price exited the room and turned to Gaz who was leaning against the wall outside the door.

"F.N.G." Price said.

Gaz rolled his eyes. "Fucking New Guy."

Three Days Later…

Price and three masked soldiers stood behind a series of observation monitors, waiting for the new guy to run 'The Course'. 'The Course' was a three-story mock-up of a cargo ship. Targets at been painted to resemble automatic rifle-wielding terrorists in ski masks.

Some of the soldiers next to Price began teasing the new guy when they saw his choice of weaponry.

Before the new guy, designation "Soap", grabbed the rope; he pulled out his USP .45 Pistol.

"He's got style," Gaz commented, listening to the chatter through the com.

Price simply grunted and addressed the soldier above him. "Grab the rope when you're ready."

Soap grabbed the rope and rappelled down to the second level of the training area.

Price began shouting orders. "Go, go, go!"

Three targets rose from the ground. One was stationed behind a desk, another rose next to the desk, and a third was located at the entrance to the mock-up ship's 'bridge'.

Hit the targets!"

Price's eyes flicked between the monitors as Soap shot all three targets in the head before moving down a level and shooting another target at the base of the stairs.

Price continued shouting orders as Soap traversed the training course.

Ignoring the comments of the soldiers next to him, Price folded his arms.

After reaching bottom of the stairs, Soap stopped outside of a room with two targets lying flat on the ground.

"Flash-bang through the door!" Price ordered.

Soap complied and shot the targets as they revealed themselves in the aftermath of the flash-bang's explosion. Soap quickly moved into the next room, knifing a target on his right before shooing the target that rose in front of him.

All the while, Price continued to give orders.

As the new guy reached the next hallway, Price ordered him to throw a flash-bang through the door and shoot the two remaining targets before moving on.

Soap did as commanded and, as per Price's orders, turned right and exited the training area, sprinting to a red circle across the room.

The training run was complete.

Price hit a button on the console to reset the course. He looked up from the monitors as Soap stood by the ladder leading to the start of the training course.

"Pretty good, Soap," Price said with a hint of admiration. "But I've seen better. Climb up the ladder if you want another go. Otherwise come over to the monitors for debrief."

"Price," Gaz said through the private com. "Orders from Command."

Price listened in on the patched com before looking up. "Gentleman, the cargo-ship mission is a go. Get yourselves sorted out. Wheels up at 0200. Dismissed."