Note: While I will be following the game's canon, I will change some of the weapons to be a little more modern, and allow the player characters to speak once in a while. Other than that, no big changes or anything. Oh, and I apologize if you see any similarities to other people's stories. I can be influenced by other authors, but I'm no plagiarizer.

Disclaimer: I don't own Call of Duty, unless you count the legally bought PC copies of Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare and Call of Duty: World at War.

A/N: Well readers, this is my first attempt at fanfiction, so I hope you enjoy it. Remember to review. Constructive critiscism is welcome. Flames are not.

Credenhill, UK

"Good news first, the world's in great shape."

"Gaz", as the Lieutenant at the briefing was called, was a member of what many considered to be one of, if not the best special forces units in the world.

The 22nd Special Air Service, known by its own simply as, "The Regiment".

He was second in command of a squad led by Captain John Price. Currently, Gaz was briefing the Captain on the state of world affairs. He took out his laptop, turned it on, and opened a few files. He tilted the screen to allow the Captain a better view.

"We've got a civil war in Russia, government loyalists against Ultranationalist rebels, with 15,000 nukes at stake." Video feed of loyalists and rebels clashing in Russian streets popped up.

"Just another day at the office..." Price replied with a sigh.

Gaz nodded in agreement, and clicked on another button.

"Khaled Al-Asad. Currently the second most powerful man in the Middle East." An image of Al-Asad appeared. "Word on the street is that's he got the minerals to be top dog down there. Intel's keeping an eye on him."

Captain Price nodded. "And the bad news?"

"We've got a new guy joining us today, fresh out of Selection. His name's Soap."

Trooper John "Soap" Mactavish was, for lack of a better term, bored. The bus traveled and shook along the crude road towards the SAS facility at Credenhill, making for a rather bumpy ride. As the bus bounced along the road, MacTavish reflected that he had come a long way from the recruitment center. He had joined the British army as a sniper, and had quickly gained a reputation for being an excellent shot. Anything that was in range of his rifle and needed to be taken care of was dead. MacTavish was known for making his shooting smooth and fluid, like a ballet dancer. Eventually, he was dubbed "Soap". The name suited him. Not only could he drill a target from a thousand meters away, Soap was quite proficient at close-quarter engagements as well. Snipers had to be good spotters as well, and spotters usually carried weapons like assault rifles or shorter-barreled carbines. So while long-range shooting was Soap's game, he could switch to CQB-orientated combat in a flash.

The Selection course had been far beyond brutal. Washout rates were rather high. Over half the people had left in the first few weeks. Soap had thought himself lucky to be alive as people just disappeared after being rejected and sent home. Only a select few had survived the torture, and somehow, Soap stood among them.

The bus stopped, and the soldiers stepped off, glad to get some fresh air. They received instructions to find the barracks, spend 15 minutes to settle in, and report to the armory. Soap didn't have too much luggage, so unpacking was easy and he got comfortable. Soap was the first to leave the barracks and headed off to the armory.

Soap stepped into the warehouse containing the armory to be greeted by a Lieutenant.

"Trooper John MacTavish reporting as requested, sir."

The Lieutenant looked up from where he had been cleaning his rifle. "You would be "Soap", correct?"

Soap's eyebrows rose. How did they know that?

The Lieutenant chuckled at Soap's expression. "It's just a name that's...well, sort of-"

"Odd, sir?", Soap ventured.

"I suppose so." The man chuckled again. "You can call me Gaz."

"Yes sir...Gaz."

Gaz grinned, before he slipped into a more serious demeanor. "Alright, go get a rifle from the table." Gaz gestured towards a table in front of a room full of weapons, from a AKM to a Javelin to Claymores. On the table was a single G36C carbine, with four magazines lying beside it. Soap walked over and picked it up along with the magazines. "Load your rifle.", Gaz instructed. "Go to station one, and aim your rifle downrange."

Soap peered through the Tasco Red Dot Sight mounted on the rifle. "Shoot each target while aiming down the sights." Two wooden targets appeared. Soap had set the G36C to semi-automatic to save ammo. The first target went down within half a second of popping up, and the other target followed a moment later.

"Lovely... Now, shoot at the targets while firing from the hip." Soap do so, and put down three targets that popped up slightly further away.

"Now I'm going to block the targets with a sheet of plywood." A 3 millimeter-thick board popped up, obscuring the targets. Soap fired at the targets based on where they had been the last time. The 5.56 x 45mm NATO rounds punched through the wood and the targets on the other side fell once again. "Good. Bullets will penetrate thin, weak materials like wood, plaster, and sheet metal. Now I'm going to make the targets pop up one at a time. Hit all of them as fast as you can." Soap took the opportunity to reload. Then, targets sprung up and Soap acted on instinct, firing single shots. The test ended half a minute later as the last target fell with a thud.

"Proper good job mate!" Gaz complimented. Soap allowed himself a small smile. "Now go get a sidearm from the armory." Soap walked over and grabbed a SIG Sauer P226 and slipped it into his holster. "Good. Now switch to your rifle." It took about a second to do so. "Now pull out your sidearm." Soap allowed the G36C to drop to his side, hanging from it's strap, and withdrew his P226 in half a second. "Remember, switching to your pistol is always faster than reloading."

Soap nodded in the affirmative. Gaz continued. "Using your knife is even faster than switching to your pistol. Knife the watermelon." Gaz gestured to a watermelon and a combat knife on the table besides him. Soap picked up the knife and slashed the melon, which disintegrated. "Nice! Your fruit killing skills are remarkable!" Soap smirked. "Soap? Captain Price wants to see you in Hanger One."

"Yes, si- Gaz." Damn. That was going to take some time to get used to. Soap headed out the door from which he had come in.

It didn't take long for Soap to reach the hanger. He heard voices as he neared the giant sliding doors. The doors opened, revealing a small cluster of men, all dressed in black kits, complete with gas masks. All of them, except one. Soap swallowed as he realized that he was looking at no one else but Captain Price.

"It's the F.N.G. sir," One of the SAS motioned towards Soap.

"Go easy on him sir, it's his first time in the Regiment." Soap decided that the comment was more sarcastic and degrading than meaningful.

"Right...what the hell kind of name is Soap, eh? How'd a muppet like you pass Selection?" Price looked down on Soap with his arms crossed. He struck an imposing figure. An awkward silence fell.

"I guess I was in that 7 percent, sir." Soap meekly replied at last.

The Captain merely nodded. "Soap, it's your turn to take the CQB test. Everyone else, go to observation. For this test, you'll have to run the cargoship solo in less than half a minute. Gaz holds the current squadron record at 19 seconds. Good luck. Climb the ladder over there." Price gestured for Soap to climb a ladder leading up to a scaffold.

Soap reached the top of the ladder, and a SAS operative at the top helped him up. "Ok...Soap, here are your instructions. You'll go through the course, shooting the targets. This is a timed event. When you exit the course, your time will be recorded. I will subtract time based on your accuracy. Understand?"

"Right..." Soap answered. This was his chance to prove that he wasn't just another blundering muppet that didn't know what to do. Hopefully he wouldn't screw this up.

"Good man. Take that MP5 and those flashbangs. Grab the rope on my mark." Soap braced himself. "Standby...standby...GO GO GO!"

Soap grabbed the rope and slid all the way to the bottom. Three targets just like the ones back at the shooting range popped up through what looked like the "bridge" of the ship mock-up. Three double-taps sounded, and three targets fell backwards.

"Position 2, GO!" Soap sprinted into the "bridge" and down a staircase. A target that popped up at the bottom of the stairs and was greeted by three 9mm rounds to the "head". Soap turned left to see another room where targets had just appeared. "Position 3, GO! Flashbang through the door!" Soap pulled the pin on one of his newly acquired flashbangs and tossed it through the door. He waited outside the room so as not to be blinded. Boom. Soap rushed in, putting down the targets with unnerving speed and accuracy.

"Position 4! GO!" Two more double-taps, two targets met the floor. "Position 5, GO! Soap lobbed another flashbang through the door, and two targets sprang up immediately and were put down just as quickly. "Final position, GO! Sprint to the finish!"

Soap burst across the finish line and stopped, leaning against the wall for support and breathing heavily. Once he had recovered, he walked over to the monitors that made up the observation area, and waited for Price to finish his evaluation.

"Damn..." The Captain broke the silence.

"What's the score?" One of the other SAS leaned over to look at the clipboard in Price's hands. His jaw dropped.

"Bloody hell! 20.1 seconds...?" The SAS looked over to Soap with a subtle respect that had not been there before.

One of the SAS nudged another.

"I think Gaz has competition."

Price smirked. "He's not going to like this..."

"Bloody right."

Captain Price turned to Soap with a small smile. "Welcome to the SAS."

Soap grinned.

He motioned to the three SAS at his side. "This is Corporal Hopkins, this is Corporal Griffin, and this is Sergeant Wallcroft." They nodded to each other in acknowledgement.

Price addressed the group. "Gentlemen, the cargo ship mission is a go. Wheels up at 0200. Dismissed."