Hey all. This is my entry into the Modern Warfare world, and I hope you enjoy it. It's quick, 1000-word snippets of Ramirez's time in the Ranger's base. Hopefully it will carry into the Modern Warfare 2 storyline. Anyway, enjoy. And I don't know anything about military protocol or procedures. Or military life. So there.

Cheers and enjoy.

-Daarb123

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters portrayed in this story. Those belong to Infinity Ward.

Modern Warfare 2: The Awakening

Chapter 1

Private James Ramirez woke to the sound of gunfire. Slowly, he sat up. He found that he was still in the UH-60 Blackhawk helicopter, shot down by multiple SAMs.

Looking down at his hands, he found that his gloves were ripped and torn, his palms bleeding. His wrist computer was cracked as well.

Outside, blazing fires streaked across the streets, and destroyed vehicles were littered everywhere. There were three soldiers firing at the swarms of Russians surrounding him and he could recognize two of them, his Sergeant and a Corporal. The third soldier looked vaguely familiar, but Ramirez couldn't quite place his face to a name with his brain still half-asleep. The private passed him a gun and yelled something at him, then Ramirez felt his blood spatter across his face. Ramirez blearily brought up the gun, placed the seemingly too big dot onto a black shadow, and fired. He switched targets, and soon, the gun ran out of ammo. Ramirez reached down for another magazine, but he discovered that all his pouches were empty. At that moment, his Sergeant yelled more stuff at him (he really was getting tired at being yelled at) and tossed him another magazine. Ramirez quickly reloaded, and began taking down targets once more. He quickly ran out of ammunition, and he looked up just in time to see the Corporal get shot. The drone of a helicopter drowned out everything else, and when a spotlight shone down onto them, Ramirez knew it was over.

1010101

Private James Ramirez stepped off the military cargo plane. He gladly took a deep breath of fresh air, thankful that he had finally landed. The air inside the plane had been hot and stuffy, and the people there weren't exactly friendly either.

Ramirez could see everyone lining up to a desk. He stepped in line, throwing his duffel over his shoulder as he did so.

"Next!" The next soldier stepped up to the desk.

After what seemed like a long time, it was finally Ramirez's turn. He stepped up to the desk. A man in a patrol cap glanced up at Ramirez. "Glanced up" was an understatement. He positively glared at Ramirez, those deep brown eyes piercing through to his core, making Ramirez shiver. "Sir!" he shouted, snapping off a crisp salute.

"Name, rank and number." The man had a voice to match his cold exterior.

"Ramirez, James. Private. Service number 182234679-JR." Ramirez stood at stiff attention.

"Place your thumb onto the fingerprint scanner, Private."

Ramirez did as he was told. After his fingerprint was scanned, the computer blinked green, confirming his identity.

"Report to barracks 256-Charlie immediately." The officer turned to the line. "Next!"

Ramirez did a swift about face, and turned to the immense area that was the Rangers base. He found himself completely lost trying to find the barracks he was supposed to report to.

This base is ridiculous, he thought. It was like a maze, and he couldn't make sense of how the barracks were numbered. It seemed like they were numbered randomly, with no relation whatsoever.

After aimlessly wandering around for twenty minutes, he moved to ask a passing soldier for directions. He kindly pointed out the base, and Ramirez thanked him. When he was gone, Ramirez faceplamed.

He had been circling his barracks the entire time, thinking it was another.

Sighing, he walked inside.

The barracks was packed full of soldiers, each of them doing their own thing. Some were chatting, others reading magazines, but most were just lounging around, apparently waiting for something, though Ramirez couldn't imagine what.

He sighed again, walking over to one of the quieter areas and placing his duffel onto an empty bunk. He didn't make any friends on the plane, nor did he want to interact with his unit any more than he needed to. So, he completely ignored the soldier who was breathing down his neck and watching him unpack.

After a while, though, Ramirez just couldn't take it any more.

"Can you please back the fuck off?" he snapped, turning around and staring the soldier in his face.

The corporal standing there smiled up at him with a goofy grin. "Knew you would turn when I did it long enough." His face hardened slightly, though the smile was still present on his lips. "The name's Dunn. Jake Dunn. And you are?"

Ramirez shook his head inwardly. He didn't want to be polite when he was extremely agitated, and certainly not to the individual who made him so. But manners were manners, so he opened his mouth and said, "Ramirez, James. Private-"

"Whoa, whoa. There's no need for that here." Dunn waved his hands dismissively. "It's not like I'm a drill sergeant or something like that. So," he said, abruptly putting his foot up on Ramirez's footlocker. "You get transferred or you're from the reserve?"

"Reserve." Ramirez decided to keep to one-word answers.

"Oh. Hmm. Met quite a lot of you out there, so that means ..." Dunn tapped his index finger against his chin, lost in thought.

"Get your head out of your ass, Corporal. Don't pretend to be thoughtful in front of the new guy." Ramirez turned to see an African American standing behind them. He stood with the air of command, and had deep brown eyes, eyes that said he had seen combat, and so much more. Either way, this was a commanding officer. Ramirez spied the insignia on his sleeve, and the words "Foley" embroidered into his BDU.

"Sergeant Foley, sir!" he said, saluting, while Dunn jumped and said "Sarge!" in surprise.

Foley, like Dunn, gave a dismissive wave. "It's okay to be improper around here, Private. Just settle down, we'll get to know each other soon enough." Ramirez hadn't been expecting that reply.

He had imagined that a commanding officer would be cold and calculating, putting the men through PT as though they were machines, and yell at them for apparently no reason. Not like this friendly man who seemed not at all unpleasant.

"Yes sir, Sergeant."

"Please, drop that military stuff. What's your name?" He held out his hand to shake.

Ramirez relaxed a little. "James. James Ramirez." They shook.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Ramirez. I see you've met Corporal Dunn here."

Ramirez nodded.

"Now, Dunn, are you alright? You look like you've been through hell."

Dunn smoothed a hand through his hair. "Yeah, well, command just said that we're on 24 hour leave until furthur notice, blah blah blah all that shit, and in case you didn't notice, most of the people here and completely and utterly mindfucked to lalaland because of boredom."

"I see." Foley's eyes darkened, then lit up again as if he had an idea. Which he did. "You wanna go put some rounds downrange? I heard they had a new rifle coming in."

"Yeah, I should probably do that. I haven't been shooting well lately. Coming, Ramirez?" Dunn cocked an eyebrow at him.

"No, I'd like to, but I gotta wait for my CO to show up." Ramirez resumed unpacking.

"Technically, he's already here."

Both Dunn and Ramirez turned to look at Foley. Dunn gawked, while Ramirez was at a lost for words. There was no way that this man could be his CO.

At exactly the same time, in exactly the same tone, and in exactly the same facial expression, both Dunn and Ramirez said, "What?"

Foley couldn't help but chuckle at this spectacle. "You heard me. You guys heading out to the firing range or not?"

Both men were still stunned, with Dunn barely managing to stammer out a "Yeah, sarge," and Ramirez shuffling along close behind. Foley smiled, and gave them a little wave to push them along. The two soldiers scrambled out of the barracks towards the firing range.

Inside, Foley smiled. Let them have their fun. In a few short hours, Ramirez would be put into his first warzone, and that was something Foley never wanted to do to a clean man. Sighing, he turned and walked over to some other recruits fooling around.

*Alternate ending*

Inside, Foley smiled. It had been a long time since he had an innocent soldier to order around. Now, he could finally take a break from his virtually nonexistent workload and have someone do it for him. Oh, how he longed to shout at someone while everyone else did the work. Let the "Ramirez!" days begin!

Author's Note: Heh, thought I'd put that in there just for fun. I've already written half the second chapter, and it will be slightly longer than this one. Hopefully I'll get that up in a few days. Until then, Happy New Year!