I've decided it's time for another One-shot. I haven't written in a looooooooong time on account of life and morbid lack of inspiration as far as this topic goes. But thanks to a few very dedicated readers, a much needed and inspiring review, and my dear friend caffeine, I'm back with a vengeance.

Here goes nothing, and I apologize if it's very rusty.

Gary's POV

2 weeks prior to MW2

The F.N.G. aka…Gary Sanderson

Better Known as Me

#$%#$!#%!$%!#

I plop down in the only empty seat on the entire army bus. My duffel bag is soaking, as is my hair, from the relentless downpour of rain. Of course it's bloody raining on the day I move to my new base with the 141. On top of everything else that has been going on it RAINS.

A few of the other men glance over at me, but then go back to their own conversations. Just seeing the other passengers getting along so well makes me feel alone and depressed. They all have friends waiting for them at base. They are all returning to familiar territory. They're all going to stay in the same rooms, obey the commands of an officer they know well, and they all have deep connections (or at least some connections) with the men on their squads.

Me? I'm Gary. Gary Sanderson. I'm you average sergeant. Well…sort of. I'm like a little kid compared to the other guys in the army; scrawny and young. I'm not all decorated with medals and scars with deep stories behind them (though the scars I do have are accompanied by a different genre of stories). I got no amazing victories to speak of and I have basically B. my way through military life.

Salutes and good course times are the only reason I'm even on this god-forsaken bus with these battle-hardened warriors. My old C.O., Lt. Johnson, put in a good word to General Shepherd to get me here. He made up a report with all kinds of crap about my "excellent accuracy" and "spotless record". That's only half B.S. But I'll get back to that at another time.

Right now I wanna rant some more about how I am not looking forward to going into this new squad. I was perfectly happy in England, screwing around with my buddies in the SAS, pulling pranks on the C.O.'s, and putting on a poker face when it came to placing the blame on someone else. I was a good X.O. when I was needed to be a good leader, but mostly we just goofed off.

Now I'm off to the 141 to be one of the most influential soldiers in a war that's about to break out.

Bloody FAN-TASTIC!

Oh great. Some meathead just dropped into the seat next to me to post-pone my brooding. "Hey, new guy," the brute smiles and extends a hand, "The name's Meat."

I shake his hand but raise a questioning eyebrow, "You're joking."

He suddenly goes stony faced and retracts his hand. "Absolutely not. Why in heaven's name would I joke about my name?" he shakes his head and clicks his tongue, "So much to learn. What's your name?"

"Gary." I say simply. He motions for me to elaborate with an impatient hand. "Sergeant Gary Sanderson."

"You're joking."

I shake my head.

"A lot to learn." He repeats.

I mutter something along the lines of 'I heard you the first time…' and go back to staring out the window and wishing I was cracking a beer with my old mates.

Meat makes no further effort to speak. That is until a few hours later, long after the bus has gone into motion and the countryside had flown by. "We'll be back home soon."

"We turned around?" I say in mock-excitement, sitting up straight. For a moment he looks really cheesed off, but I grin. "I was only joking."

He returns the smile. "Good, I was worried you were gonna be one of those brooding kids they always seem to send us." He motions to some of the other men on the bus, "You know, I doubt they'd even know a good prank if it were a nude woman from Europe."

I chuckle at this comment, not bothering to ask who 'they' were, and shake my head, "Boy, do I know pranks."

"NOW you're talkin'." Meat fist pumps, enthusiasm now clear upon his face. "We'll have a prank war sometime, depending on how long you live."

I beam and do my best to ignore the last half of the comment, figuring it to be a quirk in the man's personality. "Only if you don't mind failure."

We go on like that for another half hour; swapping jokes, stories, and threats against the other whenever it came down to contests or pranks. Pretty soon, we arrive at the base. It's unlike anything I've ever seen. For one thing, the barracks are huge. For another, the place looks like it has enough tanks, planes, and soldiers to take down an entire army without any effort.

"There she is, kid." Meat points. "That's been my home for the past seven years. The great uno-cinco-uno base."

I'm too deep in awe to inform Meat that 'cinco' is the Spanish word for 'five'. "It's…It's huge!"

"Great observation." He laughs, sitting back and cracking his knuckles. "Here's some advice. #1; be either early or right on time for any meal. If you're not, you don't eat. #2; if you're gonna screw around and goof off, be a faster runner than the guy next to you. #3; the lady nurses are off limits. If they suddenly aren't, then I have dibs. #4; don't, I repeat, DO NOT get caught by Shepherd. Anyone else you'll get off the hook pretty easily, but NOT SHEPHERD. #5; Gadget is off limits too."

"Who's—"

Meat cuts me off. "C'mon, let's go!"

We all file off the bus and line up on the walkway leading up to the base. Everyone has a pretty calm aura about them, chatting with one another and laughing easily. That is until the front doors to the base slam open and a ticked off woman comes storming out. "BACKS STRAIGHT YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING CUSSERS!"

Immeadiately I drop my bag as if it burst into flames and snap into an attentive stance, my eyes wide with horror. Everyone mimics my actions…that is, everyone but Meat.

The woman doesn't notice though and continues shouting, slowly walking down our little line. "I DON'T WANT A SINGLE WORD OUT OF ANY OF YOU MOTHER CUSSING DOGS UNTIL I SAY SO." She stops in front of one of the Privates and screams right in his face. "UNDERSTAND?"

He nods quickly. "Yes, ma'am!"

"That's right!" She continues down the line, the man sighing in relief whenever he didn't get castrated.

"NOW! I want everyone's bags on the belt and through security! It's the same thing every time you get back to this spot! UNDERSTAND?"

"YES MA'AM." We all shout thunderously.

"Yeah, yeah." Meat rolls his eyes. "Just let us go in. We do this every time, woman."

For a moment all of the men in line exchange glances of surprise. My eyes are like dinner plates as the Drill Sergeant's eyes lock on us. "WHAT?" She bellows. In a few long steps she stands toe-to-toe with Meat. Even though she's roughly a foot shorter than the massive man she seems a whole lot scarier. "WHAT did you just say to me you good for nothing cuss-less cuss-er?"

"I said," Meat doesn't falter. "Just bloody let us go inside instead of serving the scary Drill Sarge routine."

Her dark brown eyes narrow. "Do you forget that I am your superior. The rest of you go on. Bags on the belt, rears inside."

I start to pass by, bag in hand, but the woman throws her arm out in front of me, halting my escape.

"You stay too, kid."

I hide a scowl and stand parallel to Meat once more.

The other guys snicker and hurry into the base, clearly not feeling sorry for either of us. As soon as they all disappear, the woman glares daggers at Meat and punches him in the shoulder. He whimpers a weak 'owwwww' and rubs at the spot she hit. "Serves you right!" She's no longer bellowing in that terrifying howl. Now her voice is calmer and friendly. "Who do you think you are? Just because we're friends does not give you the right to take advantage of my position."

"Hey, I'm the victim here," Meat throws back defensively. "I play example for you so the other men get to see you all angry and get scared. You should be thanking me, not getting mad."

She scoffs, grins, and shakes her head. "I'll never understand your logic." Then she turns her attention to me. "Nice to meet you, I'm Gadget."

I offer a handshake and she accepts it firmly. "So you're the Gadget he said was—OW!" Meat socks me in the arm. "What was that for?"

"Don't tell the crazy what I said you half-wit!"

Gadget shoves Meat forcefully and snickers as he falls flat on his butt. "Leave the FNG alone, you diseased rhino."

"You're a…diseased…rhino." Meat stammers, clearly unable to think of a better come back.

I watch this transaction with interest. This 'Gadget' character was clearly a good person to have around when it came to being harassed by Meat. "Let's go find 'Tavish. This FNG needs the proper welcome instead of being greeted by you, also known as the sloshed cow we call Meat."

"I resent you, woman! And I shall have revenge!"

I soon learn that Gadget and Meat are on the same squad. The prima donna squad to be exact…the squad that I just transferred to, to be exacter. Meat tells me all about how they're the best of the best and that they have altered the future of humanity thanks to amazing victories. I laugh whenever Gadget corrects him with quick remarks that basically destroy him as a man. He laughs it off the best he can before cutting her down as well. I can tell it's all in fun and it's how they act all the time.

Maybe joining their team won't be so bad.

"So, Gary, how old are you?" Gadget asks, leading us around another corner.

"21…22 tomorrow though."

"Ni-ice. Then you won't wimp out if I offer you a beer." Meat hops in, grinning. "We also snuck in a bottle of—"

"A bottle of what?" A thickly British accent cuts in. Meat makes a comical squeaking sound and whips around. Gadget and I turn too; facing a tall man dressed in a black t-shirt and army pants. If I could see his face, I'd bet it was scowling, but since there's a grinning skull balaclava hiding it from view I have no idea.

"Uh—Uh—a b-bottle of…uh…" Meat stutters, turning an unhealthy shade of white. He glances around quickly. Then tries to bolt past the man who was accusing him. With impressive reflexes the man's arm shoots out and snatches Meat's shirt, keeping him from getting away. Meat, bent on escape, continues to pump his legs.

"Not so fast," The masked man yanks hard on Meat's slowly stretching shirt and he falls flat on his back. The skull seems to grin wider as its owner lifts a foot and rests it on Meat's chest, holding him firmly in place. "You haven't answered my question."

"I uh...w-well you see it's uh—"

"Come off it, Ghost. We know you already knew about the bottle of Gatorade Meat smuggled in for us." Gadget rolls her eyes, clearly unperturbed by the others' actions.

'Ghost' groans and removes his foot from the still panicking Meat. "C'mon Gadget, I was enjoying that!" He laughs as the other man scrambles to his feet and places Gadget between him and Ghost. "You should've seen his eyes. Big as dinner plates!" He continues to chuckle.

I join in as Meat crosses his arms and mutters death threats at Ghost. Gadget beams and introduces me, "Gary, this is Ghost. Ghost, this is our brand-spankin'-new FNG."

"Gary?" Ghost's eyebrow appears from above his sunglasses. "The FNG's name is Gary?"

"Why does everyone keep calling me that? And what's wrong with Gary?"

"I'll tell you when you grow out of the title." Meat elbows me roughly. I shove back. "You're still a newbie."

Ghost doesn't seem interested in our childish fight. Instead he begins talking to Gadget about course times and blah blah blahbitty blah. It just sounds like a lot of officer mumbo jumbo to me. Not interesting at all. So I go back to having a punch fight with Meat.

He socks me in the shoulder and I return with a punch to the ribs. Pretty soon we're just beating the crap out of each other for no particular reason at all.

Gadget and Ghost remain totally oblivious.

"How did Worm do?"

"Ah, he's still struggling with the over-and-under routine."

"What about on the Wall?"

"Pshh! He's got the Wall down, it's the O&U that kills his time."

"Try pairing him with Royce instead of Toad next time. He's got more upper arm strength to pull him over."

"Who'll we put Meat with?"

"He and the new kid can give it a shot when we train next."

"That works. But what about—Will you two please stop beating the hell out of each other?" Ghost suddenly chides, glaring (at least I think he is) down at us.

I release Meat from the arm-bar I had him in and clamber to my feet. "He started it!"

"I did not!"

A long battle of wits ensues.

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"I did not!"

"You did too!"

"I didn't do anything to you, you louse!"

"You did to you big galoot!"

"You're the one who hit me!"

"You called me a—"

Gadget interjects, "You're both idiots." She grins evilly. "And won't Mactavish love to hear that we have an FNG with no call sign?"

"Who's Mactavish?"

Her vicious grin widens. "Either your best friend…OR your worst nightmare!"

#######

With the time that I had on the course on my first day Mactavish, my main C.O., says that I should be proud. He's a pretty cool guy, jokes around a lot and is clearly a respectable figure. The rest of the 'prima donna' squad is anything but prima donnas.

Basically we're a group of well-trained, well equipped dudes with nothing but goofing off in mind when we aren't training or being briefed for a mission.

Right now we're all in the kitchen, annoying Gadget to make us food faster.

Archer and Toad, the snipers, are jumping up and down on the counter and chanting repetitively "We want pasta!" Worm is up on the fridge, arguing with Meat over the chances of a meteor striking the other two while Royce, Ozone, and Scarecrow are lined up along the door, claiming that they are a human barrier that won't allow Gadget out until they are provided with dinner. Gadget keeps shouting at them to 'evacuate' 'her' kitchen so she can cook in peace. Then she'd turn back and talk to Ghost about more course times. Mactavish and I are the only ones having a normal conversation.

"How'd you get your start in our happy little family, Gary?" He asks curiously, completely disregarding the chaos around us.

"Erm…well my old commanding officer put in a good word with Shepherd when he found out that you were recruiting. I guess he knew I'd be a good fit here."

"You fit in with this crew?" Mactavish seems surprised. "Funny, I was sure they'd send us some shady lad with a brooding problem."

"That's what Meat said."

"Sit your cuss down before I kick it so hard that it'll be permanently joined to your throat!" Gadget shouts at Meat. He sticks his tongue out and plops down on the floor. She disregards him for a while, getting all the others into their seats and serving them pasta. I say a quick thank you before chowing down. If I learned anything in the SAS; it's to eat defensively when in the company of tougher soldiers. We eat as peacefully as a room full of hungry, riled up soldiers can.

"Meat," Gadget face-palms as she turns to face him, still seated on the floor and expecting dinner. "What are you doing?"

"Sitting." He responds. "Where's my food, woman?"

###########

I lay flat on my back, thinking over the past day as I fail at trying to sleep. I had become very close friends with Meat, Gadget, and Ghost in just one day. They were such amazing soldiers that even my hilarious near death experiences paled in comparison to what they'd accomplished over the past years. They were all a part of the original Prima Donnas. Apparently new guys were notorious for not lasting long in this place.

Anyways, it's been a long day. From dinner till midnight we played poker. I basically lost any respect I previously had in the eyes of Worm, because I lost every hand to Gadget and Ghost. It isn't MY fault they're Houdini's when it comes to calling bluffs. Not to mention Gadget's own bluffing skills. That girl could convince a trained veteran that he had the upper hand with a blunt knife to her own sniping skills. It'd get him killed but she could do it.

"What am I doing here?" I wonder allowed, not worried about waking up my roommate, Royce, who's snoring away louder than 10,000 wood chippers. "I'm not brave beyond belief or stronger than any of them. Why pick me?"

I guess I'll just have to sleep with the doubt on my mind though, nobody's gonna tell me otherwise. I toss and turn for about another hour before finally passing out.

#############

"Rise and shine, princess!" A pillow smacks me out of sleep and I slowly sit up on my bunk.

"Wha—?" Another strike from the pillow shakes me out of the stupor. Royce stands there, pretending to be all innocence, the pillow still in his evil clutches. "What's the big idea?"

"It's 0400 hours, kid. Time to get up and eat before we get overrun in the kitchen."

"Doesn't Gadget cook breakfast?" I ask, clambering out of bed and tugging on a gray wife-beater.

"Usually. She got deployed at 0200. We might not see her and Ghost again until late tonight."

I have to say, I'm a little disappointed. For three, deeply important reasons; #1, they could be in danger and may not come back, #2 nobody is here to protect me from the wrath of Meat, #3 I wanted pancakes. I decide to erase #1 first. "Might?"

Royce grins, opening the door and leading me to the mess hall. "They're a good team. Might only take them a fraction of the time we guessed." I smile at the thought of this. Maybe I could get them to teach me some better ways to bluff. "Or our Intel could be off and it could take them much, much longer."

My smile is wiped clean off my face. "Happy thoughts, eh mate?"

Royce laughs, clapping me on the shoulder, "Aye, happy thoughts."

We sit with the rest of the Prima Donnas, minus Mactavish, Gadget, Ghost, and Archer. "Where did they all go?"

"Shepherd sent 'em to take out some high priority target in Tikrit." Worm informs me, around a large hunk of toast crammed in his pie-hole. "No big deal, just another high risk, high stakes mission that puts their very lives at risk."

Everyone just waves off the comment as if it were a completely normal thing to say. I, on the other hand, am horrified. I keep my poker face in place though, trying not to imagine any one of them at the hands of some majorly ticked evildoer. Apparently my poker face is on too thick and I zone out for several minutes because when I finally come back around they were talking about some type of crazy sniper and my stack of waffles were gone. Vanished.

########

I peel off the sweaty t-shirt I was wearing for training and toss it to the corner of the locker room. The guys were halfway through an argument of what they'd call me for the rest of eternity. Clearly I have no say in the matter. 'Nobody chooses their call sign if they don't have it before they join up.' That's the rule.

So far there was; Curls, Speedo, Squeak, Bleak, and a hundred other ridiculous names. I hated all of them, so lucky for me they did too. "Whoa, look at Obi-Wan over here." Worm calls to the others, catching me by the shoulder.

"You know that's not gonna stick, right?" Toad points out, "It doesn't even make sense."

Meat, on the other hand, caught onto what Worm was pointing out. He whistled in admiration, "Where'd you get all the scars?"

I look down at my exposed scars, laughing a little when I thought of all the stupid ways I'd received them. "Well, they're each a long crazy story that involves plenty of stupid moves by me."

"Let's hear some, Scars." Royce encourages, sitting down on one of the benches and started pulling off his boots.

Meat rolls his eyes. "That's not sticking either. He's too scrawny for a manly name."

I look past the blow towards my ego. Nobody had ever asked me about my scars. All the men in my last squad were either too narrow-sighted to notice or already knew the stories. "This one," I trace the scar from my left shoulder across to my chest. "I got from falling off a water tower when we were supposed to be training. Instead me and a few buddies were setting off flares and tossing them at the barracks to wake up some of the officers."

"And you fell?" Ozone laughs, "That's ridiculous!"

"Nah," I join in, looking back on my old life in the SAS. "My friend Jackson pushed me off. He claims I had an ember on my back and he was 'patting it out'. They told me later that I had beaten the record for most front flips done before hitting the ground." I get a few chuckles and go back to the story. "By the time I came around, they'd already dragged me to the barracks and mended me up. I guess I hit a rock or a pole or something one the way down."

"You were fine other than a cut?"

"And the others are all near death experiences caused by stupid situations that you walked away from, completely fine?" Scarecrow asks, eyebrows raised. I nod. "Jesus, you're an invincible idiot."

"And I thought having a mortal idiot around was bad enough." Meat chuckles.

"Don't flatter yourself, Meat, you're only alive because Ghost is around to keep Gadget from ripping your manhood off. Who else could take your place of mortal idiot?" Scarecrow asks dryly.

I laugh at Meat's face. "Any ways, I'm starving!"

"Race you!" Worm takes off faster than any of us can argue.

"DANGIT WORM! NO HEADSTARTS!"

##########

"It's decided." Ozone holds up another ice-cold beer, cracking the tab. I raise an eyebrow, savoring my own beer from atop the fridge, an action that had Worm complaining that he didn't have his spot. I told him to stuff it then asked what Ozone meant.

"You're name kid," Scarecrow points out.

I sigh, "Still with this name thing?"

"WOAH! Excuse me, what?" Toad asks, practically choking on his drink. "I don't think you understand just how major this is step is in your entire life! Just look at Meat! He shows up with a name like Meat and look at where that got him."

After a very ticked off Meat shouts a protest, Ozone continues. "Then we look at people like Ghost and Gadget who have deep meaning to their names and off they go to magical lands of hardcore victories and soak up the world of being one of the superior overlords of the magical world with—"

"That's enough of that for you." Royce plucks the can from his hand. "You've already finished off a whole 6 pack yourself."

"I'm jus' fi—ine, sillay—y." Ozone slurs, reaching for the beer.

Royce shakes his head. "I'm cutting you off."

"Wha—at?"

"Anyways, Ozone's drinking issue aside," I chuckle; patting one very depressed Ozone on the shoulder. "What's the name?"

"You're name, kid. You're name." Meat corrects me.

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, whatever, my name! What is my bloody name?"

Scarecrow leaps onto the table we're gathered around and lifts his fist to the sky in a dramatic pose. "You've only just joined us, nameless and unworthy, and yet you befriended all of us." He points at me reverently. "You, Gary…whatever-you're-middle-name-is Sanderson, have been dubbed by your new brothers in arms and team-mates for life!"

In unison the others pipe up, "Here, here!"

"You, the FNG, have already proven yourself capable of standing strong beneath the eyes of General Shepherd."

"HOOAH!"

"You, the new guy, have already shown us that you can run the course in the blistering heat and make it through without whining like a pansy!"

"HOOAH!"

"And you," His voice returns to a normal volume. "You deserve to join us. People say we're Prima Donnas, they call us Shepherd's favorites, they say we have life handed to us." I glance around at the others. They're all shaking their heads and frowning. I give Toad a questioning look, but he just nods to let me know it's natural for them to react like this. I feel a little twinge of guilt. I said the same things back when I heard about this place. "You've always been known as Gary, but from this day forth you shall be dubbed…"

There's a moment of sheer silence as Scarecrow builds up tension. "Roach!"

They all cheer again.

"Wait…Roach?" I raise an eyebrow. "Why Roach?"

"From what you told us, you've done all kinds of things that you shouldn't have survived." Toad explains. "Roaches are un-killable. Nothing takes down a Roach."

Ozone giggles drunkenly, "E'cept newspaper!"

"Shut it, Ozone." Toad glares at the intoxicated soldier, "I'm tryin' to explain this! We've dubbed you Roach. That is that."

###########

Uproarious laughter echoes around the kitchen for the rest of the night. After dragging Ozone back to his bunk we all gathered around the table and took turns downing shots. Now it's late and we've all caught a major buzz.

"Oh man," Meat laughs.

"Do it again, Royce, do it again!" Worm fist-pumps.

"Okay, okay," Royce can barely hold back giggles as he clambers onto the counter one more time.

The door smashes open and a very tired looking Gadget comes in. "Why is it so loud in here?" Upon seeing us all pretty buzzed and Royce teetering unsteadily on the counter top all she can seem to do is stare wide eyed at us. "What the hell is going on in here?"

"We just dubbed Gar-ry!" Scarecrow downs the last drop of scotch.

"Ah, I forgot about your whole 'ceremony'." She eyes the empty bottle suspiciously, "Mactavish is gonna be ticked when he sees that."

I glance at the bottle and groan. "Awe mannnn, I wanted more of that."

"No worries, we've got more." Meat says cheerfully.

"Sweet!"

"Nope, no more for you." Gadget pulls my arm across her shoulders, helping me up to take me back to my room. "I'm cutting you off, kid."

I pull my arm away, shaking my head furiously. "It's not 'kid' anymore." I lift my hand, mimicking Royce's pose from earlier. "Now I am…" I frown and turn to Royce. "What's my name agai-in?"

"Ro-hic-Roach." He answers, hopping down and landing in a clumsy heap.

I laugh hysterically, not even noticing when Gadget loops my arm around herself again and leading me out of the room. "Did ya see 'im when he…when he fell?" I laugh harder, the alcohol making Royce's accident even funnier. "And the look on his face when he—hey wait a sec," I glare at Gadget in confusion. "You aren't here. You're with Archer and Ghost in some…place doin'…something."

"Is that so?" Gadget plays along, clearly too tired to ask me why I was so incoherent. "Well, we're back now. We were successful."

"Mhmmm," I grin stupidly. "And you know what?"

"What's that…Roach?"

"You guys are my best friends."

"Go to bed now Roach."

"I'm not…tired…" I yawn.

"Go to bed."

"But—"

"Bed."

"Fine!"

There ya go =]

Took forever and stuff but I think that it was decent. Special thanks to Sparky McFly for their reviews and support. Also thanks to ecto1B for her review and inspiring me through her own story.

If you could, review. I'm getting very few these days and it's getting hard to write. I'll never finish my main project or get many one-shots out without some kind of support. Plus, life is a mess right now so a little encouragement won't kill me. If things need improved so badly that you can't even put it into words you'd put your name on then leave an anon. I'm fine with flames, they improve my writing in little ways =]

So, thanks for reading. A review will be loved and responded to ASAP.

FIN.