For the Record, It's a Playground of Destruction
A Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 and Mercenaries Cross-Over Fan Fiction
CHAPTER 1:
Location: Task Force 141 Base outside of Edinburgh, Scotland.
Time: 0730 hrs.
"Sir, I have a message for you."
"Yes, Sergeant Roach?"
"We have word that the mercenary we hired is on the way, sir."
"Great." Captain John MacTavish replied with a growling overtone to his thick Scottish accent. He didn't know what Captain Price had been thinking; hiring a mercenary to help them win the war against the Russians. Soap, as MacTavish was often called, thought it was an odd idea, but he figured with Shepherd's men hardly helping the war effort, they would need an extra set of capable hands. He knew very little about this mercenary; whether he was well experienced in stealth and covert operations, or if he simply knew how to fire a gun and use explosives. Soap was very worried about Price's decision simply because this choice could cost them, quite literally.
"When is he supposed to get here?" Soap asked as Roach started walking out of the airplane hangar.
"In roughly twenty minutes, sir." Roach replied, looking down at his watch. Soap nodded, and Roach took that as a dismissal. He walked off, leaving Soap to his thoughts. Soap folded his arms, bracing himself against the cold breeze coming in from the opposite end of the hangar. He didn't know what to expect of this merc, but he hoped they'd get what they paid for.
Forty-five minutes had passed since Roach walked off to his quarters on base. Soap was getting quite irritated that this mercenary was now fashionably late. He repeatedly kept checking his industrialised wrist watch every minute until finally; he heard the rumble of a truck outside. He turned round and hurriedly walked over to the other side of the hangar. As angry as he was at the mercenary for being late, he was anxious to meet him. Before he got to the truck, Roach and Price walked over to him.
"Aye, who the bloody hell does this bloke thing he is, being forty-five minutes late?" Soap exclaimed, anger hanging on the edge of his voice.
"First of all, I'm not a bloke. Second of all, there was a bad automobile accident on the way here, backing traffic up for ten whole kilometres." All three men turned and looked at the hangar's front entrance. A tall, curvaceous and rather robust woman dressed in army fatigues strolled in, her hips swaying side to side.
"Soap, Roach, this is Mui." Captain Price introduced them. "Mui this is Captain MacTavish also known as Soap. And this young man is Sergeant Sanderson, also known as Roach."
"And you must be Captain Price." She said smoothly, offering her hand to shake his. He took it with a firm grip.
"I am. Now that we are all acquainted, get used to working together. We're having a meeting tonight at 1700 hours, regarding the war in America. For now, go entertain yourselves." Price said. He walked off, leaving his new hired help alone with his fellow soldiers.
"So, what experience do you have?" Soap asked Mui curiously. She looked back at him, her Oriental eyes narrowing slightly.
"I was in the SAS, and then I moved on to MI6 before working for a company called ExOps. Now I work freelance." She replied proudly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Soap nodded along.
"That's quite reputable." Soap replied as he started to walk towards his quarters. "Roach, why don't you show Mui to the gun range? Show her how the Task Force 141 works around here." Roach half-grinned at his superior and then at Mui. As soon as Cpt. MacTavish was out of earshot, she said to Roach: "Only fools need practice when the damn targets don't shoot back."