"GODDAMMIT!" Natalia cursed her luck, grunting as she tried to reach her knife.

Of course, of all things to happen, she had to tangle up in her lines and land in a tree. Her feet were about a meter off the goddamned ground.

Operation Wolverine

August 13, 2016

Pvt. Natalia Petrova

98th Guards Airborne Division, VDV

Virginia, USA

"This is probably the most cliché thing that could have possibly happened to me," she muttered to herself, scanning the vicinity for help. "It's going well already."

Her search turned up a whole lot of nothing, and her intuition was telling her that the opposite of help would be coming. Just to be safe, she kept her weapon within reach, and continued to struggle for her knife. The bulkiness of her 6sh117 vest along with her petite stature made it quite difficult to access. She would have chalked it up as a lesson learned, but she couldn't foresee herself jumping into extremely hostile territory again anytime soon.

The company she had been expecting finally arrived in the form of an approaching convoy. She instantly recognized the profile of American Humvees. She dropped what she was doing and hung in the tree, playing dead as she waited for them to pass.

For fuck's sake, hurry the hell up. HURRY THE HELL UP.


Pvt. Jenna Moore

1st Bn., 75th Rangers Regiment

Jenna leaned back in her seat and marveled at her personal relic of the past, a family heirloom bestowed upon her. It was a Game Boy. She tapped at the buttons casually, the Tetris theme softly playing beneath the sound of the engines.

"Fucking shit!" she said in frustration after losing the level.

"Git gud," James coughed.

"Stop dicking around back there, I know it's hard, I know I'm hard, but even I know this ain't the time," Dunn called out from the driver's seat.

While James groaned and ripped the picture of his sister off the dashboard, Jenna tossed the handheld back in her backpack and looked upwards. Something white caught her eye. She followed the strings down and spotted a Russkie paratrooper hanging in a tree. Pretty short, even compared to her, and upon closer look, the soldier was a woman. She had no idea females served in the Russian armed forces, but it probably went the other way as well.

"Contact at our ten," she said, taking hold of her M4A1 and flicking the safety off.

"Don't bother. That one's dead," James said, pushing Jenna's barrel down. "Probably got hit by AA or something coming down. Nobody is stupid or unlucky enough to land in a tree."

"Yeah, but she looks perfectly intact."

"We're not here to shoot at dead people," Dunn agreed. "Lots more Ivans to fill with lead."

Natalia silently waited for the Yanks to pass, feeling the presence of their M134 miniguns in her direction and the gaze of their steely, apprehensive eyes.

Of all people… why me!?

After an eternity and a half, the sound of the engines faded. Cracking an eye open, she confirmed that they were gone. She quickly got to her radio handset (in reach, unlike her knife) and suddenly paused. Well, fuck.

"Что за хуы? I could have radioed for help!" she groaned. She was better off at least, being her squadron's comms girl.

"This is Poacher 3-1. Be advised, I have spotted a hostile convoy headed east. I am separated from my chalk and stuck in a tree, and my coordinates are as follows," she reported, naming her position based off the GPS strapped to her wrist.

"Roger, 3-1. This is Trapper 1-2, diverting a BTR to intercept them at the nearest intersection. We're sending Sgt. Petrov from 1-3 and his men for you," came the reply.

"This is Trapper 1-3, we're on the way. Hang in there," a familiar voice snickered from the other end.

"Vik, you ought to rethink coming here, because I'm this close to kicking your ass," Natalia said. Sgt. Viktor "Vik" Petrov was her cousin, also in the VDV. "Hurry your ass up before I ask the Americans to help."

"Love you too, Natalie. Standby. 1-3 out."


Jenna bounced her leg, her hands getting sweaty with anticipation. The convoy was approaching a mass of hostile forces, and the sky was dense with the white parachutes descending towards them. Streaks of cannon fire pierced the clouds, the white flashes above the cover looking like lightning. A paratrooper landed on the roof of a nearby house and immediately got to work releasing his harness. The lead Humvee's gunner spooled up his minigun and tore the soldier to bits, his mangled body tumbling off the roof and ruining the lawn.

"We got a BTR! GET OUT, GET OUT! " Foley's voice interjected, turning Jenna's attention away from the skies.

She released her seatbelt, grabbed her weapon, and dismounted as the BTR shredded the vehicle in front of them. She threw herself forward at full speed, losing balance and losing control as her legs fought to keep her upright. Before she could do anything, her shins caught on the curb and her body slammed against the ground. Definitely a good omen.

"GOD!" said Dunn, seizing the handle on her vest, dragging her into the alley between two houses as Pvt. Morgan covered him. "Moore, you dumbfuck."

"Thanks dude, I owe you one," she sighed.

James handed over her weapon, and she inspected it immediately. The blue for rectal use ONLY sticker on its upper receiver meant it was definitely hers, at least. The EoTech holographic sight mounted to it seemed intact, but she was slightly concerned as to if its zero was still holding. The next thing she noticed was that her elbow was throbbing, and she looked down to see a streak of red on her arm where she'd fallen on it. The abrasion wasn't a big deal, but the bruise was definitely going to last a while.

"Got that one on camera, by the way," James grinned, as they set off, pointing at the GoPro attached to his helmet.

Jenna put her arm around his helmet, pulled his head close, and whispered, "you delete that shit or you'll get your ass kicked on camera, too."

"Overlord, this is Hunter 2-1 requesting air support, over!" Sgt. Foley requested over the comms, shutting down the exchange.

"Like hell we'll have it! Look at all the enemy air overh-" Jenna piped up, Foley interrupting her.

"Shut up, Moore!" he snapped, holding up his hand.

"Hunter 2-1, all air support is already engaged. Additional ground support is en route to your position but has encountered heavy resistance, over," Overlord responded matter-of-factly like he always did.

Jenna glared at Foley, shrugged, and pressed the corner of her mouth and her cheek, giving him that "skeptical" look. He rolled his eyes, nodded back, and started moving. Everyone else followed behind, feeling royally screwed over. The Rangers jogged through the yard and slid into a ditch full of filthy water and trash.

"Roger that Overlord. Be advised, we've encountered enemy armor and are proceeding on foot, over," Foley continued.

"Overlord copies all. Good luck. Out," Overlord concluded.

"He pretty much just told us to stick it up our ass," James quietly grumbled.

Overhearing him, Dunn raised his voice.

"Sarge, did HQ just tell us to go 'F' ourselves?"

"Pretty much, Corporal," Foley said.

As they crossed the street, something exploded to Jenna's left. The BTR from earlier was there, surrounded by soldiers. She instinctively took a knee and lobbed a few shots in its direction.

"Hold your fire! Don't engage the BTR - they haven't acquired us! Hang right and stay behind it!" Foley snapped.

And by some miracle (the miracle being her shitty aim in the moment), they weren't compromised. They slipped through an alley perpendicular to the street it was on, to the right of the BTR. The soldiers ran onto the street, noticing a plume of smoke behind the buildings that indicated their HVI, Raptor. An ammo crate sat in the street, and foreseeing a huge firefight, James went to refill a few mags from it.

"Oh shit-" he panicked, throwing himself behind the crate as a volley of shells went boom around him. "Fuck, we're spotted!"

"Ramirez! Use your smoke grenades!"

He'd come to hate his own last name with the frequency Foley liked to bark it. It was the subject of much of Jenna's teasing as well.

"Dunn, Morgan, Moore, cover him!

He readied a smoke as Jenna and Dunn sustained their fire at soldiers exiting the vehicle, killing them all in rapid succession.

Viktor, Natalia, and their squad came down the street and checked left at an intersection, identifying the BTR, which was covered in smoke. They also saw at least three soldiers, one pinned behind an ammo crate, and the other two slaughtering the Russian soldiers coming out.

"Oh, shit! Contact!" Natalia blurted, attempting to open fire but realizing her AK's safety was still on. The other soldiers attempted to engage, but were too fearful of hitting friendlies and missed their shots.

"Contact rear! Damn, let's go, LET'S GO!" Jenna urged, yanking Dunn and running.

"I'll cover you guys out!" Morgan said.

Jenna quickly slid into an alley. She saw some poor Russkie struggling to get out of his chute and jumped as Ramirez popped him. His body hung limp by the lines, and blood slid down the wall behind him. Behind them, Morgan cried out in pain as a burst of enemy fire cut through his leg. Before Jenna could head back to bring him to cover, the BTR rolled into view. She rolled another smoke grenade down the corridor.

"Morgan's hit!"

"We can't go back for him now!" Dunn replied, peeking through a window into the store in front of them. "RPGs in here, if we can clear the guys on the other side we can kill the BTR. Sarge?"

"Hooah. Let's do it. Break the window."

Once they entered, they took heavy fire from the gas station outside. There was no way they could come back out through the window. The four were pinned behind a counter, and until the enemy pulled closer, they wouldn't be able to thin them out.

"You sons of bitches!" Morgan yelled, crawling towards his weapon.

An enemy soldier kicked it away, but before he could finish Morgan off, another soldier pushed the gun away.

"Let me handle it," Viktor ordered, starting to drag him.

"Hey, let go! LET GO! GUYS! SOMEONE HELP!"

"God damn it…" James muttered. "Come over already, you vodka-drunk cunts."

They took Morgan into the open garage of the nearest house, and closed it. Vik forcefully shoved him into the corner, and he found himself greeted by an AK barrel in his face.

"Uh, hola."

Viktor kicked him square in the face, and he recoiled, covering up with his hands and screaming.

"I've been waiting to get my hands on one of you pigs," he said in Russian.

The American returned a bewildered expression, and Natalia averted her eyes. She felt sick to her stomach watching while Viktor beat him more, but she knew that once he was pissed off, there really was no stopping him.

"Henry Morgan… Private," Morgan deadpanned, unsure how to respond.

"You'll meet the rest of your friends in hell," Viktor whispered, drawing his pistol.

"V-Vik…" Natalia mumbled, watching him kneel down and shove the barrel into the American's intact knee.

"Henry Morg- FUCK!" he moaned, cut off by the lead tearing through his leg.

She wanted to say what the hell, Vik? We're better than this! You're better than this! but she couldn't muster the courage to speak.

Viktor narrowed his eyes. In rapid succession, he shot both of Morgan's hands.

Natalia had to stop it. She flicked her safety off and reluctantly paused, shaking her head. Tears were sliding down the soldier's cheeks as his blood pooled on the floor beneath him. She knew it was too late to save him.

"Let's head out. I'm done here," Viktor said quietly.

The rest of the squad shuffled out, leaving Natalia, Morgan, and one more soldier, who was presumably with the BTR's mechanized infantry team.

"I want to watch him die," the soldier said, lighting a cigarette and squatting.

He puffed a few times, took it out, nodding in satisfaction. It was clear that Morgan would lose his eyes soon.

"Henry," Natalia spoke in English, leveling her rifle. "I'm so sorry. I don't want to do this."

"Huh?"

Natalia's finger curled around and squeezed the trigger, splattering gray matter out of his helmet. She watched the blood come down his face.


Another chapter gone. I'll keep it quick for any readers, if people even read this at all. I decided to integrate Jenna and Natalia into the actual story of MW2, and I'm trying not to use too much of its dialogue, so tell me if I do. I can't believe I couldn't make it past the second chapter without a war crime of some sort happening. Anyway, if you can, please leave some feedback. I'm dying to hear your opinions on how absolutely terrible this thing is.