LOCATED:

Sgt. John "Soap" MacTavish

S.A.S Training Compound, Credenhill, U.K.

22nd S.A.S Regiment

Sergeant John MacTavish grabbed the passenger side door handle of the rusting, '00 Chevrolet Express van. He stepped up and threw his duffle bag to the floor of the vehicle with a grunt. The driver barely glanced at him and nodded. MacTavish slammed the door of the van shut.

"Bout' a 30 minute drive" the driver said in a bored voice. MacTavish nodded, and leaned back against the worn seat. The driver turned the key, and MacTavish heard the old engine come to life with a roar. "I'll admit I was expecting the brass to send a nicer ride to come get me" he muttered. The driver said nothing, just stepped on the accelerator.

His companion offered no conversation, leaving MacTavish alone with his thoughts. This suited him fine; he was generally quiet by nature. He looked out the window, watching the English country-side roll by.

He didn't think of himself as a patriot, he just wanted to give back to the country that had treated him so well. He figured defending that country from all enemies, foreign and domestic, was a good way to do so.

He thought back to the day he had told his family he was joining the military. His father had taken the news with his usually stoic reserve; just nodding and asking him what branch he intended on joining and when he would be leaving. His mother had cried at first, but eventually accepted it. MacTavish was grateful things had gone so smoothly with his parents. Telling them had been one of his greatest worries since he had made the decision to enlist. His little brother, Tommy, had taken it harder. He loved Tommy, and they got along well. Tommy was 13 years old and looked up to his older brother. He attempted to mimic him at every chance he got. When MacTavish broke the news to his brother, Tommy became quiet and surly, not speaking to him for weeks on end. This upset John greatly, especially when his younger brother didn't even come down stairs to say goodbye on his last night home.

MacTavish sighed, and looked at his reflection in the side-mirror of the van. He was 22 years old, and looked a little younger than he was. He was clean shaven, with close cropped black hair, and piercing blue eyes. He glanced to his right at the driver, and then back at the green blur that was now what was outside his window. MacTavish decided he might as well get a little rest, and leaned back into his seat, letting the rocking of the van lull him into sleep.

MacTavish was awoken with a jolt as the driver slammed on the brakes. He opened his eyes and looked up to see a large metal gate topped with barbed wire opening outward. The van rolled past a small guard's cabin, into a large open area with several blue hangers surrounding it. The Chevrolet once again screeched to a halt.

"Hop out and head to the hanger on our right" the driver said in the same bored voice.

MacTavish nodded, grabbed his bag, opened the door of the van and jumped down onto the black asphalt. As soon as he shut the door, the van sped away, farther into the compound.

MacTavish slung his bag over his shoulder and walked over to the large hanger. The small, white door set in the wall of the hanger was open, and he stepped inside. A man in combat fatigues, complete with Kevlar vest, approached MacTavish. The man had a full black beard, and was wearing a hat with the British flag on the front.

"Soap?"

MacTavish nodded.

"Good to see you mate. I'm Gaz. We're going to run through a quick basic weapons drill. Go grab a rifle from the table" Gaz said, pointing to two tables across the room.

MacTavish looked to his right and saw a gun range, with a raised observation point behind it. He walked up to the table and looked through a large window and saw racks upon racks of almost every weapon imaginable. He lowered his gaze and noticed a man in a black sweater with a laptop computer in front of him. The man nodded and MacTavish did the same. He looked down, threw his bag under the table, and quickly picked up a German made, Heckler & Koch G36C fully automatic rifle from the table.

"You know the drill, go to station one, and aim your rifle downrange." Gaz called from behind him.

He walked quickly over to the first station, and held the weapon in a ready position, with the index finger of his right hand on the safety.

Gaz spoke again from behind him. "I'm popping two targets. Shoot each one while aiming down your sights."

MacTavish shouldered the rifle, flicked the safety off, and put his right eye to the red dot sight. The first target came down from the ceiling of the firing range, and he quickly snapped up to it and squeezed the trigger, sending a burst of fire into the center ring. A buzzer announced the bullets taking the target down. He did the same for the second target that popped up from the floor of the range. "Too easy…"

"Lovely" Gaz said as the noise from the second buzzer came to an end.

"Now, shoot at the targets, while firing from the hip."

MacTavish lowered the rifle to his hip, and lightly placed his finger on the trigger. Three metal cut-outs of soldiers popped up down the range. MacTavish quickly fired three short bursts. The first two cut-outs dropped with the familiar buzzing, but on the third target his spray of bullets went a little high. "Damn" he thought as he quickly adjusted and dropped the last target with a fourth burst.

"Now I'm going to block the targets with a sheet of plywood. I want you to shoot the targets through the wood".

MacTavish shouldered the rifle again, as a large sheet of wood popped up with a clang and a screech of metal. He used the rest of the clip, spraying bullets in a line through the wood. He was rewarded with the sound of two more buzzers going off.

"Is it possible to turn those damned things off?" MacTavish muttered, mostly to himself, as he ejected the spent clip and popped in another. He jumped slightly when Gaz chuckled.

"That's a no-can-do mate".

Gaz continued with the lesson.

"Bullets will penetrate thin, weak material like wood, plaster, and sheet metal. Now I'm gonna make the targets pop up one at a time. Shoot all of them as fast as you can".

MacTavish brought the G36 up to his shoulder once again, and took aim down the red dot sight. The metal cut-outs of soldiers began popping up. MacTavish quickly popped from target to target, firing in short, controlled bursts. He managed to drop every target the first time.

"Proper good job mate!" came Gaz's voice from behind.

MacTavish turned around, and looked up at Gaz standing on the raised platform. He pointed back towards the tables where MacTavish had picked the rifle up from.

"Now go get a sidearm from the armory".

MacTavish walked back over to the tables, where the man behind the computer slid an .USP .45 pistol out from under the window. He quickly shifted the G36 to his left hand, and scooped up the handgun. MacTavish turned around, and walked back towards observation, where Gaz was still standing.

"Remember mate," Gaz said as he approached, "switching to your pistol is always faster than reloading.

"Using your knife is even faster than switching to your pistol." Gaz said his voice deadly serious.

MacTavish nodded, set the rifle on a wooden table in front of the observation post, tucked the .USP into his belt, and pulled his standard issue tactical knife from its sheath on his right hip.

"Knife the watermelon".

MacTavish looked at the melon on the wooden table, sitting next to the G36. He hesitantly looked back up at Gaz, who met his gaze and said nothing. MacTavish quickly looked back down at the melon and sliced his knife through the air with all his strength, cutting the melon cleanly in two.

Gaz chuckled. "Nice, your fruit killing skills are remarkable"! He looked back down at MacTavish. "Soap, eh?"

MacTavish shrugged. "That's what they've called me since about a month after I enlisted. I'd rather not get into details." he said with a small smile, remembering an incident back in basic training.

Gaz nodded. "If you say so. Soap it is from now on mate." He pointed towards the hanger door. "Captain Price wants to see you. He's two hangers over to the right."

"Alright, nice training session." Soap said. "Felt like I was back in basic" he muttered.

Gaz just laughed. "Just trying to assess your skills. I'll see you soon; word is you're being put into Price's own squad. I'm his Leftenant. Also, don't worry about your bag, I'll run it by the barracks on my way out".

Soap nodded, and picked up the G36 from the table. He turned, and walked across the room past a vending machine and out the hanger door into the sunlight.