Hey...A new fic now coming at you. I wrote this fic and had some help from Bucue, who gave a critique before I even thought of publishing. For all of the acronyms that will be in here, I will leave an explaination at the end. Also, I included an O.C, but since MW only focuses on the East Coast, the Russians also invaded the West Coast, that will be his story. He needed a back story, so he has experience and skill comparable to TF 141, so he can hold his own.

GALLIAN COASTLINE, 1945

501st JFW BASE

It was a cool morning on the Gallian coast, where the base that housed the famous Strike Witches of the 501st JFW. A young woman with long red hair and a German Officer's tunic breathed in the morning sea breeze from her office window. Wing Commander Minna Dietlinde Wilcke ran over everything that had happened in the past year...

FLASHBACK...

Just months ago, the Strike Witches had been disbanded due to the efforts of a vengeful Brittainian General named Trevor Maloney. This man had always hated the Witches, believeing that little girls had no place on the battlefield, regardless of how much they could contribute to the fight against the Neuroi. This man had been the mastermind behind the Warlock Project, a project that was supposed to replace the witches on the battlefield against their enemy by reverse engineering the very technology of the Neuroi, one of their cores that fell intact.

The intended result was to render the witches obsolete and for a short time, it was working. The Warlock was able to easily shoot down Neuroi and had outclassed the witches in sheer firepower and speed. However, the Neuroi core that had been used as the heart of the Warlock's system overrode it's programming and reverted back to it's original nature. During this time, a friendly Neuroi had attempted to make contact, doing so with one of the youngest members of the 501st and one of the most empathetic, Yoshika Miyafuji. She was able to ascertain that there was more than one faction of Neuroi, one hostile and one that wanted to make peace. The Warlock destroyed them, and took over the hive. It then ran completely amok, absorbing everything in it's path during it's rampage.

This caused the 501st to spring back into action. At first, the Warlock was proving too powerful for them to defeat, but with the combined efforts of all the witches, mainly Yoshika, they managed to destroy Warlock and end the threat to humanity it posed. Maloney, due to his maverick project and unsanctioned disbandment of the Strike Witches, was promptly court marshalled and thrown in prison, most of his key staff following him. The Witches were then re-stationed in Gallia, the area the managed to free from the Neuroi hive in the area and were now tasked with liberating Romangna.

There were further attempts at contact from Human Form Neuroi, but other Neuroi from other hives would brutally destroy them. It was a real mystery as to why the Neuroi were firing on each other and why some were attempting friendly contact after all this time. Some theorized that the older Hives evolved to a point that they felt that more fighting was pointless, so they wanted to co-exist. These newer Neuroi were much more savage and cunning than the older ones, stretching the Witches on all fronts to their limits. The lines were stable...For now.

FLASHBACK END...

She was snapped out of her musings by the sound of her long time friend and 2IC, Major Mio Sakamoto, motivating three of the youngest witches through their physical training. Mio was a task master like no other, priding herself on physical and mental discipline as well as training the young witches to the best of her ability.

"Faster! Harder! How do you expect to help anyone if you remain weak?" Mio shouted at the three girls under her current tutledge. The Fuso Air Officer had requested that a brand new obstacle course be built to further train the girls and herself and she was currently running them ragged.

"I...Can't...Feel my...Legs..." Yoshika panted.

"Thirsty..." Lynnette gasped.

"Clothes...Hair...Filthy..." Perrine whined as they were allowed to rest and get some water.

Mio could only shake her head at the poor performance of the three girls.

"This just won't do. They need to be in better shape than this..." She muttered, calling the break to a close.

"C'mon! Get up and run it again! I've seen old ladies run this faster than you three!" She boomed at them, making them snap up almost on reflex and get back to training, making her think about herself.

'My magic is getting so weak...I just turned 20 and it's almost gone. What will I do with my life after it's all gone? The life of a soldier is all I know...I must keep training...To extend what little time I have left.' She thought with sad determination as she unsheathed her sword, Reppumaru.

'Reppumaru...Please...Help me at least last long enough to train these girls to take my place after I am gone.' She silently pleaded.

Around 200 miles to the east, an R & D team was experimenting with a magical anamoly left behind by a Neuroi attack. Ursula Hartmann, the lead researcher, was currently trying to get readings on the anamoly and trying to see if they could manipulate it somehow. However, as soon as she tried to send some of her magic power into the anamoly, something pecuilar happened. A brilliant flash of light erupted from a runic array, shooting straight up into the sky. This beam of light split into three balls, all of them heading west at a frightening pace. In a near panic, she radio'd the 501st Base, some of the Reserve Witches trying and failing to follow them.

"501st Air Base...This is Flying Officer Ursula Hartmann...Reporting three unknown projectiles approaching in your direction!" She called in.

YEAR 2016...

LOS ANGELES

The year is 2016. The entire world burned with the fires of war. The seeds of this war were planted years ago, but they took root and revealed their terrible blooms to the world only recently. It had been said that the world is one giant tinderbox. All that's needed is for someone to light the match and watch the flames spread. That match was the death of one Joseph Allen. He had been pulled by one General William Shepherd for a special op in Russia, investigating a terrorist named Vladimir Makarov. During this mission, Allen was forced to take pair in the bloody massacre in Zhakaev Airport in Moscow, a brutal rampage that took close to a thousand innocent lives. In the end, Makarov killed Allen, on to his plans, and left him there for America to take the blame.

This caused all of Russia to cry out for war. Khleb za khleb, Krov za krov. A Russia saying that means Bread for Bread, Blood for Blood. This has never been more true than now. The entire weight of Russia's military had been thrown at the U.S from all sides, their thirst for blood unparalelled. The Russian military forces began to kill without mercy everywhere they went. Two key places were Los Angeles and Washington D.C, where massive battles have been waged and much blood was spilled.

In Los Angeles, the Russians had been held back, but then General Shepherd pulled his forces out of the area, forcing police forces to fight the Russian onslaught alone. The LAPD managed to hold out for a little while longer, but they could only do so much. We now focus on the only remaining SWAT Team left after the Russians demolished Elysian Park and Parker Center.

Sitting in a SWAT van that had been stocked to the nines with weaponry and ammo, Brad Mason, a 10 year veteran in the LAPD and Lt. in SWAT as well as a SEAL for 8 years, was waiting for the signal to begin their assualt on a Russian Fire Base. Hearing a group of rifle shots that took out the tower guards, he stomped on the gas and plowed through the iron gates of the Base, making a hole for the rest of his team to come in as they began to sweep and clear the area.

The plan was going fairly well, as the highly trained men and women of the LAPD's finest were taking the Russians to task and gunning them down, having taken them completely by surprize. However, their success was short lived. After they fought their way to the fuel depot and were about to set the charges, they heard some yelling and looked over to see a squad of Russians in full armor.

"Holy shit...JUGGERNAUTS! INCOMING!" Lucy Matterson, a SWAT operator, warned her team.

Juggernauts were what they called the armored suits that the Russians used for heavy assualt. These suits could take several rounds and even explosions, and the person inside would only be rattled a bit. They were so tough, that the wearers could wade their way through heavy gunfire and come out with moderate damage to the armor, but no injuries. Ths only downside was that they were very heavy, weighing up to 100 pounds.

The team immeadiately turned and opened fire on them, pouring lead upon the group of five soldiers as they lumbered toward them, their LMGs raining fire back at them. Unfortunately, many of the SWAT members were packing lighter 9mm and .45 Caliber weaponry such as MP5's and Vectors, while a few others had older M-16's and a couple others had the newer M6A2 Carbines chambered in 6.8x43mm Remington SPC. After a lengthly firefight, the Juggernauts started to go down, but the SWAT had sustained heavy casualties. Mason and two other survivors managed to finish setting the Thermite explosives on the fuel tanks and were falling back to the van and make a getaway when one of the officers, Eduardo Ramirez, took a high powered round through his lungs and the other took one to the head, killing him instantly.

"Ed...C'mon...Get up!" Brad yelled, but the man shrugged off his aid.

"Nah...Run...I'll hold 'em, Lieutenant." Ed croaked out in pain as he positioned himself prone and began to open fire on the remain Juggernaut.

"C'mon, pendejo jerkoff!" The wounded man shouted as John fell back to the van and tried to get away, but a T-90 was blocking his path and it's turret was pointed right at him.

"Shit..." He muttered as he flicked the guard on the detonator off and readied himself to hit the trigger when a brilliant blue light flashed into existance that enveloped himself and the SWAT van, blinding everyone else.

Seeing that the Russians were too stunned to do anything, he quickly hit the trigger for the Thermite, igniting the fuel tanks and setting off a chain reaction that would level the surrounding 5 city blocks and hopefully take them with him. Just as the shockwave hit in and knocked him into the truck, cracking a few ribs, he felt himself just...Vanish. The Russians just stood there, completely lost as to what just happened while the explosions consumed them all, wiping out 80% of the enemy military strength in the area and forcing them to flee.

WASHINGTON D.C

The party here was already over, since the men and women of the 75th Army Rangers had managed to re-take the White House and were now concertraiting on sweeping the surrounding city and other areas, wiping out any enemy contacts they encounter. One unit in particular, Hunter 2-1, had played a vital role in this conflict and several others throughout this war. Sgt. David Foley, the acting CO of Hunter 2-1, was currently leading his two primary subordinates, Cpl. Mike Dunn and Pvt. James Ramirez on a clean up sweep, Ramirez on point. The team weaved their way through the destroyed city that was once their nation's capitol.

Private Ramirez moved swiftly throught the rubble of the ruined city, his eyes roving around to look for any hostiles and potential survivors. He stopped at the end of the block and waited for his two superiors to catch up. Foley gave Ramirez a nod to continue while Dunn nudged him forward.

"Let's go, man." He whispered, Ramirez nodding and complying, checking his M4A1 one last time before moving.

The crew advanced further into the destroyed city, finding small pockets of Russians here and there, but they easily dispatched them. However, Dunn had a particular hatred of Russians and anyone that knew him understood why. When the Russians got to Abeline, Texas, his hometown, they immeadiately destroyed the place. His kid sister, only 16, had been raped by the Russian soldiers in front of his parents before they were all killed. That's enough to encite rage in anyone. Seeing a Russian soldier that was quickly bleeding out and reaching out to him, Dunn kicked away his hand, leveled his SCAR-H, and blew his head off with a quick spray of rounds, popping in a fresh magazine. Foley saw what happened and checked his man.

"Hey...What the hell was that?" Foley demanded.

"Nothing, Sarge. Just making sure that bastard was dead." Dunn replied in a cold tone.

"Keep your shit together, Dunn. I need your head in the game." Foley reprimanded.

"Hooah." Dunn answered him, cocking back the action of his rifle to chamber the first round of his new mag, the team pressing on.

Soon, they came upon an bombed out office building and were about to check it out when a large force of Russians, massed around a T-90 and a BTR came around the corner and spotted them.

"Oh shit...RUN!" Foley ordered directing his men into the abandoned office building to take cover and call for reinforcements.

"Overlord...Hunter 2-1...Discovered massive enemy force with armor just south the Eisenhower Building. Need reinforcements now!" Foley called over the comms.

"Hunter 2-1, Overlord...We have eyes on your location via UAV. Sending out an Abrams to your location. ETA...5 minutes." Overlord replied.

"Dammit...We won't last that long!" Dunn yelled over the gunfire, blindfiring over a crumbled wall at a group of soldiers while Ramirez shot a 40mm grenade at them, killing three of them.

"Just keep your head down and keep fighting!" Foley replied, taking aim and picking off the top gunner of the T-90 before taking cover again.

Through a crack in the wall, they could see the turret of the tank move at take aim at them.

"Oh shit..." Dunn grimaced, bracing himself for the eventual tank shell that would bring this old building crashing down on them.

Suddenly, a bright blue light erupted around the three Rangers just as the tank shell struck above them, sending debris down to crush them. Even the Russian soldiers were completely bewildered by the sight. After the light vanished, they sent a few brave souls up to check the damage. They found no trace of the three Americans they encountered. Spooked by what just happened, they began to retreat back to their staging point, only to be struck from behind by the Abrams that had been dispatched to aid the three Rangers.

SOMEWHERE BETWEEN AFGHANISTAN AND INDIA...SITE HOTEL BRAVO...

Captain Price and his former subordinate Captain "Soap" MacTavish just got through with the river ride of their lives. They had just gotten through chasing down General Shepherd, who had betrayed their unit and branding them as criminals, to not only retrieve the stolen DSM that he took from the now deceased Ghost and Roach of the Task Force Team, but to exact a measure of revenge on the corrupt General.

They first had to fight their way out of the Aircraft Graveyard in Afghanistan, when Shepherd's Shadow Company ambushed them, but also started clashing with Makarov's men, slipping away during the confusion thanks to Nikolai, an old friend of theirs. After learning of what happened to the rest of the 141, Price planned out their attack on Shepherd, making a deal with Makarov himself to get the encryption codes for Shadow Company's comms and their location. Their gamble paid off as Shepherd was exactly where Makarov said they'd be, and they were able to take them by surprize, flushing the General out of hiding and ending up chasing him down a river in a Zodiac while avoiding being blown out of the water at the same time. Price managed to use his M203 to hit Shepherd's Pave Low directly in the cockpit with a 40mm grenade and took it down, but he and Soap wound up falling down a 70 foot drop down a waterfall.

Soap managed to pull himself out of the drink and onto the riverbank near the downed chopper, and limped his way over to it with his combat knife drawn. He stumbled onto a Shadow Company soldier, whose leg was broken at an odd angle, who drew his pistol and tried to fire, but nothing happened. Soap shook his head and buried his knife into the man's neck, killing him almost instantly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Shepherd stumbling away from the wreckage and tried to swipe and him, but he missed, the Corrupt General vanishing into the smoke and dust.

Soap chased after him and found him slumped over an old wrecked car outside of a small oil refinery station. Seeing his chance to end the true traitor once and for all, he lunged in, but the cunning General was ready for him. He quickly sidestepped the killing blow, grabbing Soap's head and bounced it off of the roof of the old car, stunning him. Then, he took Soap's knife from his hand and promptly stabbed him in the sternum, standing over him while he went for his revolver.

"B-Bastard..." Soap bit out.

"You know what they saw about revenge, MacTavish." Shepherd taunted.

"Bite me...Wanker..." Soap replied.

"You know...Five years ago, I lost 30,000 men in the blink of an eye, and the world just fuckin' watched. Tomorrow there will be no shortage of volunteers, no shortage of patriots. I know you understand..." Shepherd said as he aimed his gun at Soap's head to finish him off, but he was tackled from the side by Price.

A fist fight ensued, Price hitting the General with body shots, but Shepherd recovered and belted him in the face, sending Price into the dirt. Shepherd went for his gun again, but Price grabbed his ankle and pulled him down, decking him again and dragging him to his feet. Shepherd threw him off, punched him in the gut and kneed his face. During this, Soap tried to go for Shepherd's gun, but the General spotted him and stomp down on it, getting blindsided by a shot to the jaw from Price. The fight dragged on for a few more moments until Shepherd got the upper hand, pummeling Price mercilessly.

Soap, seeing his CO, good friend and mentor getting the crap beaten out of him, steels himself and begins to pull the knife out of his chest. It hurt like hell and his bleeding was getting worse, but if he didn't do something, they would both die anyway...As traitors since Shepherd had framed them for his going rouge. With a final grunt of effort, he pulled the knife out and slid it in his hands, waiting for Shepherd to stay still. Finally, Shepherd stopped beating Price and looked over at him, stunned that he was even still alive. Soap used this surprize to throw the knife, burying itself deep into the traitor General's skull via his eye socket.

Spent from the effort, Soap resigned himself to die there as he closed his eyes. Price stirred after a few moments, looking around for his companion and found him, glad that he was still alive but he needed to get him medical attention quickly. He reached for his radio.

"Nikolai! Soap's down! He needs a doctor NOW!" Price yelled into his radio, hoping that he was still nearby.

"Da, Captain Price. I thought you said this was a one way ticket, no?" The Russian Loyalist and TF-141 ally quipped as he came in for a landing, but a brilliant blue light seemed to explode underneath his two compatriots, a strange circle with weird symbols appeared with it, growing brighter by the second.

"What the bloodly hell is this? Nikolai! Get us outta here, mate!" Price yelled as he tried to pick up Soap and get out of there, but as the light vanished, so did they. From the face of the earth.

"Wha...Wha the hell is this? Price! Price!" Nikolai called frantically to no avail.

GALLIA...1945

"Flight Officer Hartmann...Please repeat! What did you just say?" The Base Operator requested, her tone incredulous.

"I say again...Three unknown projectiles heading in your direction at an unspeakable pace! The Reserve Witches that were with me can't even keep up with them!" Ursula replied.

In the area surrounding the base, the three balls impacted in different areas. The first fell into the ocean, not 40 meters from the shore. The second hit the treeline a mile north along the beach. The final one crashed into the forest 2 miles from the base. All three did minimal damage, but it would take time to find the impact sites.

In the ocean, the three Rangers who we only a moment ago nearly crushed by a falling building in Washington DC were now trying to swim their way to shore.

"What the fuck is this? What the hell happened, man?" Dunn cried out as he dogpaddled his way toward dry land.

"I don't know! Quit whining and keep swimming!" Foley yelled back, a small wave sending salty water into his mouth. Ramirez was simply trying to stay afloat, but it wasn't easy with the large SMAW on his back. After a few more moments of floating like turds in a punch bowl, they washed ashore and took stock of their new surroundings and situation.

"Where the hell are we?" Dunn asked, looking around the beach to anything. Ramirez looked around for himself and found a building of some kind poking up over the thick treeline, pointing it out.

"Good eye, Ramirez. We'll re-group at that structure after we get this water out of our weapons." Foley stated as they checked to see if their weapons were water-logged. Luckily, only Dunn's Scope and NVG's were affected.

"Alright, now...Ramirez, you're on point. Take us to that structure." Foley ordered, the young private's shoulder's slumping as he did as he was told.

On the opposite side of the base on the beach, Price had shouldered the mortally wounded Soap and was currently dragging him toward the large building he saw when he came to. Sure, he was wondering what the hell happened, but he saw that Shepherd's body had bee dragged through whatever rabbit hole the fell down with them. Not one to waste an opportunity, he searched the dead man's uniform tunic and hit paydirt...The DSM that Shepherd killed his men over. He stashed it in his pack and hefted the mohawked former SAS Commando onto his shoulder.

"C'mon, son...You're a hard bastard...I won't let you quit on me..." Price grated out as he continued to drag the injured Scot to the building in hopes of recieveing medical attention.

Another mile away, a SWAT truck had found it's way onto a dirt road and it's driver was trying to make head's or tails of the situtaion, but his thinking was hindered by the massive amounts of pain in his lower ribs.

"Dammit...What the hell was that thing? Where am I?" Mason wondered as he pressed the gas to get the large truck moving, struggling with the amounts of effort it took to steer.

After a few moments more of driving, a pair of men stumbled out of the tree line. One of them appeared to be injured badly while the other one that had been carrying him leveled an M4A1 at him.

"Hold your fire! Friendly!" Mason called out as he spotted the British Emblem on the man's arm, slipping down gingerly and walking over.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" Price demanded.

"Lieutenant Brad Mason, Metro SWAT, Los Angeles Police." He answered, his breathing a little labored.

"Not Russian...Not military...Good." Price muttered, the rifle now pointed down.

"Christ...Your buddy's in real bad shape. I've got a Med Kit in back. Load him up and I'll try to drive us to that building I saw." Mason offered.

"Sound's good. Let's go." Price said as they quickly loaded Soap into the back of the SWAT truck and took off. The two told each other their sides of the story, hoping they would make sense somehow. Price was glad to know the good Lieutenant hated Shepherd just as much as he did.

"Rat bastard left L.A to the wolves. Don't know how many people got slaughtered by the Russians because he just left us there. I only wish I capped him myself." Mason growled.

"So that's what a copper's doing fighting the Russians." Price mused. He had a gut instinct that this man could be trusted and his gut hadn't failed him yet. He managed to peg Shepherd almost as soon as he met him after all. They kept on driving while Price used the Med Kit to keep Soap from bleeding out.

After a few more minutes, Price had him pull over to the side of the base in a secluded area.

"What's up?" Mason asked.

"This base seems lightly guarded, but we'll probably need to sneak in and find a medical facility for Soap. I patched him up for now, but it won't hold for long." Price suggested. Mason nodded and grabbed his M6A2, popping in a fresh mag while storing 3 more, getting into his tac gear.

"You got much training?" Price asked, wanting to know what he was working with.

"SWAT 10 years, U.S. Navy SEALs Team 6, 8 years." Mason answered almost robotcally.

"Good. That means you're up to the task." Price replied appriciatively, having worked with SEALs before, but noticed that the man was injured himself, clutching his ribs occasionally.

"You alright?" The former SAS Commando asked.

"Got a couple broken ribs, but I can wait. He's hurt worse than me and I can still fight. There's some 5.56mm ammo in the back if you need it." Mason offered, the Brit taking said offer, but had a question.

"What types of rounds are they?" Price asked.

"Containers on the left are Frag Rounds. On the right are the FMJ's." Mason directed as Price climbed into the van and loaded up before they both shouldered the wounded man and cautiously made their way onto the base.

They managed to find a kitchen, so they set Soap down to let him rest while they split up to search the rest of the base. They both had radios, so they used them to stay coordinated as they searched.

Back with the Rangers, Ramirez managed to lead them up to a hanger of some kind, where they saw something they couldn't believe. Military equipment and vehicles of all kinds were everywhere, as expected of a base, but not things that were in their time over 70 years old. The three could only shake their heads in disbelief as they continued on. The walked up to a window that opened into a hallway, where they heard voices. They quickly ducked down and hid, waiting out whomever was walking by.

"I swear, Sanya...You really need to stop crawling into my bed like that." Eila complained as her sleepy friend, Sanya V. Litvyak, yawned loudly.

"Sorry..." She replied.

"...It's alright. C'mon, Minna said she wanted everyone there. Something weird happened earlier." Eila told her friend as they walked past where the three Rangers hid.

Ramirez stood up, his ballistic glasses askew as his mind struggled to come up with some kind of explaination as to why two young girls were walking down the hall without any pants on. The other two saw his strange reaction and looked to see what he saw, the same reaction hitting them.

"S-sarge...What the hell is going on here?" Dunn asked shakily.

"I don't know..." Foley muttered as they took to shadowing the two girls in hopes of finding out more about this strange place they found themselves in.

The two girls kept walking until they came to a room and entered it. Foley and his men slipped over to it and read the plaque, which read "Briefing Room". Ramirez slowly opened the door a crack to see what was going on when his eyes were assualted by all of the girls within in the same state of dress...Or undress depending out your point of view and let out a startled yelp that alerted all of the girls within.

"SHOW YOURSELF!" Mio barked, the three Rangers falling through the door in surprise as Minna barked out orders.

"Major, restrain them!" She yelled as Mio, Shirley, herself, and Barkhorn all moved in quickly to subdue these unknowns.

"Holy crap! She's got a freaking sword!"

"Ramirez! Hang on!"

"What the hell's going on, man?"

The ruckus inside there got the attention of the two other visitors currently roaming the halls.

"Price...Mason here. Did you hear that?" He asked.

"Yeah...Meet me there, we'll check it out." Price replied.

A moment later, they met up at the room and stacked up at the door, preparing to breach. A swift boot to the door from Price gained them entry into the room, where they saw a gaggle of scantily clad girls wrestling a trio of what appeared to be Army Rangers to the ground.

"Los Angeles Police! Hands up!" Mason ordered out of reflex, his carbine trained in the middle of the room. A few of the girls put their hands up on reflex while Price looked to the downed Rangers.

"What the hell are you lot doing here? You with Shepherd?" He asked, his rifle trained on Dunn as he stood over him.

"Shepherd? What the hell are you talking about, man? We don't even know what the hell's happening here! One minute, we were sweeping downtown D.C after the invasion and nearly get our heads blown off, then we get zapped into the freaking ocean!" Dunn explained in a nutshell as Price scanned each Ranger's face, seeing no deception, only confusion.

"Shepherd was overall commander of U.S military forces. You were under that bastard's command and that same bastard betrayed us, killed off my team. So you see that we can't trust you just yet." Price explained.

The girls were confused as to what the hell just happened. Five strangely dressed men were here, talking about something they couldn't understand. The two men who kicked the door in were angry with a man named Shepherd, one man with a Liberion accent and the other Brittainian, both looking pretty beat up and the Liberion man in obvious pain. The other three were distinctly Liberion. Minna stepped forward.

"Excuse me...But what are you talking about and why are you here?" She demanded, talking to the eldest of the men, Price.

"My name is John Price, former SAS Captain and current field commander for Task Force 141." Price answered her, but his question remained.

"Who's in charge here? I need to talk to him." Price replied, his eyes not leaving the Rangers.

"She's right here." Minna answered him, her russet colored eyes boring into him.

Price had heard of female base CO's, but none so young. He relented and signaled to Mason for stand down. Price explained his situation while the youngest of the men looked around for anything that would give him a clue as to where they were and his eyes fell on a calender. He just couldn't believe his eyes and prayed that they just hadn't changed the calender in 70 years. Dunn noticed him muttering to himself.

"Madre de Dios...(Mother of God in Spanish)" He whispered.

"Ramirez...Hey man, what's wrong?" Dunn asked as the younger Ranger handed him the calender.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding...1945?" Dunn muttered aloud.

"We went back in time? Great...After I thought this couldn't get ant weirder..." Foley remarked.

"Well...It's the truth. The date is March 13th, 1945. You are currently in the Base of Operations for the 501 Joint Fighter Wing, The Strike Witches." Mio answered in a matter-of-fact tone, all five men suddenly growing pale.

"Holy crap..." Mason muttered out, his breath shaky.

"That can't be right..." Price added, winceing due to his injuries and fatigue.

"Well...You guys look like hell." Shirley commented on their condition.

"She's right...You guys look so beat up, but I can take a look if you want." Yoshika offered, but Price and Mason waved her off.

"It's alright. Our injuries aren't that bad and we can wait." Mason replied calmly. A moan from down the hall got their attention.

"Soap! Hang on, mate! I'm comin'!" Price yelled as he burst out the door, Mason following him.

The rest of them decided to follow and see what was happening. Once they opened the door, their noses were assualted by the mettalic smell of blood...Lots of it. A sixth man was laying on one of the tables, hastily patched up, but his bleeding was severe. From the pale color of his skin, he didn't have long. Dunn ran up with his med kit and offered his services, being a rated Medic.

"Let me see. I'm a Medic and I might be able to help him." Dunn stated. Price looked apprehensive at first, but relented and let Dunn get close.

"Holy shit...This is really bad. If I had treated him sooner, there might be a chance, but with what I have on me..." Dunn trailed off, shaking his head. Yoshika piped up.

"I can heal him with my magic!" She declared, all five men looking at her like she was a freaking martian.

Mio noticed the looks she was getting and reaffirmed her claims.

"She can. Let her help." Mio, the eye patched girl in the white officer's jacket stated. Nodding to the younger witch, Yoshika stepped up to the dying man and concentriated.

To their utter disbelief, she began to glow, sprouting Shiba-Inu ear and a tail. She then let her hands hover above the nasty wound as Soap began to glow faintly as well. A surprized look took over his features before his eyes rolled into the back of his head. The wound on his chest slowly stopped bleeding and actually began to mend to their amazement. After a few minutes, Yoshika stopped her treatment and turned to them with a smile.

"I'm finished! He'll be okay, now, but he needs to rest." Yoshika beamed as Price looked at the small girl in wonder before he got his bearings back.

"Good...Thank you." He thanked her as he found a seat, grunting form the pain in his body after Shepherd beat him up.

"That was pretty amazing..." Mason commented, to which Mio smirked.

"Miyafuji's healing magic truly is useful. Without her, we would have been out of commision long ago." Mio stated as Mason sat down, clutching his ribs as they sent a wave of sharp pain through him.

"You guys don't look so hot." Shirley commented aloud, pointing to Mason and Price.

"I got the piss beat out of me while the yank over here was caught in an explosion before we got chucked down the rabbit hole and ended up here." Price replied to the busty girls question.

"I can heal you guys, too, if you want!" Yoshika cut in, but her long haired friend seemed worried about that.

"But, Yoshika...You're tired from training and healing Mr. Soap." Lynnette protested, but the young Fuso girl sohok her head.

"If anyone is injured, I have to do what I can to help them. Besides, I feel fine!" Yoshika replied brightly as she asked Mason to lie down on the ground and remove his armor vest and top so she could get a feel for his injuries. Dunn walked over to give her a hand with the diagnosis.

"Two broken ribs, three cracked or bruised and a light concussion...That other guy said you were hit by the shockwave of a big explosion? Your armor probably saved your life." The Ranger Medic stated as Yoshika worked on him.

When Mason felt the healing magic wash over him, it was like being dunked in a very relaxing and warm bath as the pain seemed to dull to nothing. He felt his ribs seem to knit and heal all while feeling like he was on a euphoric high.

"Whoa...That felt really nice..." He murmured as he sat up, donning his gear once again as she turned to Price.

"Your turn!" She said as she had him lay down and she worked on him.

In the many years of experience one Captain John Alan Price has had in the field and in life, none came anywhere close to feeling as good as this magic did.

'Healing magic, huh? Bloody hell...What I wouldn't have given for this after that incident with Zhakaev...You're one lucky bastard, Soap.' Price thought as he felt as if someone had given him a shot of the world best pain killer.

"Okay, Mr. Price! You're all better, now!" The young girl told him cheerfully, the 47 year old man sitting up in a daze. Nothing was aching anymore, not even that tooth Shepherd nearly knocked out.

"Thanks, luv." He thanked the girl once again as he stood back up, feeling like he'd just had the best night's sleep in his life as Soap woke up and looked around in a daze.

"Wh-what happened to me?" The Scottish man asked, seeing all of these young girls in just shirts and little else, three Army Rangers, another man with SWAT on his uniform, and his former CO helping him stand.

"Well...That girl over there saved your life, mate." Price said, explaining all that had happened thus far. Soap was of course wary of the Ranger's, but wasn't going to be hostile here, not where these children were and risk them getting hurt. He was very grateful, though, to Yoshika. He felt as if that life threatening wound never happened.

"Well...I guess I need to thank you. Eh, lass?" He thanked her with a smirk, but his stomach's growling loudly interrupted him.

"Heh...Guess I'm hungry." He admitted sheepishly, the rest of the men feeling their own hunger pangs calling loudly.

"Oh my...I guess I can make you all a good meal from my homeland!" Yoshika stated, the men perking up at the promise of a good meal.

"That's a wonderful idea, Miyafuji! A good meal and then were can further discuss this new situation we have found ourselves in." Minna suggested.

"That's great and all, but I believe we had better clean up in here, first." Gertrude Barkhorn, or just Trudy to her friends, suggested.

Looking around the room, they saw that the place was a little dishevled and there was a lot of blood from Soap's wounds.

"I s'pose I'd better clean up after m'self, then. Left a lotta blood." Soap sighed as he tried to sit up, but Price forced him back down.

"No...You just sit there and rest a bit, son. I'll clean that up." Price replied as he picked up a mop and bucket he saw in a corner and set to work, Mason and Ramirez already at work on righting the furniture.

"My wife would have me help get things ready for dinner on the nights I was actually home." Mason stated.

"My mom had me and all of my brothers and sisters help get dinner ready every night, so it's no big deal to pitch in." The normally silent Private stated. The two remaining Rangers shrugged as they help set the table and carry things out.

LATER...

Dinner had been very filling, most of the men asking for seconds which was something the young Fuso witch was more than happy to accomodate. They hadn't had a home cooked meal in ages, so they savored every bite of the Beef Bowl they were served. After that, they were led back to the briefing room where they could further explain their situation and what had happened.

"So...Who wants to start?" Minna asked.

"What did that Corporal say about an invasion in Washington? Did the Neuroi finally reach Liberion?" Shirley inquireed, worried that her homeland had fallen under attack.

"What country is that? What the bloody hell's a Neuroi?" Soap asked.

With this question, a long and drawn out Q & A session kicked off, starting off with why they didn't wear any pants, to which they explained about their Strike Units and that was why they needed to dress the way they did. They also threw in the history of their world and about the Witches in general, so that they had a better understanding of what was going on around them, but it was still somewhat awkward to see these girls in their dress code. The witches also introduced themselves , to which the men replied.

"The old man already introduced himself, so I'll go next. John MacTavish, Former SAS Commando, Captain and 2IC with Task Force 141 under Captain Price." Soap rattled off with his heavy Scottish accent.

'He sounds just like my uncle Angus...' Lynne thought curiously.

"What is this Task Force 141 and the SAS?" Barkhorn asked.

"Task Force 141 was a multinational Counter Terrorist force that was founded to track down a man named Vladimir Makarov, who's killed countless people already and sparked the war we were fighting 'til we got brought here. The SAS is known as the Special Air Services, Britain's Special Forces." Price answered, the girls satisfied with the explaination but Mio wanted to know more, fascinated by all of this.

"Have you been doing this for a long time?" The Fuso officer asked.

"Well...I've been going about it for over twenty years." Price answered honestly.

"How about Mr. Soap?" Yoshika asked, Soap groaning when Price stifled a chuckle.

"That's just a nickname...Real one's John. John MacTavish, remember?" He reminded her, the young Fuso girl chuckling nerviously at being caught not paying attention. He didn't look annoyed, so she eased down.

"Ever since I passed selection 5 years ago, I've been working with the old man here. Taught me a lot. I was in the Royal Marines before that for 6 years." Soap answered. This time, Lynnette had a question for him.

"Where are you from, Mr. MacTavish? You sound just like my Uncle Angus. Are your from Britannia like Mr. Price?" She asked him. It was an honest enough question.

"Scotland. Around Eldersly." Soap answered her question, which seemed to satisfy her curiousity, but raised his about what his homeland was called here. The Q and A session ball seemed to be passed to the next person.

"Guess I'm next. Brad Mason, Los Angeles Police Department Special Weapons and Tactics Division, or SWAT. Lieutenant." he announced.

"Police? Then what's with the heavy weaponry?" Shirley asked.

"Well, SWAT is a para-military arm of the American Police Forces. We get called in to deal with things normal police can't handle. We conduct hostage rescue, heavy assualt, anti-terrorism, Riot Response, and a variety of other missions, since the criminals in our time are some real nasty customers. In short, Police Special Forces. But at our core, we are still police officers. Our primary objectives are to serve the public trust, protect the innocent, and uphold the law. Normally, a cop has to spend 3 years working the jails and twice that on street patrol, but I managed to bypass that with military experience." Mason explained, Price nodding.

"Some of those SWAT teams can hold their own against the professional military teams, so they're nothing to sneeze at. Last I heard, Los Angeles SWAT was the best America could offer. They held off the Russians for a good while with little manpower." The veteran Captain added appraisingly.

Trudy and Mio were impressed that these Special Forces teams were so skilled and venerable. To them, it would have taken a lot of discipline and training to make things like that possible. However, he mentioned military experience.

"You mentioned military service?" Mio inquired, interested.

"Yeah...I served in the U.S Navy SEALs DEVGRU, Gold Team for 8 years. Served in several different hotspots and saw a lot of combat, so SWAT wanted that experience." Mason answered. Of course, they wanted to know what the SEALs were, but Soap answered for him.

"SEALs stands for Sea, Air, Land. They are one of the top Special Forces units in the world, along with the SAS. I've worked with them before, and I was highly impressed." Soap explained. Price had his own two cents to add.

"On top of that, we've also worked with JSOC units before, Army Delta. Those men were some of the best I've ever worked with." Price added.

"Well, SAS is nothing to sneeze at, either. I mean, just the fact that you're still doing this is proof enough that the Brits do it right with their Spec Ops guys." Mason complimented.

"The three of us are with the U.S Army Rangers, 1st Battalion 75th Regiment. I'm Sergeant David Foley. Next is my 2IC, Corporal Mike Dunn and finally, Private James Ramirez." Foley explained.

"Rangers? I don't recall Liberion having a unit by that name..." Minna wondered.

"The Army Rangers were founded in 1942 in our world, in WWII. Our unit, the 75th Regiment, is occasionally tasked with Special Operations from time to time. We were last in America's capitol, fighting off the Russians." Dunn elaborated.

"America? But you guys have to be from Liberion, like me. I mean, that flag patch on your uniforms look a little like the Liberion flag, and Washington DC and Los Angeles are both major Liberion cities." Shirley said of the four Americans.

"Err...Yeah...Anyway, we were fighting off the Russian Invasion in DC when we were brought here." Dunn finished when Ramirez nudged him.

"They don't call 'em Russians here. What was it again?" Ramirez asked himself.

"Orussians. We are called Orussians." Sanya answered in a voice that was little more than a whisper.

"Oh. Right." Dunn replied apathetically. To him, a Russian my any other name was still a Russian. They were the ones who killed his family and he swore he'd make them pay. Eila didn't like the way he was staring at her.

"Leave her alone!" Eila lashed out.

"Easy. You have to understand how things are where we came from. The Russians invaded our country, ripped it apart, and killed countless people over something we had no part in." Mason defended.

"Well...It's not our problem, so keep your man in check." Perrine retorted, making all six men scowl.

"You know...I wasn't going to blame that little girl, anyway. This is a wholly different world than the one we came from and I'd like to think we're smart ennough to tell the difference. Besides, the Russians took something from me, too." Mason replied, trying to stay calm.

"And what would that be?" She goaded.

"My wife and two daughters, the oldest of which is probably that Miyafuji girl's age, around 15. My youngest was only 10 when the Russians murdered them in cold blood." Mason snapped, Perrine being taken aback.

"I...I'm sorry..." Sanya apologized, but the man ruffled her hair lightly with his gloved hand.

"It's alright, sweetie...It's not like you or your people here did anything wrong." He sighed, waving off her apology but she gave him a hug anyway. She was very sensitive to the feelings of others and knew that these people were in distress. She was trying to help them the only way she knew how. Besides, this man reminded her of her own father in a way.

The girls felt really bad for the man. It was obvious that it hurt to talk about it and let the subject fall by the wayside, but Minna vowed to have a talk with Perrine about her attitude. Ramirez noticed that he was from LA, like himself.

"Hey man...Did you know Eduardo Ramirez?" The young private asked.

"Yeah...I did. He was a Sergeant in the Gang Busters Unit over at Parker Center. Why?" Mason replied.

"He was my eldest brother." Ramirez answered.

"Wait...You're Art's youngest boy, aren't you?" Mason ventured.

"Yeah! I think I remember you, too! You used to slip me candy sometimes and my elder sister babysat your kids...Amy and Jenna, right?" Ramirez recollected, making Minna and a couple other witches smile at the friendly banter. Even his own squadmates didn't know this much about the young private.

"This guy a friend of yours?" Foley asked.

"He was a real good friend of my dad's before he retired from the LAPD and I used to play with his kids when my sister Gizelle used to babysit them." Ramirez answered his Sergeant.

"What happened to them? Are they alright?" Ramirez inquired, but was dreading the answer when his face grew grim.

"Don't know how to tell you this, but they're all gone. After that bastard Shepherd yanked his forces out of the area, the Russians tore right through us. Russians got hold of a duty roster at Parker Center and hunted down everyone that could be a threat to them and gunned them down. Sorry, kid." Mason told him sadly.

The young private didn't know how to feel, but he felt numb all over and unable to speak as he slumped to the floor. Dunn knew how they both felt, having lost his own family the same way and some of the girls knew, too. Sanya gave the young private a hug, also, Ramirez flinching slightly as she did.

'These Russians sound very brutal...Killing innocent people like that. That is not the duty of a soldier, but the impulses of a brute and a thug.' Mio surmised with a frown.

"About why the Russians invaded...I think I know how and why." Soap offered.

He told the story of how Shepherd recruited a new guy into the Task Force and gave him the mission of shadowing Makarov while he and Roach had to recover an important module the Russians nicked. During this mission, the Zhakhaev Airport incident massacre happened. Allen was forced to take part to keep his cover intact. What wasn't counted on was the fact that Makarov knew about Allen and killed him before escaping, leaving all of those dead at the feet of an American. It didn't help that they all spoke English and used American weapons for the massacre. Allen's mission was supposed to be the assassination of Makarov, but instead it sparked World War 3.

"In your world...People fight people?" Lynnette questioned.

"Yeah...Been that way for a long time. This makes the third global war we've been through in the past 100 years. This year was supposed to be the end of the Second World War, my father fought in it against Germany." Price sighed as he explained the bloody history of their world and timeline. It had already been established that this was some sort of alternate timeline.

The girls all paled at the implications of their history and asked themselves one thing : If the Neuroi hadn't come, would they have been fighting and killing each other? It chilled them all to the bone thinking about it, especially the actions of Karlsland's other world counterpart, Nazi Germany. The three witches from that country visibly cringed as Price described just a portion of the atrocities they commited.

"Anyway...These Neuroi things...No one knows where they came from?" Mason asked, trying to put a lid on the sensitive subject.

"No...Not really. Back in 1939, they just suddenly showed up and began to attack. No warnings...Just complete annhilation. Our conventional military were taking crippling losses and were almost helpless against them, but in 1941, Doctor Miyafuji invented the Striker Units, giving us a fighting chance once again. Countless young witches from all over the world answered the call to arms without hesitation and took to the skies and in the trenches as Land Witches." Minna explained.

"Sounds interesting. So, the grunts probably love you guys. I'd be singing your praises if I was out there." Foley ventured.

"If that were only true..." Minna sighed, making the men wonder what was wrong until Mio took over.

"You see, while many do consider us as vital and give their all to support us, there are still those who openly resent us. Many of them are in positions of power and would love to see the Witches fail, and replace us with something else." Mio scowled.

"Why would anyone mess with a winning combination like that? Sounds like some of your brass was daft to me." Price chimed in.

"That it does, Captain. Sadly, that didn't stop them from trying." Barkhorn said, explaining the Warlock incident in it's entireity.

"That Maloney bastard...Sounds too much like Shepherd to me. Results and damn everyone and everything in his way." Soap grimaced.

"Just what happened with this Shepherd that you keep mentioning?" Mio asked. In return, she was given the story behind the 141...It's origin, inception, and it's demise.

"30,000 soldiers in the blink of an eye...Horrible..." The youngest of the Witches, Franchesca Lucchini, wimpered as she shivered. Even thought the Neuroi have killed just as many people, this was humans doing this to other humans, something that positively frightened her.

"Aye...That changed him. After that, he started sending his men into the meat grinder." Soap affirmed.

"I know what you mean, man...Shepherd didn't give a damn about danger close. Never mattered to him how many died to reach his goals, just as long as he got what he wanted." Dunn spat.

Minna disliked commanders like Shepherd, who threw away the lives of their subordinates carelessly. Maloney was very much the same way, as Captain MacTavish had pointed out. They were well justified in feeling the way they did. Even the fact that they killed Shepherd didn't bother her too much, since he had turned traitor and killed his own Special Forces Task Force, branding them as traitors instead and tarnishing their names to make himself a hero. The added fact that he left an entire area to the non-existant mercy of these Russians didn't help, either. The police and the Task Force bravely stood their ground, something that she greatly respected.

After a few more hours, the need for sleep was beginning to take them over, Minna offering them rooms in the base.

"Major, would you and Lieutenant Hartmann please show them to the unused rooms in the West Wing? I don't know if the rooms have sheets or not, but if they don't please escort them to supply to draw them." Minna ordered, but Mio wanted a word with her.

"Minna...There's something that doesn't feel right about having them here..." Mio whispered.

"These men did not come here by choice and have nowhere to go. On top of that, they had the ability and firepower to overwhelm this entire base with little effort, but I know they won't do it. They are good, honest men and I know they will prove trustworthy. Look at how they handled the questions before and the aura they seem to give off. They look intimidating, but they view us as friendlies and possibly allies. They trust us, so we need to extend some good faith." Minna confided in her 2IC.

Mio knew that Minna's judgement of character was second to none, but still had her own reservations, due to experiences when she was a young witch. A man that had been her mentor had suddenly turned on her and nearly raped her if she hadn't had her sword, Reppumaru with her. She didn't want anyone, the girls under her especially, to go through that. She turned and followed her orders, Hartmann skipping along behind her.

"Commander Minna has arranged for three rooms for the six of you, so if you would please follow me." Mio called out. The men simply shrugged and followed the Fuso Major to where they would bunk down for the night. As they reached the three rooms, Mio turned and faced the six men, a serious look on her face.

"Look...Commander Minna trusts you enough to let you stay here, but I still have my misgivings about this. I only ask one thing of you...Respect the privacy of my girls and I will respect yours." Mio declared, her ultimatum laid bare.

"No quarrel with me or Soap." Price replied.

"None here." Mason answered.

"Will do, ma'am." Foley replied, aknowledging her as a superior officer. Mio grinned.

"Good. I'm glad we have this understanding. Now, I see that all three rooms have linens in the already. There are two to a room, so please give your bunk assignments to Lieutenant Hartmann and she will record them with our duty office. Good night to you all." She bowed to them and left for her quarters, satisfied with their answer.

"Well...I guess it's Soap and myself in one room." Price stated.

"Then, me and Sarge are in another." Dunn announced.

"Guess that leaves me and the youngun'." Mason replied, Ramirez nodding.

"That was easy!" Hartmann chirped as she jotted down the names and rooms and turned to skip away, but Mason called out.

"Hold on a minute...I still need to go get my SWAT van. It's got all of my equipment in it and it's in the forest just outside the base. I need to secure it before someone finds it." Mason requested.

"Huh...I'll go with you and get you through the gates and into the motorpool!" Erica told him as Ramirez spoke up.

"I...uh, guess I'll go too." He stated, drawing no arguments from his Sarge.

As they took off, Price and Soap began to relax after that filling meal and get ready to get some sleep, squaring away their gear and weapons before hand out of habit.

"Finally...Sleeping in a real bed..." Soap stated as he slowly laid down on the bed.

"Ohh...That feels nice..." The mohawked Scot groaned with relief as he quickly fell asleep, snoring inside of a few minutes.

Price stayed up for a few more moments to think on things for a minute, placing his Boonie Hat on the corner post of his bed.

'Things got weird...Like a Doctor Who episode, but at least we're alive and that Miyafuji girl really saved Soap's arse...I wonder if we can even go back. Shepherd's out of the picture, but now we need to deal with Makarov. Maybe I can crack this DSM and find anything worthwhile.' Price thought as he squared his weapons and supplies away before settling down to sleep, keeping his .45 close just in case.

Dunn simply crashed into his bed without even changing out while Foley simply shook his head and organized his things before going to sleep.

'So...Shepherd is even more of a bastard than I thought possible. He possibly knew that he was sending Allen to his death and sparking WW3, but didn't care. If...No...When we get back, I going to help Price expose that bastard's actions.' Foley thought as he slipped off to sleep.

Outside the base, Mason led Hartmann and Ramirez to where his SWAT van had been stashed and opened it up, the young Karlsland witch reading the lettering on the side of the van.

"To Serve...And Protect..." She read.

"Yep...That's the credo all law officers live their lives by." Mason replied as he dug his keys out of his pocket and jumped into the drivers seat, Hartmann and Ramirez hopping in the other side as he cranked over the engine.

"Hmm...About half a tank of gas left...Good." He muttered as he eased the big vehicle in reverse, then back onto the road to the base.

Hartmann popped out and got him cleared to head to the motorpool, where it would remain parked. As they parked the van and hopped out, Ramirez and Mason looked around at all of the vintage vehicles...At least to them...In awe...Especially the M4 Sherman tank standing proudly by it's lonesome.

"What I wouldn't give to drive that..." Mason nearly drooled.

"Yeah..." The young private agreed with his impromptu roommate as Hartmann giggled at them until he opened up the back once again to reveal the arsenal he had inside.

"Whoa...You were packing a whole armory back here." Ramirez whistled.

"These look kinda cool..." Hartmann added as she got a closer look at the Vector.

"Oh, that? That is the TDI Vector Sub-Machine Gun. We got those just a few months before the invasion and we loved 'em. Accurate and hard hitting, firing .45 ACP rounds at 1000 rounds per minute." Mason explained to the young witch as she picked up a Riot Shield and helmet with the LAPD insignia on it that she found in a locker labeled Riot Gear.

"What's this stuff?" She asked.

"That is a Riot Shield and Helmet. We usually used those during riot suppression and other related missions to protect ourselves. They can take several hits from high powered rounds before breaking, making them invaluable. The other things are the Riot Concussion Grenades and the Taser." The veteran SWAT officer told her.

"What the heck is a Tazer?" Hartmann asked.

"It's a non-lethal weapon that we use to take suspects in alive for questioning. What it does, is it shoots out these two probes with compressed air and when the probes hit the target, you can then send out a crippling electrical charge that takes them down." The SWAT vet replied.

"Cool...Too bad it wouldn't help against the Neuroi..." She commented as she picked up another weapon, making both the Ranger and Officer go wide eyed.

"Whoa! Easy there...That's an RPG-7. A rocket launcher like the one I had on my back. One of these rockets would reduce one of your tanks to scrap in one clean hit, so be very careful with it." Ramirez explained this time.

"Neat! I bet that would really punch a hole in a Neuroi!" Hartmann chirped, but yawned.

"It's getting late, so I'm gonna go to bed now...Bye!" She said, skipping her way to her room, the eyes of the motorpool personnel now upon them. Ramirez and Mason just gazed at them and they hastily looked away.

"C'mon. Grab those three ammo cans while I get this, and I'll lock this stuff up. You and your boys can fill your mags with this stuff in the morning." Mason instructed, grabbing a small satchel and a shotgun with a bandolier of shells.

"Yeah...I'm beat and I just wanna sleep for a while." The young Ranger yawned, hefting the cans and the two headed off to their room.

"So...What's your take on all this?" Ramirez asked enroute to the room.

"Well...I know I'm not dreaming. Besides, these are good girls. They didn't have to let us stay here and could have has us chased out, let MacTavish die, not feed us, or held us prisoner. That makes them alright in my book. It's just hard for me to see girls around the same age as my daughters walking around dressed as they are. I know they have a reason for it, but...It's damn awkward." Mason replied.

"Guess you're right." Ramirez reasoned as he nudged the door open with a foot and set the stuff down in a corner near their carbines. However, he was a young man entering his prime, all of 20 years old, and he knew a few of them had to be at least 18. One can't blame a red blooded young man for looking a little longer than necessary.

Seeing that they both had desks, Mason began to dress down and arrange his gear and weapons with mags ejected and chambers cleared. Ramirez simply shrugged and followed the older man's lead, wondering if he had been in the military before since he was this organized.

"Hey...You were in the service before, right? I never got around to asking you what branch you served in. Hell, that was why I even joined." He asked.

"Yeah...With the Navy. I was a SEAL with Team 6, Navy DEVGRU for 8 years." Mason answered, draping his armor vest over the back of his chair, opening the window to let in some fresh air, and conking right out, the young private passing out like a light in the comfortable bed he was provided with.

"I feel kinda inadequate..." Ramirez mumbled, all of these older guys around that were complete badasses like those two 141 guys and his new roommate.

A/N : That ends the first chapter of this new fic. As stated before, Bucue helped me with a critique before I published this, so that means he got to read this before anyone else and got his blessing. Just wanted to point that out before anyone tried to cry plagurism. Also, if you want a basic idea on what Mason's combat gear looks like, picture the SWAT from Deadliest Warrior with Dragon Skin Ballistic Armor.

Anyway...Some terms that can be explained.

.45 ACP stands for .45 Caliber American Colt Pistol.

The M6A2 is a REAL Carbine. Manufactured by LWRC Firearms. It's chambered in 6.8x43mm Remington SPC, or Special Purpose Cartridge.

The Vector is a real SMG that is also known as the Kriss Super-V. Chambered in .45 cal, it has a cyclic rate around 1000 rounds per minute.

DEVGRU is short for United States Naval Special Warfare Development Group, a Tier One Spec Ops force and one of the best on the face of the planet. The selection process HAS had fatalities, making it also one of the hardest to join, like the Russian Spetznaz.

Navy SOCOM stands for Navy Special Operations Command. Technically, Navy DEVGRU falls under JSOC, along with Army Delta. I threw that in due to Operation Kingfish. They would know about the connection Delta and DEVGRU would have. Mason, Price, and Soap have a lot in common with the fact that they were all members of Tier One Special Forces groups.

JSOC stands for Joint Special Operations Command, which involves Navy SEAL Team 6 or DEVGRU, Army Delta, and the Air Force's 24th Special Tactics Squadron officially. Though, on occasion, 75th Rangers and a few other units can fall under their command if the need arises. They also work closely with CIA SAD (Special Activities Division...Just think Black Ops.) on many occasions. These people also work with the Task Forces quite often, so there is a chance that Price and Mason worked together in the past.