Prisoner of war. Those three words can capture the attention of an entire audience. Maybe even an entire country. There's just one problem with that. For Army, it could be very well known that the enemy have a prisoner of war. For Marines it's the same. Just like Air force, Navy, and most other military branches. There are several that do not such as Navy SEALS, Delta, and most black ops groups. There are some even more secretive the Task Force 141, S.A.S, CIA, and in this case, a blacker than black special operations group, known as Blacklist. For all special purposes, this organization isn't even real. But oh no it's real...very, very real.

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Handcuffs... thought the chained agent in his mind, Perfect. The rooms lights blinded the agent with such intensity, he could barely keep them opened without feeling like his eyelids were going to explode.

There was the sound of a door slamming, and the agent heard footsteps, what sounded like high heels. Then a slam on the table in front of him.

Although not able to see clearly, he was able to get a few glimpses of his surroundings. The table in front of him, the chair he was sitting on. The window at the back of the room, as well as the many goddamn lights. So many.

There was whispering from what he assumed was a female, and male voice. However, the agent couldn't remember what had happened, or how he ended up here. But it wasn't amnesia, he had gotten past that, or he assumed.

"What's your name soldier?" the woman's old voice asked him. The sound of metal scrapping against what he assumed to be cement.

The agent coughed, he felt numerous bruises on his body, as well as some cuts. His shirt was removed, displaying grisly bruises, and large slash marks, from knives and various other sharp objects.

"Bill Murray." the agent laughed, as a fist came crashing down against his face. Blood spilled down his nose. "Fuck..." the agent coughed.

"We've been doing this for two months Mr. Glacier." the old woman's voice sighed, in annoyance. "MacTavish is dead, Price is gone, and Simon Riley isn't going to come riding on a white steed and save you!" the woman's voice yelled in Glaciers face.

Danny Glacier was the agents name, a Blacklist operative, and special forces expert. After serving in the Navy. Danny immediately took on the Navy SEAL training. He, surprisingly passed. But was court-martialed for disobeying direct orders. It was at this time, during his stay at a military prison, that Blacklist noticed him. Two things sparked their interest. His age, being twenty five. And his natural skill, and reactions in the field. He had a knack for killing. They quickly took him in, and inducted him into the program. He passed this training as well. He was instantly sent into the field, during a special mission involving the assassination of a high Iraqi official known by the name, 'Malak Ali.' It was during this mission that Danny met two soldiers that would quickly become his life long friends. John MacTavish, aka Soap, and Captain John Price.

"You think this is a game?" the woman yelled, snapping Danny out of his trance, "Do you? You think Blacklist is gonna send people to save you? Do you?"

Danny sniffled as the blood started to dry and crust on the sides of his nostrils, "I don't think...Ms. Hawthorne." Danny chuckled, "I know..."

"Get him out of my sight!" the old woman yelled as she waved him away. Two large men entered, bald heads, almost seven feet high, and at least two-hundred and fifty pounds.

"Whoa guys, can't we talk about this?" Danny joked as the two henchman unlocked the handcuffs, and stood him up.

"Chandra," Danny caught a glimpse of what looked like her assistance, but again, the lights were at such a high setting that it was almost impossible to keep them open. Danny had noticed that everyone in the room was wearing sunglasses...aside from himself of course. "It's the CIA, they want to know where wee at."

"I don't have time for this!"

"Ma'am...they say they might start an investigation."

"Let them do whatever the fuck they want, by the time I'm finished, they won't be able to find Ghost, Soap, Price, or even Church!" Chandra snarled. Exiting the room in a huff.

As Danny was being dragged back to his cell...he let his mind drift off to how he got himself this mess in the first place, and how getting out would be the fight of his life.

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Three years ago. April 5th, 2013.

Danny Glacier, often called by his codename, 'Church,' sprinted up the side of the nuclear scarred, and gray colored hill. AS-50 Sniper rifle strapped to his back, MP5SD in his hands, and com in his ear.

"Church, this Overrun, comeback over." static buzzed through Danny's eardrum as the voice on the opposite end spoke.

"This is Church, I copy, what's up Overrun?" Danny asked, as he took to one knee. The breezy winds of the Chernobyl, Russia, almost caused Danny to shiver.

"We've got a situation." Overrun answered, "Seems Malak has changed direction. Looks like he won't be meeting with Makarov."

"Are you shitting me?" Danny sighed, as aimed down his scope checking the dead, and dry grassy plains for enemies.

"Nope." Overrun stated, "You're mission still stands. Seems Malak will be making his usual stop at safe house three."

"That's about two miles in the opposite direction." Danny complained as he quickly stood up and bolted back from whence he came.

"Yeah, well quit your bitching. Intel is always too late." Overrun said, as the com in his ear made a static noise.

"Well, fuck you too Overrun." Danny coughed, as he dove into the ground, lying prone, his ghillie suit making him nearly invisible.

"Contact us when you make the hit." Overrun said, "Overrun out." and with that, the com was clear of static.

Danny crawled slowly his gray colored MP5SD blended in nicely with the colors of the grass. Or lack thereof.

The grounds of Chernobyl were crawling with soldiers. Not a civilian was in sight. It could have been because this part of the city hadn't been populated for awhile now. Could have been because Makarov was present. Could have been a lot of things. But Danny's job wasn't, 'what could be,' Danny's job was, 'what was.'

Two soldiers, clad in simple gray uniform, and ski masks. Walked passed each other, moving slowly and checking their feet often.

"Son of a bitch." Danny sighed, as he continued to crawl to the left, hoping to pass them. One of the soldiers stopped suddenly, and took out a pack of cigarettes. The other solider walked over soon, asking for a cigarette, the two took a smoking break.

Danny started to move quickly, crawling passed them as fast as he could. When all seemed clear, and after about four minutes, and twenty-three seconds of crawling, Danny stood up, and started sprinting.

Danny couldn't help but notice...well, the lack of color within the city. It was as if someone nuked it with gray. Someone had nuked it, but not with gray.

The cold winds would cause any normal soldier to perform poorly. But not Danny, Danny was Blacklist, and Blacklist trained their soldiers to be perfect. Anything less, and you were out. Plain and simple.

About ten minutes passed, and Danny was already where Overrun said Malak Ali would be. Danny, barely out of breathe, and still strong. Slipped into an abandoned building, unnoticed, and unseen.

The building was broken, but it provided cover, standing at at least nine stories. Danny had some floors to clear.

Suddenly, Danny heard yelling, several Russian soldiers were placed upstairs. "Fuck!" Danny swore as he slipped into a room on the sixth story.

The men were yelling in Russian. They said something along the lines of, 'I heard something run upstairs.'

"Shit." Danny snarled, as he readied his MP5SD, and planted into cover by the door. His finger flipped the safety off.

Two soldiers ran passed the door on the sixth floor quickly, Danny popped out and squeezed the trigger. The MP5SD hissed as six pullets exited the chamber. A small streak of blood exploded as the rounds pierced the backs of the soldiers. The soldiers fell, tumbling down the stairs, and landing at the end of the stairwell. Dead.

Danny moved swiftly down the steps, and lifted one on his back. He dragged the other into the room on the fifth floor, and hid them behind the sofas and other furniture.

"Church, where are you? Malak's probably pulling up as we speak." Overrun's voice blared through the com. Danny shook his head as he threw off his pack, and pulled out his sniper rifle.

"I'm on it Overrun." Danny spat, as he quickly assembled the .50 cal round sniper rifle, and lied prone. The barrel of his gun facing outside the window.

"You better hurry," Overrun said, "It does not look like he'll be staying for tea and scones...if you catch my drift."

Danny removed his ghillie helmet, and stared down the scope of his rifle, adjusting the bi-pod, and sights. Zooming in and out with the sniper rifle, Danny quickly scanned the area.

Danny breathed in a few times, and then popped out a picture of Malak Ali. He was rather older, an Iraqi with a long rap sheet. He had been helping fund Makarov's Inner Circle for more than a year now. A man like that was dangerous.

The cross hairs of Danny's sniper rifle fell upon Malak. The Iraqi was wearing a large overcoat, along with other winter clothing. A turban graced his head as he walked.

"This is Church to Overrun." Danny said, "I have a positive I.D on Malak Ali." Danny said, as he licked his lips. Keeping careful lock on his target.

"Copy." Overrun said.

"Sloppy." Warhammer critiqued, "Might wanna train up a bit." he said, completely serious.

Danny bit his tongue out of respect for his superior. But deep down, he was fuming. "Take the shot when you're ready." Overrun ordered.

"Don't get wet feet." Warhammer chimed in. Warhammer was in the same squad as Danny. Warhammer, aka, Eugene, was ex-Delta. Recruited by Blacklist after noticing his advanced knowledge of several key targets. Including Vladimir Makarov, and General Shepherd. Warhammer worked very close with Shepherd.

Danny charged the sniper shot, and then held his breathe. "Yippee, ki, yay, motherfucker." Danny chuckled as he pulled the trigger.

The sniper rifle kicked back into Danny's arm, causing him to move back slightly.

The round sped through the air, curving slightly from the wind speed. The bullet went clean through Malak Ali's skull. Brains, and fragments of bone exploded in a fray of blood.

"Confirmed hit." Danny said, as he started packing up. Getting to his knee's, and disassembling the rifle to put back into his pack. Getting ready to move.

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Five minutes prior.

"Eyes up Soap." Captain John Price said in his deep British accent. "Malak should be exiting any second now."

"Aye," Soap said as he aimed down the scope of his Barret .50 cal. "The sooner we can take him out." Soap said loading his sniper, "The sooner we find out where Makarov is."

Both Soap, and Price were in full ghillie suits, this wasn't the first time the two had been on a mission together, and it for damn sure, wouldn't be the last.

"Take the shot when you're ready." Price said, as he stared through the binoculars, lying flat on his stomach.

Soap nodded as he kept a steady eye on Malak. Soap, and Price were located on the south side of him. So they were overlooking the various broken down buildings and things like that. The gray sky did nothing to lighten the dull mood.

Soap took a deep breathe, and placed his finger over the trigger. The wind died down, and right as he was about to fire...a shot was heard.

"Bollocks!" Price yelled, as he watched Malak's head explode, leaving the ground beneath him drenched in blood.

"Who was that?" Soap asked, knowing full well he didn't fire his sniper.

"Upper left hand side. Ninth story, fourth window!" Price yelled, as Soap quickly took aim to the location Price had given.

"I see him." Soap said, his heavily Scottish accent was never off. He took aim at the mysterious man in a ghillie suit.

"Don't shoot!" Price said quickly, "They'll notice were here." Price reminded, "We remain invisible. We go after him."

Soap nodded, "You got it boss." Soap said packing up quickly, and grabbing his M4. Price grabbed his CM901 and followed Soap.

Eager to meet this new face.

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"All right Church, you just clocked yourself a five minute window, get to the LZ, now!" Overrun yelled through the com, "It's at least a mile a way, so you're gonna need to double time it soldier."

"You got it!" Danny yelled, as he ran to the window at the back of the wall. Nine stories up was high, but he was wild. Danny quickly rappelled down the side, kicking off the wall with speed. He finally landed on the ground, and tossed the fuzzy parts of his ghillie suit. It was specially designed for this purpose. Danny had offered the idea saying, 'People are bound to notice me if they see a guy sprinting full speed, who would make Bigfoot look naked.' It was true.

Danny, now that the camo was removed. The body of the ghillie suit was an olive drab style, paramilitary uniform. Simple, yet effective.

Danny sprinted through the streets, he heard soldiers yell in Russian, and fire at him. Bullets whizzed passed him as he ran. The streets were filled with abandoned cars, and other various obstacles. The land was a ghost town.

Danny fired back, firing his MP5SD with one hand, he slid into cover. The bullets caused his arm to kick back as he squeezed the trigger down.

Danny emptied the magazine, and then removed it. Quickly sliding in another magazine, Danny stood up, and dashed across the hood of a car, rolling behind more cover.

"Behind the brick wall!" one of the soldiers yelled, as he fired his AK-47 into the bricks. The rounds almost caught Danny, as they went clean through the brick. Puffs of red smoke dissolved into the air, as they pierced the side.

"Shit." Danny swore as he crouched low, and moved swiftly away. However, the soldiers were still on his tail.

Danny finally managed to slip into an abandoned building, when the com sounded again, "Church, come on! You've got two minutes left."

"I'm practically there." Danny laughed as he casually jogged through the door, "So keep your panties on and wait for me."

Danny exited the building, when a bullet shot a few feet in front of him. Danny looked down, "There's no way that was an accident." Danny said, "It was a warning shot."

Danny raised his hands, and a figure exited the bushes. A tall man roughly six two, or six one exited the brush. He wore a beanie, and had what appeared to be a scruffy, graying beard. "Who the hell, are you?" he asked Danny, as he kept his hand on his assault rifle.

"Names Church." Danny replied, as he lowered his hands down to his sides.

"Church," Price said, as Soap exited the brush as well, "What the hell kind of a name is Church anyways?"

"Dunno." Danny chuckled, "Beats a plain name like John." he answered back, very witty, and sarcastically.

Soap looked at him quizzically, "You CIA?" Soap asked, as he held his M4 close to his chest, ready to attack.

"Not exactly."

"Well then what are you?"

"Church, that's it, you got sixty seconds, if you're not here by then, I'm leaving!" Overrun yelled through the com.

"You go on ahead." Danny said, "I'll meet you back at base. I found something that I can't pass up." Danny replied.

"Your funeral pal." Overrun said, "But I-copy." Overrun flipped some switches, and started to take off in the chopper, leaving Danny on the ground.

"I suppose you were sent to kill Malak too?" Danny asked, as he scratched his head. Danny had dark brown hair, short dark brown hair. But Warhammer, and Overrun regarded it as a, 'cute cut,' as it was somewhat styled. When, in actuality, it was just how he woke up.

"We were." Soap said, in his thick Scottish accent, "But what I wanna know, is how in the bloody hell you pulled a shot like that off."

Danny chuckled at the compliment.

"Were headed back to base." Price said, his British accent intimidated Danny slightly, "Come with us." he almost ordered, "I've got some questions to ask."

Danny clicked his teeth, pondering the offer, after all, it's not like help was coming anymore, "You got beer?" he asked Price.

"Heineken's." Soap winked.

"Then you can count me in." Danny said, as he walked over to the two soldiers, shaking both their hands in introduction.

Unbeknownst to Danny, Price, and Soap, that this would be the start of a friendship that would last for a very long time.

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Back at the Russian, base of Task Force 141. April 5th, 2013.

Soap was nearly crying from laughter, leaning over in his chair as he held his stomach, "And then, Gaz says, 'Nice. Your fruit killing skills are remarkable.' Like I kill fruit for a living!" Soap laughed.

Price chuckled to himself as he took a swig of his beer, "So what's your story Church, you got a story?" he asked him.

Danny took a sip of his beer, and nodded, "Mhm." he answered, as he swallowed the alcoholic beverage, "I do. But it's boring."

"Nah!" Soap said, as he ran his hand through his mohawk, "No, story is boring." he raised his beer, "Unless Price is telling you one."

"Har," Price retorted, "You cheeky little bastard." Price said, slugging Soap in the shoulder, to which Soap shrugged off.

"Well," Danny said, as he leaned forward on the table, "I had a rough child hood. Dad, left before I was born, and mom died during child birth. I was in an orphanage most of my life." Danny explained, "When I turned thirteen, I started acting up. I was the bad kid. Drugs, sex, alcohol, all that shit." Danny laughed, "I got my act together, and wanted to join the military."

"Glad you did." Price said, turning serious, "None of that makes you a man." Price pointed to Danny, "This...right here." he pointed to the table, "Makes you a man."

Danny smiled, and nodded.

"What happened after that?" Soap asked as he opened another beer.

"Well, after that, I was around eighteen." Danny said, "The beginning of this year I completed the Navy SEAL training."

"Nice." Soap said, "Hard work." Soap raised his beer to Danny.

"Well, it ain't no walk in the park." Danny laughed, "I was deployed on my first mission in February." Danny said, "It was a success, the next, not so much." Danny winced.

"Why what happened?" Price asked, as he took a Villa Clara cigar from his pocket, and lit it. Taking a few puffs.

"Some bullshit." Danny explained, "I had orders...I disobeyed them." Danny said, very vague, and obscure. "I was court-martialed and sent to a military prison."

"Sounds like a load of bollocks if you ask me." Soap shook his head, "What happened next?" he asked, both Price and Soap intrigued with this young man.

"Well, that's when Blacklist found me." Danny said, taking a swig from his beer, finishing it off. Soap tossed him another, and he opened it up.

"Blacklist?" Price asked, as he let a puff of smoke exit his mouth. "Not familiar with them. Branch of the CIA?"

Danny shook his head as he drank his beer, "Nope." he said, wiping his mouth, "It's blacker than black special forces organization. Think CIA, but much...much deeper."

"Bloody hell." Soap burped.

"Basically." Danny laughed, "I've been working with them ever since." Danny smiled, "Were good at what we do."

"I bet you are." Soap said, glancing at Price, who made eye contact with him. They both thought the same thing.

"We could use a man like you." Price said, "A man who knows his stuff." Price pointed, "You fit the bill."

Danny took another swig of his beer, "I'd say yes...but my allegiance is with Blacklist." Danny explained.

"I still have toes with the S.A.S." Price said, "It's not that hard." Price explained, "Honestly, sleep on it. See if this...Blacklist will let you work for us."

"If not, I'll talk with them." Soap said, "They're having you do missions like assassinations, and things like that. We do that too, maybe not with the same discrepancy, but still."

Danny listened. For once...he felt like he belonged with them. Like a bond of brothers...a bond that wasn't broken by alliance.

"I'll bring it up." Danny said, checking his watch, "But for now..." he stood up, "I gotta get back to my base."

Soap, and Price stood.

"They give you free reign like this?" Soap asked, impressed, but odds with that idea of free reign.

"Yeah." Danny said, "We're outside the bounds of CIA, and regular military protocol." Danny chuckled.

"Impressive." Price said, "Task Force 141 could use that." he goaded him on. Hoping that if he said it enough Danny would make an effort to join them.

"Don't worry." Danny pointed, "I won't forget to bring it up."

"Better not." Soap laughed.

The three men stood there. In front of one another, all tied together by one thing. War. And although it wasn't the best thing. It was the best thing they were good at.

"I'll be in touch." Danny said, as he shook Soap's hand, and then Price's hand. "See you around." he waved, exiting the base.

"I like him." Price said, cigar still burning in his mouth. Smoke filled the air and space around his beard.

"Why?" Soap chuckled, "Does he remind you of me?" Soap nudged him, "Those same tendencies I had?"

"I'm not gonna kiss your arse." Price smiled, breathing in the cigar again, "But to some extent yes." he answered, "He's got some good ties."

Soap nodded in agreement. "Let's hope he takes that offer seriously, eh?" Soap said to Price. Who nodded in agreement.