Call Of Duty Modern Warfare 3 New War

Heads up!

I know I've posted a crap ton of A/N'a and such. But just a heads up to everybody. The remade Chapter 1 has finally been published. Hopefully it isn't as crappy, since it was quickly put together.

First Person POV isn't exactly my strong suit. However, I will be trying my hardest to rewrite all of the previous chapters and make them much better than what they are currently.

And if you're worried about repetitiveness, don't. The entire plot itself has been changed. I'll be trying to make each chapter 500-1000 words, and though it isn't a lot, I have a much bigger book I've been working on lately.

So I can't exactly dedicate too much of my limited time to this book, and for that I deeply apologize.

If you are interested in my other book, then here's a small preview:

~•~(Seeing In Color)
Beep! Beep! Beep!

The noise was consistent, taking a brief intermission after every other second.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Why was he here? Why was it such a nuisance? Why did it continue? Why wouldn't it stop?!

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Ugh! Make it stop! Make it stop! Make it stop!

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!

~•~

The long sound sliced through his sleep, sending him jolting awake. Where was he? Why was he here? Sitting up, he pulled himself backwards to the bed's headboard. The scene was all too familiar to him...

The white bed, the plain and simple interior, the giant glass window, the IV...Even the mint green dress he wore was a dead giveaway...

He was in the Hospital.

Gripping the cover tightly, he hid himself underneath the cover, a stream of tears flowing down his face. Why was he here? He wasn't sick...Was he?

At the sound of the doorknob jiggling, he let out a whine and buried his head into the pillow that his head resided upon. "Simon?"A deep and burly voice called. The gentle sound of the door closing brought his breathing to a halt.

Hearing the sound of loud footsteps thudding towards the bed he laid on, he couldn't help but shiver underneath the covers. As the white sheet was pulled off of him, he squealed in surprise.

At the sudden shriek, the doctor jumped back a bit. "Simon?" The doctor spoke softly. "I'm Doctor Menzel. You can call me John, if it'd help with your fear,"

He was nice for a doctor. The aura around him seemed to be warm and comforting. He couldn't help but want to hug the doctor. The man was pale skinned, with a bald shiny head. His buttoned up lab coat seemed to poke out a bit more than normal, indicating a slight pudge on his stomach.

Menzel gazed down at his clipboard, grabbing a pen out of his pocket and clicking the small utensil out. "Simon Manchester, correct?"The doctor questioned. Was that his name?

Why couldn't he remember his name?!

Deciding to simply nod his head and play along, Simon did just that. "Your parents told me you've been having frequent headaches and brief moments of memory loss. Is this right?"Menzel continued.

Not knowing how to answer, Simon nodded his head once again. Scribbling the info onto the clipboard Menzel lowered the clipboard to his tummy before gazing at his young patient. "This is a tragedy...For someone as young as you especially..."He sighed.

"We've ran tests. Multiple tests. Over and over again to make sure,"The doctor paused. "There is something in your head...A plug, as some of the other doctor's have been referring to it as..."

Simon raised an eyebrow as he waited for his doctor to continue. What was he getting at, exactly? "I'm sorry Simon...But you won't live past 18, I'm afraid..."As the words left the man's mouth, Simon froze.

He wouldn't live past 18? "Why...?"He found himself asking. Simon didn't want to die so young. He couldn't. He couldn't!

"I'm sorry, son. As long as that plug is stuck inside your head, there is no chance of you living...This is something new. Something we've never seen before..."The Doctor explained. "The most we can do is put you on prescriptions to prolong the process,"

Menzel wandered over to the gaping panel of glass to the left of Simon. Glancing out at the busy city, he groaned before putting his head in his hands. "Sir. How old am I?"Simon muttered.

His voice was so soft...So delicate. Menzel whirled around, surprised by the question. "Another memory loss moment? Well. You're 12, to be exact. Birthday, February 12th of 2075,"

12? That was 6 years till his inevitable death...6 years until he would be leaving this Earth...6 years..."You're fine to leave the facility tomorrow. You'll be starting your medication the day after you leave. For use whenever you have a headache,"Menzel stated.

Walking to the door, Menzel took one last look at his patient until he exited the room, gently closing the door behind him.

6 years...