well... here I am again. with yet another fanfic. yup. _ a serious
one. this one takes place between MGS and the beginning of MGS2, but hopefully
that can be figured out in the story. ;P I hope this is.. okay.. I'll try
and get fresh chapters up every other week or so, but no guarantee, folks.
the title is supposedly 'The den of the snake' in French, or close to it.
I hope. as long as it isn't like 'eat cod puff ice cream' or something like
that. I'm also trying desperately to keep all the events during both MGS
games uh.. relevent, as they happened, something like that. I probably will
make mistakes, feel free to point them out to me in a considerate manner,
thank you. ^^;
Metal Gear Solid and all resulting characters therein are copyright to
Konami/KCEJ, not me, blah blah blah. on with the show.
La Tanière du Serpent
Prologue
A chilled wind blew over the trimmed lawn. One lone woman stepped carefully down the manicured path, passing by the numerous headstones, laid in neat rows over the grass. She paused, clutching the paper-wrapped bouquet protectively to her chest while the breeze tousled her cinnabar hair with icy fingers.
"Where is it, now..." She murmured to herself, her exhaled breath freezing in small clouds that drifted away from her face. A quick glance around, and she continued down the path. The newer graves were at the back of the cemetary.
Finally reaching her destination, she slowly bent to her knees in front of a rather small and unspectacular grave. The redhead remained frozen for a moment, then delicately laid the bouquet at the grave's base. She kept her hand there for a moment, silently admiring the unique contrast of her pale skin and the blue serpent tattoo on her arm against the bouquet's green paper. Releasing her grip, she lightly pressed her palm against the cold surface of the headstone, her fingers tracing over the name carved into it. "I'll get him for you, I promise..."
Leaving the grave with those simple, soft-spoken words, the woman rose back up to her feet. She was as silent as the bodies in the ground around her; she made no sound even as she trod on the gravel footpath of the graveyard.
* * *
Liquid pools of crystalline blue gazed up at the man. Love, utter devotion, and fear shone in those bright eyes. Their owner leaned his full weight on the man, a pitiful whimper sounding from the depths of his throat.
"It's all right..." The man kneeled alongside the husky, giving the dog's pointed ears an affectionate scritch, attempting to make his gruff voice as comforting as possible. "They'll take good care of you, boy."
Solid Snake stood up again, ignoring the dog's continuous whining as he handed the leash over to a rather eager-looking girl. Her parents smiled reassuringly at Snake. He didn't smile back.
"He'll make a great addition to our team," the father commented as he counted out a few bills in his wallet, then handed them over to Snake. He merely shrugged and stuffed the payment in a pocket, then turned and walked away without further comment. There went his last sled dog... sold. At least the dog would be happier now...
He slowly opened the door of his little loaner car and stepped in, resting back in the seat as he pulled the door shut. Stupid car... Otacon had it rented for him... he never had a car after he retired. If he needed to get somewhere, he had his snowmobile... or for a slightly more entertaining trip, his huskies.
I have neither now, he reflected as he flicked a cigarette out of its crumpled pack and poked it between his lips. Lost a lot of things through life. He snapped the lid of his Zippo lighter back, a blue flame springing forth to light his cancer stick. He clicked the lighter shut with ease and tucked it away, inhaling deeply as his eyes settled shut. My best friend, my dogs... hell, myself. And... her...
"Meryl..." Snake murmured softly, an aura of tobacco smoke swirling around his head. "... God damn it!" He roared, slamming his fist into the car's plastic dash, causing the glove compartment to pop open. Shaking lightly with rage, he ground his knuckles against the hard material for a moment, then slowly pulled his hand back and slammed the glove box's door shut with a loud click. Forcing the memories out of his head like he exhaled the smoke, he twisted the key into the ignition, the car's engine rumbling into life.
No sooner had he started the little vehicle than he heard a familiar, insistent beeping. Touching the pad of his index finger to his ear, he eased the car back onto the road, steering with one hand.
"Snake." A man with glasses and prematurely grey hair greeted him on the other end.
"Otacon." He acknowledged his presence. Snake never was much of a conversationalist. "I'm on my way back."
"All right. I already go-" Otacon paused, pushing his glasses back up his nose, then frowned distastefully. "Snake, are you smoking?"
Snake exhaled a trail of smoke through his nostrils. "... No."
Otacon sighed and adjusted his glasses again. "You know those things are bad for your health..." He decided against wasting his time on lecturing Snake, and started on more pressing matters. "Ready to take care of the next Metal Gear?"
"Already?" Snake frowned, opening the car's window to flick the cigarette's ashes out it.
"There's quite a few copycat Metal Gears out there already, Snake... looks like we got our work cut out for us."
Snake merely grunted, listening intently as Otacon went on endlessly about the location and exact nature of the next Metal Gear he'd planned to target. The grizzled mercenary directed his car towards the airport, knowing he'd have a small jet waiting for him...
"Philanthropy's first mission! I'm kind of excited." Otacon smiled, removing his glasses and polishing the lenses on his labcoat.
"..." Snake carefully slid a loaded magazine into the suppressed Socom, then pressed himself against the corrugated steel of the warehouse's wall. "I'm heading in," he stated simply, then closed the Codec's connection and examined his surroundings closer. He could try the door, the window, or attempt to crawl in through ventilation shafts...
Easiest option first.Clutching his pistol in his right hand, he reached out and tried the door with his left hand... it slid open easily. Breathing a sigh of relief, he pulled it open a few inches and peered inside. Dark... no, there was a few lights lit. Only two, three perhaps. No one nearby, lots of boxes for storage. It was, after all, a warehouse. Good.
Snake grabbed the door firmly and shoved it open wider. Much to his dismay, the sliding metal parts ground against each other, sounding a horrible and loud screech. "Shit...!" He jumped back, raising the Socom. Wait. Listen.
Nothing... if anyone was inside, they hadn't heard. Maybe no one was inside. That'd make his job a whole lot easier. But then, why was there lights on? Maybe they had heard, and were just waiting on the other side to ambush him...
He edged closer to the door. Silence. He dared a quick peek around the corner; nothing. The interior hadn't changed any from his first glance inside.
"Whew..." He allowed himself a relieved sigh, slipping inside. Don't let your guard down, Snake, he reminded himself, quickly ducking behind a pallet of boxes. A quick tap to his ear, and the Codec automatically connected to Otacon's frequency.
"I'm in," he growled softly, sneaking through the shadows. He paused at a break in the pallets, peeking around them. Still no sight of any human life... or any life, for that matter. Something large on the opposite end of the warehouse cast its ominous, lumpy shadow over the floor. "Must be Metal Gear..." Snake mused to himself.
"Just find and destroy it, all right, Snake?" Otacon furrowed his brow, brushing a loose strand of hair out of his eyes. The ex-mercenary merely nodded his assent, darting quickly across the lit area, ducking back into the relative safety of the shadows. He froze suddenly, a small dark creature flitting across the ground in front of him, its hide scraping the toe of his right boot...
Snake flinched slightly, involuntarily drawing his foot back. Rats! Of course... he should've expected rats here. It was a warehouse, after all, and rats were everywhere. Even those damned rats all over Shadow Moses. Whatever it was, the vermin had already squirmed under a pallet. Sighing silently, Snake crept to the end of said pallet, peering around the corner.
Metal Gear loomed up from the concrete floor. It was not a new model, or even a particularly wonderful reproduction- that was obvious from the first glance. It was scuffed, dirty, even slightly rusted in areas. Dented and battle-scarred, the walking tank was nowhere as advanced as REX, but still dangerous nonetheless. He could see missile launchers mounted to its sides, the gleaming rounded tips of the artillery shining in the wan light.
Snake eased around the corner a bit more. One or two good hits in the vital points of the machine with some strong explosives... his trusty Nikita launcher, maybe even some C4 would do the trick. Pyrotechnics was one of the few things he enjoyed about life. Allowing himself a faint smile, he slid around the corner, hazel eyes furtively examing the surroundings of Metal Gear. Nothing. No one. He frowned suddenly... this wasn't right. No one would just leave a Metal Gear unguarded...
No, wait! There... a smaller shadow. Moving. A human-shaped shadow. Snake quickly whipped back around the cover of the crates into the shadow's shelter. He could hear the person approaching, now... but softly. He was wearing hard-soled shoes, but even on concrete, he stepped so carefully there was little more noise than the faint scrape of the soles on the floor and the rustling of his clothing.
He stopped, suddenly... Snake caught his breath in his throat. Had they seen him? Heard him, even? How could they? Unless they'd spotted him earlier, perhaps they waited for him to get in closer to ambush him... still, nothing. Metal Gear's protector was motionless, it seemed.
"Snake?" Otacon's voice sounded in his ear. "Snake? You've found Metal Gear. This one is a bit old, so some well-placed C4 might do the-"
"I think I've been spotted," Snake muttered, his brow furrowing under the bandanna. He dared a quick peek around the corner- the guard had not, in fact, seemed to even have noted Snake's presence. The lone guard was facing Metal Gear, back to Snake... and he seemed to be alone. "Scratch that. I think he's alone..." Damn. He knew he should've brought the Soliton Radar... too late now. He slid over to the other end of the pallet and glanced around. The warehouse and Metal Gear were, apparently, guarded by the single man.
"There's only one guard here..."
"Are you sure? That's... odd." Otacon frowned. He was thinking the same as Snake... why would they leave only one man to guard a working nuclear tank? "Can you get a closer look... is he armed, Russian, US Forces...?"
Snake merely nodded, tucking his handgun into its holster in favor of a camera instead. He ducked around the corner once more, quickly lining the shot up to the red-haired man and snapping a photo, then silently jumped back into the shadows.
"Got a pic-" Snake started, then cut himself off, taking a closer look at the photo he'd snapped. The guard was not a man at all, but a woman. Standing rather nonchalantly, hands stuffed into her pockets, she was unaware of her visitor. Clad in no sort of military uniform- just a simple ash grey coat and matching grey pants. Black leather boots, resembled construction worker's boots. Granted, her hair was a bit short, but... her tousled red hair stuck out in spots, and her face...
"Meryl..." Snake whispered, staring at the picture in disbelief.
