Metal Gear Legends 3 - Drache Eater
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
-After much web-surfing, I have come to the conclusion that there is not nearly enough Tron Bonne out there. This is my attempt to remedy that with this parody cross-over, hopefully the first of many. Enjoy!-
-Rated M for brief nudity, language, some violence and absolutely rampant innuendo.-
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"After the end of World War II, the world was split into two: East and West. They were dark times indeed. The internet had yet to be invented, so to learn anything, people huddled into massive book warehouses known as 'libraries', Pong was still at least a decade away, and the animated babe of the day was Cinderella. On the other hand, Sean Connery was still James Bond, Woodstock was just around the corner, and you could still get a gallon of gas for under five bucks. You could go either way, I guess." - Snake
Chapter 1 - Someone set up us the Bonne!
The military transport plane glided slowly across the clear night sky, its crew and single passenger jostled only slightly by the occasional patch of turbulence. In the rear cargo hold, sitting on a metal bench built into the side, Tron Bonne's face was slowly beginning to match the olive drab shade of her flightsuit. A tech was going over her parachute and oxygen supply when he caught sight of the impending disaster.
"Oh no, honey," he said with a waggle of his finger. "I just had the floors done in here. You can just hold it until you're airborne."
As he left to finish some final checks at the other end of the compartment, the mention of the imminent high-altitude skydive pushed he over the edge, and her eyes swung wildly around for any sort of container. Unfortunately there was nothing suitable, and her gaze landed on the Servbot standing closest to her. She covered her mouth with one hand and waved it over with the other.
"Yes, Miss Tron?" Number 38 asked as he approached.
Without a word, she jammed her heel down hard on the small droid's foot, the top of its head popping open and swinging over backwards. She grasped either side of the yellow cylindrical head and wretched violently inside. Looking around to make sure that no one had noticed, she quickly slammed the top back down.
"Ooh," Servbot Number 38 said woozily as it staggered a few steps to either side. "My brain tastes like carrots."
Wiping her mouth on the back of her sleeve, she suddenly sat bolt upright as a cultured British voice came out of a loudspeaker overhead.
"That has to be the most disturbing thing I've seen in quite some time. And I was at Normandy," Major Zero said distastefully. Tron frowned as she realized that there was a small camera mounted next to the speaker. There was an audible sigh before the Major's voice continued.
"Let's go over this one last time, shall we? You are to parachute into the midst of a horde of heavily armed, godless, nuke-happy, Commie sons-of-bitches, grab the Red that is building a bigger weapon than WE can, and escape. Clear?" he asked.
"You know, for an era called the Cold War, that was a bit heated, don't you think?" she asked with a smirk, crossing her arms.
The Major's voice was building in intensity as he replied, "Do you know what they eat, Ms. Bonne? Borscht! Beet soup! And I DESPISE beets!"
Her eyes widened as she listened to the man who was supervising the entire operation rant about his dislike of a vegetable. She was beginning to have second thoughts about the whole idea, when he cleared his throat and continued more sedately.
"Moving on. You are to proceed to an abandoned warehouse, where you will rendezvous with Sokolov, the Comm-...Russian scientist. From there, you will return with him to the insertion point and inflate the Rapid Sky Retrieval System."
"The balloon," Tron said, nodding her understanding. "Does it say 'Happy Birthday' or does it have cartoons on it?"
"The R.S.R.S. is not a toy!" the voice barked from the speaker. "It is a sophisticated piece of military equipment. You will inflate the R.S.R.S. and we will retrieve you, return to base, and debrief Sokolov, understood?"
"That," she said, thumbing over at the large four-legged mecha that was sitting across from her, "is a sophisticated piece of military equipment. This mission will be a snap. Just make sure you don't drop it on my head, got it?"
She stood and tugged on the straps of the parachute harness, then made her way to the rear of the cargo hold. As she stood there, her cadre of Servbots swarmed behind her like baby ducks. Not a single one had a parachute, but as far as she could tell, nothing could destroy one of the little yellow-headed robots. And she had TRIED.
She pulled the rubber facemask on, ensuring that it was securely fastened around the back of her head, then gave a thumbs-up to the camera.
"Hrfy oo mrseed," she muffled. Her shoulders shrugged as she sighed, then pulled the mask off of her mouth. "Ready to proceed," she muttered, rolling her eyes before pulling the facemask back into position.
A green light came on in the compartment and the rear ramp slowly started to open. She stood there looking down at the earth below, and tried to slow her breathing. I can do this, she thought to herself. It's no big deal, just jump, count to ten and pull. I'm ready for thi-
Her thought process was interrupted as a large gust of wind wrapped around her and pulled her off her feet. She was thrown towards the ramp, landing rump-first, then bounced off, continuing her flight out into the open sky. The Servbots looked at each other for a moment, then proceeded to imitate her departure, filling the hold with the sound of small metallic plinks as they bounced their backsides off the ramp and took to the air.