I thought about Metal Gear the other day although I haven't played the 4th in years, and hadn't had the time to pick up Metal Gear Rising, but I was thinking about Raiden being a cyborg and all and thinking if he was able to age. I can't actually remember if this was ever addressed but I quickly had a plot bunny so this happened. I am so sorry for any mistakes/errors considering I haven't played MGS for years and honestly do not remember a lot so I might not refer to MGS much. It's a very Terminator-ish storyline considering that it's set in the future where cyborg technology have almost completely taken over and humans are on the brink of extinction.

Disclaimer: Don't own Metal Gear

Summary: Having outlived many of his allies and even his own family, Raiden chooses to withdraw from military service and be 'deactivated'. Years later, he wakes up in a dystopian future that is dominated by cyborgs. Recruited by the dwindling human populace, he finds himself fighting a new kind of war.

A NEW KIND OF WAR

"It's really him."

"Yeah, I know. It's crazy, right? I just found him, wrapped up in a box like one of those Ken dolls."

"I'm not surprised, considering all his nanomachines have been deactivated; the security there must have been extremely tight."

"It wasn't a problem for me at all."

"Yes, but now there's another problem and that's getting new armor, weapons, upgrades... the data, the enhancements, the Molten Carbonate Fuel Cell blood...He'll be in no position to fight."

"Don't worry, leave that to me. I'll come up with some kind of alternative using the stuff we've got for now. Ooh, it's like getting new clothes for Ken, how exciting."

"...Don't get carried away; we need him up and running as soon as possible."

"Oh, I think he's waking up."

"Good, finish up with your checks and report."

"You're not going to stay?"

"No, I am needed upstairs. Bring him to me once you're done."

"Okay..."

The two voices had finally ceased with only one remaining.

"—lo? Hellooo? Can you ...hear...chhh...Hello-?"

It was the female; her muffled, static-infused voice calling to him. He groaned, opened his azure eyes and bright light flooded his vision; he winced initially, eyelids slamming to a close in response to the visual assault before he re-opened them slowly, allowing his eyes to adjust as the controlled amounts of light gradually allowed the picture before him become softer and softer. It was a fuzzy picture, a mixture of varying colors and shapes, but then the view finally grew sharper and sharper and he could see a blurred outline of a girl before him.

"Great, you're...chhhhh...-ake..." The girl was speaking, but it was no use.

His hearing was no better; it was blotted, the sound clogged up and murky, as though his ears were stuffed with thick wads of cotton wool.

"Hello? Can you hear me properly? How many fingers am I holding up?" She held up her arm but he found that he could not focus on her hand. "Hm? No response. Er...Do you understand English? Hmm, French, perhaps? Bonjour! Umm...Guten Tag? Ciao! Er...Hola? Yeoboseyo? Konnichiwa?"

Her attempts to engage with him still elicited no proper response and she went to a rack affixed to the side of the gurney, delving her hand in to search for something. He heard muffled clattering of metal and soon a bright light shone into his left eye and he knew that she was examining him with some kind of scope. The light disappeared all of a sudden and then decided to reappear in his right eye and his vision went white. A few seconds later and the light retreated and he was seeing spots.

"...Hm...Visuals seem to be in proper working order, if not, a little diluted but still responding to stimuli with no problems." She was muttering to herself, before she hovered over to the side of his head. "Now let's see here..."

Something warm touched his ear, prodding around at his delicate lobe before it went inside the canal; following the bizarre and intrusive movement was a great tug and a 'pop' and suddenly his hearing cleared a great deal.

"That's better..."

Yep, it was a girl's voice.

"Right, I'll just put this...er...thing here."

Emitting another groan, he turned his head to the side to see the retreating back of the girl who had waddled to a desk with something long, wet and sticky in hand. As he lay on the bed, exhaustion took over. He mustered some strength to move his jaw but no intelligible sound emanated from the back of his throat except from a low, grating resonance similar to gears grinding together.

"Here, this might help." The girl had returned to his side and began prodding away at his neck with some sort of tool; he could feel it poking into him and it was not a painful procedure at all but out of reflex, one arm shot out and his fingers grabbed at the scrawny wrist. The other arm grabbed the nearest sharpest object – which turned out to be a scalpel from the operating tray – and he had it poised at her direction, just a centimetre under her chin. The tool in her hand clattered out, dropping onto the floor. He heard a squeak of fear and when his vision finally sharpened, and he found himself staring into the eyes of a clearly frightened human girl. Blue eyes met green. "Eep! Please d-don't kill me! I'm not going to hurt you!" She squeaked, stammering as the scalpel dug painfully into the bottom of her chin, "L-let go!"

"Who are you?"

"Uh...Harrie...My name, its uh...Harrie..."

Harrie? Who the hell was Harrie? His memories did not register anyone he was affiliated with called Harrie.

"I'm on your side, see? I'm trying to fix you! Look here..." She flashed him a badge that was pinned to her hoodie; it had an insignia he remembered that once belonged to...

"Doktor?" He growled out.

She nodded slowly. "Y-yeah, you remember, right? Doktor...he helped you during the World Marshal incident...I'm part of his Order."

"And you were fixing me?" It made some sense. She had been examining him earlier on...

"Yeah. Oww...you're hurting me..."

Her meek whimper of pain brought him back to reality. She seemed to be in a great deal of pain, and his instincts or AR systems were not roaring into life, indicating that she was a threat to him. He wanted to let go but found that his arms weren't listening to him entirely. He jerked and floundered a while, trying to loosen up his fingers but to no avail. "...I...I'm...trying." He grunted out in a low rumble, his voice was hoarse and rough, as though from long-term disuse. In fact, it seemed his voice was only stemming from his voicebox only. However, a few seconds later and he managed to drop the scalpel.

"I'll help. H-hold still." She nervously lowered herself down to a crouch beside him to pick up the fallen tool. It turned out to be some kind of miniature wench which she must had been using to tighten some loose bolt in his neck, and she was now prying his fingers off her wrist. She wedged the end of the tool in between her arm and the first finger of his fist. With a small heave, she pried off one finger, then the other and the other, then the rest. Freed from his hand, she cradled her reddening wrist, then met his gaze meekly as he returned to lie over the surface.

"Who are you?" He croaked out, now utilizing this opportunity to glance around the area he was confined in. He studied it carefully; it was a dull gray room with a yellowing human anatomy chart stuck to one far wall. In general, it appeared to be some kind of garage with the many tools of all shapes and sizes hanging from a metal rack affixed to the grimy ceiling. A single lightbulb dangled downwards, casting a dim glow within the room. Aside from that, the rest of the room was filled with cardboard boxes that were overflowing with various mechanical body parts; a cupboard stood stiffly near the boxes, filled to the brim with other strange apparatuses and various junk. A lone single metal bedframe was also shoved to one side, with a filthy mattress and a tattered brown blanket thrown over.

"I told you; my name's Harrie." The girl muttered, and she stuck her hand out in a handshake, which he did not take. Instead, he scrutinized her for a brief moment or so. She was young, with green eyes and a pale complexion. A blue cap sat atop deep, dirty brown hair that went past her shoulders. She was wearing a gray unzipped hooded top with the sleeves rolled to her elbows and a black tank top underneath that was rigged with several holes. Around her neck was a pair of heavy goggles with a thick rim and scruffy glass. A few seconds later and finally, he stuck out a clawed hand and shook her tiny warm hand rigidly. She quickly pulled back however, as though embarrassed by the contact. She left his side to the only desk that was positioned to the far right of the room where she pulled out an old swivel chair with rickety wheels, sat down and began typing away at the equally rickety keyboard and before long, a vitals statistic chart popped into view of the screen, "I found you and brought you here. Don't worry, you're in safe hands. We're the good guys; we're not with the Patriots or Desperado or whatever evil PMCs out there these days. We're none of that."

His eyes narrowed immediately as he contemplated his predicament and her words. "Where am I? What is this place? What happened? Why-"

She craned her head round to him but continued to type away at the screen. "One question at a time, dude." She said with a sniffle, and he was briefly surprised by her aloof, laidback manner, "I know you're really confused right now, maybe even a little scared, but I need to break it down to you slowly, otherwise it might take some time for you to get your head around...or you might just freak out."

Frowning, he let out a raspy scoff at the girl, "Oh yeah? Just try me."

"Huh, so Ken's got a sense of humor." uttered Harrie, who abandoned the computer after a few minutes. Returning to his side, she stared down at him for it seemed he had been lying on some sort of operating table, and she crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head to the side.

"My name's not 'Ken'." He said, "It's Raiden."

"Raiden." She murmured under her breath, "Yeah, I know. I've read about you. Can you sit up?"

"What did you mean by 'read'? Where am I anyway?"

"You're in my lab." She said, "We're underground, somewhere in Denver. As I said before, my name's Harrie. Well, Harriet, to be exact, but no-one really calls me that around here. I'm a mechanic, hence the reason why you're here in the first place. I didn't expect you to wake up so soon, considering your nanomachines were completely disabled and there was so much work I still had to do."

"Deactivated?" He grunted as he tried to sit up, his stiff body creaking and groaning in protest. He recalled then that he'd overheard a conversation some time before he woke up; perhaps he'd enquire later. As he sat up straight, he saw rust and dirt falling off him and fluttering to the dirty tiled ground below in little brown flakes, then proceeded to glance down at himself, "How did you find me?"

"I go on scavenger hunts and you were in the lower basement of the ruined laboratory of Maverick Industries." Harrie replied; she pulled her goggles and the band snapped tightly around the back of her head, "I found you so I had you brought back here. Do you mind if I do a quick check?"

He didn't remotely understand. He didn't understand at all. "What do you mean by the ruined laboratory? What's happened to Maverick?" He questioned, as she lifted up his arm and held it straight.

"It's gone now." She uttered, inspecting the handiwork keenly. In fact, she was examining his arm so close the glasses of her goggles were almost touching the exterior. She made him turn his arm around and up before attempting to bend it. His arm did not yield to her efforts. "They're all gone."

"Then what about World Marshal? Solis?" His tone growing impatient and desperate, he finally growled out, "Rose?!"

Immediately, the computer emitted a loud 'blip' noise in retaliation to his outburst and he turned to the screen. She sighed, and as though reading his mind, she said, "That's going to happen everytime your heart rate spikes up. Calm down. Take it easy...one thing at a time. I'll tell you more later, okay?" She added, as she let go of his arm.

She really wasn't kidding when she told him she would have to break it down to him bit by bit. He sat at the edge of the bed, staring down at his ruined body before bringing his arms up to eye level. Within his fuzzy field of vision, he found that he could still move his fingers to a certain extent, except from his last finger, in which the mobility was now entirely non-responsive. Scanning the rest of himself, he could make out that his entire exterior was damaged, no longer was it the cool, sleek metal he had been fitted and built with...all the enhancements were gone, leaving behind rusted metal and broken parts. The rust was beginning to eat away at his joints, all over his front and shoulder blades. He patted at his lower jaw, finding that his mandible too, was also covered in rust.

"...What happened to me?" He muttered.

"You were deactivated. By that, I mean you were injected with some chemical substance that caused all your nanomachines to perform some kind of manual shut down but with no backlash or repercussions. So, to put it plainly, your 'batteries' were kinda taken out and you were completely unconscious for a while. In fact, you've been shut down for a long time now."

He scrubbed at the imperfect skin of his face with his rusted palm that appeared to be flaking off as well, "...Yeah, I know. It was my final request. I remember."

"Huh? You do...?"

"How long have I been...'deactivated'?"

"If the logs about you are true, then...about seventy years, maybe more?" She said, with a shrug. The lab fell silent following her revelation. "Are you okay?"

Raiden nodded.

"I tried to clean you up as much as possible, but I think I'll need to give you a new paint job, maybe a new eye, some new armor...things like that...and not to mention you're in serious need of upgrading... It's amazing you've woken up considering how outdated your fuel cells are...and I was going to look for new body parts and some kind of fuel for you to use in the junkyard, but then the Gekkos came so I had to hightail." She said, a little forlornly; she was completely oblivious to him as he had winced slightly when she mentioned the paint job. "Do you have any more questions for me?"

"Just one." He grunted out.

"What's that?"

"Why did you wake me up?"

She lifted up her goggles and settled them on top of her cap, and she tried to smile at him, her lips tugging upwards minutely, "Well, we've been looking for you for a long time. We really need your help. You're the only one who can help us."

"Help for what?"

"To win the war." She said, "Against the cyborgs."

...