Episode 2 – Dinner at Ocelot's.
The occupants of Otacon's van had been waiting for ten minutes before Snake finally decided to rendezvous with them. Snake put his thermal binoculars in his backpack and jumped the fence he had been using for cover. The people who owned the property he was trespassing on were currently home and quite active, but they failed to realize that somebody was slinking around in their backyard. Snake snuck quietly through the darkness, tripping over a lawn gnome along the way. The VW GTI was at the other end of the block and nobody inside was paying any attention to their surroundings. He opened the passenger's side door and jumped in the backseat next to Meryl, who cried out in shock. She braced herself against her side of the van and prepared to kick in the skull of the intruder until she noticed that it was Snake. Meryl scoffed at his brazen entry and settled down. Campbell and Otacon were completely unfazed by his arrival.
"All three of you are now dead," Snake said as he tossed his backpack into the back seat.
"It's nice to see you too. Is the coast clear?" Meryl asked.
"Yeah, we're good."
Snake had been lurking around the neighborhood for an entire hour looking for anything out of the ordinary. The quiet suburban neighborhood had nothing to hide except for Revolver Ocelot's humble home.
"He's got five generators in his backyard," Snake said.
"His electrical bill must be enormous. Why would he need so many?" Campbell asked.
"I'm not sure. The only thing I can think of is that he's got his torture rack in the basement and somehow that wouldn't strike me as odd."
It had all started three days ago when Snake had received a cordial invite to a dinner party at Ocelot's. He pulled it out of his pocket and read it once more as Otacon began driving.
To my good dear comrades. I love you. I mean that in the best possible way. Please come over to my place this Saturday at seven in the evening for a very special dinner. A festive private auction will commence after dinner. Items include : The secrets of the universe. Bring cash.
Everyone in their little group of misfits had been invited, but not all of them were able to attend. Nobody would have come if it had just been dinner. Ocelot was a creepy guy and he smelled funny to boot. What kind of secrets he would be willing to part with were not clear, but morbid curiosity had gotten the best of them.
It would definitely help if he told them why he had decided to move to Alaska around the same time everyone else did. None of them had actually said anything to Ocelot since they were all sure that he wanted to kill anybody who wasn't on the Patriots payroll. Bringing some of his friends along who were supposed to be dead didn't help him feign innocence. Ocelot claimed that it was just one of those things and the sun would burn out before they managed to get a straight answer out of him. Snake was hoping that he was willing to talk this evening, but he wasn't going to hold his breath.
Snake didn't trust Ocelot. He was currently equipped with his M9. The gun was loaded with tranquilizer darts. Snake had made sure of that before he put the gun in the holster strapped to the back of his waist because there was nothing more embarrassing than shooting somebody with actual bullets when he intended to knock them out. Never again, Snake had assured himself. Never again.
Everyone present seemed to have their own unique reasons for coming that evening and none of them had anything to do with sampling Ocelot's cooking. Otacon was here because he was having trouble hacking into the CIA's secret spy satellite and he believed he could buy the keys from Ocelot. The satellite could beam a signal down on a building and then provide a rendered image of what was going on inside. It was called Sauron because tax payer dollars didn't cover originality. He also wanted access to the database of tracked visors that supported augmented reality, otherwise known as Noruas. Otacon said that they would be useful resources. The fact that Mei Ling owned a pair and that Otacon had every single photo of herself that she shared online didn't factor into the equation. Only an idiot couldn't see through that lie.
Meryl shared Snake's views on their current predicament. Ocelot should have never come to Alaska. Whatever he was up to, Meryl would find out. She was just as paranoid about the whole situation as Snake. Though this was the first time she had been around Snake for more than fifth-teen minutes since Shadow Moses, she certainly didn't act like it and neither did he. The two of them had exchanged a multitude of outlandish conspiracy theories while they were waiting for Campbell to show up at Otacon's house.
Campbell needed to make sure that everyone played nice. Snake and Meryl in the same room as Ocelot spelled trouble. Ocelot was merely trying to make amends. If Ocelot reached behind his back to scratch his butt, those two would think that he was trying to pull a gun on them and burn the house down. He was also hoping to spend some quality time with his niece/daughter, who hadn't been interested in attending until Snake said he would go.
"They tell me you've been getting out more often this past month. How has it been?" Meryl asked Snake.
"Interesting."
The experiences Snake had gone through thus far enforced his hidden suspicion that none of them were meant to be chums in the real world. If not for the fact that he had spent so much time alone that his dogs had started talking to him, he would still be barricaded inside his house hiding in a cardboard box next to his gun cabinet. His dogs spent most of their time in the garage nowadays. Snake made sure of that.
"I heard you had some trouble with Mantis," Campbell said, giving Snake a better way to answer Meryl's question.
"Never get that man drunk," Snake said. "It was cute when he pulled down everyone's pants at the club with psychokinesis, but when he deliberately incited a brawl by exposing several instances of infidelity it got out of hand."
"Was it bad?" Campbell asked.
"Horrible. It's a good thing he weighs less than ninety pounds because I had to carry his emaciated husk out of there."
"Did some guy really pull a knife on you in the bathroom?" Meryl asked.
"He tried to after he realized he wasn't going to beat me in a fair fight."
"How many bones did you break in his arm?"
"Most of them."
"Did you get to see Mantis without his mask on?" Campbell asked.
"No. Everyone we were around thought it was a fetish. Mantis didn't bother correcting them."
"Sounds like fun," Meryl said.
Snake shrugged indifferently. It hadn't been a complete waste of time. He couldn't deny that. Mantis had been coherent enough to persuade the cops who pulled them over that they weren't the goons the police were looking for. It was a scene that could have been straight out of Star Wars if Obi-Wan had also convinced the stormtroopers to act like a pair of neurotic girls who were late for school. Snake knew that their time spent with Ocelot would go no better, but he was still hoping for the best.
They arrived at Ocelot's house and Otacon parked along the curb.
"If he lapses into Liquid, I'm leaving," Snake warned.
"Relax. He switched that out for a new limb. Ocelot doesn't trust prosthetics, so he paid to have one grown," Campbell explained.
"Anyone else suddenly in the mood for Chinese?" Meryl asked.
Campbell got out of the car and Otacon followed. Snake resisted the urge to climb in the front seat, commandeer the vehicle, and leave them behind.
"I can't forgive him," Meryl said to Snake. "I'm only here to see what he's up to."
"Likewise."
Snake exited the vehicle and Meryl followed. If he had to say one positive thing about Ocelot, it was that the man knew how to keep his yard in great shape. Bushes and flowers were planted near the cobblestone walkway that led to his front door, desperately competing for the attention of his visitors. An old sofa and a recliner were out on the enclosed deck for days best spent outside. Alaska did have those from time to time.
Three discrete black orbs were stuck to the house. These were surveillance cameras. Snake felt his hand instinctively reach for a chaff grenade when he spotted them.
"Is this the right address?" Otacon asked nobody in particular, checking his phone to bring up the information.
"Yes. I watched him putz around for a little bit in the kitchen before he went down into his basement," Snake replied.
Ocelot's doorbell was a large black button with a red circle painted on it. Snake pushed it and didn't hear a chime. He mashed it repeatedly and heard the bell ding just beyond the door inside the house.
"Must be broken, or something," Snake said to his small audience.
Otacon's cell phone chirped and he took it out.
"It's a text from Ocelot. He says to come right on in. The door's open," he explained.
Snake stood off to the side and Meryl joined him. It looked like they were actually going to clear the foyer. Campbell and Otacon rolled their eyes. Snake opened the door and stepped quickly inside, scanning his side of the room while Meryl took in hers. The foyer was completely empty save for a large brass bull placed off to the side.
"Are you two done playing yet?" Campbell asked, walking through the foyer into the living room.
Ocelot's deep appreciation for spaghetti westerns was readily apparent by the way he chose to decorate his home. The floors were made of hardwood and the colors reminded Snake of traversing the plains in a covered wagon. Snake expected to see some Russian paraphernalia somewhere, but the only sickle they would find here would be an antique recovered from the days before indoor plumbing and the Internet. The iron maiden in the corner caught their attention the second they spotted it. Nobody had been in Ocelot's house before, so they all crowded near the ancient instrument of torture.
"We'd better make sure nobody is in it. Here, one of you help me pry it open," Snake said.
Meryl bumped Otacon aside and helped Snake with the iron maiden.
"Ten bucks says Big Boss is in here," Meryl said.
"You're on," Snake said.
The maiden groaned in protest as they opened it. Nobody was inside. Snake breathed a sigh of relief and Meryl gave him a ten dollar bill. The spikes hadn't been removed. It was still lethal.
"This is pretty morbid," Meryl remarked.
"I bet that brass bull is real, too," Snake said.
"Should we check it for a body?" Otacon asked.
"Couldn't hurt."
They wandered back into the foyer and took a closer look at the bull. Snake found a handle on the bull's back that opened up a compartment where the victim was shoved inside. He half expected to find a department store mannequin crammed in the monstrosity, but Ocelot wasn't quite that odd.
"It's empty," Snake announced.
"What, you mean he didn't fill it with beer and ice?" Campbell asked sarcastically.
"Pardon me for asking, but how does that thing work?" Meryl asked.
"You shove somebody in it and light a fire underneath the bull. There's this tube inside that carries the noise out through the front of the thing and makes it sound like a bull does," Snake replied.
"Tacky."
The group walked back into the living room. A rocking chair was in one corner near the couches, and by the look of it they knew it had to be Ocelot's personal seat. Bull horns were stuck on both ends of the back rest. A nice autographed painting of an old western ghost town hung in the center of the back wall behind the furniture. Several discs and a laptop were currently resting on the coffee table across from the rocking chair. This was where the auction would undoubtedly take place. An expensive grandfather clock was near the fireplace. Ocelot's bookcases were full of Louis L'Amour books and old western movies. Snake was almost disappointed until he found the shelf lined with philosophical essays. Ocelot fed his brain with a steady diet of Marx and Nietzsche, which seemed counterproductive.
Meryl spotted another torture device on the mantelpiece above the fireplace. She took it down carefully to inspect it. The tool was made of metal. Two sharp claws were attached to the end of the rod. A clamp operated them. Meryl gave the clamp a squeeze, which caused the claws to grab thin air. Snake went rigid when he saw what she was playing with and Otacon smirked. Meryl noted their reactions.
"What, does this pull off your wiener?" Meryl asked.
"No, that's a Spanish Spider. It pulls off your boobs," Snake replied, pointing at Meryl's chest.
She immediately put it back on the mantelpiece and brushed off her hands.
"I wonder where our host is," Campbell said, changing the subject.
They walked into the dining room. Ocelot had spent some time preparing it for his guests. Plates and silverware were set for everyone. He obviously hadn't thrown this together at the last minute. The dining room was decorated with a couple of display cabinets full of more antiques. Thankfully, none of the trinkets were torture devices. Dining utensils and other forgotten relics from the pioneer days were on display here.
Across from the dining room entrance was an opening that led into the kitchen. Food was laid out on the island. Earlier in the week, Ocelot had asked them what they would prefer to eat. Their requests had been fulfilled. The group had agreed on an evening of breakfast food. Pancakes, sausages, bacon, and other assorted munchies awaited their approval. A couple of military rations were even available as a joke. Ocelot had made an enormous candy pizza for dessert. Everything from cherries to Butterfingers were in use on the pizza. A diabetic would go into a coma just by looking at it. The pizza was so beautiful that Otacon had to take a picture of it with his phone. Ocelot apparently knew how to cook.
Unfortunately, there was a lot more food than they had anticipated. It would be polite to take some home with them, which would mean returning to Ocelot's house later in the week to return his Tupperware. It was so delightfully suburban that it made Snake queasy.
"I know Otacon already asked, but are you sure this is the right address?" Campbell asked Snake.
"Positive. I think he's still in the basement. If that's the case, he's been down there for about forty-five minutes."
The lights suddenly began to flicker and a deep humming noise came from beneath them.
"What's he doing down there?" Otacon asked.
"I'll go find out. You three wait here," Snake replied.
"Okay. If you're not back in fifth-teen minutes, we'll call the Delta Force," Campbell said.
The door to Ocelot's basement was near the kitchen. Snake opened it cautiously and heard the distinct sound of electricity trying to invigorate everything in its path. There was a strange gurgled howl mixed in there as well. It didn't sound like any animal Snake knew. He put one hand behind his back near where he had his gun and started down the stairs. Following the unholy noises, Snake found himself face to face with Ocelot's torture rack. A duck was currently strapped to it. Snake rubbed his eyes and shook his head. The animal was still there.
Ocelot had restrained a duck on his rack and seemed to be cooking it that way. It made perfect sense, but Snake still couldn't believe it. Cooking an animal alive was barbaric. The unfortunate duck was staring ahead in horror and still trying to escape. Ocelot's rack was hooked into a large control panel that regulated the device. The wires running between the two pieces of equipment were taped to the floor. One in particular was bright red and hooked into a power socket. Snake examined the panel, wondering if he could shut it off. The panel was touched based and had so many options that pushing buttons randomly would not result in the desired effect. A warning message was flashing rapidly at the bottom of the screen. The device was rejecting its power supply and would soon short out if this problem was not fixed.
Snake sensed someone approaching him from behind and turned to see Ocelot entering the room. This was the first time he had seen the man outside of work and he still dressed like the sheriff of a mining community.
"Dinner will be ready in a few minutes!" Ocelot shouted over the noise.
The lights of the basement suddenly went out for a moment. Ocelot shoved Snake away from the control panel and took a look at the updates he had missed.
"Stand back! This thing is out of control!" Ocelot shouted as he tried to work with the device.
Snake wasn't paying any attention to him. He was looking at the duck. The animal was staring directly at him with a pleading expression on its face. Snake's gut turned ice cold and gained about five pounds. He watched helplessly as the duck abruptly exploded. It happened so fast that Snake was almost unable to react. Guts and other assorted entrails flew everywhere like shrapnel. A small amount of gore covered the two men. Ocelot pulled a piece of the ducks brain from his curly mustache and began beating on the panel while Snake brushed himself off.
The torture rack refused to shut off and the noise coming from it began building in intensity. Ocelot screamed at the top of his lungs as he ripped the power cord out of the wall. Once again, the lights went out, only this time they did not come back on. Upstairs, everyone started exchanging obscenities as the entire house was plunged into a deep, creepy darkness. The smell of burning feathers and seared meat hung heavy in the air while Snake stood still, expecting Ocelot to explain himself.
"I can tell that you're curious," Ocelot said.
A flashlight cut through the darkness. Ocelot held it beneath his chin pointing up so that his face was clearly illuminated.
"I figured I'd treat you twits to something a little more exotic than a breakfast burger."
"Hold that thought. Ocelot, why did you take the torture rack with you?" Snake asked.
"I couldn't leave it behind. Do you know how expensive these things are? Besides, it was a gift."
"Yeah, from a man you eventually killed."
"It's the thought that counts."
It was the very definition of absurdity. Here Snake was in Ocelot's basement having a somewhat casual conversation about why he had brought his electric chair home with him. It felt so wrong. They should have been at each other's throats. Snake wasn't about to let his guard down even if it did feel like he had stepped right into a Dali painting.
"What happened just now? Why couldn't you control it?"
"I'm fairly certain that it was damaged during the move."
"Do you usually cook animals like this?"
"Occasionally. Their terror really enhances the flavor of the meat. It tastes much better off the rack. You'll see. I managed to cook enough of them to provide good cuts for everyone."
Snake pinched his brow and sighed. There was so much wrong with what he had just seen, but he knew better than to try to argue with Ocelot. Pot calling the kettle black came to mind. Besides, atrocities were committed in the name of food every day worldwide. The growth hormones chickens were subjected to receiving seemed crueler than electrocuting one to death in under ten minutes. This incident was probably going to come back to haunt Snake in his dreams.
"Would you mind keeping this between us? Duck is not exactly easy to prepare and I'm sure they wouldn't eat it if they knew how I cooked it."
"I won't say anything."
That was not a step towards friendship. Snake merely didn't want Meryl to blow the whole thing out of proportion and drag the evening down to the fifth circle of hell.
"Good. Come over here."
Ocelot led Snake into another kitchen. This one was a lot smaller. For having cleaned a few ducks, the room was relatively spotless. Ocelot shined his light on two plates with duck meat on them. Snake picked up one without having to be told and Ocelot carried the other. Ocelot advised Snake to watch his step as they went up the stairs and back into the kitchen where his guests were waiting in the dark.
"Good evening," Ocelot said. "Sorry about the blackout. This house has faulty wiring. Right, Snake?"
"Yup."
"I swear, It's a wonder my home hasn't burned down yet. Anyway, I've cooked you all a little something special because when I think dinner I don't think pancakes. Now if you will excuse me for about five minutes, I need to go fiddle with my breaker box."
Ocelot set the first plate down and walked out his back door. Snake swore he heard the meat crackle as he put the second plate on the island.
"What was that noise we heard coming up through the floor?" Otacon asked.
"He's got his rack down there," Snake replied. "He was checking to see if it still works."
None of them made the connection between the duck meat and Ocelot's rack. They were giving him far too much credit. A sudden girlish scream brought their attention to something that was happening outside. Snake had his gun out and was at the back door in less than ten seconds. The door was still open.
"Hah! So that's how it feels," Ocelot said to himself.
The lights in the house came back on.
"He must have shocked himself," Snake said as he closed the door.
Back in the kitchen, Campbell and Meryl had found butter knives to defend themselves with while Otacon was carrying a frying pan and a can of cooking spray that would serve as an alternative to mace.
"You brought a gun?" Meryl asked.
"I never leave home without one," Snake replied, tucking the gun back into its holster.
Otacon hastily signaled them to quiet down as Ocelot came in through the back door.
"Dig in," Ocelot said.
Snake made sure to take a slice of duck with him to the dining table so that his friends would as well. Eager to get it out of the way, he stabbed his fork into the meat. A small burst of static electricity coursed through the metal fork and sent a tiny spark sizzling through the air. Snake's wrist seized up and he dropped the utensil on his plate. Once he recovered, he managed to savor a bite of the duck. It crackled slightly in his mouth like Rice Krispies, zapping plaque off his teeth as he chewed. Ocelot was right. It was delicious.
"This is exquisite," Meryl commented. "What did you do with this duck?"
"A good cook never shares his secret ingredients with anyone," Ocelot replied.
The rest of the food was equally as impressive. In particular, the candy pizza was absolutely delicious. Campbell and Ocelot managed to shoot the breeze rather well while the others remained quiet. Otacon never had much to say unless they were talking about technology or video games and Meryl knew better than to spoil the meal for everyone.
"So Ocelot, are you still working for the Patriots?" Meryl asked casually.
Apparently giving Meryl the benefit of the doubt was a bit of a gamble. Snake had figured Meryl could pace herself. Evidently she couldn't. It was a much more relevant topic than the weather and what Alaska might name their football team if they ever got around to forming one.
"Of course. I need health insurance just like everyone else," Ocelot replied.
"How has that been?"
"My responsibilities are very vague. I work hard to keep them that way."
"So you try to do as little as possible, then?"
"Precisely. It's a dream job, really."
"I guess they kind of ignored the fact that you wanted to destroy them?" Otacon asked.
"That was Liquid's objective. Mine has always been a lot simpler."
"And vague," Meryl added.
"Yes."
"What is your goal? I know you mentioned that it's vague, but do try to put it into words," Meryl requested.
Ocelot took a few bites of his pancakes before replying.
"Shadow Moses. Prevent lunatic from upsetting the system the Patriots have put in place. The Big Shell. Prevent lunatic from upsetting the system the Patriots have put in place."
"That's exceptionally vague," Campbell remarked.
"Thank you."
"Snake stopped Liquid. Raiden stopped Solidus. The only thing you did was try to kill us," Meryl said.
"If it's any consolation, I didn't try very hard. I was undercover, Meryl. What should I have done?"
"Fine, whatever. What are you doing in Alaska? Why have you brought corpses with you?"
"Nobody stays dead in this day and age. I moved here to make sure that certain people don't cause trouble."
Snake had a feeling that Ocelot was talking about them. Then again, he could be referring to anyone.
"Mantis mentioned that you got into a fight at Brak's during their weeaboo night, Snake," Ocelot said, changing the subject.
"Yeah, I broke some guys arm because he pulled a knife on me."
"Otacon, see what you missed out on?" Ocelot asked.
"The food made me violently ill," Otacon replied. "Besides, I was only jealous the first two times Snake has had to tell the story this week."
He was lying, but nobody called him out on it. Otacon had been nervous around all the ladies dressed as his favorite anime girls. Snake couldn't decide if he wanted to stay or go, so he just drank at the counter with Mantis and shot one game of pool before things got out of hand. He glanced over at Meryl while Ocelot demanded they tell more stories about their private lives. She looked defeated, as if she couldn't accept the fact that Ocelot had essentially only fought them because they had been in his way. He had only been doing his job. That didn't make him a good guy or an anti-hero in Snake's opinion since he still worked for an organization that loved coming up with new ways to herd their sheep.
"I saw Naomi the other day. She wandered into that occult store at the mall. The clerk said she bought something called aglaophotis," Ocelot said, still conversing with Campbell and Otacon. "Google says that aglaophotis is used to scare off ghosts. I wonder why she would need it."
It was all so mundane. What were they going to do next, watch cable television together? Snake had been a hermit for so long that it didn't bother him too much, but he was starting to remember why he liked being a loner in the first place. Was this how their lives would remain for the immediate future? No. Ocelot wasn't telling them the whole story.
There was still plenty of food left over after they finished eating. Ocelot led them all into his living room and took a seat in the rocking chair near the laptop. Campbell stole the recliner while the other three claimed the couch. Ocelot put on a pair of reading glasses and unlocked his computer. Meryl's face screwed up as she tried not to laugh at how he looked. Otacon pretended to yawn.
"Well, then. . .now for why we're all here, yes?" Ocelot asked. "I can sell you people anything that you could possibly imagine."
"How about the location of the Patriots?" Meryl asked.
"That's easy. It's underneath Stonehenge," Ocelot replied.
"You're lying."
"I'm glad you're able to detect thinly veiled sarcasm."
"Does it have to be an item, Ocelot?" Snake asked. "How much control do you have on that laptop of yours?"
"Plenty. For example, I can aggravate investors by fiddling with the stock market if I feel like it. I can decide what research projects get government grants. I can order assassins as easily as you can buy a hamburger from some fast food joint. Speaking of which, I can control what ingredients they put in that hamburger."
Snake gave Otacon a subtle nod. They would need to remember that.
"Can you sell weapons to terrorists?" Snake asked.
"I can facilitate exchanges of that sort, but so can plenty of other peddlers. The only weapon I need approval to offer anyone is a nuke, which is fine. If I chose to sell something that threatened the safety of the world, I'd like there to be a world still around whenever my client got the anger out of their system."
"I take it you do most of this by proxies?" Snake asked.
"No, I do it in person. Naked. Covered in slime. Every sale comes with a complimentary care package that includes a pistol my buyer can use to shoot me in the back when I tap dance my way out of the alley we met in."
"I so want that to be true," Meryl said.
"How about doing something to help out the general public?" Snake asked, goading Ocelot for more information.
"What should we care? We're rich. Well, except for Meryl," Ocelot said. "Somebody has to suffer for someone to be happy."
"Yeah. A cure for cancer or a feasible alternative to oil would just be bad things," Otacon said.
"A cure for cancer would take down one of the only passive methods of population control the world has at its disposal and there are too many fat men in suits who would sell their children into the sex trade before they would replace oil with anything."
"You're a monster," Meryl said.
"I prefer to think of myself as a necessary evil. What are you going to do about it?"
She gritted her teeth together.
"I'm going to fume furiously."
"Such is the plight of a redhead. Do you think keeping the world balanced is an easy thing? I'd let you guys try it if I wouldn't have to clean up a global depression after you were finished giving Tootsie Rolls to every child on Earth. Let's change the subject. I believe Otacon wants some codes. Isn't that right, colonel?"
"Yeah, he wants to see Mei Ling naked," Campbell replied.
"Campbell, why did you tell him that?" Otacon whined.
"You didn't say I couldn't, so I thought that I could."
Ocelot looked around for something and seemed perplexed that he could not find the object he was seeking.
"I think I left that information in my study. Give me a minute to retrieve it," Ocelot said.
The second he left the room, the temptation to steal Ocelot's laptop and run burned within Snake. It was terrible that they were using computers to control the world these days. Snake had just learned that Internet Explorer wasn't a good browser and that Windows 95 had been obsolete for a very long time. Besides, he was merely a soldier. He wasn't sure he could handle that much power.
Meryl tapped Snake on his shoulder to get his attention.
"Are we not going to grab it?" Meryl whispered.
"I don't know. Otacon, what do you think we should do?" Snake asked.
"You're asking me?"
"My mistake. Meryl, I don't think we should make a spontaneous decision about this."
Meryl turned to Campbell and pointed a finger at him.
"You're not allowed to tell him that we discussed this," Meryl whispered.
"Maybe we should take it," Campbell muttered.
"What did you just say?" Meryl asked.
"It wouldn't do you any good," Ocelot said, emerging from the hallway with a manila envelope in one hand. "There's a custom OS on that laptop. To unlock the computer, you need to know one of twenty specific passwords I've had to memorize. You only get two guesses. Fail, and the computer nukes itself and sends a text message to a certain professional assassin I've come to admire."
"Otacon could crack it," Meryl declared defensively.
"I'm sure he'll get right on that once he's finished buying his way into Sauron and Noruas," Ocelot said.
"You're right. Forget it. I don't need your help," Otacon said.
Otacon appeared to have grown a spine, which pleased Snake and caught Ocelot off guard.
"Come, now. I'm only kidding. Take it," Ocelot said.
He extended his arm to offer the folder to Otacon. Suddenly his right hand and the folder were on the floor. Ocelot recoiled in agony, clutching at the useless stump in a futile attempt to kill the pain by applying pressure to the wound while blood poured all over his beautiful hardwood floor.
"Not again!" Ocelot wailed.
Snake took out his gun, jumped behind the couch, and began looking around the room for the unseen attacker. Meryl picked up the envelope containing the codes as Campbell and Otacon followed Snake's example and used the furniture as cover. Before ducking behind the recliner, Meryl grabbed the boob clippers in case she needed to defend herself.
A sharp click caught their attention as a figure materialized standing over Ocelot. The individual who had just inexplicably dropped their stealth camouflage just to be a show off was a male figure wearing a sleek black exoskeleton. He was carrying a bloody katana.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Ocelot demanded in a manner that suggested he knew who this person was.
The intruder didn't answer. Instead, he picked up the severed limb from the floor and stuffed it inside a satchel. Snake took a shot at him, only to watch as his opponent deflected the bullet with his sword. Few things annoyed Snake more than people who could swat a bullet aside with a sharpened stick. Their uninvited guest snatched the laptop off the coffee table and jumped out the front window just to be dramatic and cause more property damage.
"Is that bad?" Meryl asked Ocelot.
"What do you think?" Ocelot replied. "This is perfect. I can't even have a normal dinner party without the past catching up to me."
"Should we go after him?" Snake asked.
"No, leave him be. He won't get very far. You can all leave now. The party is over."
"We're supposed to leave? How do you plan on taking care of that injury all by yourself?" Campbell asked.
"I'll just have to drive to the hospital before I bleed to death."
"Hold on. You're hiding something," Meryl said. "You want us to leave so you can make a few phone calls and find out what just happened."
"I said get out!"
Ocelot reached behind his back with the wrong hand and smeared blood all over his butt. He cried out in frustration and used his left hand to retrieve the revolver he had hid on his person. Snake shot him in the arm. Ocelot dropped the gun and doubled over on the floor.
"I suppose I deserved that," Ocelot said, his speech slurred. "Why does this have to be so difficult? Why blanket eggs?"
That last bit must have come from the drugs. Ocelot passed out in a pool of his own blood. Snake pulled the dart out of Ocelot's arm and stuffed it inside his pocket.
"Quick, let's dress the wound and get out of here before the cops arrive," Snake said.
While Meryl and Campbell worked together to cut off the circulation to Ocelot's wound, Snake rummaged through Ocelot's clothing and found a cell phone. He dialed 911 and dropped the phone on the ground when the operator answered.
"Do you think we should take some of the food with us?" Campbell asked. "It's going to rot while he's gone."
"Are you being serious right now?" Snake asked.
"Absolutely. I really want to take home the rest of that candy pizza and a couple of those breakfast burgers."
Snake looked at Meryl and Otacon, who both nodded enthusiastically.
"Fine, but let's be quick about it."
They rushed into the kitchen only to find that the rest of the candy pizza was gone.
"What the?" Campbell said.
"That Gray Fox knock off must have eaten it while we were in the living room," Snake deduced.
"There was half a pan left!" Campbell said.
"How did he even get in without any of us noticing?" Meryl asked.
"The backdoor was open earlier. I didn't think anything of it. Damn, that must have been him," Snake replied.
"I bet he spit on the breakfast burgers," Campbell said spitefully.
"Let's go cry about it somewhere else," Snake urged.
Sirens were encouraging those with radio tuners to listen in on the public safety line. Snake and his companions piled into Otacon's van. They got away just as the ambulance pulled into the block. Otacon made his way out of suburbia while Meryl went over the documents she had grabbed. A SD card slid out from the envelope and landed at her feet.
"That's odd. It looks like everything Otacon needs is right here. What's the card for?" Meryl asked.
"Let me see your cell phone and we will find out," Snake said.
"Hold on, don't do that," Otacon said. "It might have a boot executable, or something. I'll take a look at it later."
"I hope it tells us who is powerful enough to make a move on Oc – "
Snake didn't get a chance to finish his sentence when something struck the front of Otacon's vehicle.
"What was that? A deer?" Otacon asked.
There was nothing in front of Otacon's vehicle, but the dent in the front bumper was quite significant. A groan directed their attention to the same intruder they had seen earlier. At this point, the good guys and gal knew better than to question the odds. Realizing that all was lost, the man who had cut off Ocelot's hand produced a smaller blade seemingly from out of nowhere and plunged it into his gut. He convulsed in agony once before turning into a funeral pyre, leaving nothing behind but ash and a crude outline of his body burned into the street. All this happened in less than a minute. Not even his katana was left behind. Snake figured that now would be a very good time to tell his friends that they shouldn't hang out together, but he kept his mouth shut.
"Well, there's one less thing to worry about," Campbell said.
"I don't think we. . ." Snake managed before thinking better of it again. He cleared his throat. "I need a drink."
"We'll stop by the liquor store on the way to my place," Otacon said. "You guys can do whatever while I see what's on that card."
"I bet it's just porn," Meryl said.
On their way to the liquor store, Otacon ran over the corpse, which exploded and scattered pieces of ash everywhere. They each shed a tear. Not for the dedication this unknown soldier had to his mission, but for the remainder of the most delicious candy pizza any of them had ever had the pleasure of eating that was mixed in the beautiful gray specs of carbon and hydrogen as they danced in the cool evening breeze.