For the record, this story is an experiment in fan fiction, which I would like to call Potential Fan Speculation. I know very little about either of the games I'm writing about. I don't even know why I'm writing this, really. So, enjoy:

Metal Gear Solid

Sons of the Patriots

and

Zelda

Ocarina's Mask

The Combined and Abridged Fan Fiction

"MGS:SOTP & Z:OM--TCAAFF"

Chapter 1

Snake woke up in a human-shaped pile of organic material that was himself. He gasped as he quickly realized he couldn't see, but then remembered that he was just in a really dark box. Wiping the crust from his eyes and drying his wrinkly, whisker-covered face from the pool of drool he had been sleeping in, he at length was startled to remember what had caused him to spend the night in a big box. He frantically brought his watch to his face and hit the little glow-in-the-dark button. 6:59AM.

"Oh fiddlesticks!" he muttered in a gravely, intense whisper. "I must've dozed-off some time before the conference started!" He epically face-palmed. "My age really has gotten the best of me... this time." Being a super-awesome stealthy guy had come with notably more effort of late; ever since he had suddenly aged to an exceedingly old person, he'd been contending with a lot more than mere super-complicated world domination plots. "At least I didn't have to get up to go the bathroom every two hours this time," he thought to himself optimistically.

It was time to pick up the pieces. He was still in the room where the incredibly mysterious and secretive organization he had planned to spy on had held the conference that he slept through. Perhaps if he snooped around he could obtain valuable clues as to what they had discussed the night before. He poked the eye-holes out of his large box to check to see if the coast was clear. Nothing in front of him. He knew he should check the other directions too, but felt too lazy to cut out more eye-holes, so he just picked the box up and turned it around. His eyes widened in shock as he looked out and saw that a guard had been standing behind him all along at the other side of the room, faced in his direction no less. Snake hurriedly tensed and loosened his every muscle, readying himself for the guard to make his move. But to his surprise the guard kept perfectly still, as if he had somehow overlooked Snake's box lifting up and doing a 180. This perplexed Snake and he decided to chance moving in for a closer look. He picked the box up again, only just enough to keep it from dragging on the floor. With still flawless precision, he made his way to the guard without a sound before setting the box back down at his new location. He looked out at the guard through the peepholes. He was still standing as if things in the room had remained unchanged all along. Snake became perplexed to the point of irritation.

"Hey!" Snake demanded aloud.

"Who said that?!" the guard replied in a panic, assuming a defensive posture, and looking frantically all about the room.

"I don't know... maybe the moving box!!?" Snake implied.

"Listen man!" the guard asserted. "I don't know who you are, or where you are, or why you're here, or what you're after, or who you're working for, but the jig is up! So, come out from wherever you're hiding and, well, prepare to be arrested!"

Snake hurled the box off of himself as he leapt up to subdue the guard. The guard turned to face him just in time to have his head twisted by a brutal right hook. He was down for the count in one blow. Snake joggled the mild hurt off his fist as he shook his head. "If only I'd made this mistake earlier," he narrated to himself. "Would've saved me all those years of sneaking around in boxes behind people. And with the immediate threat taken care of, he made his way back over to the conference table, to gather what he could about what threat might be in store for the future of humanity.

Firstly he noticed a camcorder. Could they have actually been stupid enough to tape their conference? he wondered. But on further observation he discovered that it was a webcam; whatever they said had been streamed, not recorded. He silently cursed, knowing he should've known that would be too easy.

There was a work desk behind the conference table. He snuck over to it and tried to open the drawers. Locked. He looked around to reassure himself that the coast was still clear, then preceded to break all of the locking mechanisms with his bare hands. Inside he found little of consequence; receipts to convenience stores, travel brochures, a flashlight, and two ticket stubs for Broadway Presents: Raiders of the Lost Ark. But then, what might be a clue. Hidden under the receipts was a jewel-encrusted silver cross.

Snake held the cross up to the light and admired it, seeing that the materials were authentic and valuable. He rubbed his whiskers with one gloved hand, considering the clues. The receipts mostly have the same area code; that'll narrow the search for the owner of this desk, who must be important considering his desk is here in the bowels of their secret base. He tried to connect the other clues. Well... they streamed live video, and there's this cross, so... maybe... televangelists? Suddenly Snake was amused by the prospect. I've never had to undermine the sinister conspiracy of a group of disgruntled televangelists before.

At any rate it seemed he had enough information to bring back to Ottocon and the rest. "Seems I did pretty well for myself after all," Snake said, glad to have cheated his way out of the shame of coming back from the lair with no useful snippets. Contentedly, he slapped the box back over himself and crept away home.

Later, Snake jogged into Ottocon's computer lab, eager to share his valuable information. "I just got back from the lair of the secret organization whose name is yet to be known. You'll never believe what I found! They seem to be a group of disgruntled televangelists w--"

"Hold it, Snake, what are you talking about?" Ottocon interrupted, aghast.

"What do you mean 'what am I talking about'? Obviously the mission I went on last night!"

Ottocon looked at him questioningly. "I don't know what secret lair you spent the night wandering around in, but the organization we've been tracking, the one you were supposed to infiltrate, hacked global television and made a speech to the entire world last night."

Snake remembered the webcam. Guilt-ridden, he rubbed the back of his neck, looking down. "I, uh, might've dozed off at that point."

"Then you may be the one person in the whole world who doesn't know what we're dealing with."

"They came right out and said who they were?" Snake questioned.

"That seems to have been the whole point of their speech. Though simply knowing who they are sends a powerful enough message in and of itself."

"It's that bad?"

"Worse than we could've ever imagined. Ever."

Snake hesitated to ask the obvious question. "Who are they?"

Ottocon shook his head in resigned woe. "They called themselves the 'Sons of the Patriots'."