------(The entire Metal Gear cast don't belong to me, but this fanfic is
mine. Please enjoy.)------
Another horrible day, I thought. I stared out an open window, listening to the seagulls crying. I am only 16, and I'm held hostage by a bunch of lunatics in a military installation! The credibility of that happening is zero to none. I mean, why choose me, out of millions of others? I've been told I'm in a structure suspended above the sea called "Big Shell" off the coast of Manhattan, but I have no memory of when I was taken here. I had found myself in here. The Russian guards around here don't usually say much, they just patrol the area, watching us hostages.
By the way, My name is...Jennifer. I guess I'm average for my age, being about 5'7, with long brown hair up to my shoulders. A mock dogtag hangs on my neck, along with an empty locket, which I have never decided who's picture to put in. I'm still in the clothing I was in when kidnapped, a large yellow Adidas shirt, and a pair of black cargo pants.
I still remember the day when my life changed forever.
1 April 30th
-Shell 1 Core, B1
A sound of the door opening caught my attention, and a lean wandered in, almost unsure of the surroundings. Day after day, I knew the routine, but this was different. Maybe I was so bored, I noticed such things as what times the guards would drop in. This guard came in a few minutes later, holding an AK in his hand, and something else. Apparently, he was looking for someone, because he stepped slowly, looking into all of us hostages' faces. This stranger paused as he looked down at my hands that were cuffed with links, and the tape over my mouth. Looking into his deep blue eyes, I felt dizzy and lost. He didn't seem like a Russian soldier at all. He was...different. I could see it, even behind that mask. Trusting my instincts, I whimpered, trying to speak, and reached for his leg. My eyes brimmed with tears, but I didn't hold it back this time. I wasn't faking either. It felt good after holding my emotions in. I was lonely and afraid of everyone around me, and with this whole "nuke-threat", it was more than a 16-year-old could handle. I didn't want my life to end this way. I saw concern flash over the soft, intriguing eyes that had been searching mine. My hope faded as I saw him quietly pace over to a middle-aged man close to the wall, uncovering the tape from his mouth. I watched with interest and curiosity as the guard conversed with the startled hostage. I later found out the hostage's name was Ames. The two spoke of things, which I had yet to grasp. The guard was given a Lv.3 card to reach Shell 2, which was another section of this existing structure, or so I understood. Other things were said, which I couldn't make out, and I sighed. Maybe I was wrong about this guard. Wrong as usual.
Suddenly, and to my surprise, soldiers suddenly flooded into the dark room, their AKs tightly in their grasp. An elderly man, with a thick white curling moustache and icy eyes advanced, and the air trembled with power. I've overheard from soldiers before that his name was Revolver Ocelot, master of torture and unbelievable firing accuracy. The light brown trench coat he was wearing seemed to add to his bone-chilling appearance. I felt my throat constrict with fear. Ocelot examined the guard who was standing next to Ames, with a frightening apprehensiveness. The torture master's harsh voice broke the silence, the words coarse and raw. "What were you doing?"
The guard answered with slight hesitation. "His pacemaker stopped." Now when I think of it, I believe Ames DID die. I don't remember, really.
Revolver paused, staring at Ames. The tension was unbearable. Finally, his eyes lifted at the guard's face.
"He is not one of mine," The guard assured him, his accent a little funny.
I heard the cocking of guns, and the smell of sulfur that made my stomach turn.
"Strip off his mask." Revolver ordered, a Russian soldier grasping onto the bottom of the suspicious male's baraclava. The mask was lifted off the man's face, and I nearly swooned, gaping at the person I saw before me. This "guard" was not Russian at all, in fact, he looked a mix between slight Japanese and American. He was young, and you could say he was anything from 18 to 22 years old MAX. His straight, pale blond hair was graceful and flowing, I've never seen anything like it. His long hair (like the colour "Arizona Topaz") part through the middle, both straight sides covering his ears and running down the back of his neck, ending a bit above his shoulder blades. It was so, that some strands, perfectly symmetrical, lay slightly suspended over his forehead, almost covering his eyes. The blond blades of hair seemed to sway like grass in the gentle summer breeze.
His facial features were beautiful and flawless, his face pale as well. He had Asian shaped eyes, (thus referring back to his nationality) that naturally had long lashes. Iris' were a stunning shade of blue. He was handsome, very handsome. I almost smiled. I wondered what he was doing in such a place. Consider this "love at first sight".
I'm sorry, I kind of trailed off. Anyway, Ocelot was very shocked. The soldiers all lifted their firearms, ready to shoot this stranger. You won't believe this, and neither could I, but some sort of Ninja Cyborg thing, dropped from nowhere, and held out its blade in front of the unmasked young man.
"Go, get out of here!" The Ninja instructed in a muffled, foreign voice, swiping its blade and deflecting the flying bullets. Seizing his chance, the young man made for the stairs. But as he made his way up, he stopped abruptly, turning his head. My heart almost popped from my chest when he forced me to my feet, grabbed my hand and flew up the stairs. He must have pitied me because I was the youngest hostage there, by far. Maybe it was something else. Gunfire sizzled and cracked behind me, and I didn't stop running until we slipped into somewhere safe. At least I imagined it to be safe. To our horror, an alarm was blaring throughout the hallway. Talk about a target, it looks like this guy was being hunted down all over this Shell. Not to mention me, as well. We flew (not literally, of course) across the twists and turns of the corridor, and dashed into an elevator, in hot pursuit. The young man pressed a button and the door closed just in time, hearing the sharp twang of bullets hitting metal.
I wiped my sweaty palms on my cargo pants, my heart leaping half in joy, half in terror of what had just happened. It was the first time I had been out of that hostage room. I turned my sight to the young man, who pulled off his soldier garments, a different outfit revealed. He was in a light black/dark grey one-piece wetsuit, with ammunition strapped to belts around his legs. I looked closer at the wetsuit's interesting design. The knee, elbow plates, and thin shoulder plates were light blue, and the design on his chest resembled the bones of the rib cage. The suit stretched from his throat all the way down, and wrapped around his feet like treads. I didn't mean to gawk at him, but one could easily see his muscle definition through his suit. He suddenly turned to me, and I felt my cheeks go red. He crouched, gingerly removing the tape from my mouth, and untying my hands.
"You okay?" He looked up at me, his voice was slightly airy, but gentle and soothing. "Yes,"—I looked to the side—"Thanks a lot for freeing me." He nodded, and fell silent again. His face had a serious expression. "So where are we headed?" I inquired. I'm not sure if he liked how I persisted to question him, but I couldn't help it.
The blond took a breath. "Shell 2 to rescue the President. We have to take the Shell 1-2 connecting bridge first." What he said seemed incredible. It sounded almost like a dream, I mean, who would think I'd get caught up into this massive mission? Despite how I tried to ignore it, I knew the terrorist threat was very real. It scared me. One nuke and this Earth will end up as a mushroom cloud. Now I understood why this guy was here. I rubbed my arm in the silence, deciding to ask something that had been eating away at me. "What's your name? I'm Jennifer." He looked confused for a moment, unsure how to answer. "I'm Raiden."
"Raiden...?" I repeated the name, uncertain what to think. "It's a codename?"
He put a hand on his hip. "Makes up for the boring name my parents gave me." Our little "talk" finished as the elevator opened, leaving us in yet another passage, this time that led to the Shell 1-2 bridge. "Geez," I mumbled, "This place is confusing me." I don't think then was the time for joking around. I chided myself and closed my mouth, feeling slightly embarrassed in the silence. This was just the beginning of my most unbelievable experience yet.
Another horrible day, I thought. I stared out an open window, listening to the seagulls crying. I am only 16, and I'm held hostage by a bunch of lunatics in a military installation! The credibility of that happening is zero to none. I mean, why choose me, out of millions of others? I've been told I'm in a structure suspended above the sea called "Big Shell" off the coast of Manhattan, but I have no memory of when I was taken here. I had found myself in here. The Russian guards around here don't usually say much, they just patrol the area, watching us hostages.
By the way, My name is...Jennifer. I guess I'm average for my age, being about 5'7, with long brown hair up to my shoulders. A mock dogtag hangs on my neck, along with an empty locket, which I have never decided who's picture to put in. I'm still in the clothing I was in when kidnapped, a large yellow Adidas shirt, and a pair of black cargo pants.
I still remember the day when my life changed forever.
1 April 30th
-Shell 1 Core, B1
A sound of the door opening caught my attention, and a lean wandered in, almost unsure of the surroundings. Day after day, I knew the routine, but this was different. Maybe I was so bored, I noticed such things as what times the guards would drop in. This guard came in a few minutes later, holding an AK in his hand, and something else. Apparently, he was looking for someone, because he stepped slowly, looking into all of us hostages' faces. This stranger paused as he looked down at my hands that were cuffed with links, and the tape over my mouth. Looking into his deep blue eyes, I felt dizzy and lost. He didn't seem like a Russian soldier at all. He was...different. I could see it, even behind that mask. Trusting my instincts, I whimpered, trying to speak, and reached for his leg. My eyes brimmed with tears, but I didn't hold it back this time. I wasn't faking either. It felt good after holding my emotions in. I was lonely and afraid of everyone around me, and with this whole "nuke-threat", it was more than a 16-year-old could handle. I didn't want my life to end this way. I saw concern flash over the soft, intriguing eyes that had been searching mine. My hope faded as I saw him quietly pace over to a middle-aged man close to the wall, uncovering the tape from his mouth. I watched with interest and curiosity as the guard conversed with the startled hostage. I later found out the hostage's name was Ames. The two spoke of things, which I had yet to grasp. The guard was given a Lv.3 card to reach Shell 2, which was another section of this existing structure, or so I understood. Other things were said, which I couldn't make out, and I sighed. Maybe I was wrong about this guard. Wrong as usual.
Suddenly, and to my surprise, soldiers suddenly flooded into the dark room, their AKs tightly in their grasp. An elderly man, with a thick white curling moustache and icy eyes advanced, and the air trembled with power. I've overheard from soldiers before that his name was Revolver Ocelot, master of torture and unbelievable firing accuracy. The light brown trench coat he was wearing seemed to add to his bone-chilling appearance. I felt my throat constrict with fear. Ocelot examined the guard who was standing next to Ames, with a frightening apprehensiveness. The torture master's harsh voice broke the silence, the words coarse and raw. "What were you doing?"
The guard answered with slight hesitation. "His pacemaker stopped." Now when I think of it, I believe Ames DID die. I don't remember, really.
Revolver paused, staring at Ames. The tension was unbearable. Finally, his eyes lifted at the guard's face.
"He is not one of mine," The guard assured him, his accent a little funny.
I heard the cocking of guns, and the smell of sulfur that made my stomach turn.
"Strip off his mask." Revolver ordered, a Russian soldier grasping onto the bottom of the suspicious male's baraclava. The mask was lifted off the man's face, and I nearly swooned, gaping at the person I saw before me. This "guard" was not Russian at all, in fact, he looked a mix between slight Japanese and American. He was young, and you could say he was anything from 18 to 22 years old MAX. His straight, pale blond hair was graceful and flowing, I've never seen anything like it. His long hair (like the colour "Arizona Topaz") part through the middle, both straight sides covering his ears and running down the back of his neck, ending a bit above his shoulder blades. It was so, that some strands, perfectly symmetrical, lay slightly suspended over his forehead, almost covering his eyes. The blond blades of hair seemed to sway like grass in the gentle summer breeze.
His facial features were beautiful and flawless, his face pale as well. He had Asian shaped eyes, (thus referring back to his nationality) that naturally had long lashes. Iris' were a stunning shade of blue. He was handsome, very handsome. I almost smiled. I wondered what he was doing in such a place. Consider this "love at first sight".
I'm sorry, I kind of trailed off. Anyway, Ocelot was very shocked. The soldiers all lifted their firearms, ready to shoot this stranger. You won't believe this, and neither could I, but some sort of Ninja Cyborg thing, dropped from nowhere, and held out its blade in front of the unmasked young man.
"Go, get out of here!" The Ninja instructed in a muffled, foreign voice, swiping its blade and deflecting the flying bullets. Seizing his chance, the young man made for the stairs. But as he made his way up, he stopped abruptly, turning his head. My heart almost popped from my chest when he forced me to my feet, grabbed my hand and flew up the stairs. He must have pitied me because I was the youngest hostage there, by far. Maybe it was something else. Gunfire sizzled and cracked behind me, and I didn't stop running until we slipped into somewhere safe. At least I imagined it to be safe. To our horror, an alarm was blaring throughout the hallway. Talk about a target, it looks like this guy was being hunted down all over this Shell. Not to mention me, as well. We flew (not literally, of course) across the twists and turns of the corridor, and dashed into an elevator, in hot pursuit. The young man pressed a button and the door closed just in time, hearing the sharp twang of bullets hitting metal.
I wiped my sweaty palms on my cargo pants, my heart leaping half in joy, half in terror of what had just happened. It was the first time I had been out of that hostage room. I turned my sight to the young man, who pulled off his soldier garments, a different outfit revealed. He was in a light black/dark grey one-piece wetsuit, with ammunition strapped to belts around his legs. I looked closer at the wetsuit's interesting design. The knee, elbow plates, and thin shoulder plates were light blue, and the design on his chest resembled the bones of the rib cage. The suit stretched from his throat all the way down, and wrapped around his feet like treads. I didn't mean to gawk at him, but one could easily see his muscle definition through his suit. He suddenly turned to me, and I felt my cheeks go red. He crouched, gingerly removing the tape from my mouth, and untying my hands.
"You okay?" He looked up at me, his voice was slightly airy, but gentle and soothing. "Yes,"—I looked to the side—"Thanks a lot for freeing me." He nodded, and fell silent again. His face had a serious expression. "So where are we headed?" I inquired. I'm not sure if he liked how I persisted to question him, but I couldn't help it.
The blond took a breath. "Shell 2 to rescue the President. We have to take the Shell 1-2 connecting bridge first." What he said seemed incredible. It sounded almost like a dream, I mean, who would think I'd get caught up into this massive mission? Despite how I tried to ignore it, I knew the terrorist threat was very real. It scared me. One nuke and this Earth will end up as a mushroom cloud. Now I understood why this guy was here. I rubbed my arm in the silence, deciding to ask something that had been eating away at me. "What's your name? I'm Jennifer." He looked confused for a moment, unsure how to answer. "I'm Raiden."
"Raiden...?" I repeated the name, uncertain what to think. "It's a codename?"
He put a hand on his hip. "Makes up for the boring name my parents gave me." Our little "talk" finished as the elevator opened, leaving us in yet another passage, this time that led to the Shell 1-2 bridge. "Geez," I mumbled, "This place is confusing me." I don't think then was the time for joking around. I chided myself and closed my mouth, feeling slightly embarrassed in the silence. This was just the beginning of my most unbelievable experience yet.