Just writing what everyone was thinking. :)
"That's right. Good. No need for you to die just yet."
Just seconds ago, the graveyard was unbalanced with the ringing of a new age forty-five Operator handgun single-handedly pronouncing an explicit bang into the air. And now, just as quickly, the graves resumed silence as the noise departed followed only be indistinguishable footsteps. The man who rested in front of that one particular grave was the legend himself incognito, wearing a casual suit to respect the graveyard's visiting hours. Dave was exhaling viscously, lungs horning with unease after nearly blowing out the back of his skull with a .45 ACP round had almost killed him, if not morally then mentally. In truth, not even the greatest super soldier in the world's formerly recorded history was able to relinquish life for outer heaven, a peace that he had owed the world and all the lives he'd taken. Or so he imagined.
It was nonetheless more surprising to hear a SECOND shot fire, the sound clearly distinct from what a .45 Operator should have sounded like. Dave almost checked himself to see if his finger had slipped or if in some kind of nervous reflex he had pulled the trigger twice and fired it into himself. Expecting a forthcoming pain, he bent over and kneeled only to feel something steel and circular press strongly into his back.
"Its been a long time Snake." came a grim-sounding voice, the cords as aged as his own.
It can't be...
Whatever the threat may actually have been, one thing was absolute. Solid Snake. Was Not. Going To Die. Not in this forgotten war annex. Not anywhere out of his loved one's and best friend's reach.
Close Quarters Battle, to the degree that he had mastered it, was a renowned soldier's art practiced only in FOXHOUND. Master Miller had trained him, Liquid had tested him, Ocelot had surpassed him with some former variant. But here, he was the superior fighter, the one the newspapers had once looked upon as the hero of Shadow Moses who'd defeated the threat of nuclear catastrophe. He spun around with inhuman speed, with renewed vigor to keep himself and his body out of harm's very vulnerable path, and prepared to flail the automatic weapon being pointed at him.
And like that he froze, covered in shock and dismay to see that the man he'd hated so much, had gone through so much trouble to kill, was standing there with an unexplainable weapon in his hands.
The weapon could have been best guessed as some kind of modified assault pistol, however, the stock was removed and the frame appeared unwieldy. Judging from the size and diameter, the recoil must have been a pain the ass to endure as well, but the drum's size indicated a mass of ammunition. He didn't want to start on why the feed mechanism was shaped like an infinity symbol...
In fact, it was the same weapon he'd seen on one of the other graves. The grave of the Boss, the one who mentored Big Boss and won America one of its greatest victories during World War II, the "Mother Of The Special Forces". Had this attacker stolen it, or was it his own? Dave didn't dare take his eye off of him, knowing the man was just as dangerous and cunning as himself. Of course he was, because unknown to the rest of the living world excluding maybe Drebin who had been working for the Patriots to begin with and Roy Campbell who he'd confided his rare trust in, this man was both biologically and metaphorically his very own father.
"Big Boss." he mumbled, trying to shake the terrorist's aim away through conversation. He knew Big Boss well during his days in FOXHOUND, and if nothing had changed through the genetically-surgeoned body parts of his two brothers, older and younger Liquid and Solidus respectively, he was definitely still a talker with the passed down penchant for cigars.
But the last and worse of his expectations made a jump forward, snatching him by his shoulders as he squeezed the trigger. Big Boss may have seemed rigid in his old age but he was actually even faster than Dave would have surmised, the bullet flew past his trench coat and left a noticeable hole through the bottom of its tail. Big Boss moved swiftly, hoisting Dave up like a ragdoll with considerable exertion before chucking him nearly ten whole feet. And to Dave's misfortune, and great pain, his spine chilled and pounded straight down on the neck of a broken tombstone. He rolled over, fumbling the Operator. A soldier should have been ready, focused to take on another soldier in close-quarters combat.
But Big Boss was no ordinary soldier.
"But you died!" shouted Dave.
"The living may not hear them. Their voices may fall upon deaf ears. But make no mistake - the dead... are not silent Snake. And I can't die just yet."
The gray-haired male slithered an arm down the drum of the patriot, tossing it aside and slamming a fresh magazine into the receiver. The one hundred rounds clicked happily as he aimed at Dave's hiding spot while Dave recovered from the impact and searched for his own firearm, but didn't fire. Instead, he rushed up and dropped the Patriot, lunging overhead and stomping on Dave's lap, resulting in a similar groan of pain from both men: Dave from the leg in his crotch and Big Boss from the stress caused from his movement.
Dave was about to force the soldier off of him before Big Boss fled, tucking into a roll and getting away but not before scooting Snake's handgun out of visible reach. He took a CQC stance, while in the same manner, Dave did the very same thing with his left pidgeoned and his right crossed over his chest. The styles were different, but the mannerism was the same. Age may not have been the decision of whom would achieve victory, not anymore at least, but the hatred spurning between the two was unconquerable, fueling their desire to beat the other. He couldn't quite see what it was, as Big Boss had performed exponentially before in his old age WITHOUT nanomachines, but his former commander seemed to be in just as much pain as he was. His bones shouldn't have been a problem if he had nanomachines, right?
"I didn't come here to fight." mumbled Dave with malevolence.
"Neither did I. She was buried here to rest peacefully, not so I could return here for one more fight atop her grave." replied Big Boss, the same.
"Then why are you here?"
"To finish what the Patriots started. I let them use me, turn my mentor's principles against the world. I won't lie son, you were a mistake that should never have been born. I realize that now, only Liquid was meant to be my true heir, even if he went about it the wrong way. But its alright, I saw your potential far earlier than I saw his. He lost a part of himself in that Iranian war, you know. I was bitter, and angry for losing one more of my own, but the Patriots prevented any reaction. You know the story from there."
"So you came here to assassinate me?"
"No." he paused briefly, turning around with no sense of self-harm before speaking confidently, "I came here so that YOU could assassinate me. The same way as Operation Snake Eater ended. Matka gave special emphasis to your agent, that Cyborg Ninja, that the plan would be called Operation Naked Son."
Silence passed between them as Dave grabbed his handgun from behind a tombstone and trained it on Big Boss's form. He didn't seem to care.
"Do you know why they named it that? Its because you, your codename, and all of your brother's codenames were derived off my original codename. I won't adhere to the American government anymore. From now on, call me Naked Snake, it suits me much better considering the present circumstances. I won't live my life the way the Boss did."
Inclined to listen, Dave kept the Operator's barrel level with Snake's neck. His greenish-gray eyes focused on the same pair, with a tint more brightening them since their owner had not been injected multiple composition-changing nanomachines, before Big Boss cackled, "Haa ha haa! Think you can pull the trigger?"
He whispered a low, sinister taunt, but still kept his weapon lowered, "Snake...we're not finished yet. Whaddya say to one last showdown? Just like Zanzibar?
Dave refused to say anything, anticipating an ensuing combat. But nothing happened. They only continued to glower at each other somberly, as Snake continued on, "Snake, the world will never know what you did. What I did. Only our comrades will. Future generations will continuously come ever closer to burying our legends while newer, false ones are being born. In America, we are the who went on to becoming a global nuclear and eco-terrorist respectively. In Russia, as a persistent foe and men capable of overcoming their greatest soldiers.
"I raised you, and loved you, I've given you weapons, taught you techniques, endowed you with knowledge. There's nothing more for me to give you. All that's left for you to take is my life."
The conversation trailing minutes, Dave had slowly begun to descend his arms with comfort, keeping his ears peeled keenly on every word Big Boss spoke, as they would probably never speak ever again seeing how both were supposed to be extinct. Snake noticed this and eagerly grinned, face bright with the likelihood of an extended speech.
It came gingerly, "In 1970, I saw a vision of the ideal world from the center of itself. Nearly half a year after Apollo put the first human on the surface of the moon, the first living person among the stars in history. This came as a huge shock to the rest of the world, even if faces were turned and chins raised. Even if the US was caught in lasting ties following the Cold War, certain loyalties could not be won through trifles such as currency or even threat, it took something more. I was captured from my residence by a former FOX member called Cunningham, locked in a prison cell where I met Roy Campbell for the very first time. Together, without use of bribes or intimidation, we rallied a considerable army of over one hundred men and women to our cause against a madman's desire to eliminate peace between the world and the Soviets, against everything he stood for, just to see the organization known as the Patriots ground to build upon. During that mission, I saw many things. The desperation that generals existed with, the conniving genes that made them that way and inevitably ran their lives. If their only could have been a way to take that away, not remove it entirely as Zero surmised but a way to keep it away from the men, women, and all others that sacrificed everything for what they fought for. Can you see it, Snake?"
"The meaning of justice can change from one day to the next. A professional soldier never brings justice into the mission. Politics are fickle, they change with the times. So long as we remain loyal to our countries, soldiers like us need nothing to believe in. What's it going to be, Snake? Loyalty to your country, or loyalty to your genes? Your loved ones, or your biological father? Your objective, or your own emotions? Look at far you've come already, what kind of soldier deserves this much suffering?"
"Look at this scar." he unbuttoned his coat, exposing his chest in a very familiar fashion. On it, between a surprising yet unsurprising hill of curved muscles pressing out on flesh was a large engraving where war stories laid eternally in the darkened scar, making the rest of the parts he received from Liquid and Solidus appear disfiguring, "This is proof that I was once a father. My body was retooled and fashioned in the way the world wanted it to be. Not what I was born with. No hatred, not even regret. And yet sometimes at night I can still feel the pain creeping up inside me. Slithering through my body, like the snake I once was."
He made a slight gesture to the Boss's grave, Dave could only deduce that the Boss had given him the scar. Almost as if he was reading his thoughts, Snake nodded and confirmed, "She gave it to me during our final ten minutes in the living world. They tried their hardest, the Patriots and Zero, but they could never remove the seeds of the Patriot she had sewn into me, like a mother knitting a blanket for her child."
Suddenly, Snake drew the Patriot upward once more, joints certain with readiness. "One must die and one must live. No victory, no defeat. The survivor will carry on our legacy no matter how much longer it may be. It is our destiny... as father and son. We've both faced lives of endless battle, two Snakes entangled in the same arachnid's web. The Americans, the Russians, the Chinese, none of it matters! Real heroes are never made public. Not in our line of work."
"I'm sorry Snake, you've been scratching the trigger for over a minute now. Our audience is expecting a battle worth Purple Hearts. Let's get started..."
Dave silently agreed and paced towards Snake. The old man bit his lip and tumbled the Patriot around, until it flipped into both of his hands. The trigger's fury hailed Dave who wearily attempted to dodge, the shots wishing around his position as momentum snatched him and pulled his trigger finger forward, making the only shot he could mange veer off by yards before he fell. Despite the weapon he carried, Snake was in no better posture and stumbled over to Dave who straggled himself upward, suit pinching every limb, before their firearms clashed once more. The sparks flew chastely between them and lit up the sunny tomb, for every move Snake made he tactfully returned it with licensed dread, the lack of muscle enhancement from his octocamouflage magnifying the intensity of meter-long rolls and focusing. Snake didn't share this attribute, and in fact had yet to move more than a few feet since the shooting began, standing in place while blasting apart tombstones with the unstoppable assualt pistol with a melancholy expression.
Damn! Damn! Damn!
That was all David could murmur as one of the blasted 45-milimeter metal shell rapped over his head, three seconds later pain ramming into the back of his shoulder in the form of crimson daggers forming a watery blade of his own substance fleeing down his arm. He gripped harder onto the Operator to balance the pain, knuckling his head between his legs before rolling away from the destroyed cover. He flattened against the earth, keeping himself low underneath an unfortunate soul's resting place before hellfire razed the sky above. To his great distortion, the handgun belched empty after multiple anger-induced presses.
"Arrggurrh..." he groaned, expecting a round to pierce the back of his skull.
When nothing came, he peeked over the tombstone to witness Snake lower the Patriot. Why's he hesitating?
"We have names Snake. We're both men, with names. Stand and fight with yours like you did in Outer Heaven. You weren't like your foolish brothers, seeking mayhem and finding it all around them. They couldn't protect their beliefs, their ideas, not like you. You and Liquid were my prodigies, my genes taught you everything you know. All of you were born with shorter expiration dates. I will not last forever, my life was transferred to you three only in numbers and combat skills, only one possesses the true spririt of the warrior. You can't defeat me until you understand that we should never be remembered by history, not even in legends or whispers.
Snake dropped the Patriot, stepping calmly over to Dave and extending his hand. Distrusting him was the easiest thing to do, manuvering over a tombstone and bringing the empty Operator to him, not revealing its inadequacy.
"What is that stance? And that gun?" said Snake, sprinting fearlessly towards him. Dave didn't react in time, unable to prevent Snake from stripping him of his weapon and throwing him away. Finished, he carelessly disassembled the handgun and chucked its crumpled pieces into the unknown. With a smile, he walked over to him and offered his hand again.
David grunted and crouched, accepting the gesture against his instincts. The gross realization of the trap was relayed too late before Snake took hold, clutching his shoulder and spun him vertically, slamming him into the ground. He leapt back with renewed vigor, watching his son rise apace with more haste than he'd ever seen before. Yelling stridently, Dave split the distance between them and threw Snake's hands downward, throwing his tools through the air and not letting them retract before unleashing a flurry of short-lived punches. His next tactic was to simply bowl him over, but Snake merely caught him and continued to effortlessly absorb his free hand's strikes.
"Snake, I'm a whole different game from Ocelot!" he said, blocking Snake's jab.
Wrestled into his control, Snake pounded Dave's chest with a palm and knocked him back. This time, however, Dave didn't kneel. He straightened his right arm in front of him and brought his left up along his face at a ninety degree angle, sunlight smoothing over the gray outline of his suit. What put awe into Snake's vision was that the same cautious lure in David's eyes was missing.
"Now we can fight as warriors." Dave snickered.
"You're running low on anger, Snake. That's good. This is one for the history books, the world's greatest soldier versus the world's greatest science project." Snake replied, cheerful, "Let's get started."