Disclaimer: Solid Snake, Otacon and everything Metal Gear belongs to Konami and Kojima Productions.

For lack of better knowledge, about what kind of drug Snake gives to himself in the TGS trailer and to which purpose, I left that open and made up a name.

Next Time

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Hal came striding towards him with a metal case in his hand. The white lab coat was flapping as he rushed onwards. Through the fog of excruciating pain Dave wondered, why Hal favored that piece of clothing so much, that he wore it all the time. His head was lying on the dried up ground and his labored breath created tiny clouds of dust. With watered and bloodshot eyes he watched the hand in front of his face spasm. He hadn't been careful, hadn't calculated correctly, how long the medicine was going to last him. Hal's little contraption, the remote-controlled Metal Gear Mk II, was standing at his side measuring his pulse and other life-stats. It was giving a constant stream of information to the speaker in Hal's ear.

Hal reached him. Sitting the case down he crouched, opened it and took out a thin grey pen. No emotion showed on the face of the scientist, while he prepared the lifesaving and a few other medical injections, contemplating which cocktail Dave would best handle in his current condition. Dave felt tears spring to his eyes. The immediate promise of the painkillers spurred a wave of relief through him.

Hal looked him over. "I am gonna start with the D-Fox" he put the shot to Dave's neck and triggered it. A few other chemicals followed. Dave's breathing got steadier. "How is the pain?" "Still there..." He rasped. Hal hesitated. "I prepared some morphine."

"NO!" Dave spat out. "No morphine! I need my senses together." He rolled to his side. "You don't." the scientist stated with an unusual calm voice, "I am going to pull you out of this mission. You are going to rest." Dave scoffed.

He raised himself to a sitting position. Hal was still crouching next to him, hand resting on his bowed knee, observing his friend with intent. "We both know you can't pull me out now. I am either gonna finish this ... or die trying." Dave muttered under his breath.

With a disapproving frown Hal reached into the metal case, took out ten of the pen-like injection containers and handed them to Dave. The expression on his face turned defeated and it made him look old and tired.

"You better head back now." Dave suggested "You're a bit far out in the danger zone. I see that I make it to the meeting point ... next time" He got up stretching his aching muscles. Hal packed up the case and stood head hung and eyes lowered. The sun was burning down on the two men. Hot desert winds whirled up the dust at their feet. A moment passed in silence.

Dave put an unlit cigarette between his lips. A broad grin on his face, he slapped the wiry scientist on the shoulder with a force that almost doubled him over. "Get a move on. I need you at the controls of the gnome." Hal nodded. Then he raised his head and fixated a point on the horizon. "Make sure you return safely." he heard himself say, his voice flat. "Will do!" the soldier answered, his hand twitching in a noncommittal gesture. He adjusted the rifle hanging over his shoulder, turned around and left. Metal Gear Mk II followed him on autopilot.

Hal took a deep breath, turned and headed in the other direction. Fighting tears in his eyes, he forced himself not to stop and look back. Convinced, that Dave wouldn't look back either, he trudged on through the desolated landscape.

He was right.

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A few days later Hal got out of the helicopter at the meeting point. Dave had made it there all the way, despite his exhaustion from the final battle. He leaned against a broken wall, a cigarette hanging from his mouth in the usual sloppy way. His eyes staring into nothingness.

Unmoving at his side, stood the small robot. It was dirty and battle-worn. The head-like camera dangled at its side only connected to the body through the cables and wiring. Hal walked towards them slowly. He fell to his knees next to his old friend, and rocked himself from side to side in an outpouring of grief. Solid Snake was dead.