By Cleo Jane
Notes: This is my first fan fiction I have written in a long time and my first try to write and plan out a elaborate tale featuring the Metal Gear Solid universe. I have read many other stories my multiple writers who give their own spin about this epic series, having Solid Snake take down bad guys left and right, or Ocelot raising hell with Metal Gear Ray while Liquid is still obsessing over killing his cloned brother.
But not one fiction I have read so far about the series did a good job of bring a original character into the mix without tearing up the plot or magically giving Solid Snake a son…(cheap shot at the squirrelking, yes I know.)
So…here my try.
Let's see where this goes.
I thank you for reading.
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Prologue
Sometimes when I look at my father, I feel a sense of dread emitting from his face as he stares at me in return. I don't understand this foreign look, this stare of his that sometimes changes into a visible frown the more he glares at me. It's a distant stare, nearly soulless in some aspects for I think he isn't really glaring at me but rather…something about me.
I already knew since I was child that I am different in some way. I don't have his eyes or his nose, not even his cheekbones or his smile. Everything on my face is strange and alien compared with his, even when he claims I might look more like Martha, the mother I will never know.
He's lying and he knows that I know he is a liar, but we have a mutual agreement. It's a silent contract we both signed so many years ago, one that he will never breach for he doesn't want to hurt me. Even now as a grown man, my father stares at me with the truth within his gaze but his oath still so resilient to my questions.
I love this man, the only father I ever known, the only person I can honestly can say will mourn me when I die. No, this is not the words of some pill-poppin, miserable; asshole.
This is the truth, the only truth I know to be true.
I know I am not human; there is something different about me. I don't know how I am so different or why I think I am, but I know within my very soul that I am. Maybe it's this alien face I wear, a face that sometimes doesn't even feel like my own. These curt thin lips that seem to never grace a smile from their stern line, or maybe the firm cheekbones that sit high under my flesh or the long sloped nose that gives away the truth I suspect.
My face is not my own, it has to belong to another who's name I do not know. These clear blue eyes are not my own, they seem so hard with spite and resentment for a world I do not know. These eyes seem so old, as if I lived this life a thousand times before. These eyes don't see love, they don't stare with compassion or lust; they are more akin to those of the deceased. Eyes of a wandering spirit, one who's misfortune in life followed him into death. Utterly lifeless, dull, faded eyes clouded over with such despair that can not be fully my own.
I have so many questions that may never be answered; my father will never tell me anything. Everyone around me seems to hold secrets around me, whether it is Ms. Carol, that old crow of a neighbor next door or if it's Adam, my father's hunting buddy, no one seems willing to spill the beans. I've tried researching for old adoption records wondering if I was adopted or something like that, but every time I searched I never found anything useful. Am I really that much of enigma?
Why won't they say anything…?
I am nearly twenty now, will they hold their tongues in silence forever? Sure feels like they will, but I don't think I can wait forever to hear what I need to know.
Maybe it's time for me to just search, just leave the nest and head off on my own. It is time for me to hunt down these answers and stop waiting for people to give them to me, if I want the truth; I better go get it myself. I'm tired of the lies, I am sick of the waiting, my father will die with his secrets and leave me wondering forever if I am really his son or not. He would rather die than tell me the truth; he is so kind yet so imaginably cruel.
I'm sick of asking this question over and over...
"Who am I?"