Metal Gear Shadow
Note From Author: The usual disclaimers—I do not own, in any part or whole, any characters, work, or otherwise of Metal Gear, Konami, or anything related. This work was done without their permission, and is not considered to be part of the real storyline.
Takes place post-MGS2 but pre-MGS4. That aside, the first chapter is mainly character introduction – I hope you like the characters I introduce. Have fun reading!
-- Mr. Gruntsworthy
Chapter 1: Coincidence
Recruit Janice Lynn was eighteen years old, and freshly inducted into the Army; specifically a base in Manhattan. She stood there, at ease, with hundreds of other raw recruits, waiting for their first orders as real soldiers. Some were absent-mindedly fiddling with their tunic, some straightening their berets, some just plain fidgety. Lynn could tell with one look that none of these kids were ready for real combat yet, and she knew that it would be a while before she'd get to see some action and do something for her country.
Lynn knew she didn't belong with the recruits, but she had to put up with it before she got promoted up the ranks.
Having a Special Ops/Combat Specialist for a father really helped her out in life. Though only eighteen, Lynn was confident she was the most highly trained person in the whole facility. Including Officers. While she was learning to talk and walk, she was learning to stalk. Trained in every aspect of war, her father, Warrant Officer Peterson Lynn, taught her every thing he knew. Survival techniques, several forms of hand-to-hand combat, weapons training, stealth, all of it. She had often heard the few people who knew about her background muttering about 'creating a monster' and 'ruining her life,' but she never wanted the trivialities of a woman's childhood anyway. While most girls at age five were playing with Barbies, she was disassembling and cleaning a Beretta M9. Combat, killing, and fighting were the replacements for English, Math, and Science.
Not that Warrant Officer Lynn had left that part out, either. One of her father's mottos was 'your brain can sometimes be more deadly a weapon than your pistol.' She believed him. So when she wasn't defeating black belt Karate masters or researching the latest armaments of foot troops, she was studying high-end math equations and formulas.
Perhaps it's because of her past that it was better off that no one really knew her except her father and a select few trainers and military experts. She kept her skills and strength in check during the Academy, lest she be given away and too much attention drawn to her. Even with all the holding back, she still flew through the Academy like it was kindergarten. Not like she'd ever been to kindergarten.
Lynn had seen and heard many things since she was born and heaved into training, but there was one conversation she overheard her father having with a Krav Maga master.
"Training your daughter to become a killer from birth? I wouldn't do that to anyone, let alone my own daughter!" the Krav Maga master had said. "She could've grown up to be someone important or famous! But you ruin her and turn her into some kind of freak! A monster! Your daughter will always be an outcast from society! She will die a lonely death on the battlefield because of you!"
Her father had kept silent.
Because of that, she had some understanding of why she was the way she was. Why the first thing she thought of when looking at a stranger wasn't 'he smells and his clothes are weird,' but instead 'is he a threat? Where could he be hiding weapons?' Lynn even looked different. She had a noticeable build, very small breasts, and short, unruly black hair. She always had a cold expression on her face; brows always furrowed, mouth always cocked into a permanent frown.
Lynn didn't curse her father, as everyone thought she would. To be honest, he was just another one of the trainers to her. Someone who furthered her skills. A comrade. She had deduced that it was probably because she was incapable of feeling anything at all. Even when she was left to survive in the Amazon for three weeks at the age of seven, she was crystal calm. Another by-product of her father's experimentation of raising child soldiers.
Child soldiers were just drugged, given an AK, and told to fight against their will.
Lynn could snap someone's neck by pure reflex, without even thinking about it.
Lynn's mind cleared swiftly as the Drill Sergeant marched out to the front of the ranks.
"A-Ten-HUT!"
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A man, simply known by the name Snake, or David to the few who knew his real name, sat on the tattered rag that served as a couch in Philanthropy HQ – also known as apartment 231.
Because Philanthropy was a 'non-profit organization,' that meant destroying the nuclear walking tanks that seemed to rise up from every weapons company was rewarded with no cash. So they had to live in a Manhattan housing apartment building, complete with mice. Otacon had managed to grab a part time job at a local software company, so income wasn't totally nil. Bills were barely paid, and Snake was forced to – he shuddered at the thought of it – gather tobacco from cigarette butts.
"Snake, I can't concentrate with you smoking. It's bothering my nose," Otacon said from the dull red desk chair. Snake gave him a cold look, Otacon's head contrasting against the blue monitor that sat on a cheap wooden desk.
"How often do you have to be told that smoking is bad for you're your health?" Otacon picked. He took off his glasses to wipe them with his shirt.
"I keep telling you they're my 'good luck charm,' Snake replied in his raspy voice. Otacon returned the cold look and went back to typing on his computer.
That damn computer must be worth more than this building, Snake thought to himself. Otacon had managed to muster up a powerful machine to aid them in their war against Metal Gears. And it runs on Dial-up. Go figure.
"What are you looking at, anyways?" Snake asked, tapping his cigarette and watching the flaky ashes drift into the nearby ashtray.
"The usual rumor checking," Otacon replied. "Several whispers of different versions of Metal Gear are always floating around on the Web. While you sit around and smoke, I have to sift through them and eliminate them. They're all just rumors, though."
"Then why do you research them?" Snake asked bluntly.
"You never know when there might be a truth hidden in the lies of the truth," Otacon responded.
"Uhm, yeah…." Snake answered, scratching underneath his bandanna, "I'm just going to have to trust you on that one."
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After the initial barrage of first-day welcoming drills had echoed their way between the rows of Recruits, they were dismissed to go get settled in their barracks, which were essentially small units with enough room for a bunkbed, storage space for clothes and uniforms, a personal cupboard, and a small 'room' where a toilet and sink faced each other across a foot of desolate wood tiling.
Lynn took special note of the bunk beds, which played against the solitary confinement that she wanted. Unwanted socializing was going to be a problem if her 'bunkmate' was anything less than a stellar example.
Not one for wasting time, Lynn snapped open her suitcase, which had been pre-delivered. Her suitcase was bare except for a few changes of uniform, some complex math textbooks, and of course all the other standard stuff the military requires be taken to a training base, as well as hygienic equipment.
It didn't take long to get settled in, and as the rooms other occupant hadn't arrived yet, Lynn started to do some one-arm push ups.
'The Shiny Penguin' was a normal restaurant, much like any other found in the city of Manhattan, that served breakfast all day. Patrons observing the scene would see the many white-garnished tables that lined the walls and occupied the floors, while many orders were hurried about to their respective buyers. Weekdays were not as busy as the weekends, but still one would shy away from the Penguin at dinnertime, the most busy part of the day.
Many men came to and from the entrance at the other end of the restaurant, but the man in the brown wool suit who had chosen to take advantage of the 'breakfast all day' was waiting for one specific person. One who could quite possibly increase his financial position dearly.
Though, the brown suit man was slightly ticked off at the fact that he didn't know what this person looked like. He was paying attention to anything suspicious that would give the person away before they even found the specific table he was sitting at.
Let's see… Forty-something with graying hair and a business attitude…Oh, no, he's got two kids with him, Brown Suit thought as a man came in through the door, followed by two young children, no older than six. Can't be him…
Brown Suit lowered his head as he took a bite of French toast, and looked down for a second as he paused to wipe off syrup that had managed to slip it's way out of the corner of his mouth and down his brown mustache.
When he looked up, he did a double take. There was a woman sitting on the other side of the table, in a very poised fashion, looking coolly at the older man.
"Crikey!" Brown Suit exclaimed quietly. "Scared the crap righ' outta me!"
"Hello, Bonavero," the woman said with a quiet, deep, womanly, elegant British accent. Bonavero took in the appearance of this woman: Tall and thin, with a curved, slender face, angular cheeks prominent below her cool, thin, blue eyes. She had her orange hair pulled up into a tight ponytail, which cascaded around her neck and down her shoulders. She was very beautiful for a woman in her thirties. But what struck Bonavero the most was her pure-white two-piece designer suit. She looked very elegant and business-like at the same time. It was a large contrast to slightly-chubby Australian Bonavero who wore a brown wool suit not enough hair to speak of, and had no posture to him whatsoever.
"So you're Chris, then?" Bonavero asked. "I was kind of expecting a chap."
"Christopher R. Forrester, at your service," the woman replied.
"So you're the chairman o' the Forrester Weapons Lab, eh?" Bonavero mused. "Nice ta meet'ya."
"The pleasure is all mine," the deep elegant accent chimed. "Now enough small talk. Shall we talk business?"
Bonavero stroked his mustache nervously. "Right, then."
"So," Ms. Forrester asked, "do you or do you not have a buyer for Metal Gear Stratus?"
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It must've been midnight when the door opened to Lynn's two-person quarters, but she was awake instantaneously, with a keen eye on the doorway.
A young teen, who couldn't have been more than seventeen (a year younger than Lynn) walked in. She seemed timid, pure, and just too young to be in the military. She didn't fit. Even her light brown flowing hair was way past regulations. Odder still was that in big white and red, across her shoulder, was the badge of a Medic.
"Er…H-hello," the timid girl said softly as she cautiously entered the room, swayed by the perma-frown look that Lynn always had. She stood there, like a lost puppy. Deciding she wasn't of any threat whatsoever, Lynn rolled back over. She felt the featherlight girl climb up onto the top bunk.
"Why is a Medic in the Recruit's living quarters?" Lynn asked, a rarity for her to speak unless spoken to. There was silence for a few seconds, and Lynn could almost feel the girls' discomfort.
"T-they umm… didn't have anwhere else for me to stay," the girl replied, quietly. "I'm only seventeen, and because I was taught medicine since birth… well, I supposedly have the most medical training here."
"Then become a doctor. Don't stick in the military and get in people's way."
There was silence. There was no way to be sure, but Lynn had the feeling the girl was crying silently. Great.
"Why are you here? What do you have to do with the military?"
"W-what about you?" the girl asked, sniffing.
"To serve America, whether it costs me my life or not." Silence. "Go home."
"I don't have a noble reason for being here like you," the girl said softly. "But maybe I can support you by keeping you healthy.."
"Why?"
"Be…cause I can?" the girl replied quietly, unsure of the answer.
The phrases To serve America and Because I can floated around in Lynns' head for a while. For the first time in her life, Lynn felt something.
Note From Author: Here it is, folks! The end of chapter one! Hope you liked it and are waiting for the next chapter…scheduled to come out soon! If you review, post your favourite new character (Lynn, her medic bunkmate, Bonavero, Christopher)