Disclaimer: I do not own anything out of Metal Gear Series. Hideo Kojima and Konami does.
A.N: Quotes in Italics are Navajo.
Beta-read and revised by: Infinity Comes To A End as of 10/3/2015.
Of Snakes and Butterflies
Prologue
Living up to his name, the Big Boss' steps were completely soundless when he walked into his laboratory one evening, just like a snake slithering on the floor. The Code Talker wouldn't be as much alerted of the additional presence if it wasn't for the distinctive screening sounds of the mechanical door opening and closing. Scurrying down the last of his notes, he swiveled his wheelchair to meet his visitor, a smile warmed on his wrinkled lips.
It had been like this for a very long while now but, there had always been nothing in the surviving blue eye of the Boss, Code Talker noted somberly.
No happiness, no sadness…nothing.
Ironic enough, it was the empty eye that told the old man of why the mercenary was so void of emotions. It had been a wild guess of century old instincts at first but, he knew that his hunches were on the right train. It was confirmed, when the Boss blurted out as soon as they were at arms distance: "Could the English strain be removed if she undertook the Wolbachia treatment?"
He would have been taken aback, if he didn't know of whom the Boss was talking about—a sniper adopting the name of silence.
"Perhaps," The Code Talker's answer was calculative, which the Diamond Dog frowned heavily upon. So the old man elaborated further, "Quiet's case was different. The treatment would either rid her of the English strain mating pair, or her life-sustaining parasite completely. After all, Wolbachia treatments are meant to alter the parasite from male to female. Parasites are a very delicate field, if I must say..."
Snake pursed his lips into a fine thin line. Clearly not satisfied with the answer... just yet.
"And you said that she refused the treatment?"
Code Talker hummed a bit, "She insisted, adamantly. And as I told you, it's not because she couldn't afford the risk, it was because of you," he revolved his chair behind his desk, picking out some of the documents scattered from the pile. "Where is the girl, by the way?" came the half-hearted question; the old man had already a good guess when Snake walked in alone without a woman hefted over his shoulders, but it was better to be sure.
The Boss' head dipped, then his face morphed into a scowl—ah, so he was right. Quiet was gone. Shame. He could tell that she have so much potential residing with the Big Boss when they first conversed; as a sniper, as a scout, as a comrade.
"She... spoke English. Before she left," Code Talker listened carefully as Snake gritted his teeth, "The parasite, would it—"
"Yes. It would have activated and fed of off her lungs. I would assume that, she has already died in the same way as those you saw before. At the Devil's House, at Mother Base."
Code Talker barely flinched when Big Boss slammed his bionic hand against the wall, a dent left in the metal barrier.
Clearly, the Diamond Dogs commander understood what an infection in its final stages looked like, not a pleasant sight in the least. Even the old man had to admit, to imagine the same to happen especially to the girl, it was heartbreaking. "So there's no chance that... she could be alive out there?" Code Talker, severed from his reverie, stared at the despondent Snake.
After a pregnant pause, he replied calmly, "Her mission, when the strain activated, was to kill the Big Boss after all, which she clearly failed—" The Code Talker hadn't even finish, and Snake's boots resounded loudly as he marched across the room unlike his silent entrance. So it seemed that the Boss had heard enough of what he needed to know, yet found it difficult to accept.
He couldn't blame him. Perhaps he could offer a small consolation. "You should be proud, Boss. Her use of English was meant to exact her reprisal upon you but, know that she used it instead to save your life."
Snake stopped, tilting his head a bit and hummed in agreement.
"It's not vengeance anymore," he said, "its gratitude."
Snake exited the laboratory without another word, leaving Code Talker to his own peace.
It wasn't by choice that he cooped himself inside his laboratory, all the days in the week. His physical impairment might have been a reason for his lack of outside movements but, the Code Talker figured that, he felt at best being at this particular room surrounded by his research and equipment.
Of course, it couldn't be because he felt safe. No place in the battlefield was safe enough. Not even the Mother Base was the safest place to live at; Code Talker had lived long enough to learn that. It was just... he could read everything about this room…that was all.
That was why, he suddenly became wary of his own surroundings; so much so that he could hear even the slightest sound not belonging to the laboratory. The pen in his hand skid to a halt at the foreign sound in the midst of the perpetual humming of machines. True he was very old, but his parasite made him far from senile. Easily, he had picked out the muffled breathing in one corner of the room, where the metal wall stared right back at his old bones.
There was nothing but blank space there, and the Code Talker knew better than to misjudge the false frontage, which he meant to correct soon.
Wheeling himself to the direction of his gaze, he stopped at a distance between said walls until he left a space big enough for one person to fit in. He waited patiently, wordlessly, and then he smiled at the glimpse of brown soot swirling out of thin air to form the humanoid shape he had grown familiar to in his months of stay.
She was a horrible sight to see.
Quiet sat with both her legs, sprawled carelessly, on the ground once she materialized in the empty space. Her porcelain face was pale: her skin discolored, breathing haggardly and having to support herself by leaning against the wall to sit upright; her sniper rifle resting uselessly on her lap. Blisters adorned her naked skin, right where her crisped lungs used to be. The random white blobs marring her pale skin would have been a repulsively ugly sight if he hadn't been so used to studying parasites all of his life.
She was already at the final stages of her infection and yet for whatever reasons—possibly miraculous—the parasite hadn't activated enough to kill her…just yet. Almost as if, this girl had the ability to balance life and death perfectly. It would've been more fortunate, though, if she wasn't in so much pain.
The Code Talker took in of all her conditions and shook his head—poor girl was weakening beyond all hopes of recovering.
"You are alive," he addressed her in Navajo. Though, Code Talker suddenly felt inane for stating the obvious. But why? How? Then, he was suddenly reminded; he had read previous reports regarding the sniper. Quiet wasn't any ordinary host. She was the result of a successful parasite therapy of already destroyed lungs, unlike those infected through conventional contagion. Yes, yes, that would make a viable hypothesis.
"From what I heard from the Boss, you choose a self-imposed exile after you activated your strain and yet... here you are. Alive but, not nearly anymore," He sounded surprised, but not of the sniper's sudden appearance at the Diamond Dogs' Mother Base. He just never thought that he would live to speak the Native language again to, another again, after her apparent departure.
"Did you came here to finish what you started, child?"
A long breath to collect her voice. "No..." her glassy stare sharpened suddenly. "I came here... to change my fate."
"You mean the Wolbachia treatment."
"Yes," she heaved and from her many utility straps, she retrieved a vial.
Splotches of black circled around the Code Talker's eyes momentarily. The old man bent to accept the small container from the shaky gloved hand. He observed the vial's green nature carefully, pale irises gleaming at the parasite's scientific wonders. Indeed, it was the English strain he thought was all but destroyed, when Big Boss exterminated Skull Face off the Earth. "How?"
"I was with the Boss." she replied simply, not wishing to elaborate any further than she had to.
But then he returned his gaze to the young woman, perplexed. Now this was certainly intriguing, considering that just weeks before when he offered the same situation, she refused him out of vengeance left remnant. But today, she came to see him with what was meant to be her last best hope.
"Fascinating, so you do wish for a cure all this time. So much that you procured one English strain for yourself?"
She nodded, "Can you—" a wheezing cough, "—do that for me?"
"Prevention and cure are two different things. I have yet to find an antidote to remedy your already dire situation. If only you had accepted the Wolbachia treatment when I first asked, rather than waiting for this to happen…" he blinked at her in consideration, measuring his words before speaking his final verdict: "But I think I can do it, with this vial you have brought."
Quiet exhaled deeply partly out of relief, partly out of regret. She stopped when the Code Talker signaled that he was not finished. "But the question is... can you, dear child?" she raised a brow. "The cure will take time to be manufactured but, as you and I can see; time is very scarce for you. We don't know how much time you have left."
When Code Talker looked pointedly at her, Quiet's purple lips thinned upon the abnormality pulsing on her chest. Of course, she was well aware of her own condition. Tentatively she moved a finger against the large blotch of white vile web, scowling at the slime on her gloves before letting the arm fall against the ground with a loud thud. "I have enough," Quiet impeded, then readjusting her wording, "And if I don't, then I will leave before I can pose a danger."
"So, you wish to be alive and you wish to speak in a common language. Vengeance is a potent driving force, but I can see it's not the Boss that you wish to exact your revenge upon. For you would already infected the entire base if that is your wish," The Code Talker concluded, "Why, I wonder?" he asked sagely.
Quiet remained as mute as the day she took on her name. Then she spoke clearly in English, despite the danger. She had taken a lot of liberty to suppress it by herself. She had already come this far, why not now?
"It's not vengeance anymore," she said, "its gratitude."
To that, Code Talker reply with only a heedful smile... the wheelchair screeched as it scrapped the floor, just as the sniper quietly took her leave in the form of soot. Now, he have a very important task to do with very limited time available. Hunching over his desk, he began assembling his instruments require to process a definite cure for the girl.
It reminded him then, what the sniper said.
Now where had he heard that echo before?