Immortal Redemption
By: Selene Jeager

Part 1: Anonymous
After the events of Big Shell the world had surprisingly gone quiet as far as gigantic nuclear capable robots went. It had been well over six months and still Philanthropy had not acquired a single lead though any of Otacon's usual channels. Trent had been regularly gathering contact with the others but things had basically become dead. With the catastrophe of the Tanker Incident the organization had lost its backing with the United Nations and things had been on the rocks up until the incident but it seemed now that the Patriots were cracking down even harder on the flow of information. GW had been destroyed with Emma's worm cluster but there was still a grip hovering over the Internet and the Patriots were obviously involved.

Otacon's and Trent had analyzed the information on Emma's disc numerous times but it all just lead back to twelve founding members and we'd gathered that it was just another dead lead.

Everything had gone cold and it was beginning to get very dull playing the civilian and I knew that if I were having this much of a fit about it Snake had to of been itching for something, anything.

Together with Trent I rented an apartment in Manhattan. After the last incident and everything we'd collectively gone though as a group he'd decided almost instantaneously that this was going to be his life's cause and although I respect his decision I do have to wish, just like Otacon's, that he'd of gotten away from this curse Metal Gear seemed to drag to the table. Even Mei Ling was having a hard time getting promoted. Everyone that had been involved in Shadow Moses had been "black-listed" and so, I believe, that is why this rag-tag team has stuck together so well.

Natasha comes and goes as she sees fit but she stays on the run more or less trying to use her own leads to keep the information about Metal Gear both public and relevant to the masses. The world had a right to this classified information just as much as they do a simple atomic bomb and both she and the rest of us knew this. She hadn't been around in a while but, much like the others, if she showed up on our doorstep she'd be inside in half a second.

Trent had been probably the easiest person to live with in a long time. He was clean, responsible and although we had words over mundane bullshit every once in the bluest of moons I wouldn't trade him for the world. He'd become a valuable partner and he'd kept my spirits up though Big Shell so I couldn't really ask for much more.

Tonight he was off somewhere or another and although you would imagine I'd take advantage of the situation I wanted to get the hell out of this rat trap as much as he did. Much like Snake I'd been prudent with almost every penny I'd ever made just for situations like these. If worse came to worse we could all, most likely, get freelance work in our respective areas but we didn't want to be tied down in case something new came up.

I'd just finished a load of laundry and the house was, of course, immaculate. Nothing was on television and getting out a while just seemed the best option so here I was now on the frigid streets of New York. Summer had come and gone and now with the fall rolling in it was getting cold and so far out of the autumn it was proving that it was going to be a cold ass winter and the thought wasn't exactly comforting to someone as warm-natured as I; growing up in warmer southern climate tended to do that to a person.

On the way into the more rowdy regions of Manhattan I'd pulled cash and off to the bars I went. There was no 'usual' place with me considering I really didn't bar hop too much these days but back in the day with Frank I was a regular at just about every bar within old man Big Boss's bases as well as many of the major cities though out Europe and Russia were I attended many missions throughout my twenties.

Finding a quiet bar that was no smoking and QUIET I took a seat in a recliner and looked about. It was modeled to look like a pub and upon entering I'd failed to even note the name but a plaque over the bar itself read Watson's Pub. It seemed quaint enough and I wasn't in the mood to deal with mosh pits and teenie boppers so it'd do.

I ordered a shot of whiskey and a Corona with a wedge as I dug in my bag and pulled out a note book. Recently I'd gotten back into actually writing like I used to do as an teen before all the lifestyle change and it was enlightening to say the least. Sometimes you forgot just how much you put to the side and what details you lock into your private Pandora's Box over the course of time. There were some missions and experiences that I cared to keep locked away but then again there were others that I wished had never ended.

It was roughly over the course of an hour that I scribbled down ideas but crossing that bump to actually spontaneously start writing something that could be deemed 'acceptably interesting' just wasn't going to happen. Thoughts of the first few months I started staying with Big Boss brought a smile to me but all of those thoughts were interrupted as a blond, trying to play it all suave, sat down across from me at the small table I occupied.

"Can I get you a drink, babe?" Classic.

"No, I'll pass."

He leaned in further and winked as I internally rolled my eyes, "Oh so your the feisty type, huh? Works for me, you wanna go back to my place?" He was ballsy I'd give him that but it was clearly obvious he didn't have a single brain cell in the right head.

As I lowered my pen I leaned in towards him, looked to him sternly as my eyes narrowed onto his, "Perhaps I didn't make this clear enough. Get fucking lost before I kick your teeth down your throat."

With that he was gone and I was free to be left the hell alone. Crossing my leg I raised my hand and flagged down the bartender.

"What can I get you?"

"Whiskey on the rocks and an Appletini."

After I paid for my drinks as well as my upcoming round I picked my pen back up, rubbed my face, and continued jotting loose ideas. Occasionally I'd pause and observe the oddities that riddled the room as ideas would form about my trips and missions to England for later.

When the tender returned he set both glasses down and I thanked him before he departed. Taking a sip of my whiskey my attention began to drift. I'd learned that sometimes I could write drunk and then others I just wanted to do what the hell I set out for originally and just loose myself in other ways besides words; on that note it took little to no time to get to the bottom of my glass and as I began to work on the appletini the bartender approached again with a new round of both.

Raising my eyebrow he gathered the confusion on my face. "A gentleman paid for them ma'am," he informed.

Picking up the fresh glass of ice cold whiskey it burned slightly going down, "He wasn't blond was he?"

"No ma'am, he was a dark haired gentleman with facial hair," he informed.

"He leave a name of any type?"

"No ma'am. Would you like me to ask the gentleman for it?"

"If it's not too much trouble that'd be nice. Also," I handed him a five, "can I get another shot of whiskey please?"

"Most certainly, I'll be back in a moment," said the old, portly gentleman.

Right...free drinks. Couldn't complain I guess...why the hell would I? As I reached the bottom of the glass I sat the glass down as the ice clanked about in the glass. Gripping the stem of the martini glass I began to go through the mixed drink as I relished in the current burn inside of my stomach that as just as warming as it was desensitizing. I hadn't really been a light weight when it came to the sauce but it had been a long time since I'd really gotten hammered so a buzz was already starting to set in. Closing my notepad I threw it into my messenger bag and as the bartender handed me the shot he brought another two drinks as well.

As he sat them down I threw down the shot and the burn felt astonishing at this point, "So...did he give you a name?"

"No ma'am but he gave a location. He'd like you to meet him in the alley on side the bar. He paid for these drinks as well and told me to tell you that 'he hoped you enjoyed them'."

With that he took the glasses back that I'd demolished and as I grabbed the Appletini this time my eyes wandered around the room but I didn't see anyone watching me. Just who the hell was this guy? The question didn't have time to manifest far enough into worry and I wouldn't say it was paranoia creeping over me but there was a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach and I always paid attention to those. After I finished the last drink I was warmly toasted and after leaving a tip I exited the bar. Just because I had a bad feeling about this whole situation didn't mean I was going to run from it.

Exiting outside the cool air of the city stuck to my warm face. I could still move coherently enough but my balance was slightly distorted. Other than that you'd of never guessed I'd had a single drink by my composure. As calm as I could appear on the outside, however, on the inside I was relishing in the alcohols effects on mental perception. It seemed this was the only time that my thoughts weren't flying a mile a minute.

Turning the corner I was greeted by the smell of trash. At the far end of the alley was a dumpster for the pub. Further down, however, the path turned sharply around a corner. Following it all the way to the back I called, "Mister Anonymous, you here?"

At this point I was more curious to put a face to this act of kindness over anything. It had taken pulling teeth with both Frank, Trent and Snake to buy her a drank so whomever this man was she had planned to pay back in full and perhaps a bonus depending on his looks. Rounding the corner past the trash bin I called out again, "Hello...? Anyone back h-" and before the words could leave my mouth there was a sharp pain in my leg. Hitting the ground in pain I gritted my teeth in pain and what enjoyment I'd gotten from my buzz I was suddenly happy that I was comfortably numb more than anything; at least that had taken a bite out of the pain some.

As I flipped myself over I reached for a knife in my bag, while still gasping my leg, but before I'd gotten a chance to use it a hand was gripping my own and as my eyes focused in the dim light I shook my head in horror-Vamp!

Letting go of my bleeding leg I reared back to land a blow square in his jaw but my timing and sluggish reflexes wouldn't allow for it.

"Now is that any way to repay my hospitality," he chimed in lowly his Romanian accent thick.

"When it comes to you then yes..." I gritted my teeth, "if anyone owes anything, I do..." I said managing to swing my good leg upwards and knee him in the groin. I heard a gasp as his face tensed up and he cupped himself; served him right.

Using the opportunity to my vantage I created enough room between us that I was able to kick him hard in the stomach as I began to crawl down the alley. I'd only been in the pub a few hours so there was still a small chance that somebody might be able to pass by and help but nobody appeared at the end of the alleyway.

My attention had been so desperate for escape that when he'd grabbed my ankle and slung me into the dumpster I hadn't even seen it coming till I felt a sharp pain through my ribs. Gripping my chest he grabbed me by the collar of my coat and rammed something deep into my neck before I'd had anytime to give a physical protest and, suddenly my body had become as heavy as a car. I felt my feet drag the ground a few moments as he carried me by the scruff of my neck. After a only a few moments of my toes dragging the ground before he eventually arranged me into a more dignitary position as he began lugging me around bridal style.

My head bobbed like a rag dolls as he moved. My surroundings were beginning to blur as whatever sedative he'd shot me up with began to wear into me more. Struggling hard I managed to gather he'd launched himself upwards and we were traveling across the rooftops. With everything I had I tried to move myself...escape from his arms but it was futile. The world around me continued to cloud over before eventually going black.