Chapter 1: Beginning, Middle, End

1975

Kaz cast his gaze around the empty restaurant. Few lamps gleamed from the corners, leaving ink black shadows among the tables and chairs. Anyone could be watching and waiting. In other circumstances sitting at a table with view of the Los Angeles skyline at sunset might have been a treat, but all he could imagine were the angles a sniper could hit him from. After months of decrypting coded messages pulled out of holes and arranging clandestine meetings in bumfuck nowhere, this was exposed.

"Relax. The windows are bulletproof."

He looked across the table at his contact. The voluptuous blonde's neckline plunged so low it was a wonder her dressed stayed on. She'd have been a perfect Bond girl if she weren't a decade too old for the role.

"When will he be here?" Kaz asked, twisting the stem of his wine glass back and forth. The woman had brought a bottle of Merlot. He'd pretended to sip at it. How many bottles of French wine had been left on Mother Base when it sunk into the ocean?

The woman—she hadn't volunteered her name—drank deeply from her own glass, leaving a smudge of lipstick. "I'm boring you?" she said with mock distress, fluttering her long eyelashes.

Kaz recognized that there was a part of him enjoying the attention, artificial as it was. A verbal sparring match tinged with sexual innuendo with a femme fatale might have been a thrill a year ago. Now, he barely managed was a smirk in response.

She put down the glass and tilted her head, looking over his shoulder. Kaz followed her eyes.

A man stood in a doorway to the kitchen. He swept his hand out in a strange gesture, like he was half pointing, half presenting himself to an audience.

"Guess our time is up," the woman said, rising from the table with a wink. "Have fun."

She rested a hand on the man's shoulder, and they exchanged some words. Then she kissed him on the cheek, and was gone.

"A pleasure to finally meet you in person, Kazuhira Miller," the man said as he approached. There was a Texas twang to his accent, and a pair of cowboy boots on his feet. Despite the white hair, Kaz guessed they were about the same age.

Kaz stood to meet him, extending a hand. The man took it in his own. His gloves were red leather. "You're hard to get a hold of," Kaz murmured. "What should I call you?"

"The name's 'Ocelot." He took a seat where the blonde had been.

Kaz was tempted to remain standing, struggling to contain the nervous energy inside, but clamped down on the feeling, forcing himself back down.

"'Ocelot', huh?" Obviously a code name, but Kaz hadn't expected a real one. "I saw ocelots while I was in Columbia. Beautiful cats."

Ocelot smiled, as if the compliment was for him. "They're much more than that."

So this was him. The network of messengers Zero had connected Kaz to were maddeningly circumspect about the identity of this old friend of Snake. Kaz had filled in the blanks with images of a grand manipulator or super-spy, someone so deep undercover that he rivalled Zero in his elusiveness. The real Ocelot (if this was really him) appeared normal compared to those imaginings. But Kaz wasn't going to make the mistake of underestimating him.

This Ocelot was his one and possibly only link to Big Boss. He'd jumped through the hoops, been as scrupulous as possible with the messengers leading him up to this point. This was a man he needed to impress. He had to assure Ocelot of his practicality and reliability. Be the professional businessman.

But the question he needed an answer to bubbled up. "Where's Big Boss?"

Ocelot said nothing for a moment. Kaz could feel those cold eyes observing him carefully. "I can't tell you."

Kaz slammed his hands on the tabletop. His palms stung with the impact."You 'can't tell me'? I've been trying to get into contact with you for months, playing little games with go betweens, and now you won't even—"

"Calm down."

Beads of sweat trickled down the back of his neck. The urge to leap across the table and strangle the perfectly calm, perfectly reasonable man twitched at his fingers. He balled his hands into fists.

"I am sorry," Ocelot continued, "but there's no other choice. You were Big Boss's closest associate. All eyes and ears are turned towards you. My friend—" Ocelot pointed to the lipstick mark the woman had left on the rim of her glass. "—had to deal with a Cipher agent tailing you."

"What? But...I took precautions—"

"Not are never going to be enough."

He'd failed. All that intel gathering, all those favors traded for safe passage, and he might have led Cipher straight to Ocelot...and Big Boss. The fight drained from his limbs. He slumped down into his chair. "Why am I here then?"

"For help." Ocelot rested his elbows on the wooden tabletop, leaning forward. His voice was steady, his expression calm. " I have contacts, money, and resources you don't. And Big Boss…I can keep you updated on his condition." He pulled out a photograph and slid it across the table.

Kaz took it gently between his fingers. Was this really Snake? Bandages covered half his face. The arm visible over the sheets was already scrawnier than what Kaz remembered. Nothing pointed to a location; he could be in any hospital. The only distinguishing detail was a vase full of white flowers.

He looked weak. Helpless.

Where are you?

Kaz swallowed around the lump in his throat. The remains of MSF's soldiers were shattered. He was their rock only in the storm. When they were lost, he reminded them of their purpose. When they fell into despair, he spoke hopeful words. He couldn't afford to fall apart when they needed him, and he hadn't. He'd been trying so hard to be strong.

The Boss could have done it easily. He always knew what to say. What to do. But the Boss wasn't there. He was in this...mystery hospital, if it even was a hospital. Broken and hurt.

Tears blurred Kaz's vision, spilling over and rolling down his cheeks. He opened his mouth to apologize, to make some excuse for his weakness, all that came out was a strangled sob.

So much for first impressions. He pushed up his aviators, rubbing at his eyes.

"Miller."

Kaz looked up, and was surprised by what he saw. There was a softness to Ocelot's expression despite his cold eyes and sharp features.

"I know it's hard," Ocelot said gently, "but in our line of work, sometimes the only way to protect those we care about is to keep our distance. Even when it hurts. Being by his bedside, knowing his location, won't make it easier. We just have to be patient, and play our roles until he wakes up."

"If he wakes up."

"He will."

Kaz sniffed. "How do you know?"

"It's what I choose to believe."

"Heh." Kaz pushed his aviators back into place to hide his reddened eyes. "You can just pick and choose what you believe?"

"A valuable skill. Choose to believe in Big Boss, and his recovery. It will keep you going on the long road ahead." Ocelot reached for the photo.

Kaz gave Snake a final look, etching the image into his memory, then handed it back. "You're right," Kaz said. "I'll believe in the Boss, and if that isn't enough to keep me going, the ghosts of my dead comrades will. Cipher will pay for what they've done."

Ocelot grabbed the wine bottle and scrutinized the the label. His nose wrinkled. "In the middle of California and she still gets a French wine. But it will do."

He turned the glass so that the lipstick print was facing away and poured himself a generous serving of Merlot. "To Big Boss."

Kaz couldn't remember the last time he had needed a drink so badly. He clinked his glass against Ocelot's. The red liquid swirled like blood. "To Big Boss. And a fruitful collaboration."

In that moment, Kaz allowed himself to feel like it was all going to be okay.

1984

Room 101 felt colder than it ever had, like the metal walls were sucking the heat from Kaz's body. Kaz sat in his usual spot for when they were doing interrogations, behind the table. Ocelot paced around the center of the room, idly circling the chair prisoners were strapped in for torture. He had dark circles under his eyes, and moved slowly, as if he'd just woken up from sleep. A side effect of coming out of the hypnosis, perhaps?

Self-hypnosis. It was insane. Like this was all some kind of bizarre nightmare.

"What was it all for?" Kaz voice sounded like it belonged to someone else, measured despite the ice crushing his internal organs. "If the Boss has some plan, what is it?"

"The real Big Boss is working separately from us, to create his new nation." Ocelot spoke the same way he always did. Reasonable. Calm. Like his world hadn't ended.

"New nation...?"

"A military nation above and apart from all. The true 'Outer Heaven.'" Ocelot lifted his arm, like he was about to point, but stopped midway and ran his fingers through his hair. "Something created to maintain world balance. Independent of the struggles for supremacy, for personal profit, the cycles of revenge between countries. It'll be an army all right, but more. Big Boss is building a nation. But...until it's complete, we support the other Big Boss. The phantom carries on his legend...his meme. That is Big Boss's plan."

No. This wasn't a dream. Revenge, building Diamond Dogs with the Boss. A new home. That was the dream. This was reality. His missing arm throbbed harder than it had in months. Not since the diamond had be placed on his armband, and he'd been touched by the Boss's dream of the future.

No. Not Big Boss. A replacement.

Kaz had been tricked and lied to and used. By Big Boss. His friend.

"So that's the way it is," Kaz rasped, "Nine years ago, I thought everything had been taken from me. But now, I really have lost it all. The Boss, and the future we were building together."

"One day, the age of Big Boss's sons will arrive," Ocelot said, as if Kaz hadn't spoken. "They'll likely want to settle the score with have to shape that age."

Had Ocelot even heard him, or did he just not care? The second options, certainly. Kaz was a convenient tool. Tools did what they were told. Their pain meant nothing.

"We'll each have roles to play. Building the foundation for a revolution led by both Big Bosses—the true one, and the phantom." He uncrossed his arms, sweeping a hand in a long arc, as if to suggest the scope of the Boss's vision.

"No…" Kaz spat out the word, barely pronouncing it past the tension in his neck. "Big Boss can go to hell. I'll make the phantom and his sons stranger, to send him there."

He pushed off the table, leaning against the cane. Everything felt heavier. His foot—the missing one, the one he lost protecting Big Boss—burned like it was in hell already. "For that...I'll keep playing my role."

Ocelot stopped pacing. He turned on his heel so he was facing Kaz fully. The light made it hard to read his expression, but Kaz could imagine the familiar, penetrating stare.

"Huh. You know…" Ocelot said, "Sooner or later there will only be one Boss. There's only room for one Boss. His sons are fated to face each other someday too. If the day ever comes that you go back to Cipher, I'll aid the other son. And then you and I will be enemies , too." He cocked his head to the side. "One of us will have to kill the other."

The final words were laden with promise. Kaz sneered. "Fine by me." They'd never been friends. Having Ocelot as an enemy made a hell of a lot more sense than whatever relationship they had now. "I'll be ready for the new then, we'd better get used to coexisting."

He limped over to the door, and left Ocelot alone in the darkness.

2005

Kaz exhaled and watched his breath condense in the cold morning air. A fresh blanket of snow covered his property, gleaming. The sun was just beginning to creep up from behind the trees. Cataract surgery had been worth it, for views like these.

Beauty aside, it would still take a hell of a time to clear the path and driveway. Better to focus on the porch, and the area around his front door. Kaz adjust his grip on the shovel, letting the bionic prosthetic take most of the weight, and shoved it into the snow.

Ten minutes into his work, Kaz he spotted a figure walking up the hill, a speck of darkness on a white background. It wasn't David. Even from a distance he could see the light hair and mustache.

Besides David, Kaz didn't have visitors. No one wanted to see him, and he embraced the isolation of his retirement. Could be someone with car trouble. As he got closer, Kaz could see was an older man, about his own age…

A flash of panic sent a jolt through Kaz's limbs. His hunting rifle hung on the mantelpiece above the fireplace. There was still time to grab it, run off into the woods. He knew the terrain. If he could find a good hiding place, wait for Ocelot to wander into view…

But he didn't move. He stayed there, rooted to the spot, until Revolver Ocelot stood a few feet from his porch, watching.

Kaz had expected anger. Fear. Instead, he felt...

"Ocelot." The name felt strange on his lips after so many years. Should he have used the other one?

"Miller." His voice was raspier, his skin lined with age, but there was no mistaking him for anyone else. The trench coat he wore might have suited a cowboy, but not the weather. His shoulders trembling minutely from the cold.

Kaz found his mouth curving into a smile. Ocelot responded with his own, the ridiculous mustache quirking like the whiskers of a cat.

"That isn't the best coat for this weather, you know," Kaz said. He tossed the shovel aide.

"Better than than the marshmallow you're wearing."

"It's a parka. And at least I'm warm." Kaz licked his chapped lips nervously, then opened the front door a crack. "How about I get a fire going?."

Ocelot nodded and followed him in.