Sunny came back into the factory one evening, (she had been practicing her sniping on the rooftops as instructed,) to find a disquieting sight: Otacon sat at his computers as usual, but was bent over, head on the desk, muffled heavy breathing emanating from his covered face.

"What's the matter, Uncle Hal?" Otacon nearly fell out of his chair, but was saved by the armrest; Sunny had snuck up on him yet again.

"Nothing," he said, removing his glasses and wiping his eyes. 'Nothing,' he thought to himself. 'It's a pretty depressing nothing at that. The ongoing mourning of my late best friend is a window through which I'm watching myself force the closest thing I'll ever have to a daughter to become a killing machine… but I guess it's easier to say "nothing" to her face. At least for now.'

"Oh, ok. I finished practicing like you told me to."

"How'd you do?"

"Well, let's see… I was within two millimeters at 250 yards, 3 at 500, and under 5 at 1000 and farther."

"That's sniff that's fine for today. Why don't you get some rest. Oh, and I set out an MRE ration for you over by your bed."

"Thanks, Uncle Hal," she said, rushing over and opening her ration.

'I guess anything tastes amazing to her compared to nothing but eggs,' Otacon mused, turning back to his computers.

2000 that night, (8pm for you civilians,) Otacon was still awake at his station, searching security footage and listening through chatter from probable locations for the Snakeskin Unit. The best they could do at this point was to find them first. Suddenly, while looking over airport security camera feeds (lots of these) he noticed something odd. A man was lying down on a bench seat at concourse gate C12 of Baltimore Washington International. Now this would not normally be alarming, but this man had the look of a soldier about him, and his rolled up sleeves revealed something: a seam below his shoulder where an arm had been grafted to his body. Otacon zoomed in, and saw the arm to be older, slightly atrophied. A close-up of the face cinched it: swept back brown hair with streaks of grey and a moustache to match. This was one of the Snakeskin troopers. "But why would he be at an airport, off guard?"

A transmission came through on the monitor to Otacon's left, and appeared to be from Rosemary.

"Hal, I'm so glad I got through to you."

"Rosemary, this is certainly…unexpected."

"Jack is recovered now, and he wants to know what happened to Snake. Can you come and tell him?"

"I suppose I could tell him whatever I can. Put him on."

"That's the thing. He doesn't want to do this over the Codec. He's worried someone else would hear. He really wants to see you in person, and has transportation arranged, if you decide to come."

"What kind of transportation?"

"Well, he was able to gather that you're somewhere in Maryland, so he arranged a seat to us from BWI airport tonight."

"Sure, I'll come see him. What gate is the flight leaving from?"

"Hold on…C12. It leaves in 4 hours, so I'll hope to see you soon."

"Alright. Take care."

It was just as Otacon had expected. An oddly low frequency codec, cryptic instructions and motive, an exact match to where he'd seen the Snakeskin trooper; this was a trap set by Campbell and his people, whoever they were. "Just double-check that our guy's still there…Right!"

Sunny, asleep through the whole transmission, was woken suddenly by Otacon's exclamation.

"What's going on, Uncle Hal? What time is it?"

"It's about 8:30, but get up. It's time for the next part of the mission."

"Can't it wait 'til morning?"

"Afraid not, now get your OctoCamo on, and something overtop. We're going to the Airport."

Sunny and Otacon walked to the nearest busy street corner, and hailed a cab. (Well, Otacon hailed a cab; Sunny just laughed to herself while her Uncle waved his hands around like crazy.) Once at the airport, Otacon unpacked the trunk, taking out one small piece of luggage and a long, cylindrical parcel. The two walked through the first leg of the airport, past the checked-bag counter, and approached the line for security checks.

"Uncle Hal," Sunny whispered, "This stuff will never get through security, no matter who you pretend to be."

"Don't worry Sunny, I have a plan; a plan and some detailed blueprints. Follow my lead."

As the line advanced, Otacon led Sunny into a small, low-lit room designed for meditation and prayer. Otacon explained that this would be their temporary base of operations, locked the door, and opened his laptop, displaying a 3d layout.

"There are two ventilation ducts in along the wall in this room. One leads past security and into the concourse. You would wait until the coast is clear, exit the duct, and approach gate C12, where the Snakeskin trooper, among other people, will be waiting. You would be limited in your weapon choice, and have only one shot to take out the trooper before he discovers you and engages. Escape would be tricky, even if you did make the kill, as everyone would notice the shot, despite the suppressor."

"What's the other option?"

"The only other viable plan is to use the other duct, which empties out onto the tarmac outside. From there, you would sneak across the tarmac to concourse B, which is directly across from concourse C. Then, exterior stairs would take you up to a small tower on top of concourse B, from which you would proceed to engage the Snakeskin trooper with the M107. Once again, you only get one shot before he notices you, but in this case he would most likely flee the scene, and we would start the search for him all over."

"Are those the only options?"

"The only ones that include taking only the life we need."

"Then I guess I choose the second option, with the sniping. What would the range be?"

"About 600 yards, give or take 15 or so."

"Alright."

Sunny quickly shed her outer clothing to reveal the OctoCamo underneath, and took the command vest from Otacon's luggage. She holstered the custom Mk 23 by force of habit, and stored only one magazine for the M107. Hopefully, she wouldn't need the whole thing. She then used a wrench Otacon gave her to open the grates on the ducts, and climbed in. She heard a light hum, and the Mk IV pulled up beside her in the wide duct.

"Since we're not going through the concourse, I'll be able to send the Mk IV with you. Just promise to help me up the stairs."

"Ok, let's go," said Sunny, beginning her trek through the ventilation ducts.

About three minutes of uneventful crawling later, Sunny wrenched open a grate in the floor of the duct, and lowered herself down gracefully, just as Meryl had trained her, until she let go and dropped five more feet onto the tarmac below. She gave a quiet signal, and the Mk IV rolled out of the opening into Sunny's waiting arms. The Mk IV camouflaged itself, and Sunny set it down. She laid prone against the tarmac to acquire its color and texture, then pulled up to a crouch, and snuck across the taxiing area between concourses C and B. With C at her back and B in sight, Sunny listened to Otacon's instructions for avoiding the planes moving about. With help, she anticipated their paths, waited for the right moment, and finally bolted across the tarmac while staying low until she reached the wall of concourse B. She pressed against the wall, and the Mk IV soon joined her after a slightly slower crossing. She then followed directions to a flight of stairs, which she climbed quietly, making sure no one was occupying them.

Once she reached the roof, Sunny relaxed slightly, and paused momentarily to behold the sights of the airport's scenery. It was mind-blowing for her to imagine. Every one of the planes taking off, landing, and taxiing had many people on board, and each of those people had a complex life of their own, a story which only briefly involved this airport. To Sunny, those that thought the world small had suddenly become very wrong.

An odd prodding roused Sunny from her trance: the Mk IV poked her leg with its tentacle-like arm while Otacon's fuzzy voice told her to get moving. She walked quickly over to a sort of tower atop the concourse, a protrusion from which the interior stairs reached the roof, with some service rooms above. Sunny climbed a ladder up the two additional stories until she reached the real top of the concourse. As per Otacon's instruction, She used the wrench one last time to detach and hoist up the ladder onto the tower roof, as to stop anyone from sneaking up while she was sniping.

"Alright Sunny, this is it. Unwrap the M107." Sunny took the mummified rifle from her back, and unraveled its bandages, then set it up for firing. She dug the bipod arms below the barrel into the tightly packed gravel roof, and loaded the magazine, pulling back the slide to bring her first (and hopefully only) round into the rifle's chamber. She took a prone stance again, and adjusted the scope for around 600 meters.

"Are you ready, Sunny? Do you see him?"

"Yes. He's lying down on a bench seat at gate…C12. He matches the picture you've got on the Mk IV's screen."

"Ready for final checks before the shot?"

"Yes." Sunny prepared for the standard sniping checks

"Ok, Range: 585 meters, negligible wind. Whenever you're ready, Sunny"

"Alright. Distance, wind speed, wind direction check."

"Green li-Wait! He's moving! Hold on, I'm tracking. Don't shoot, Sunny, Wait it out. I'll find out where he's going."

Sunny waited for 10 minutes while Otacon's face on the Mk Iv's screen scrutinized his laptop monitor. He watched security feeds, following the trooper through the airport.

"Uncle Hal, I see something, I think I know where he's going!"

"How?"

"The display below C12 says: flight pattern changed; move to gate D1."

"Hold on…D1...Lock! I got him! You were right, He's standing right at the window of gate D1. … Sunny, aim over to your left. You should be able to see the tip of concourse D to the left of C."

"I can… At the tip… I see him! But…that's got to be at least twice as far! I've got to switch scopes now!"

"Alright, let me know when you're set."

"… … ready."

"Now Sunny, shooting at this range is completely different. The wind will have much more of an effect on the bullet."

"But there is no wind, Uncle Hal."

"There's one more thing. At this distance, you need to take into consideration that, by the time your bullet arrives at the target, the Earth will have rotated enough to affect your shot."

"How can I compensate for that?"

"You're shooting directly south, so you'll have to aim ever so slightly to the left in order to hit the mark dead on."

"But it's so weird not aiming at the target directly."

"Just trust me, and trust yourself. Ready for final checks?"

"Yes."

"Range: 1350 meters, negligible wind."

"Distance, wind speed, wind direction, check."

"Green light. Take the shot."

Sunny inhaled deeply and let half out, steadying her aim as Otacon had taught her. The scope gave her just enough magnification to identify her target, still standing, looking out the window. He stood with arms crossed over his chest, steady as a rock, as if entranced by the lights flashing in the night sky outside.

"Sunny, you'll need to shoot for the head to ensure a positive kill."

The whine of hundreds of aircraft faded into the distance as an intense calm took Sunny's mind. She steadied the crosshairs, aimed at the trooper's head, adjusted to the left, and slowly but deliberately pulled the trigger.

The world slowed to a crawl. The M107's barrel recoiled back into the frame as its bullet fired, venting hot gases out of the larger muzzle brake. The stock punched into Sunny's shoulder, then relaxed. As the low sound of the shot echoed shortly before being lost to the haze of ambient noise, and several metallic clinging noises signaled the ejection of the spent cartridge. Sunny continued to look down the scope as the invisible bullet passed through the window and into the trooper's head.

Immediately the people around him became terrorized; they saw this soldier with only half a head, but knew not what had dealt the blow. The gunshot had not reached them, it never would. Security, however, was quick to launch a high alert.

"It's alright, Sunny. They don't know where the shot came from. We're safe up here."

"How can you be sure, Uncle Hal?"

"Well, because, quite frankly, no one down there could begin to imagine a shot from this far away. They'll search concourse C for sure, but not here. Besides, you've got OctoCamo just in case."

"So we wait now?"

"Just until the alert calms down to a caution level. Then you can regroup with me, and we'll get back to the factory safe."

"Ok."

"I had the Mk IV look downrange with a spare scope when you took the shot. You did a great job, Sunny. Without a host, that arm will decay in a few hours. That's one sixth of the Snakeskin Unit down."

"I really did it,…didn't I," said Sunny, laying down and falling asleep.

Otacon watched over Sunny until morning, when he woke her to lead her back to him. She re-wrapped the M107 and retraced her steps back to through the ducts into the meditation room, from where she and Otacon left the airport and returned to Baltimore.