METAL GEAR SOLID: THE FIRST ENCOUNTER
by Rookie's Eyes (based off of Metal Gear)
Disclaimer: the Metal Gear series and their characters are property of Kojima Productions and Konami
Chapter Nine – The Commander's Guest
0953 Hours, February 5, 1995
Fox stood still, his machete gripped limply in his palm. Pyre Trooper staggered back, groping beneath the gleaming helmet to ensure no bodily harm was sustained by the agent's blade.
Fox, dumbstruck, stared at his old mentor, his adoptive father, the last man he would have expected to see half-way across the world. "Big Boss?"
"Good Work, Frank. Excellent job indeed, but I can't allow you to continue this charade." The old soldier stood tall and proud, a smoldering Cuban cigar jammed between his teeth, the same tattered eye patch he always wore concealing his war-scarred eye.
His short gray hair was secured by another artifact from his espionage days, a bandana that had supposedly seen combat from Normandy to Tselinoyarsk, to Vietnam and Costa Rica. It had witnessed the deaths of hundreds of combatants at the hands of its bearer. He was garbed in the gray BDU's he always wore in combat and war games, taken by him as a war trophy after The Boss' defection.
He wore them so frequently that rumors around FOXHOUND whispered that the uniform granted silent steps, though Fox almost always heard the soldier's approach. They also thought that his bandana conjured infinite ammo. Soldiers, and people in general, often cling to superstition to explain the remarkable, and Big Boss was, by the very definition, remarkable.
The details Frank saw caught him off-guard; a black arm band embroidered with a skull, an M1911A1 Silenced pistol crossed with a heavily modified XM16E1, the coat-of-arms of Outer Heaven in the backdrop. Fox recognized the XM16 as Big Boss' famed 'Patriot', the same assault rifle he now grasped at his side.
"What do we do with him, Boss?" Pyre Trooper questioned.
"Stay out of this, Pyra. Warn the Twins. If Fox is here we know where the other FOXHOUND is headed. Apprehend those prisoners!" I hope they made it, Fox prayed fearfully. His attempt to take down the soldiers who restrained them was not as thorough as he would have preferred. If he had had his way they would all have been soaking the soil with their blood, including Pyre Trooper. Upon Big Boss' orders the Archangel bustled off to find the pursuing unit, the shuffling and clunking of heavy equipment dissipating with the soldier's footsteps.
"You're the Commander," Fox stated more than questioned.
"Well done, Fox. You and Snake have accomplished far more than I would have hoped, and much more than I wanted. If Pyre Trooper can't beat you I might just have to do it myself."
"My mission is to eliminate you, Boss. You may have given that order, but it's mandated by the CIA. If you run now I can tell them you eluded me, but I can't hold back if I'm going to kill you."
"You can try. I'm not going anywhere." The old soldier raised his rifle, pulling the trigger as Fox moved to evade the round. The lead grazed his waist, cutting through his belt, his sheathed machete clattering to the floor. When Fox's hand went to snatch it up, a bullet ricocheted off of the floor, sending his cleaver several feet behind. "I just thought I'd rid you of the temptation of cheating." he said, plucking the blunt remnants of his cigar from his mouth, dropping it to the floor and extinguishing it beneath his boot. Big Boss widened his stance, raising his hands into his trademark CQC position.
Fox followed suit, mirroring his former CO with the very same moves he'd gleaned from Big Boss all those ages ago. His heart pounded, his concentration sharpened, but the Null state of mind didn't possess its usual clarity. Memories kept breaking through, which Fox watched as if an onlooker upon his own blurry, distorted recollections; a child soldier, weary of battle, carried in the arms of a young Big Boss to refuge; a youth, defeated for the first time in his memory, taking the soldier's hand, offered in acceptance; a FRELIMO soldier, rescued after a mutilating torture session perpetrated by the very organization he'd fought for as a child.
The thoughts dulled his reaction and split his concentration, realizing only just in time that Big Boss approached to make the first move; a kick to the head Fox managed to duck beneath. The agent thrust his fist to the Commander's gut, who parried the blows with his forearms, stopping the final strike with his palm. Boss had Fox by the arm. Instinctively Fox twisted, using Boss' grip as the axis to bring his foot to the soldier's head.
Big Boss had evidently anticipated this move. He clamped Fox's foot with his arm into his pit, throwing Fox to the floor.
"Work on your technique, Fox. You're getting too predictable."
"Age must be getting to you. You're starting to slow, old man." Fox muttered, getting to his feet and resuming the fight. As they exchanged blows Fox's frustration grew, barely managing to graze Big Boss' abdomen with the very edge of his knuckles. Fox's only consolation was that though he could not land a hit against the Commander for his skill, Big Boss missed near every hit because he couldn't keep up. As Big Boss lunged, Fox sidestepped; as he swiped, Jaeger ducked.
Fox feigned a punch with his left, following with an intended strike to the leg. Big Boss gripped him by the arm.
Holding Fox's right arm behind his back, Boss answered, "If I'm getting so slow, I'd better end this quickly." Big Boss bent Fox's arm far back, much farther than natural flexibility, even for Frank Jaeger. His arm popped, dislocated out of its socket. Gray Fox stifled a gasp, backing off for a moment, cradling his limp limb. Big Boss stood coolly, waiting for his former mentor to reinitiate the fight.
Every jostle sent a jolt of pain from his shoulder to his brain, so Fox bit the sleeve of his injured arm in an effort to minimize the agony, removing the belt from his BDU's with his free arm. Sweat dripped down his hair, now plastered to his head. He wrapped the belt around his afflicted arm's wrist, looping it over his head to create a slipshod sling. His arm dropped to his chest as he signaled for the bout to resume.
Fox raised his fist in a defensive stance as the soldier approached, blocking his every advance. Big Boss left his side exposed just long enough to hunch beneath his fist. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and this was certainly a time for desperation. Fox lunged, tackling Big Boss with his good shoulder to the ground.
With Fox attempting to restrain him on the floor, Big Boss, fists flying, nailed him twice across the face before vaulting his captor over his head . Fox landed on his feet despite his shoulder, wiping the blood from his lip as Big Boss scrambled to stand.
Big Boss' chest heaved, a stain of perspiration all around the collar of his uniform. His graveled breath rapid and deep, his bandana soaked and heavy. "Alright Fox, no more fooling around. Don't take this personally."
Big Boss swung, punching Fox in his already displaced arm. "Aargh!" He dug his fist into the agent's gut, picking him up and slamming to the floor with a thud. Fox's spine arched in pain. His eyes opened just long enough to see the black sole of a boot slam into his skull, followed by a complete lack of consciousness.
…
With a crippling headache Fox returned to the world gradually. The first thing he noticed was the course hemp rope that lashed his hands together, the second that his arms were secured around the back of a cold metal chair. His arm was swollen and sore, but the spiking pain had subsided and his arm moved with little effort, his captors had been kind enough to pop his shoulder back in. Fox's ankles were tightly bound to the chair's front legs. He was pleased to feel the familiar weight of the machete at his weight. He opened his eyes to two men, Big Boss and one of his cronies, a short, husky man in heavy SWAT-type armor, complete with a face-shield.
"… say we should kill him, Boss." The SWAT man said.
"That's why you're not in charge, Hawk." Big Boss answered promptly.
"Who's the cop?" Fox grumbled.
"Cop? My name's Hell Hawk. Smartest mercenary you'll ever live to see. You'll be happy to know we apprehended your friends, Foxhound. I get to have some fun with your comrades." He said with relish.
"Hell Hawk? Are you the one they call Coward Mallard?"
"You just insulted the wron- Hurgh!"
The Commander retracted his fist from Mallard's gut, "Shut it, Hawk. Wait outside." Big Boss instructed, "I'll let you know when it's time."
As the SWAT lumbered out of the room, Fox spat at his feet, eliciting a stream of curses before the mercenary slammed the door behind him.
Following a short silence, Big Boss turned to Fox, "Sorry about all this, Frank. This was all a ruse. When the CIA caught wind of my plans I knew they'd meddle in my business. I convinced them to let my men perform the investigation, and I chose you so that it would be irrefutable that I did my best to see that the job would be done. I had you captured on purpose so that I could continue my work. I still need to see The Boss' dream through."
Big Boss hadn't spoke often of his former mentor labeled traitor, but when he did it was purely of admiration, and of the desire to achieve her dream of a world without borders. "Nothing personal Frank. You of all people should understand that. My hands were tied if I wasn't going to give up Outer Heaven."
"Metal Gear was your idea too?"
"It's not at all what you think. In Militaires Sans Frontières, while you were serving with FRELIMO, we used a Metal Gear unit, codenamed 'ZEKE', to great effect in our own fight against war. Until a cipher agent, Pacifica Ocean, hijacked it, it was a very effective means of maintaining stability during a very volatile time."
"Mutually Assured Destruction."
"That's the idea, Frank. The Cold War may have abated between the US and Russia, but its effects are still being felt by those who dealt with the warring powers. We've finally established a country I can be proud of, and now, while we are at our most vulnerable, I need a weapon to preserve the peace."
"A contradiction if I've ever heard one…"
"But a necessary one. You know what I strive to do. You understand what I must do to ensure that soldiers aren't abused by their leaders or forgotten in peace time. My soldiers will fight for righteous causes the whole world over. We may be based in Outer Heaven but our army will be without borders, political or otherwise. It's no different than the work you do now." Big Boss held out his hand in a joining gesture, holding out for a moment as Fox gazed, making up his mind.
In the back of his, or rather Null's flimsy memory there echoed the voice of a long forgotten enslaver, Just a puppet after all.
"No… No I can't work with men like your Archangels. I can't stand by and condone the slaughter of innocence. You know what their kind do. They'll trick you, just like you said Pacifica did and take Metal Gear for themselves, and they'll use it, no regrets. As long as filth like them is so close, I can't allow this machine to go operational."
"So be it. Now as I recall, Snake has some back-up from FOXHOUND, two soldiers based in Mahalruit. They'll get you out of here no questions asked. There's no sense in killing you, Frank. You'll come around to my line of thinking eventually."
"I wouldn't be so confident of that."
"I know you better than you think. Just wait." Big Boss opened the door, speaking to his croney, "Drop him off in town. Use this to send them a distress message." He instructed the SWAT, tossing him a blinking red device. "Oh, and make sure the dosage is enough to keep him quiet for at least six hours." Big Boss stepped out, replaced by Coward Mallard, a syringe in his hand. Crudely he jammed it into Fox's arm, and though the agent fought the blackness slowly returned, interrupted only by the humorless chuckle of the mercenary.
Thirty minutes earlier…
Snake stood on the roof of the complex; a floor littered with satellite dishes, power conduits, vent shafts, and radio towers. Hidden among the clutter was supposedly Metal Gear's creator, Dr. Madnar, imprisoned somewhere in a very unassuming cell mingled with the storage and expensive electronics.
The far side of the building was littered with steel beams and the bare skeletal frame of some unfinished structure. The incomplete portion of the building, a developing fifth and sixth floor, was temporarily concealed behind sheets of semi-transparent plastic, flapping and whipping in the wind that buffeted the building's upper half.
Further scrutiny revealed sentry towers on each corner of the building including the construction, dim searchlights resting at their post for nightly watch. Men stood inside each tower looking out over the borders, but the chance that they'd look behind and spot Snake was far too likely. The agent crept back inside the elevator, exchanging his FOXHOUND garb for the Outer Heaven uniform he had snatched following his clash with the Archangel Unit's Commander.
The patch on the uniform said 'BENNET', the same name printed on the ID card identifying the soldier whose uniform he'd stolen as Private Alan Bennet of Copperhead Platoon. Snake committed the information to memory, praying he wouldn't actually have to use it as he slipped on the standard balaclava.
The Gray camouflage urban uniform was slightly large and smelt like sweat, but Snake always knew espionage wasn't as glamorous as James Bond so he didn't complain, chalking it up to dumb luck, or lack-thereof, that he stole the uniform of the one soldier too lazy to bathe.
He discarded the batteries from the enemy radio to prevent any unnecessary interruptions, placing the ear-bud of his Codec into his ear beneath the cover of the face-mask. Snake turned the dial on his Codec to 'SEND', accessing the frequency *120.79* Schneider's familiar voice answered, "Yeah Snake?"
"There's construction on the roof of Building One. I thought you'd said you'd completed the building before you'd joined PARC."
*120.79* "I did. They're making additions to my design. Recon says that this new section is for Helicopter landing, maintenance, and storage. We've had our eye on them for awhile now. They've already begun using it and the addition isn't even completed. The weak security they have there is how we discovered their plans for the Metal Gear in the first place."
"Have you had a look at the layout?"
*120.79* "No. Not yet, but I'd be willing to bet that that's where they're keeping Madnar prisoner. It's out of the way, few would suspect it."
"I'll have a look around, let you know how it goes."
*120.79* "Good luck, Snake."
"Over and out." Snake terminated transmission, walking off the elevator platform onto the hot black tar roof with pistol in hand.
His weaving between the chutes and vents was slow-going as he did his best to casually avoid the patrols. The solar panels that hummed with energy blinded Snake as he passed the reflective mirrors, raising his hand to shield his eyes. In the blinding light, somewhere behind him a voice said, "Soldier, what are you doing up here?"
Snake chose to emulate the mentality of so many raw recruits he'd seen in training, raising his hand in a salute and saying, "Private Alan J. Bennet. I'm from Copperhead Platoon, sir. I was told to take the post of the soldiers watching Dr. Madnar's cell."
"Yeah sure. Let's see your papers, huh?" Snake removed his ID and a small booklet from the uniform's chest pocket, passing them to the scrutinizer, who squinted at them for only a moment before passing them back with a satisfactory grunt. "You know where you're going, kid?" he asked incredulously.
"I just transferred from Building Two. I don't yet know my way around."
"C'mon, follow me," the sentry huffed. "You'll get lost in there for hours with the way those construction workers seal off their work. Newbies don't have a chance."
As Snake followed the soldier through the rows of solar cells he heard the faint patter of blades cutting through the air. He turned to the distant sight of a helicopter, hovering above the treetops to the compound. The lead soldier said, puzzled, "That's odd. That chopper's not one of ours. There's an American code on the tail." Fox's pickup.
Snake watched as the copter slowed, hovering in place before beginning its descent. Suddenly a shot of fire sprouted from between the leaves, engulfing the rotorcraft which tumbled to the ground in a chaotic pyre. "Nnn…" Snake bit his lip, jamming his white tight knuckles inside his pockets to conceal any sign of anguish. The soldier beside him was too busy watching as the helicopter disappeared behind the trees.
Quickly the agent regained his composure, just as the sentry turned to him, "I gotta go check that out. The prison is on the fifth floor platform. It won't be too hard," he assured, hustling past Snake and disappearing past the solar cells.
Snake took one last glance at the smoke that trailed from the wreckage, casting a red glow against the trees that encircled and hid the burning helicopter. He proceeded, pushing past the sheets of plastic into a large white concrete room with no walls, only more sheets that diffused the sun's light into an even glow.
Past industrial welding torches and hydraulic hammers Snake found a ladder to the fifth floor, advancing slowly up the rungs to muffle its ring until he raised himself onto the concrete. The Fifth floor was more cluttered than the one beneath it; Material bundles, tools, and equipment lay scattered everywhere at random; hazards Snake was careful to avoid especially because of their potential as alarms.
As he made his way past stacks of steel beams and crates of cement powder, mindful of the equipment, he came across a room which did not obscure the view of the outside of the world with a plastic tarp, a massive crane nearby. Obviously the opening was used for loading and unloading resources for the construction efforts.
The wind brushed Snake's face calmly as he gazed at the landscape of Outer Heaven. The rolling landscape was deep green, still, and quiet; tranquil despite the chaos within its fabricated borders. Across the terrain two other structures were erected in the distance; one a ten floor building similar in design to Building One, the other a wide, long edifice with a rounded top, most likely a hangar.
The small details were difficult to make out at such a distance. Building Two was far enough away that the forest which surrounded Snake's present housing dissolved into desert, a single iron-wrought, fortified gate at the border to separate jungle and wasteland.
Past the scenery the agent forged on until he reached the first sign of a prisoner hold; a soldier armed with a Scorpion Submachine gun and a pistol holstered at his hip, a ring hanging from his belt with a dozen or so key cards. Snake was certain he'd uncovered the prison when he spotted three doors behind the soldier, but cursed his luck when he saw the floor. The floor was tiled with metal plates, almost certainly electrifying, with the kill-switch console mounted beside the soldier.
Snake couldn't simply use the Nikita because he had no clue where the power source was, but he might be able to delay the guard long enough to kill him before he had a chance to pull the switch. The Foxhound walked out into plain sight, his gun at his side. The guard looked confused, confusion turning to recognition as he said, "Wait shift isn't for another … Unless… Intruder!" He reached for the switch but Snake was too quick on the draw; landing one round in the hand and a second behind the ear, the soldier falling dead to the floor in an instant.
Snake snatched the keys from the cadaver, walking over to the doors and meticulously sliding each card through the scanners, each time earning a red flash of light and a grating 'Beep' of disapproval. Two doors later the light finally flashed blue, the entrance sliding open at Snake's request. Within the small eight by eleven cell slept a stout man; Einstein-like in countenance, with messy gray hair where he wasn't balding, wrinkled skin, and a thin white mustache.
Not one to waste time, Snake aroused the scientist with a sharp kick to the leg of his bunk, the startled Madnar jolting up with a "Who are you!"
Removing the balaclava from his face, Snake said, "Solid Snake. Special Ops, FOXHOUND. I'm the pawn they sent here to save you're worthless butt. You are the head of Metal Gear development, right?"
"Yes, yes, Doctor Drago Pettrovitch Madnar." The Doctor's eyes wandered behind Snake, as if looking for somebody, "Where's the others?"
"Others?"
"You mean to say you're the only one?"
"This one is much more capable than you think, Doctor Madnar," The agent growled.
The engineer tapped the tips of his fingers together nervously, stuttering, "Oh very well. Follow me. Before we have a chance to get out of here there are highly sensitive files I must retrieve. We must hurry."
"Are there any other soldiers accompanying your jailer?"
"No. I'm not much of a threat. They wouldn't waste men on a decrepit old scientist. Follow me."
For an old man the doctor ran swiftly, leading Snake quickly up to the sixth floor into the open air. He pointed to a Hind-D, saying, "They keep my files in there for quick transit when they take me to the development facility. I need the papers labeled 'Model Gustav', 'TX-11', and 'TX-22'. If we leave them in the wrong hands, I fear for the world."
As Snake approached the chopper the engine roared to life. The pilot sat up from behind the dashboard, a man with slick white hair and a green eye, the other a deep blue. Snake turned to face the Doctor, only to see another man, identical to the pilot in hair and eye color, standing in the Doctor's stead, a mask hanging in one hand while the other lifted a grenade launcher towards Snake.
"You've may have taken down The Machinegun Kid but he's child's play compared to us. We are the Twins, but you may know us better as Double Tap."
"Funnily enough, I've never heard of either of you," Snake chuckled.
"Where The Kid failed we won't," He hollered over the patter of the now rotating rotorcraft blades.
"Like I haven't heard that one before."
"Go ahead and chuckle now, 'cause we'll have the last laugh when you've been shot through like a target at an archery contest."
The Helicopter buzzed off its helipad, circling around and speeding back toward Snake as the first member of Double Tap pulled the trigger, Snake springing aside to avoid the explosive.
Author's note: This chapter is the first and one of the few real combined parts between the NES and MSX versions of Metal Gear. Double Tap is a combination of the Hind-D boss from MSX and Twin Shot from the NES. In my opinion the NES version is better in this respect. When I played the MSX version, though the Hind idea was cool, it was too ambitious for a limited system and it was kind of lame that the chopper never made it off of the ground.
Twin Shot was good in the respect that I think they recognized this fact and made a boss that is really quite unique in Metal Gear, two bosses which you fight at once, only matched by Ultra-box (Otherwise known in my universe as The Silent Knife Assassination squad). Their turrets could be explained as Anti-aircraft turned anti-snake, but I thought it would be a shame not to feature the Hind, especially in its first appearance as a boss. So I combined Twin Shot and the Hind by having one pilot and one fight Snake on foot. You'll just have to see how it ends in the next chapter…
For those of you who did not play the game, canononically (is that a word?) no one finds out that Boss = Commander until the game's very conclusion, but I thought this was a very appropriate way to have Fox removed from the equation so that Snake can show his full badassery and so that Pyre trooper would survive to have a bout with Snake. (That will be sooo epic – I hope)
Please comment. I'd love to know you're thoughts on my boss idea. Up next: Chapter ten – Fatality (working title)