SNAKE DIDN'T PUT UP a fight as he was escorted back to the torture rack. On the outside, he appeared calm and composed, but his pulse had already begun to pick up as they secured the shackles around his wrists and ankles. Once he was strapped in, the sentries vacated the area, and Snake was left to himself.

He took deep breaths to calm himself. He wouldn't allow the waiting to wear on his nerves. The only unknown was when Ocelot would make his appearance. There would be pain. Snake would have to dig deep and endure that pain. Meryl's life depended on it.

By Snake's estimation, 15 minutes passed before the outer door slid open. The sound of leather boots resounded against the concrete floor, each step punctuated with the slight clink of spurs. The footfalls ended, and digital beeping filled the room. Finally, the bed rotated to the up-right position, and Snake's eyes fell on Ocelot. The Russian gunslinger wore a wry grin beneath his considerable mustache.

"I hope you've prepared yourself, Snake," Ocelot said menacingly. He paused a beat and studied Snake. "I've fought wars in Afghanistan, Mozambique, Eritrea, and Chad. Among the mujahideen guerillas, I was known and feared as Shalashaska."

Snake's brow furrowed. "Shalashaska?"

"A term they invented specifically for me," Ocelot said, a hint of pride in his voice. "Sharaska is a colloquial term for an ad-hoc group, while shaska is a Caucasian saber. It started as sharashaska, as I was called by my Spetsnaz comrades, due to my penchant for improvisation and the field interrogations I would conduct with a blade. One of the mujahideen overheard the term, but the 'r' became an 'l' in translation."

Snake grunted in a non-comital fashion. He wasn't impressed with the boast, but he didn't want to upset Ocelot just before the interrogation.

"I was trained by the Russian GRU," Ocelot continued. "I am not like one of those KGB slugs. To me, this isn't torture. It's a sport."

A cold chill ran down Snake's spine, and his mouth moved before he could catch himself. "You're all just a bunch of sadists," he spat venomously.

Ocelot's eyes flared and he clenched his jaw. With a pointed finger, he snarled, "Don't confuse me with those uniformed fools!" He spun on a heel and tended to the workstation. After a few keystrokes, Ocelot spoke again, his wicked grin apparent in his tone. "Well…shall we begin?"

Snake braced himself, taking slow, deep breaths. The preparatory beeps echoed throughout the room. The first current surged through Snake's body, more intense than he remembered from the first session. He growled through clenched teeth for the first few seconds, but eventually the pain gave way and his mouth parted to allow a blood-curdling scream to erupt from his throat. The iteration finally ended, and Snake fought to catch his breath.

Ocelot turned to Snake, his grin spread from ear to ear. "I forgot to mention," he said. "I've increased the voltage."

"Wh-what?" Snake stammered.

Ocelot's lips collapsed into a smirk as he nodded his head. "The first iteration was about…oh, 650 volts at 0.25 ampere. Just enough to be considered 'high voltage' but not enough to kill you unless I let it run. That last current? 900 volts at 0.5 ampere. That's 450 watts of electricity flowing through your body, Snake."

Ocelot wandered from the workstation and stood before Snake. "I'm going to deviate from protocol and tell you exactly what will happen. The next iteration will be for 10 seconds, at 1,000 volts at 0.5 ampere. The next, 1,100 volts at 0.75 ampere for 15 seconds. The final iteration will be 1,200 volts at 1 ampere for 20 seconds.

"I'm not going to lie, Snake," Ocelot continued. "This is going to cause some damage. There will be internal organ damage if you hang on. It may even be permanent. Your nanomachines might short-circuit, leaving you without a mode of communication. If you survive the remaining three iterations, there's a good chance you'll live as an invalid. You won't die—for reference, the electric chair is 2,200 volts at 7 to 12 ampere—but you certainly won't live like a man."

He stepped in closer, his eyes narrowed as he half-taunted, half-persuaded. "C'mon, Snake. Think of the greater good. You're the only thing that stands between us and nuclear empowerment. One life for millions. Go ahead and submit. I won't tell."

Snake took a deep breath to steel himself, fixed his gaze on Ocelot, and glowered. "Go to hell."

A borderline giddiness laced Ocelot's every motion and expression. "I was hoping you'd say that, Snake." He spun and rushed back to the workstation. "Let's see just how strong the Son of Big Boss truly is."

The pair of warning chimes sounded off, and the electricity struck, stronger than before. Snake's body convulsed as the current surged through his body. He tried to count the seconds in his mind, but the pain was a looming cloud that blocked out everything that wasn't his survival instinct. The pain stopped suddenly, and Snake panted rapidly. Violent coughs seized his chest and throat, and Snake spat out a wad of bloody phlegm.

"Had enough yet?" Ocelot asked. "Want me to go on?"

Snake registered a sharp pain in his abdomen. He gritted his teeth as he fought to clear his mind and brace himself for the next round. It came quicker than expected, and the energy seized his body. His eyes threatened to leap from their sockets. There was no scream that time, as his vocal cords had gone raw. Snake had bit down on his lip and drew blood. As the 15 seconds came to a conclusion, Snake hung on the rack by his secured joints, his breath ragged, every muscle in his body screaming in pain.

"You still okay?" Ocelot taunted. "Give up. Make it easy on yourself." As he hit the buttons for the final iteration, he added, "C'mon. You don't wanna die like this, do you?"

Delirium had started to set in. Snake's vision slipped in and out of focus. The first warning chime sounded off, and Snake shook his head. Before he could further object, the shock hit his system. His vision started to darken at the edges and converge on the middle, the veil coming down on his consciousness. Snake's heart thundered against his ribcage. The torture eroded his training, dissipated his mental resiliency.

The words fell from Snake's mouth before he could stop himself.

"Y-you win…"

The current came to a sudden halt. Ocelot turned to Snake, his expression a mixture of triumph and disappointment. The latter manifested in his tone as he spoke. "So, you're human after all…" A sigh fell from Ocelot's lips as he turned back to the workstation and tapped away at the keyboard. "The torture will stop as I promised." The sadism crept back into the Russian gunslinger's voice as he added, "But I'll take the woman in return. I'll have my fun with her before I kill her."

Tears streamed from Snake's eyes and towards his ears. A single word fell from his lips.

"Meryl…"

Ocelot's final words before Snake passed out held a tinge of sympathy, or at least what would pass for a sadist's sympathy.

"I hope you can still look at yourself in the mirror, my friend."

Nine hours and nineteen minutes until doomsday.