Saturday, 11:30 pm
Snake walked along the Forest's edge. Everything was quiet up here, it was so peaceful, and he wondered if this is what death was like. He looked up at the navy sky, seeing the thousands upon thousands of pin pricks of light that shown from many miles away. Some of those stars are dead. Snake sighed and shook his head; they could shine long after they were dead. Actions effect life, progression, and reaction. The effect of a life couldn't be truly seen without the progression to death. Who would cry? Who would care? Snake grumbled and shook his head, sticking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. It made him think of what he wanted out of life. The only thing he knew about life so far was actually death. How much had he actually lived? Snake rubbed his temple. He had always thought a civilians life to be boring. But being in a constant Tom Clancy novel made conspiracy more than tiring. After this, maybe he could finally have some peace, if everyone…
Then a noise, Snake turns quickly to face his opponent behind him. But it only turned out to be a familiar face.
Meryl grinned at him, "I didn't think you'd be much of a star gazer." She brushed aside a strand of fiery red hair and sighed.
Snake looked at her, cocking his head. "I was just thinking about some things, that's all."
She walked up to his position and leaned on an old oak that had rooted in the ground for a while. "Oh? Usually that's not good before combat. It could distract your thoughts."
Snake smirked. "Consider it an early onset of senility."
Meryl laughed a bit. "Come on, you're not THAT old," She tapped her fingertips on the bark of the rotting wood, some small pieces fluttering off onto the forest floor. "Besides, you're not serenading us with old war stories yet. So, I think you're pretty safe."
Snake nods thoughtfully. "Ghosts of dead men anyway. They aren't worth re-telling." He glances up at the sky.
Meryl furrows her brow. "What's wrong? You're troubled by something." She moves forward towards him.
"It's nothing."
"Don't lie. You might be a good warrior, but your political skills are lacking."
Snake sighs, planting a hand under his chin. After they stand in a long silence, he finally breaks it. "Completion of life in death."
"Philosophy? Now that's a side of you I haven't seen before."
Snake shrugs, "Some warriors have been philosophers as well."
Meryl puts a hand on his shoulder. "Don't even think about dying yet. We still have one last job to do."
Snake puts his hand over hers. "I hope so."
Snake turns and holds her in his arms, the quiet of the forest all he needs right now. His hands drift over her back, and she lays her head on his shoulder. Meryl's fiery red hair lays nestled on his shoulder, and Snake can feel her fingers gently etching into his back. He slowly closes his eyes, surrendering to the embrace. The light of the past drifts over them, wanting this all to be over. To be forgotten. Then maybe, just maybe, they could have some peace…
******
Upstate New York
Saturday, 11:40 pm
Otacon slowly careened the car down the winding roads of upstate New York. The twin eyes of the headlight bore fire onto the pavement, igniting leaves and twigs that covered it from the towering giants that they fell from overhead. Otacon occasionally glanced into the rearview mirrors to check if he was being followed. He sighed with relief as he noticed he wasn't, ditching a pursuit in unfamiliar territory. He had left earlier in order to collect supplies for the group, essentials they might need such as food and water.
He picked up speed a bit, and glanced at the meter. He didn't want to go too far above the limit, for getting a ticket right now wouldn't prove to be very helpful in guaranteeing the success of the op. He kept a stone face and continued on his path. He couldn't think too much. He had to focus. There was much to be done in the future, and he couldn't let his mind simply stray with his personal ethics.
After what seemed an endless amount of driving, Otacon finally reaches his destination. It was a small cabin nestled in the woods, out of sight from all other distractions. He shuts the car off, twisting the key. He gets out, gathering the packages from the trunk and slowly makes his way up to the cabin door. He knocks twice, as per the code. A moment passes, for paranoia's sake, as he is let in.
Snake backs up away from the door, dressed in a smoke gray sweater and black pants. Meryl sits not far away from him, wearing a worn leather jacket with blue jeans. She sits reading a dog-eared Tom Clancy novel, with her weapon sitting not too far away from her.
Otacon nods to Snake, setting the packages on a table in the center of the room. The windows around the cabin are covered with heavy shades, to prevent the light from getting out and any snipers to not have a clear shot.
Otacon pushes his glasses up farther along the bridge of his nose, flicking a finger to Meryl, "You read that? Don't you get enough of it in reality?"
Meryl continues reading, her green eyes set on the text she holds in her hands. "Its interesting reading about this stuff in fiction," She flips a page. "You never know how it is going to end. Just like our situation."
Otacon shakes his head. "I guess the public just enjoy their conspiracy theories."
Snake lays on the bed, taking a Lucky Strike from an open carton on the nightstand. He slips his hand in his pocket for a match, lighting it and placing it against the cig. He takes a long drag of the unfiltered tobacco. "They aren't too far off from the truth."
Otacon nods, dragging a seat out to sit down as he organizes the supplies. Meryl speaks to Snake without looking up from her book. "You know those things can kill you."
"Yup."
"Then why do you smoke them?"
Snake shrugs. "It takes the edge off sometimes. Anxiety and excess paranoia can be dangerous."
Meryl nods to him, then she winces as she turns the page. She brings a finger to her mouth and sucks on it. "Anxious about the mission?" She licks it once more, before putting it back to the page and turning it.
"Always." Snake smiles as she gets the paper cut. "Be careful, some books are dangerous."
Meryl simply mutters an, "Uh-huh" before she turns the next page of the book.
Otacon finishes setting out the supplies on the table; he wipes his hands on the legs of his pants. He turns to Snake as he is tapping his cigarette ash into a nearby cup. "I found something new on the disc from arsenal."
Snake turns to him with interest, crushing the cig out in the cup. Meryl drops her book onto the table and looks up towards Otacon. He drags a seat from the table, to get closer to them. He continues on, "The 'names' of the patriots aren't names at all. They are a coded message to a location."
Meryl raises a brow, "Why would they put that information is Arsenal's memory storage?"
"Why would they put names of people who have been dead for over a hundred years to be removed from a system?" Otacon shakes his head. "It would just remove names that have been on digital storage for a long while. It makes people suspicious."
Snake nods. "Suspicious people can do a lot of damage. It's easier to remove locations no one would think of then to erase known knowledge already established on the system."
Otacon nods. "Exactly. If what we've found is correct, they've stored a base of technology and surveillance that can't be easily moved."
Meryl rubs the back of her neck. "Their weakness is that they're not nomadic, they've had to establish a dark tower."
Snake looks to Otacon. "And how did you figure all this out?"
Otacon shrugs. "It was a small anomaly that attracted my attention, something not right in the code that I had to check."
Meryl grins. "Paranoia, the sign of perfect mental health these days."
Otacon rubs an eye, "Well, I'll have to actually decode the location, so it might take some time. You two relax while I work this out, alright?"
Meryl nods briefly to him, "Good luck." She gets up and walks over to Snake, sitting on the bed next to him. Otacon waves a hand at her as a sign of thanks. He unpacks his laptop and starts it up, attaching his battery packs to it, giving it a full twenty-four hour support before needing to be unplugged. He sighs and pops in the disk, looking to his Emma journal. It spurred on flashes at an unexpected moment. He had to keep it together. Losing himself now wouldn't help anyone. He concentrated on the code, on logic. It was the only thing that made sense to him anymore. He breathed shakily and started to decode. He'd write another journal, that would calm him. But…what good would it do? He sighed, punching in keys. The answers were lost to him; he quickly lost himself to the code. He'd reflect later. Now it was time to find their next step, and bring down the conspirators.
******
The Streets, ChicagoSaturday, 10:55 pm
Raiden walked the streets of Chicago, arriving on any available American flight as soon as the crap went down in Paris. His head down turned, looking at the puddles that formed on the street below from the rains of the previous nights. The whole city took on a misty appearance, as the fog had started to roll in. Raiden sighed to himself and shook his head, passing by the many decaying buildings on his route to nowhere. He didn't know what to do next. He was looking for revenge and didn't know where to deliver. Rose was dead, just when he thought they had found a new life together, with a baby on the way. Raiden gritted his teeth angrily and kicked a puddle, sloshing up water over his clothes. He fell against the wall of a nearby building for support. He refused to let himself cry. He would keep his hatred. He would store it, and then unleash it. He would move heaven and hell. And that was a promise. He ran his hands through his pale blond hair. Blue eyes blazing angrily, he would have his vengeance.
Pushing himself up, his cell phone rang. Instinctively answering it, even in his grief. The garbled voice from Paris didn't give Raiden a chance to say hello.
"Am I talking to Alex? Or am I talking to Raiden?"
"Raiden." He says it simply and curtly, not allowing any room for emotion.
"Good. You're in Chicago, correct?"
"Yeah."
"Keeping it simple. I see you've been thinking. That's good."
"Would you get to the point?"
"I have a proposition for you. I'll tell you where your enemies lie."
"Oh yeah? And why are you feeling so god-damned generous?"
"I want to free the world from their evil. You want vengeance."
"So, I'm just being used as a pawn?"
"We would be using each other equally. Consider it Utopian."
"Right. You give me the info to kill them and I do it. Information for death. And both goals are reached." Raiden runs a hand wet with rainwater through his hair. It comes to rest behind his head.
"Precisely. Do you want the information, or not?"
Raiden sits silent for a moment, closing his eyes. The image of Rose's body fresh in his mind. He knew that scene would never leave him. The ghastly sight, a life still born. Like his child…
"Alright. I'm game."
"Excellent."
The voice on the phone proceeded to tell him everything, the proverbial little birdie on the shoulder. Everything was going according to plan.
******
Somewhere in the United States
Monday, 12:03 am
The moonlight sonata played over on the stereo. The office was vacant, except for the dark skinned man sitting in the plush leather chair. He sat in the opulent chamber, glancing around periodically never before having seen the office Gatines sat in Bourbon's chair. The light from the fluorescent bulbs reflected off of his black skin. As with the older man, nothing on him was out of place. Not a hair on or a wrinkle in his business suit. He gently tapped a tape with a piece of paper. His brown eyes looked up to the door just as it opened, as if his expectations were instantly carried out. Two suits enter the room, looking at Gatines for some sort of explanation.
The first one speaks. "We are very busy."
Then the second one. "This had better not be a trivial matter."
Gatines lights a cigarette, the mint smell flowing through the room. He gets up slowly, stepping across the office floor slowly. He idly strokes the black cylinder of the cigarette, in thought. "We have a situation."
The first suit raises a brow. "Situation?"
Gatines nods to him, tossing them both the slice of paper and the tape. "The fuck up from Paris and disclosing classified information has been done by one of our own."
The second suit scratches his forehead. "How did you come across this?"
Gatines takes another drag off of his cig. "I've been monitoring him since the incident at the hotel in New York."
The first suit nods to him. "Intelligent."
The second suit shakes his head. "He will have to be culled. The damage is already done."
Gatines nods to him, taking a deep drag off of his cig. Blowing the smoke out into the confined room. He slides over a crystal ashtray on the desk, tapping out some ash into it. "Unfortunately it is. This rouge agent could prove a major problem, considering his performance at the big shell."
The first suit nods. "Yes, though our guard cannot be reinforced."
Gatines rubs the back of his neck, grumbling. "Troop specialization with smart tech and Metal Gear Ops in Arizona. I know."
The second suit nods. "This could have only come with internal knowledge. We do indeed have a leak."
The first suit speaks. "Thanks to your information, we know who it is."
Gatines nods to them both. Taking a drag off of his cig, letting the smoke linger in his mouth for a few moments before exhaling. "I trust you know where he is."
The second suit nods his head in agreement. "We do."
"Good, set me up an operation date. I want to retire this one myself."
The first suit nods. "I knew you would like a part of this one."
The second suit nods after the first. "You were always one who liked to be a part of the action."
Gatines crushes the cig out in the silver ashtray, slipping the contents of it into the wastebasket by the desk. He wipes his hands together, "Old habits die hard. Thank you for your time, gentlemen."
The suits nod at the same time, the second speaking for the both of them. "Thank you for your time Gatines." They walked out in single file, shutting the door behind them.
The moonlight sonata soon came to an end on the stereo, Gatines closed it up and off. He wondered how the introduction of Raiden would affect the grand conspiracy. It was an interesting concept. He slid through Bourbon's desk, taking out his favorite glass, and a bottle of his favourite drink. He slowly poured himself a glass of the amber liquid, slowly filling the glass. He took a small sip it, scrunching his face up in disgust. He took the bottle and plaintively dropped it in the trash, as with the glass. Shaking his head, he stood up, pushing his chair into the desk. Gatines rubbed the back of his neck, and slowly started walking out to the office door. He smelled blood, and the hunt was on. He briefly looked up to the American flag that was positioned behind the desk. This would be a true country of liberty. Soon, Very soon. Gatines flicked off the lights and shut the door, leaving the office in darkness.