Chapter Eight: Like in a Game of Chess
Turret watched as Snake fired his SOCOM, spending the last of its ammo. As the bullets whizzed toward Turret's chest, they became frightened and fled in every direction, inevitably crashing into the walls. One bullet had nearly taken the life of one of the hostages, and when Snake stopped and threw aside his weapon, he watched Turret lay back his head and laugh a deep, disturbing laugh…really, more of a dark cackle than a laugh…or a wretched howl to the moon, like a wolf would do if it had sighted fresh meat exposed and defenseless.
"Snake," he proclaimed. "You do not take me for a fool, do you?" He watched Snake's face become crooked and then howled again, noticing the humorous, uncertainty that had come about him. "You are not wise…" Turret's eyes strayed to his waistline, where, at the edge of his hip was clamped the same device Snake had seen strung about Ocelot during the Sons of Liberty incident.
"All that's left is cutting edge technology," Snake recited as if from a poem. "Heh…where'd you get yours? Ocelot mentioned Meijer, but I wasn't too sure where I would find the best deal. I was thinking Radio Shack, really." Turret smirked back.
"A sense of humor, eh? I wouldn't be so cocky as you, if I were standing before two very large execution weapons. I wonder…what fuels such confidence? Do you have a plan? Heh…is there something up your sleeve?"
"Maybe," Snake smiled, his eyes straying to the delivery boy that remained against the cement column to his left. The man looked oddly back, and watched his eyes go from himself to Turret, and then back again.
"Do not attempt to grow a brain!" Turret demanded.
"Speed," Snake said. "Good movie, but not realistic."
"Movie trivia, Snake? How about we play a game?" Turret thought for a moment and then smiled. "I ask you a question. You answer correct, and you take one step closer. You answer incorrectly, and I dock you. You miss three, and I shoot."
"What do I get to do when I reach you?" Snake questioned.
"You get one of these two, very large guns. And then, we will duel," Turret answered. Snake did not hesitate to reply.
"How is a gun going to help if you are protected by that gadget?" Snake asked, quickly.
"Well," Turret began, and then paused, "it is certainly better than nothing, eh?" He put on a wide grin and then began.
"Hmm…from what movie, Snake, does this line come?" He waited. "Tomorrow is another day." Turret's eyes flashed with excitement and the game had begun. Snake pondered, trying to search back, and within a few seconds, he had his answer.
"Gone with the Wind," he stated very nonchalantly, and took a slow step towards Turret.
"Good!" Turret cried. "It surprises me that a man like yourself would have ever seen such a movie."
"I get in touch with my feminine side, occasionally," Snake grunted and awaited the next challenge.
"Then this shall be more enjoyable than I had expected…this one is a musical. Think…lightning! Think cars!" Snake had no idea. Musicals had never quite been his thing.
"Cats," he said, but his voice told that he had shot with a blindfold over his eyes. He was wrong.
"I'm sorry, that is incorrect. The musical was Grease!" Snake didn't show any signs of fear or discontent, but instead, continued to listen. "That's one strike, Snake. Two more, and you're out!"
"Next question."
"What movie made the phrase, 'Show me the money!' popular?" Turret asked.
"Jerry Maguire, 1996, Tom Cruise." Snake grinned. "One of my favorites." As he said that, he took another step forward, only one away from a new gun. Turret smiled very wide, showing the glinting teeth that hid behind his large lips.
"Right again! That's two hits! One strike! Ready for the next one?" Turret asked, but without waiting for a reply, he continued. "In what horror movie did the killer cry, ' It's a scream, baby!'?" Snake, once again, was very unsure.
"…"
"No?" Turret waited, but Snake did not answer. "Scream!" Turret had yelled rather loudly, and when Snake's eyes scanned the room, he noticed several hostages flinch. Quickly, he returned to Turret, realizing that he needed to get the next question right or else he would most likely not survive. That was not something he wanted to think about, but there wasn't much else on his mind. Survival was an obvious key.
"It's two and two, Snake! This next question means your life." He waited, but Snake made no sign of acknowledgement. "Right…in what movie was the phrase 'Carpe Diem' used time and time again?"
Snake knew the answer right off the bat, but he knew that as soon as he took a gun, his fate was sealed. He couldn't stop Turret with or without a gun, no matter how long or heavy it was. He needed to come up with a plan. One that would allow him to stop Turret.
"Still thinking?" Turret nagged. Snake stared him in the eyes - those bright, flashing eyes – and pondered. He pondered, and pondered…and pondered.
"Dead Poets Society." There was silence for just a moment, but then, Turret broke it with his incessant howl.
"You did it!" he cried. "Ha! You did it! Now…Snake…step forth and claim your weapon of choice," he said. Snake hesitated for less than a second, and then stepped forward. Looking to Turret's hip, he lightly took hold of Raven's large chain gun, but then in some quick motion, he pulled his hands away, one of them darting to Turret's hip, the other grasping Fortune's weapon. The action was hazed and too quick for even Turret to recognized, but when Snake took hold of Fortune's gun, took eight steps away, and faced Turret, it was obvious he had some sort of plan.
"Do take care of that," Turret began. "I am very sensitive about that one."
"I'll be sure not to scratch it," Snake replied and Turret gave a weary glance back at him, which was then masked with a bright, evil grin.
"Snake," he paused. "Now is when we duel!" Turret lifted the chain gun quickly, before Snake even attempted to lift his own, and watched in confusion at Snake's odd stance. He had not even attempted to lift his weapon. "Burn!" Turret cried, and it was then that the delivery boy understood what Snake had done to Turret. As Snake waved for him to duck around the column, he say the small gray box stuck to the bottom of Raven's chain gun, and just as Turret pulled the trigger, the delivery boy ducked around the post.
There was a flash, and in an instant, Turret howled to the moon, his arm exploding as the bullets within the chain gun were deflected in every direction. He wailed out as Snake readied Fortune's gun and took aim. The entire body of the chain gun had fallen apart, and lay shattered about the floor, while Turret's arm was ripped and torn like paper through a shredder.
Streams of blood made their way about Turret's body as he kneeled on the ground, holding what remained of his arm like an infant. Tears began to smear the blood and a look of hurt and rage consumed the man's face as he stared, as if insane, at Snake.
The cries of the hostages about the room began to subside, slowly, and the delivery boy had worked his way around the pole, and was again facing the two. Snake held Fortune's gun even with Turret's head, and kept steady.
"I'm the king of the world," Snake stated. "What movie?" Turret did not let go of his arm, thick blood trickling from it like tomato soup. His eyes were flush with pain, and his legs were crumpled beneath his body. Beside him were the pieces of Raven's chain gun and among them, the shards of his only method of protection. It had failed him.
He hesitated, a large bump growing in his throat. "Titanic," he growled. Snake grinned and lowered his gun. Turret's eyes shot in every direction, too confused and bewildered to understand Snake's generosity. Then, he began to shift onto his feet, Snake's two eyes scanning his every move. A grin spreading across his face, Turret found balance, his arm still cradled against his chest. "Like in a game of chess," he started, "you never let your opponent live longer than he must." His grin turned into a nasty sneer and as quickly as he could, he let his shredded arm go limp, and he slipped a scout knife from his belt. As soon as he let it fly, a shot rang out and the knife clattered against the wall. Turret looked, stunned, at Snake and fell as a blue surge of electricity consumed his last drop of life.
"I didn't intend to," Snake muttered as he regained his comfortable footing having dodged the knife moments earlier. Fortune's gun fell to the floor and he slowly advanced on the delivery boy who remained tied against the column. He looked down. "What do you know?" He asked, as if Turret's body was not lying behind him.
The delivery boy cocked his head, motioning for Snake to remove the rope that was strung about him. Snake gave him a quick look of uncertainty and then turned on his heel to retrieve the knife Turret had launched at him. He bent down and picked it up in his right hand, its handle of glossy leather and its blade of shining steel. It was heavy.
Returning to the delivery boy, he stopped and holstered his SOCOM that lay on the floor. "Good gun," he said and kneeled beside the delivery boy, proceeding to cut the rope that bound him, uncomfortably, to the column. He stood, and the delivery boy did the same, looking him in the eye. Snake couldn't help but recognize the glimmering blue of his eyes…they were oddly familiar.
"So?" Snake pursued.
The delivery boy stared at him, and then smirked. "Can't utter a word," he said and Snake stumbled back in shock. "Take care of these hostages. I'll meet up again with you later." Snake's mouth fell open, slightly, as the delivery boy turned and ran for the exit, turning back only once to remove his black ski mask.
It was Jack.
Turret watched as Snake fired his SOCOM, spending the last of its ammo. As the bullets whizzed toward Turret's chest, they became frightened and fled in every direction, inevitably crashing into the walls. One bullet had nearly taken the life of one of the hostages, and when Snake stopped and threw aside his weapon, he watched Turret lay back his head and laugh a deep, disturbing laugh…really, more of a dark cackle than a laugh…or a wretched howl to the moon, like a wolf would do if it had sighted fresh meat exposed and defenseless.
"Snake," he proclaimed. "You do not take me for a fool, do you?" He watched Snake's face become crooked and then howled again, noticing the humorous, uncertainty that had come about him. "You are not wise…" Turret's eyes strayed to his waistline, where, at the edge of his hip was clamped the same device Snake had seen strung about Ocelot during the Sons of Liberty incident.
"All that's left is cutting edge technology," Snake recited as if from a poem. "Heh…where'd you get yours? Ocelot mentioned Meijer, but I wasn't too sure where I would find the best deal. I was thinking Radio Shack, really." Turret smirked back.
"A sense of humor, eh? I wouldn't be so cocky as you, if I were standing before two very large execution weapons. I wonder…what fuels such confidence? Do you have a plan? Heh…is there something up your sleeve?"
"Maybe," Snake smiled, his eyes straying to the delivery boy that remained against the cement column to his left. The man looked oddly back, and watched his eyes go from himself to Turret, and then back again.
"Do not attempt to grow a brain!" Turret demanded.
"Speed," Snake said. "Good movie, but not realistic."
"Movie trivia, Snake? How about we play a game?" Turret thought for a moment and then smiled. "I ask you a question. You answer correct, and you take one step closer. You answer incorrectly, and I dock you. You miss three, and I shoot."
"What do I get to do when I reach you?" Snake questioned.
"You get one of these two, very large guns. And then, we will duel," Turret answered. Snake did not hesitate to reply.
"How is a gun going to help if you are protected by that gadget?" Snake asked, quickly.
"Well," Turret began, and then paused, "it is certainly better than nothing, eh?" He put on a wide grin and then began.
"Hmm…from what movie, Snake, does this line come?" He waited. "Tomorrow is another day." Turret's eyes flashed with excitement and the game had begun. Snake pondered, trying to search back, and within a few seconds, he had his answer.
"Gone with the Wind," he stated very nonchalantly, and took a slow step towards Turret.
"Good!" Turret cried. "It surprises me that a man like yourself would have ever seen such a movie."
"I get in touch with my feminine side, occasionally," Snake grunted and awaited the next challenge.
"Then this shall be more enjoyable than I had expected…this one is a musical. Think…lightning! Think cars!" Snake had no idea. Musicals had never quite been his thing.
"Cats," he said, but his voice told that he had shot with a blindfold over his eyes. He was wrong.
"I'm sorry, that is incorrect. The musical was Grease!" Snake didn't show any signs of fear or discontent, but instead, continued to listen. "That's one strike, Snake. Two more, and you're out!"
"Next question."
"What movie made the phrase, 'Show me the money!' popular?" Turret asked.
"Jerry Maguire, 1996, Tom Cruise." Snake grinned. "One of my favorites." As he said that, he took another step forward, only one away from a new gun. Turret smiled very wide, showing the glinting teeth that hid behind his large lips.
"Right again! That's two hits! One strike! Ready for the next one?" Turret asked, but without waiting for a reply, he continued. "In what horror movie did the killer cry, ' It's a scream, baby!'?" Snake, once again, was very unsure.
"…"
"No?" Turret waited, but Snake did not answer. "Scream!" Turret had yelled rather loudly, and when Snake's eyes scanned the room, he noticed several hostages flinch. Quickly, he returned to Turret, realizing that he needed to get the next question right or else he would most likely not survive. That was not something he wanted to think about, but there wasn't much else on his mind. Survival was an obvious key.
"It's two and two, Snake! This next question means your life." He waited, but Snake made no sign of acknowledgement. "Right…in what movie was the phrase 'Carpe Diem' used time and time again?"
Snake knew the answer right off the bat, but he knew that as soon as he took a gun, his fate was sealed. He couldn't stop Turret with or without a gun, no matter how long or heavy it was. He needed to come up with a plan. One that would allow him to stop Turret.
"Still thinking?" Turret nagged. Snake stared him in the eyes - those bright, flashing eyes – and pondered. He pondered, and pondered…and pondered.
"Dead Poets Society." There was silence for just a moment, but then, Turret broke it with his incessant howl.
"You did it!" he cried. "Ha! You did it! Now…Snake…step forth and claim your weapon of choice," he said. Snake hesitated for less than a second, and then stepped forward. Looking to Turret's hip, he lightly took hold of Raven's large chain gun, but then in some quick motion, he pulled his hands away, one of them darting to Turret's hip, the other grasping Fortune's weapon. The action was hazed and too quick for even Turret to recognized, but when Snake took hold of Fortune's gun, took eight steps away, and faced Turret, it was obvious he had some sort of plan.
"Do take care of that," Turret began. "I am very sensitive about that one."
"I'll be sure not to scratch it," Snake replied and Turret gave a weary glance back at him, which was then masked with a bright, evil grin.
"Snake," he paused. "Now is when we duel!" Turret lifted the chain gun quickly, before Snake even attempted to lift his own, and watched in confusion at Snake's odd stance. He had not even attempted to lift his weapon. "Burn!" Turret cried, and it was then that the delivery boy understood what Snake had done to Turret. As Snake waved for him to duck around the column, he say the small gray box stuck to the bottom of Raven's chain gun, and just as Turret pulled the trigger, the delivery boy ducked around the post.
There was a flash, and in an instant, Turret howled to the moon, his arm exploding as the bullets within the chain gun were deflected in every direction. He wailed out as Snake readied Fortune's gun and took aim. The entire body of the chain gun had fallen apart, and lay shattered about the floor, while Turret's arm was ripped and torn like paper through a shredder.
Streams of blood made their way about Turret's body as he kneeled on the ground, holding what remained of his arm like an infant. Tears began to smear the blood and a look of hurt and rage consumed the man's face as he stared, as if insane, at Snake.
The cries of the hostages about the room began to subside, slowly, and the delivery boy had worked his way around the pole, and was again facing the two. Snake held Fortune's gun even with Turret's head, and kept steady.
"I'm the king of the world," Snake stated. "What movie?" Turret did not let go of his arm, thick blood trickling from it like tomato soup. His eyes were flush with pain, and his legs were crumpled beneath his body. Beside him were the pieces of Raven's chain gun and among them, the shards of his only method of protection. It had failed him.
He hesitated, a large bump growing in his throat. "Titanic," he growled. Snake grinned and lowered his gun. Turret's eyes shot in every direction, too confused and bewildered to understand Snake's generosity. Then, he began to shift onto his feet, Snake's two eyes scanning his every move. A grin spreading across his face, Turret found balance, his arm still cradled against his chest. "Like in a game of chess," he started, "you never let your opponent live longer than he must." His grin turned into a nasty sneer and as quickly as he could, he let his shredded arm go limp, and he slipped a scout knife from his belt. As soon as he let it fly, a shot rang out and the knife clattered against the wall. Turret looked, stunned, at Snake and fell as a blue surge of electricity consumed his last drop of life.
"I didn't intend to," Snake muttered as he regained his comfortable footing having dodged the knife moments earlier. Fortune's gun fell to the floor and he slowly advanced on the delivery boy who remained tied against the column. He looked down. "What do you know?" He asked, as if Turret's body was not lying behind him.
The delivery boy cocked his head, motioning for Snake to remove the rope that was strung about him. Snake gave him a quick look of uncertainty and then turned on his heel to retrieve the knife Turret had launched at him. He bent down and picked it up in his right hand, its handle of glossy leather and its blade of shining steel. It was heavy.
Returning to the delivery boy, he stopped and holstered his SOCOM that lay on the floor. "Good gun," he said and kneeled beside the delivery boy, proceeding to cut the rope that bound him, uncomfortably, to the column. He stood, and the delivery boy did the same, looking him in the eye. Snake couldn't help but recognize the glimmering blue of his eyes…they were oddly familiar.
"So?" Snake pursued.
The delivery boy stared at him, and then smirked. "Can't utter a word," he said and Snake stumbled back in shock. "Take care of these hostages. I'll meet up again with you later." Snake's mouth fell open, slightly, as the delivery boy turned and ran for the exit, turning back only once to remove his black ski mask.
It was Jack.