Chapter Twenty-Three: No Man's Land
Ocelot looked at Otacon who lay unconscious or dead in his arms. Snake rushed to them, but two soldiers blocked his way, pushing him back. He struggled, "Otacon!" he would yell, and the soldiers would continue to shove him this way and that. Quickly he went for his gun, but a strand of string caught hold of his SOCOM, drawing it into the hands of Little Mary. Her eyes twinkled with gleaming paint, and Snake snared at her, infuriated. "Damn you! God fucking damn you! Otacon!" The soldiers pushed him one last time, against the glass wall and it began to crack as he pushed back off of it. Ocelot's eyes shot up to Snake as he saw Jack attempt to get closer to Otacon, and the women cry.
"Desperado," he said, speaking into his radio with a tone that reeked of annoyance. "Desperado, what the hell was that?!" There was a moment's hesitation before his Russian friend replied, his tone apologetic, but firm.
"I saw the sniper. I saw him line up for a shot," he answered. "Be thankful, friend. Had he pulled it off, you could be dead," he said before setting the Stinger against the wall and stepping out of the hallway and toward the stairs.
"He did pull the shot off," Ocelot said, and Desperado halted where he stood. "Otacon is out. He's dead." Desperado warily turned, throwing his sniper rifle to the floor, its scope breaking from the base, and shattering about the floor. He looked down on it in anger, his eyes full of hate. He had pulled the trigger too late. Had it been his sniper rifle, that shot wouldn't have made it, but instead he had used the Stinger. Damn.
"Then our –," Desperado began.
"No," Ocelot replied with confidence. "There will be no changes. We will proceed as planned. Do remember, we have the Perfect Cell right here," he grinned, stepping to the conference room, and peeking inside. His face went cold, his eyes wide, and his fists tight. The Perfect Cell was nowhere to be found.
"Looking for this?" Socrates taunted, standing behind Ocelot with the Perfect Cell hovering inside the cage that sat in the palm of his hand. Ocelot's face was a mix of anger and confinement. He could not show his fury, for if he did, he would never have the Perfect Cell back. "Remember who you're dealing with. I am in control, Shalashaska. If you plan to revive me and run the show, you have another thing coming to you." The two stood there like opponents, staring each other down. "I'll hold onto this until the Hell Cell has been constructed. Then, we will discuss further plans."
Ocelot dug out his pocket watch, analyzing the time before sinking it back into the cloth of his pants and looking up at Socrates again. "You have one hour. I will show you to your quarters, and you will get to work."
"No one orders me, Shalashaska," he paused, "but I will have it finished in an hour. Don't you worry." The air was stale and the moment was cold, but in the hall where Otacon laid, his eyes pale and his hand over his wound. Snake looked at him, resentment full in his eyes. Why hadn't he stopped this from happening? Why did the Patriots want him? Damn.
"Otacon," he muttered to himself, closing his eyes and falling onto the floor, his head in his hands. Snake was not one to grieve over death, but Otacon…he had been with him ever since Shadow Moses. In the past years, the two had bonded and had become more than partners, they had become friends, and with one booming explosion of a gun, their friendship had shattered, had been torn, and was no more. Snake's eyes sought the life in Otacon, but as they searched, there was none to be found. He dropped his head between his knees and sat. Quiet. Still. Dead. He had not felt the pierce of a bullet, but he had felt it in Otacon, and as Otacon died, so did he.
"We are to continue with the operation as planned," Socrates called as he stepped into the hall, his body without dread or remorse. The death of Otacon was nothing to him. "There is only one adjustment. The four of you," he said, gesturing to Jack, Snake, Mei Ling, and Naomi, "will be confined to a cell in the sub-level of Outpost. I will not tolerate any further escapades," he said, Ocelot turning to him, enraged.
"We had a deal!" Ocelot cried. "They will be present for the ceremony!" Socrates' hand went up as he faced Ocelot with an apprehensive glare.
"I never agreed to such a thing," he grinned. "As the philosopher of Philosophy, I will direct this operation until further instructions. Shalashaska, you are but a minion. A mastermind, you thought you were, but you still level out to nothing more than my messenger...my tool." Ocelot was taken with anger, but it appeared at that moment, that the tables of control had been turned. Who was once the master, was now the messenger.
"Now let us be going," Socrates cut the silence, but the stillness remained. "Well? Is anyone willing to guide me to the labs?" He put out his arms, expecting someone to come forth, but no one did. "Ocelot," he waved, "you'll be my guide. Come." Ocelot was hesitant, but seeing as he could only gain the upper hand if he was able to regain some trust in Socrates, he followed, but turned as a figure stepped into the hall behind them.
"Why?!" the voice cried, and Snake's eyes found the figure, recognizing it to be the Ninja. His sword was gripped tightly in his hand as he threw his other arm forward, his palm stretched out toward Ocelot. Then, he looked to his right, noticing Snake. "You!" he cried. "You did this! Why couldn't you just let me sleep…let me be dead! Why must you have awaken me?!" He swung his sword upward, and as he did, the soldiers by Snake opened fire, but to their disbelief, the Ninja rebounded many of their shots, and began to dart through the air in an odd fashion.
In a swift movement, he landed before two awestruck soldiers, and swung his sword only once, parting their stomachs, and letting their insides pour onto the cold floor as they toppled to it. The scene left three guards, all of which ere guarding the other members of 'People's Will' and 'CODE,' and at the end of the hall, Ocelot stood, a glint of horror in his eyes, and a look of enjoyment too immense to hide. Socrates was beside him, and without a weapon in hand, nudged Ocelot who then pulled forth his pocket watch, examining it closely.
As he touched, the time adjusting knob on its end, holographic menus and images appeared, hovering over the glassy wall of the watch. Ocelot looked from them to the Ninja who was stepping toward Snake, but waited, hoping to see a show of great proportions play out before him, but Little Mary interfered, and as her string entangled the Ninja, the sword slashed through it, and then, found its way into the heart of Little Mary, a screech unlike any other calling from the depths of her hollow body.
Click. Ocelot pressed his finger on a holographic image, and the Ninja began to grab his head, a strikingly horrific invisible hand working its way through his body, gutting him, tearing his muscles, crushing his skull, smashing his brain to a pool of shattered memories. Snake looked at him in pain. To see him in such agony hurt both of them, and he quickly analyzed the moment of commotion.
Three guards remained, two agents of Philosophy remained unhindered, and at the end of the hall stood two infamous men, their minds convoluted with sin, and their goals filled with hate. If he could retrieve a weapon…
Quickly, the Ninja looked at him, pain filling the single red glow in the center of his face. His hand stretched out, and then he felt a rush of instinct, which stirred a sort of knowing inside of him. He realized that Snake had nothing to do with this corruption, and in that moment, he took his sword and threw it up to him. Snake caught it, looked to Jack, and tossed it to him. Jack took it in his hands and turned to the guards, demonstrating his fancywork by holding them all at a stalemate. The remaining Philosophy members glared at Ocelot in question, and Socrates turned to them with an answer. Kill.
Snake drew forth a gun from each soldier at his feet, throwing one to Naomi, and aiming his own at Ocelot. Naomi caught hers, confidently moving the crosshairs over Socrates' forehead, and Jack slipped his Hammerli 280 from its holster, and tossed it to Mei Ling who nervously pointed it in the direction of Farrel and the other Philosophy member who wore the top hat and suit. Her hands shook, but they were in control. The tables had turned again.
"Jack," Snake said, looking down at Otacon's pale body, "rope. You have rope?" Jack looked at him out of the corner of his eye with a questioning look spread about his face.
"Rope?" he asked, and Snake looked down at the Ninja who lay crippled on the floor, his body shaking uncontrollably. "Sorry, rope wasn't something I considered to be necessity."
Snake turned to the glass wall and quickly fired a few shots. It fell apart, the shards falling to the snow at the foot of the building. He looked out, bracing himself – his hand positioned on a cement column. He looked down, turned back to Ocelot, and grinned.
"Always be prepared," he said. "Scout motto." He whipped around, crouching on the floor, facing the Ninja who tried to look back up at him. There was sadness between them. A deep, impenetrable connection. Like Otacon, whatever hurt one of them, hurt the other. Snake laid his hand on the Ninja's shoulder, and he nodded back. "We'll have to jump, then," Snake said, standing. He peered out over the snow-battered lands, and turned back to his company.
They nodded in approval. Though the idea was not very probable, the company saw no better chance for escape, and standing where they were would only put them in a stalemate. They had to move. "Lady's first," Snake said, and Mei Ling and Naomi moved over to the broken wall, their guns never straying from their targets. They shot looks at each other after guessing the distance to the ground. Before they jumped, though, Jack also moved over to the wall, his eyes standing still on Otacon. "Don't worry," Snake said, sensing his fear of what might happen to Otacon if they abandoned him. Jack reluctantly washed the thoughts from his mind and the four huddled close together, their weapons pointed in every direction, holding their enemies off with three guns and a sword.
"Let him go," Snake called to Ocelot, referring to the Ninja who lay at their feet. Ocelot's eyes stung with hatred and he sneered at Snake in contradiction of his orders. Still, he nodded hesitantly, and pushed something in his holographic menu. Suddenly, the Ninja became loose, but in an instant, shot onto his feet, gripping his arms. Snake and he locked gazes, and Jack tapped the biomechanical suit, gathering the Ninja's attention. He turned, and Jack held out the sword. Nodding to them all, the Ninja gripped the sword and darted into the air, and out of the room. Snake looked at the others, and closed his eyes. "Let's drop."
Without turning from their targets, the four jumped backwards out of the hole in the glass wall, falling blindly to the stiff, frozen ground. Naomi and Mei Ling managed to easily land, curling their leg under their chests, but Jack stumbled as he dropped, and Snake forgot to bend his knees, leaving a stinging pain in his legs. As Snake looked up to the second floor, expecting to see the team drop down upon them, he saw Ocelot grin and then turn away from the edge as a voice sounded behind them. "Where are you headed?"
As they all turned, they were not surprised to see the figure of Desperado standing before them in the snow. He held a shotgun in his left hand and a UMP 450 in the other. A devilish glare was pasted about his face, and as they all seemed to await battle, their weapons tightly gripped, Snake put out his hand. "Go on to the Spire," he said, and they turned to him: one eye on Snake, the other on Desperado. "No questions. Just get to the Spire," he paused. "Now!"
Jack stepped over to Snake, set a hand on his shoulder, and then turned away, walking around Desperado, Mei Ling and Naomi at his side. As they vanished from sight in the winding storm of snow and ice, they left Snake and Desperado there, standing no more than ten meters apart, their hands tight about their guns. "Let us not waste time," Desperado glared.
In the cold of the coming morning, the two stood there, eyes pasted to each other. The only thing that dared to accompany them was the snow. The atmosphere in which they stalked was deadly, and no soul ever wished to set foot on such land. That land…not the greatest of evils deserved the fate that lay there. It was a land for no man. It was No Man's Land.
Ocelot looked at Otacon who lay unconscious or dead in his arms. Snake rushed to them, but two soldiers blocked his way, pushing him back. He struggled, "Otacon!" he would yell, and the soldiers would continue to shove him this way and that. Quickly he went for his gun, but a strand of string caught hold of his SOCOM, drawing it into the hands of Little Mary. Her eyes twinkled with gleaming paint, and Snake snared at her, infuriated. "Damn you! God fucking damn you! Otacon!" The soldiers pushed him one last time, against the glass wall and it began to crack as he pushed back off of it. Ocelot's eyes shot up to Snake as he saw Jack attempt to get closer to Otacon, and the women cry.
"Desperado," he said, speaking into his radio with a tone that reeked of annoyance. "Desperado, what the hell was that?!" There was a moment's hesitation before his Russian friend replied, his tone apologetic, but firm.
"I saw the sniper. I saw him line up for a shot," he answered. "Be thankful, friend. Had he pulled it off, you could be dead," he said before setting the Stinger against the wall and stepping out of the hallway and toward the stairs.
"He did pull the shot off," Ocelot said, and Desperado halted where he stood. "Otacon is out. He's dead." Desperado warily turned, throwing his sniper rifle to the floor, its scope breaking from the base, and shattering about the floor. He looked down on it in anger, his eyes full of hate. He had pulled the trigger too late. Had it been his sniper rifle, that shot wouldn't have made it, but instead he had used the Stinger. Damn.
"Then our –," Desperado began.
"No," Ocelot replied with confidence. "There will be no changes. We will proceed as planned. Do remember, we have the Perfect Cell right here," he grinned, stepping to the conference room, and peeking inside. His face went cold, his eyes wide, and his fists tight. The Perfect Cell was nowhere to be found.
"Looking for this?" Socrates taunted, standing behind Ocelot with the Perfect Cell hovering inside the cage that sat in the palm of his hand. Ocelot's face was a mix of anger and confinement. He could not show his fury, for if he did, he would never have the Perfect Cell back. "Remember who you're dealing with. I am in control, Shalashaska. If you plan to revive me and run the show, you have another thing coming to you." The two stood there like opponents, staring each other down. "I'll hold onto this until the Hell Cell has been constructed. Then, we will discuss further plans."
Ocelot dug out his pocket watch, analyzing the time before sinking it back into the cloth of his pants and looking up at Socrates again. "You have one hour. I will show you to your quarters, and you will get to work."
"No one orders me, Shalashaska," he paused, "but I will have it finished in an hour. Don't you worry." The air was stale and the moment was cold, but in the hall where Otacon laid, his eyes pale and his hand over his wound. Snake looked at him, resentment full in his eyes. Why hadn't he stopped this from happening? Why did the Patriots want him? Damn.
"Otacon," he muttered to himself, closing his eyes and falling onto the floor, his head in his hands. Snake was not one to grieve over death, but Otacon…he had been with him ever since Shadow Moses. In the past years, the two had bonded and had become more than partners, they had become friends, and with one booming explosion of a gun, their friendship had shattered, had been torn, and was no more. Snake's eyes sought the life in Otacon, but as they searched, there was none to be found. He dropped his head between his knees and sat. Quiet. Still. Dead. He had not felt the pierce of a bullet, but he had felt it in Otacon, and as Otacon died, so did he.
"We are to continue with the operation as planned," Socrates called as he stepped into the hall, his body without dread or remorse. The death of Otacon was nothing to him. "There is only one adjustment. The four of you," he said, gesturing to Jack, Snake, Mei Ling, and Naomi, "will be confined to a cell in the sub-level of Outpost. I will not tolerate any further escapades," he said, Ocelot turning to him, enraged.
"We had a deal!" Ocelot cried. "They will be present for the ceremony!" Socrates' hand went up as he faced Ocelot with an apprehensive glare.
"I never agreed to such a thing," he grinned. "As the philosopher of Philosophy, I will direct this operation until further instructions. Shalashaska, you are but a minion. A mastermind, you thought you were, but you still level out to nothing more than my messenger...my tool." Ocelot was taken with anger, but it appeared at that moment, that the tables of control had been turned. Who was once the master, was now the messenger.
"Now let us be going," Socrates cut the silence, but the stillness remained. "Well? Is anyone willing to guide me to the labs?" He put out his arms, expecting someone to come forth, but no one did. "Ocelot," he waved, "you'll be my guide. Come." Ocelot was hesitant, but seeing as he could only gain the upper hand if he was able to regain some trust in Socrates, he followed, but turned as a figure stepped into the hall behind them.
"Why?!" the voice cried, and Snake's eyes found the figure, recognizing it to be the Ninja. His sword was gripped tightly in his hand as he threw his other arm forward, his palm stretched out toward Ocelot. Then, he looked to his right, noticing Snake. "You!" he cried. "You did this! Why couldn't you just let me sleep…let me be dead! Why must you have awaken me?!" He swung his sword upward, and as he did, the soldiers by Snake opened fire, but to their disbelief, the Ninja rebounded many of their shots, and began to dart through the air in an odd fashion.
In a swift movement, he landed before two awestruck soldiers, and swung his sword only once, parting their stomachs, and letting their insides pour onto the cold floor as they toppled to it. The scene left three guards, all of which ere guarding the other members of 'People's Will' and 'CODE,' and at the end of the hall, Ocelot stood, a glint of horror in his eyes, and a look of enjoyment too immense to hide. Socrates was beside him, and without a weapon in hand, nudged Ocelot who then pulled forth his pocket watch, examining it closely.
As he touched, the time adjusting knob on its end, holographic menus and images appeared, hovering over the glassy wall of the watch. Ocelot looked from them to the Ninja who was stepping toward Snake, but waited, hoping to see a show of great proportions play out before him, but Little Mary interfered, and as her string entangled the Ninja, the sword slashed through it, and then, found its way into the heart of Little Mary, a screech unlike any other calling from the depths of her hollow body.
Click. Ocelot pressed his finger on a holographic image, and the Ninja began to grab his head, a strikingly horrific invisible hand working its way through his body, gutting him, tearing his muscles, crushing his skull, smashing his brain to a pool of shattered memories. Snake looked at him in pain. To see him in such agony hurt both of them, and he quickly analyzed the moment of commotion.
Three guards remained, two agents of Philosophy remained unhindered, and at the end of the hall stood two infamous men, their minds convoluted with sin, and their goals filled with hate. If he could retrieve a weapon…
Quickly, the Ninja looked at him, pain filling the single red glow in the center of his face. His hand stretched out, and then he felt a rush of instinct, which stirred a sort of knowing inside of him. He realized that Snake had nothing to do with this corruption, and in that moment, he took his sword and threw it up to him. Snake caught it, looked to Jack, and tossed it to him. Jack took it in his hands and turned to the guards, demonstrating his fancywork by holding them all at a stalemate. The remaining Philosophy members glared at Ocelot in question, and Socrates turned to them with an answer. Kill.
Snake drew forth a gun from each soldier at his feet, throwing one to Naomi, and aiming his own at Ocelot. Naomi caught hers, confidently moving the crosshairs over Socrates' forehead, and Jack slipped his Hammerli 280 from its holster, and tossed it to Mei Ling who nervously pointed it in the direction of Farrel and the other Philosophy member who wore the top hat and suit. Her hands shook, but they were in control. The tables had turned again.
"Jack," Snake said, looking down at Otacon's pale body, "rope. You have rope?" Jack looked at him out of the corner of his eye with a questioning look spread about his face.
"Rope?" he asked, and Snake looked down at the Ninja who lay crippled on the floor, his body shaking uncontrollably. "Sorry, rope wasn't something I considered to be necessity."
Snake turned to the glass wall and quickly fired a few shots. It fell apart, the shards falling to the snow at the foot of the building. He looked out, bracing himself – his hand positioned on a cement column. He looked down, turned back to Ocelot, and grinned.
"Always be prepared," he said. "Scout motto." He whipped around, crouching on the floor, facing the Ninja who tried to look back up at him. There was sadness between them. A deep, impenetrable connection. Like Otacon, whatever hurt one of them, hurt the other. Snake laid his hand on the Ninja's shoulder, and he nodded back. "We'll have to jump, then," Snake said, standing. He peered out over the snow-battered lands, and turned back to his company.
They nodded in approval. Though the idea was not very probable, the company saw no better chance for escape, and standing where they were would only put them in a stalemate. They had to move. "Lady's first," Snake said, and Mei Ling and Naomi moved over to the broken wall, their guns never straying from their targets. They shot looks at each other after guessing the distance to the ground. Before they jumped, though, Jack also moved over to the wall, his eyes standing still on Otacon. "Don't worry," Snake said, sensing his fear of what might happen to Otacon if they abandoned him. Jack reluctantly washed the thoughts from his mind and the four huddled close together, their weapons pointed in every direction, holding their enemies off with three guns and a sword.
"Let him go," Snake called to Ocelot, referring to the Ninja who lay at their feet. Ocelot's eyes stung with hatred and he sneered at Snake in contradiction of his orders. Still, he nodded hesitantly, and pushed something in his holographic menu. Suddenly, the Ninja became loose, but in an instant, shot onto his feet, gripping his arms. Snake and he locked gazes, and Jack tapped the biomechanical suit, gathering the Ninja's attention. He turned, and Jack held out the sword. Nodding to them all, the Ninja gripped the sword and darted into the air, and out of the room. Snake looked at the others, and closed his eyes. "Let's drop."
Without turning from their targets, the four jumped backwards out of the hole in the glass wall, falling blindly to the stiff, frozen ground. Naomi and Mei Ling managed to easily land, curling their leg under their chests, but Jack stumbled as he dropped, and Snake forgot to bend his knees, leaving a stinging pain in his legs. As Snake looked up to the second floor, expecting to see the team drop down upon them, he saw Ocelot grin and then turn away from the edge as a voice sounded behind them. "Where are you headed?"
As they all turned, they were not surprised to see the figure of Desperado standing before them in the snow. He held a shotgun in his left hand and a UMP 450 in the other. A devilish glare was pasted about his face, and as they all seemed to await battle, their weapons tightly gripped, Snake put out his hand. "Go on to the Spire," he said, and they turned to him: one eye on Snake, the other on Desperado. "No questions. Just get to the Spire," he paused. "Now!"
Jack stepped over to Snake, set a hand on his shoulder, and then turned away, walking around Desperado, Mei Ling and Naomi at his side. As they vanished from sight in the winding storm of snow and ice, they left Snake and Desperado there, standing no more than ten meters apart, their hands tight about their guns. "Let us not waste time," Desperado glared.
In the cold of the coming morning, the two stood there, eyes pasted to each other. The only thing that dared to accompany them was the snow. The atmosphere in which they stalked was deadly, and no soul ever wished to set foot on such land. That land…not the greatest of evils deserved the fate that lay there. It was a land for no man. It was No Man's Land.