Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Compilation
"I advise you," Ocelot began, "to do exactly as I say. I thought the incentive I gave you was worthy of the circumstances." The line the company had created, independent of the guards as well as the remaining officers of Philosophy, did not waver in that moment, but held strong, coming together like a horde of bees, drawn to the wonderful scent of honey, which they would protect and shield from the scheming bunch that existed in nature, like the bullies of school…or the Ocelot of the world. He was one of a kind, but together they could turn him around, turn him away from CELL. They would stop him where he stood, his feet never moving from where they had been planted at the beginning of their 'verbal revolt.'
"Your incentive," Snake paused, "is bull shit." Ocelot's retreating glare had returned to its normal 'Don't tell me I didn't warn you' expression, and he slowly stepped toward Otacon, moving his hand to the holster that held his revolver.
"Through this device," Ocelot made a gesture, moving the crowd's attention to the small 'image' device, "Farrel was able to capture the completed blueprints from Otacon. So you see, there is no longer a need for our dear scientist, and it appears you do not fear for his health, so –," Snake stopped him in the middle of his sentence.
"You hurt him," Snake burst, "and I'll rip your spine out, I swear." Ocelot stopped, his hand no longer moving, but still and lifeless, lightly touching his holster. He began to pat it with his fingers, playing an unrecognizable tune, improvising, portraying the beat of his heart with the patter of his fingers. Snake's face was stern and unforgiving, and even Otacon looked at him, oddly hurt by his remark.
Slowly, an orchestra playing something like a symphony on the leather holster dangling from his belt, Ocelot pivoted on his right heel, the tension growing, his heart beating faster and faster, and the company breathing heavier and heavier, their hearts coming faster and faster as Ocelot's. It was in Ocelot's fingers, everything. He could slip out his revolver and take them all down but the Ninja before a single one of them would have been able to move for cover. And he would go for Snake first. He'd send that bullet right through his heart, or maybe aim for his forehead, and then, when it was all over he would laugh. He would chuckle for a moment, forget they ever existed, and board CELL en route for Washington D.C. or wherever he planned to destroy another number of lives. He was like a virus, its contagious strain, viciously spreading without remorse, without recollection. A virus. So sickening.
"I wonder why I don't kill you now," Ocelot said. He stopped, set his toes to the floor, and let his hand fall away from his holster, his song coming to a quick and startling halt. Mei Ling shuddered when he spoke, but she covered it well, not letting him notice her slight weakness, her hidden fear. Everyone feared something. Some feared life, people like the Ninja, while others feared death, people like Mei Ling…people like Ocelot.
"You're afraid," Snake said, realizing it all himself. "You're afraid to die." Ocelot cocked his head to the side, trying o make sense of Snake's babbling, and a smile overtook him. He found the scene to be humorous, but Snake saw it to be exactly the opposite. He did not smile, he did not grin, but he looked on with his blank stare, the one he used more than any other. It was the universal sign of Solid Snake. The universal sign of a true warrior, a legend. "You don't 'not want' to die, but you 'fear' dying."
"You do have a way of twisting words," Ocelot replied, disgusted with Snake's blow, but at the same time surprised and proud, "but you do indeed carry the power of manipulation. I have to say, I am impressed with your acting, Solid Snake."
"I don't act," he replied. There was no uncertainty in his voice. He was confident, and not even a gun barrel to his temple could turn him away from what he believed, from what he followed. "I play my role. The role I was given at birth. You play the role of some cruel role model, some clouded image. I am myself, but you…you're not even human." Ocelot's brow went crooked, and he stepped toward Snake, a menacing glare leaving everyone in a wretched silence. The only sound that filled the room was the echoing clatter of Ocelot's boots, playing a whimsical tune: one of beauty, grace, and genius. Everything, in that moment, seemed amplified and magnified, every movement and every word appearing in the most powerful of forms.
"You speak before you think," Ocelot finally broke the painful silence that gripped the company, tearing their hearts and making their minds scream in agony. "And you manage to put it beautifully. My role model was the image of a general, someone with power, someone who held a gun. I watched television, and learned to spin a revolver like the actors. I wanted to be a legend, a hero, but I grew up under the influence of violence, under the influence of stars. I'm sure I would have gone sour anyway, but afraid to die? Heh, that is your only false accusation. I have never been more willing."
"You wanted to be a legend," Snake proclaimed. "Legends aren't afraid to die. They're legends because nothing stops them. They face death and laugh. A legend? A hero? T.V. can't crank out those. It's your blood. If it's cold," he paused, "you've got a chance. But not freezing," he waited for Ocelot's reaction. It was lifeless. "It's no wonder you continue to stage your missions in the freezing wastelands. I think you missed the opportunity by just a few degrees." Ocelot grimaced at Snake, a displeasing taste arriving in the depths of his throat. He fought to send it away, but it stayed…like a stench that emanated from yourself, something that followed you everywhere.
Then, he pulled his revolver, it's barrel aimed at Snake, and once it was out of its holster, the Ninja was beside Snake, his sword drawn, and his breath heavy. Ocelot narrowed his eyes at the Ninja, his dislike for him something that was only challenged by his dislike for Snake. "Hmph," he grunted, and then swiftly spun to Otacon, firing four times.
A body slumped to the ground and Snake started forward but the Ninja managed to catch hold of his arm. Ocelot spun his revolver back into its holster, and lightly kicked the body that lay on the floor. "Umf!" Otacon replied, and Snake looked up in hope, seeing the four broken leather bindings as the scientist moved onto his feet rubbing his wrists with discomfort. Quickly, he moved over to Snake without confrontation, and the two met, their arms wrapping around each other in joy.
"You all right?" Snake asked, the two stepping away to look at each other. Otacon nodded, an awkward but somewhat casual smile on his face.
"Well," Otacon paused, rubbing the back of his head and tapping his toes on the floor, their echoing provoking him to stop. "I'm…all right, yea." Snake smiled at him, happy to know that things were still okay, and then, not knowing where to take the conversation, simply made space in the line where Otacon gladly stepped in, turning around again to face Ocelot as the others did.
"I didn't need you any longer," Ocelot sneered, "be grateful that I let you live." Otacon wasn't grateful. Yes, he had been returned to life, a life he wished to continue living, but it was…strange. Everything was. In those moments that he saw that window crack, everything was so clear. He was shot, everything faded away, and he died. It was plain cut, but being returned…he felt an uneasy sensation in the depth of his stomach, and everything was a blur. The lines of reality had vanished and his bindings had shattered. He was unsure now…not like he was before when he sat behind his computer, talking to Snake in his own safe haven. That death…and that revival…they'd changed him, but 'how' was something neither he nor Snake could point out. It was just…strange.
"Didn't need him?" Snake questioned, his tone impatient and accented with an uneasy anger. "You still need time." Ocelot began to pace back and forth, his endless speeches growing strenuous.
"No, no," Ocelot assured him, "there will be no further delays. The time has all ready come for CELL to be awakened. You see, as you were infiltrating Hell's Outpost, and Otacon was completing the blueprints, Desperado was keeping a steady connection with Farrel who fed the completed blueprints back to this very area. Then, all we needed was for the plans to be carried out.
"So we hired a staff of engineers to construct the Cell Drive and insert it into Metal Gear CELL while the rest of you went off, only seeing the minor tasks required to be carried out was this to work. Desperado supervised the construction, and once it was ready, we moved him to the surface and transported him a few miles off where he boarded a helicopter and faked his arrival. Even though we knew that Ocelot would not witness the arrival, we had to make it precise. There could be no faults, no hints, no trouble. It had to be perfect. Everything had to be perfect.
"We imitated the trade of the Perfect Cell and the 15,000 dollars, seeing as the only way the Ninja could be incorporated was through his kidnapping, and his revival. Yes, the money was real, and so was the Perfect Cell, but the transition left us with both pieces of the trade in our possession. The money…and the cell." Ocelot stopped pacing, and turned to the line, his revolver suddenly appearing in his hand. He was quick. "So you see…EVERYTHING was setup. Of course, you took this mission independently. You had no tip off but that of the media, and believing that the Patriots weren't involved was the trick to getting you here. That way, you figured the media was not false, and you came right into our hands as we wished for you to do."
"The Patriots are involved?" Snake asked quizzically. "Other than you?" Ocelot seemed as if he did not want to answer the question at the time, and so he blew it off, moving on.
"And so, we come to the final stage," he stated, Snake pondering his reason for averting the question. "Now is the time to raise CELL and march to the capital. We will show the world our power…" he trailed off, and Snake took a slight step forward, but as he did a gunshot sounded, echoing like a sick reminder through the air. Ocelot's revolver was held high, a thin trail of smoke lifted into the air, leaving its brandished end. Left inches from his right foot was a black scar, a red light burning in its center. "Now, now, Snake. It would be rather unfortunate seeing you die so late in the game." Snake retreated to his original position, and Otacon looked over at him, his heart stinging with concern. He hated seeing Snake singled out, taking on the world as he stood there doing nothing. "Desperado," Ocelot turned to his 'old friend' and gestured for them to move to CELL, "it is time." Desperado nodded wearily, but there was a slight sense of anticipation in the moment.
"You, stay here. We'll take her for a test run," Ocelot smiled, turning to Desperado as the two headed down a walkway that led to a set of metal stairs ascending upon a catwalk that eventually led to the cockpit of Metal Gear CELL, the Perfect Cell and Hell Cell in their hands. The cells would be loaded into the Cell Drive from the cockpit, making it easier for them to board without worrying about how long it would take before they could truly set off. Everyone turned, watching as they went away, and Formal and Farrel looked disapprovingly, somewhat upset to see them boarding instead of themselves. "Let's get them into confinements," Farrel ordered, and the soldiers began to move up from behind, pulling at the company, forcing them from their line.
Otacon felt a man's hand on his shoulder, but he tugged away, trying to hold his ground. There was another pull, one more powerful than the last, but he shrugged it off as well, seeing Snake beside him, not a man daring to come near him or the Ninja. Farrel saw Otacon, refusing to follow, and stepped over to him, his face implying that he was far too impatient to deal with his insolence. "You're coming," Farrel said, squeezing Otacon's arm tightly, causing him to cringe in pain.
Snake turned, gripping his hand around Farrel's forearm that was rest on Otacon's, "Don't touch him," Snake said, his face possessing no compassion or sentiment, only fury, only rage. Farrel looked at him, a look like 'Who do you think you're talking to?' all over his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but Snake interrupted. "I said…don't touch him."
Then, as Ocelot and Desperado had reached the catwalk, conquering the flight of shaky steps, Snake grabbed at Farrel's waist taking a grip on his pistol, but Farrel's hands dropped, securing the gun in its holster as the two struggled over it. The Ninja turned his head, seeing the attempt, and held out his sword, running it through a soldier's chest, blood spilling onto the cold floor. Ocelot and Desperado turned, hearing the rip of flesh and the grunts of Snake and Farrel.
By that time, everyone realized what was happening, and Formal quickly drew from his jacket a set of knives, spreading them in his hands like playing cards before setting them into the air. Soldiers fell victim to the Ninja's fierce sword, and Jack's quick boxing techniques, as the knives moved through the air, abnormally, around Mei Ling and Naomi. As the two ran for the catwalk, hoping to stop Ocelot and Desperado, they found themselves caught. Enclosed. The knives that hovered about had created the vertices of a box, and they were within its boundaries – all invisible of course. "Jack!" Mei Ling cried, and he turned from his bout, seeing the evident peril they were in. Formal turned to Jack as he moved away from the soldiers, and pulled forth two knives, gripping their handles tightly with each fist. He grinned, his eyes catching another soldier. "Bring it on!" he mouthed, the soldier's voice springing into the air the moment before he felt the impact of the Ninja's blade in his chest.
As Jack and Formal broke into a ferocious battle, Mei Ling and Naomi remained helpless, and the Ninja continued slashing away, deflecting bullets, and protecting Otacon who had been separated from Snake. Farrel and Snake were still in heavy pursuit of Farrel's own gun, their hands writhing furiously to take control. Unless someone intervened, they could keep at it as long as their bodies were able.
"Take care of this!" Ocelot shouted, and he and Desperado quickly moved along the catwalk to where the head of CELL lay even, the panel to the cockpit wide open, awaiting their arrival. The Ninja turned to another soldier, nine at his feet, and raised his sword, ready to strike off another bullet, but as he pulled it down, an unexpected shot rang out, and then another, and another, and another. The blade fell to the floor, ringing into the morning like the highest voice in an opera. Everyone turned. He fell, his body booming against the cement.
Snake had lost control of the gun…it was in Farrel's hand, raised triumphantly to where the Ninja had stood. Snake didn't move, his eyes standing still. Nobody moved. Even Formal and Jack had stopped and turned to witness the moment. Naomi fell against the invisible wall, her hand pounding against it, and tears flowing down her face as Mei Ling tried to comfort her.
The Ninja lay there, barely moving, a hole in his back. After the first shot, it had begun to regenerate…to heal, but when the second came, and then the third…the technology wasn't able to save him then. He was bleeding through the suit…bleeding fast.
Otacon – who was on the floor, his body aching and his legs throbbing with pain – stood, slowly, and watched as the soldier who stood over the Ninja dropped his UMP 450, and pulled forth a Hammerli 280, raising it to his temple. Then, he spread his own brain across the floor, killing with himself the last soldier in the room. Now, the only opposition was Farrel, Formal, Desperado, and Ocelot, their strength no less present than before.
Snake left Farrel no time to react, and pummeled right into him, running him into the cement, and sprawling him out on it. He looked up to see the pistol slide to a halt against the Ninja's side, and as he went for it, Farrel grabbed him, throwing him to the floor beside him. The two exchanged punches as Jack dodged Formal's quick slashes and returned with kicks of his own. There was much futility in their battle, for every time Formal was hit, the knives fell from around Mei Ling and Naomi, but instantly returned when he regained his balance, giving them no room for escape.
Formal stumbled back from a blow to the chest, and looked up, Jack breathing heavily. "I'll kill you," Formal said, speaking from his own vocal cords. His voice was scratchy and hard to make sense of, but Jack got the message like it rang to him as clear as crystal.
"Mimes don't talk," Jack mocked, still no smiling, but only wishing for it to end.
"They also work at circuses," he replied, eerily, as he threw open his jacket, all of the knives returning to their positions in the chest of the suit. He looked up, blood trickling from his mouth, and turned swiftly, looking for a quick exit, but Jack stopped him as he was on his way out, Mei Ling and Naomi on their feet, and hurrying to the Ninja's side. He stopped him…with a bullet.
Formal spun around, slowly this time, and woozily collapsed, his face washed of confusion. Jack turned away from him, no remorse and no concern, and hurriedly went to the Ninja who was many paces away.
The battle between Farrel and Snake still raged, and they slowly made their way to the gun. Snake noted the others who seemed so far away…so far…out of reach…he continued grabbing at Farrel, pushing him away and skidding across the floor until a shadow appeared over them, and a white jacket blew in the air, a figure taking the gun in it's hand and without any further thought, pulling the trigger.
The world seemed to stop…everything…all in that moment. The bullet pierced the air like the four that had brought the Ninja down. Snake and Farrel were both still moving, even after the shot, but one of them had felt the impact. One of them was dying whether he wanted to or not. That one was Farrel.
"Ahh!" he screamed in pain, Snake sliding him off of his chest and moving out of the way – standing to really look at him. His face was pale, lifeless, the floor slowly being polluted with another disgusting pool of crimson blood…the life force that kept the human running…like his fuel…
"No!" Naomi cried, falling beside her brother, her heart going out to him, everyone's heart going out to him. Otacon dropped the gun beside her, and stared at Snake who turned to him in remorse. 'Why?' Snake though, 'why did you make him do that? You made him shoot that gun…you could've handled it…'
Jack moved over to them, and watched Otacon as he stepped closer to Snake. "I meant to do it," Otacon said, slowly. "I did it. It wasn't your fault." Snake looked at him, saddened by Otacon's immediate reply. Damn. Damn! He knew him better than he knew himself. He knew everything about him…how he reacted to every possible question, how he walked, how he spoke…everything.
"Thank you," was the only thing Snake could think to say, and it startled Otacon more than pulling that trigger. All he expected was a lengthy apology that amounted to nothing a day later, but thank you…he had thanked him…
"Naomi," a tiresome voice called from what seemed to be miles away. Everyone looked down at the Ninja, their bodies unable to hold their sorrow. Naomi clutched at Jack, her hands trying to squeeze life into him…no use. "Naomi…I love you…don't…cry…I have to…go now…it's where…I…belong… … … … … … … …sister." And then, he fell limp like after being released from the pain of Ocelot's device, which he may have very well been resisting the entire battle…Naomi continued to cry, her tears running down her brother's back, and slipping onto the floor. The moment was deafening. Not because it was loud…but because it was so quiet…so painfully quiet.
"Naomi," Snake said, his words pulling her up from her brother's body, "come on. He doesn't want life. You have to accept his own decision." She couldn't control her crying, but the moment could last no longer, for with the cry of Metal Gear CELL, they were all pulled back to their world, leaving the Ninja alone…all alone.
"Will you still march?" Ocelot's voice boomed through the room, the source: CELL. The company turned in newborn anger and their eyes stretched to the heavens, it seemed, drawn to the green-glowing eyes of Metal Gear CELL.
"You're not going anywhere!" Snake shouted, and a full laugh came through the room, echoing for a fair length of time before Ocelot's scheming 'narration' returned.
"Remember the incentive!" he cried. "Get in our way and you go 'boom!'" He laughed again, and CELL's right leg stretched out, crashing into the cement, and shaking the room, putting Snake off balance. Snake quickly turned to the others.
"There must be some door to the surface," he began. "Something big, for Metal Gear to get out. If we want to stop them, we need to get to the surface. Fighting in here would be a waste of their own time."
"We could take the tunnels we came from," Otacon suggested.
"No," Jack interrupted. We'd never make it up there in time." There was another loud crash as the left leg met with the cement. "'We're off to see the wizard!'" Ocelot mocked. "'The wonderful wizard of Oz!' Don't stick around here too long. If we feel the need to eliminate any evidence it would be a bad place to be!"
Then, something began to move, and a loud 'crank' noise began to fill the room as a long, narrow sliver of foreign light struck the floor, an onslaught of snow crashing down on the company. The roof of the room was parting…that was the door CELL would be taking. "Out of the way!" Snake cried, and the company started off running, the falling snow trailing close behind as the morning's first light played the role of it's 'guide.'
Once they'd found cover beneath a two-leveled scaffold, and the snow had passed them up, they returned to the open space, their necks bent back as they looked up to CELL, its legs crumpling together, and then springing out, sending the mechanical body into the air and above the surface, moving forward in the air as to not fall back into the cavern-sized room. "Damn!" Snake called in frustration, searching for any possible route to the surface besides the tunnels. "Good day!" Ocelot's voice cried, finding its way to the company that stood in awe, below.
"Look!" Otacon pointed to RAY on the ride side of the room. "You see? There is a ladder mounted beside RAY! If we can climb it, and then get onto RAY…see? RAY reaches up to those pipes," the company followed his finger, analyzing the journey t the surface, "If we can grab onto the pipes, we should be able to make our way to the surface. They lead right up to it," Otacon concluded, and Snake took a moment to find a response.
"All right," he reassured them. "We're going up RAY. Come on!" The company quickly scurried across the open area, explosions erupting on the surface – Ocelot testing out the hardware – and started up the ladder, taking two bars at a time. The journey to that point was quick and painless, but when they reached the ladder's limits, and the point was which they needed to grab hold of RAY's body to their left, they slowed down.
"Just stretch out your arm and grab onto it," Snake called, all ready a ways up RAY's hull. Naomi was behind him, and Mei Ling was on the ladder, still very afraid of the 'stretch' as Snake put it. She left her right foot on the ladder, and held out her left hand as far as she could, but her arm was too short. Snake sighed, "You'll…have to jump to it," he said. Mei Ling unexpectedly took a large gulp of air, nodding slightly, and then began to sway back and forth on the ladder.
"One…Two…Three!" she cried, and she leaped to the left, her hands gripping onto a vain in RAY's structure, and her feet finding a small crevasse to latch on. She exhaled, a great weight lifted off her shoulders, and Otacon followed suit, along with Jack, making their way onto RAY and climbing behind Mei Ling in a ten-minute journey to the top where they quickly took hold of a series of pipes – luckily frozen and not heated to the extent of burning one's skin – and straddled them to the surface.
Snake fell into the snow, rolling off of his back and onto his feet. Naomi was next to climb up, followed by Mei Ling, then Otacon, and lastly Jack. Snake was watching CELL not too far away. It was still within the plateau, and was firing a series of rockets and bullet's sending powdery snow into the air and creating a cloud of white crystal. Snake observed their situation, examining the plateau and the expanse of their capabilities. When he saw the Spire, he remembered Otacon being shot, and more specifically, the explosion of the helicopter. The missile that had demolished it had come from the Spire. "Otacon, go with Mei Ling and Naomi to the Spire. There should be a Stinger located somewhere in the building. You know how to fire one of those, right?" Otacon nodded. "All right. When you use it, hit CELL in one spot, continuously. Use the Lock-On interface and things will go a lot smoother. Okay?"
"Yea," Otacon replied, somewhat unsure of himself. Mei Ling and Noami simply nodded, and then, without another word, they were on their way to the Spire. Quickly, Snake turned to Jack, an obvious sense of 'Get with it' on his face.
"All right, you and me have to do what we can to stall Ocelot," Snake demanded. "We'll keep him busy until Otacon manages to blow a hole in the armor."
"And then what?" Jack questioned.
"We'll think of something," Snake answered. "You have any guns?" Jack nodded, pulling a Hammerli from his waist, and holding it out in disappointment.
"That's all I've got," he said. Snake nodded, understanding.
"Well," he paused, trying to come up with something more assertive, but could not. "It looks like we're just gonna have to chance it." Jack nodded, and they both took a moment to think, to pay their respects to those fallen in their path, and then, looking up at each other, they started off toward CELL, its back turned to them.
Their legs pumped like pistons, furiously covering the distance in times they never thought they could. As they ran, or more suitably 'darted', Snake passed the helipad, spotting two Desert Eagles set in the snow beside the wreckage, a note left beside them, and a pile of magazines all which would come in handy soon. Snake gathered them up, reading from the piece of paper with a grin, and then continued on, catching up with Jack as they came up on Metal Gear CELL, it's enormous body towering over them, creating a shadow that stretched the radius of the snowfield. Slowly, every part of it moving, CELL pivoted, it's tail swaying back and forth, and its head lowering to get a closer look at the two Army men-like figures.
Jack grabbed at his waist; his hand gripped tightly around one of four grenades he possessed. He waited for some sort of opportunity, or some reason to use it, but none arose in the time Ocelot was looking over them. It was probably better that he didn't attempt an offensive attack with the installed laser so close to him and Snake.
"You are quite the acrobats," Ocelot's voice amplified across the field as the head of CELL withdrew, returning to its normal position, the body standing more upright now. "Do you wish to join us in our training exercise?" Snake turned to Jack calmly, and then the two nodded, shooting off in different directions. One to the left, the other to the right. The plan was simple, and it got done exactly what they needed to be done.
For the next three minutes, Jack and Snake stayed as close to CELL's legs as possible, trying to move out of Ocelot's view, but they had more to worry about than the constantly-moving legs. In the shoulders of CELL were Random-Mark Machine Turrets, and even though they generally kept out of their view, bullets would sneak up behind them, and just barely miss, letting them breathe in the smell of the Hell Cell and cringe, pulling away from it and continuing on their figure 8-like pattern.
Then, from somewhere beyond the field of commotion, a hiss sounded, and a projectile, sent from the direction of the not-too-distant Spire, streaked through the air, cutting into it like a hot knife through butter. Then, as CELL turned to it, the missile impacted, sending a wave of flames over the chest of CELL. Jack and Snake stepped back far enough to witness the attack, but remained hidden from the turrets. The chest of CELL was torn open, machinery hanging from the wound, but right there, exposed to the world was a screen of green, glowing energy, it's light pulsating quicker and quicker as the absent machinery grew over it, rebuilding itself in seconds. It was not until it had been healed, that another missile escaped the Spire, and impacted the same spot, sending the same damaging blow, and followed with the same quick glow, ending in a dying cloud of smoke, and a shining chest of armor.
"Ha!" Ocelot mocked them. "You cannot heal a wound without knowing the proper tools. It is the same with inflicting a wound. Now, it is or turn," he said, and CELL braced itself, setting its legs deep into the snow before jolting back a few feet every second as rockets shot out from its back, twisting into the air and then falling level with the third level of the Spire and shooting in its direction.
Then, from the Spire was another shot, the missile hitting one of the incoming rockets dead on, and setting them all off as they fell into the fire, colliding with debris. Snake could only imagine the look of triumph on Otacon's face, and he smiled. Then, before CELL had braced for another offensive, two shots were fired, and from the Spire came two missiles, their aim identical.
They impacted, sending a jolt through the ground. CELL fell back, slightly, and Snake watched the smoke clear, hoping to see the green glow fading away, and while it was flickering weakly, it grew in brightness, and before Otacon had fired again, it was healed.
The next attack from the Spire was three shots, one after the other, sparing only one second in between. CELL's Random-Mark Turrets engaged this time, plowing one of the three missiles with a hail of bullets. The other two made their mark, exploding not in the chest, but in the face. CELL fell back, barely catching itself as it stumbled, and then stood triumphantly again. The wound healed, and it was as if the battle had only just begun, again.
"Wait for them to shoot again!" Snake called, continuing his route beneath CELL. "When the wound is open, fire away!" Jack nodded as the two passed by each other, and a giant mechanical leg smashed down behind them. CELL turned its body, slightly, as to get a better look, and then it hinged its legs and catapulted into the air again.
Snake twisted around, watching it go, feeling the stress in the ground released with CELL's jump. It had reached the top of its arc, and drifted in that one spot for a few moments before three loud hisses emerged from it's back, and a trio of rockets went into the air, twisting downward. Two went for Snake, and one went for Jack.
As CELL descended, gravity finally taking its course, Snake turned and moments before the rockets were upon him, jumped off to the right. He stared at them for a moment, their hull's shining with an eerie red, and then dashed off. The speed of his reaction was one that the rockets could not imitate, and as he pounced forward, they detonated behind him, sending a wave of heat over his body, and melting a giant area of snow in the process. Snake turned onto his back and watched, Jack doing the same thing as he, seeing CELL crash into the ground, its haunches digging deep.
"You would have been good in track," Ocelot suggested, his voice booming, and CELL's head jutted forward, its mouth opening wide, letting a cry of frustration escape it along with a blue mist that hovered around it. Snake recognized that color, and as the mouth stayed wide open, he recognized the sound and the slight quiver to Metal Gear's body.
"He's using the laser!" he heard a voice shout in his ear. It was Otacon. The Codec. Snake nodded, forgetting all about it, and jumped onto his feet, seeing Jack do the same, which was an indication that Otacon was speaking to both of them.
"Otacon!" Snake cried, his legs ready and anticipating the moment when they would need to work, when they would need to steer him away from the oncoming attack. "Try and hit it in the face!" He did not see, but instead sensed Otacon's nod and waited. There was silence, one that had been unprecedented in the past minutes of chaos. Then, CELL's body jerked back, and a blue stream of energy…Hell's energy…emerged from the gray depths of Metal Gear's throat.
There was a sly chuckle – Ocelot's – in the background as the blue line cut into the land behind Snake, it's death biting at his heels. CELL moved quickly, but Snake moved quicker. It was a simple concept. Snake was smaller, so he could manipulate his body with better sensitivity, while it took CELL, which was many times larger, more time to manipulate its body, and the flexibility of it's arms, legs, and head was nowhere near as extended as Snake's own flexibility. Ocelot didn't think he could stop Snake with the laser, and it was obvious…he didn't want to.
But, in the distance was the sound of a helicopter. No…two, or rather three helicopters. Their familiar song came nearer and nearer, and CELL did not stop for them to arrive. Instead, it braced itself again, ending the tiring and energy-eating laser, and sent a wave of rockets into the air, their trail a thick blue smoke, tainted with a slight dab of red.
They flew through the air, magnificently, and when light struck them, three colors formed. Red, white, and blue. Something of a patriotic fluke, one could say, but that did not make them any more friendly. In no more than four seconds, they had hit the Spire. Snake's heart stopped, and the glass walls of the Spire shattered, every last one of them. It took a moment for the screech of glass to pass by Snake's ears, but when it did, he felt uncontrollable, without meaning. 'Don't let him die,' he thought. 'DON'T let him die!' "Otacon!" he screamed into the Codec…there was no reply.
But, streaming from the Spire, having been fired just before it fell into flames, was another missile, the last sign of hope. It was the meaning of People's Will. The will against the nation…the nation, which is not free, but the nation that is played. The television show, or the Broadway musical, or the orchestra…it wasn't a nation, but instead…a puppet in and of itself.
The missile struck CELL's chest, sending flames up and down it, their ends curling to make odd shapes. Jack quickly turned to Snake, tossed him a grenade, and both of them understood. As the green light pulsated, trying to rebuild Metal Gear's body, the grenades flew through the air, ignited in the light, and a great pulse of energy busted out of the wound, a 'true' explosion breaking into the Chest Que, and setting off a horde of ammunition, fuel, and rockets. In one quick 'bang' the fire broke through the wound, taking a little more of the machinery with it, but seeing as the shell was so powerful, not even the internal destruction could penetrate it. Only a few spouts in its back were created, flames spewing into the air.
And then, it fell forward, its 'knees' resting in the snow, and its body arching into the air, setting the cockpit feet above the surface. There was a low hiss as exhaust valves were switched on and off, distributing the gasses throughout the body of CELL, fueling a raging fire that burned in it's heart. Then, the panel to the cockpit slid aside, and a gloved hand gripped the edge of the panel, lifting himself out of the cockpit. He stood, one foot in the cockpit, the other out, and one hand braced against the panel to keep his balance.
"You found her weakness," he grinned…Ocelot. Snake looked at him in disgust, and then, as he hopped down to the surface, his boots crushing the snow beneath him, Desperado's only able hand stretched out of the cockpit and pulled his body forward, ducking his head as not to hit the roof of the panel. He didn't look as happy or amused as Ocelot, and slowly made his way down the side of CELL's face. "Don't mind them," he said, his hand gesturing toward the choppers that began to hover over in a circular formation, SEALS printed on their hulls in bold, black lettering. "They are merely another section of the audience." He smiled, his fingers playing a song on his holsters.
"Snake!" Otacon's voice echoed in his ear like a deafening, but well- welcomed alarm. He stood there, frozen for a moment, but did not answer. "Snake?! Snake, are you okay?! Snake!" Ocelot grinned, Snake's head tilting forward, his eyes focusing on the pure, whiteness of the snow before him. So beautiful…and so irrelevant. His environment was so out of touch with reality, it seemed. No matter the situation, nature lived on, like it was another world, one apart from is own. It was sad, almost…seeing happiness…feeling happiness…but not experiencing happiness…
"En guard!" Ocelot cried, and the only sound to be heard was the subtle crackling fire that burnt behind them, and the twirl of guns as Ocelot drew his dual revolvers, Desperado pulled his SOCOM, Snake pulled his Desert Eagles, and Jack pulled his Hammerli 280. In a movement they all executed in unison, the four jumped to their left, falling into sideways summersaults as they fired away, their bullets hitting the cold air, and passing in silence, for another loud crack to take their place.
After their initial dash, the four broke into two couples. Snake went with Ocelot, and Jack went with Desperado. Breaking away, and moving into areas of their own, the Dual Duel had begun, their guns ablaze.
Snake and Jack dodged this way and that, firing nowhere near as many shots as Desperado and Ocelot who were took the cake for 'fastest.' Snake and Ocelot had somehow moved onto CELL, the fire that melted through its back burning near. It had collapsed to a certain extent, the arch in its back less severe, and its body more sprawled, making their stunts easier to perform, seeing as the slope was much easier to conquer.
Jack and Desperado were still in the snow, each of them armed with one gun as opposed to two. Jack was not ready for the bout, not ready at all, but Desperado was a more than fair opponent. Whenever Jack had run his magazine out, Desperado stopped, his gun at his side, and waited for Jack to reload his Hammerli. He always took cover when doing say, believing that if he were to do it in the open, Desperado would surely shoot him down, but that wasn't true. Desperado was a fierce fighter, but a fair fighter.
They fought long and hard, dodging to the right, and to the left, but then, as Ocelot jumped off of CELL, dropping into the snow as all of Snake's ammunition had been expended, a loud shot rang out, and everyone turned to its origin. Snake stepped to the neck of CELL, and looked over the edge, seeing in the snow, at the base of CELL…Jack – his last bullet fired. Across from him, no more than five meters away from Ocelot was Desperado, his gun in the snow, and his hand over his stomach. He fell to his knees, coughing and choking, his arm held high for his friend.
"Ocelot…" he cried, his voice a mere whisper. Ocelot turned to him, somewhat surprised, and stepped over, a grin spreading across his face.
"I didn't mean for that Ninja to take your arm…" he said, and Desperado's face went cold. He couldn't believe it. He was a target too…nothing more than a demonstration of power…how cruel.
"You…lying cheat!" Desperado cried, choking and drowning in his own blood.
"It's like they say, old friend…your time is up…it was up long ago…a 'dead man walking.'" Ocelot huffed, and then fired again, his friend grabbing at the snow in his last attempt to survive. He turned back to Snake who wanted more than anything to kill him, and showed a face, no sign of remorse.
There was a growing patter in the distance, and in Snake's fury he looked over his shoulder, recognizing Otaon and Mei Ling and Naomi who quickly joined him and Jack, standing behind them. "You missed the tragic death scene!" Ocelot cried. "Every good movie has one," he said, gesturing to the body that lay before them all…Desperado…cold. "But, we must move on, my friends, to much more important things. You have yet to witness the final act.
"After you faced off with your brother, in my body," Ocelot began, directing the speech to Snake, "I got away with RAY, and you got away with your life. You see, the Patriots gave me a location, a location where I could meet them, find them. I went there, I traced everything I could. I hid RAY here, and went directly to Manhattan. Did you ever notice that old, abandoned warehouse on the south harbor? It overlooks the ocean. The windows – purple, and red… every color you could imagine.
"That was where I went. They gave me that location, and I went there. Yes…how long ago that seems. You see, there was barely anything there. I searched the building for hours, but all that I saw was a computer. In the middle of the main room was a computer. A computer! Can you realize how infuriated I was? How angry I was? I felt betrayed…denied by my own employers, but…no, that was not it at all. In fact, I could not have been further from the truth.
"So, I sat down at that computer…and I read what was on it's screen, what appeared on it's screen as I read it. I saw thousands of posts…thousands of requests, or…'demands' you could call them. But what I found particularly interesting was the name that sat beside every 'demand.' Do you know? Can you tell me whose name that was?" He waited, but they looked at him indignantly, and so he continued.
"Mine," he said, stopping as if he had released the greatest revelation of all. "My name…I had given those orders. I read most of them, all of them in fact, and I found myself recalling all the instances I spoke with those cloudy voices on the phone, always digitized…I remembered all the requests I made, all the things I said, and I saw them all played back to me right on that computer. You see…that, my friends, is the Compilation.
"That is where my demands…MY demands…were compiled, formed into a single 'constitution' you could say. As soon as I issued those requests, they were compiled there, they were sent out across the world to whoever needed to hear them, and when I witnessed it all…I was making the demands. I was speaking to a computer when I thought I was speaking to my 'Boss.' I was my boss. I am my boss. You see…I am the Patriots…THE PATRIOT!" Snake was too stunned, too surprised to fall backward or respond in any way. It didn't make sense. "I rule the world! I am the President of it all! Everything! The world is my stage, and you are my actors…
"Socrates thought we mutually sought power, he thought that my cravings blinded me…but I all ready had it. It was his own craving that blinded HIM. He was another pawn, another useless ornament…another instrument in the song. I wanted CELL, not to HAVE power, but to DEMONSTRATE that power. I don't want to be the invisible figure, the leader that no one can see, or touch, or hear. I am the leader of the world…I control everything, but you see…I don't want that. I want to be known! I want to be a legend…but all of this was destroyed once again.
"It would seem easy enough to simply march into Washington D.C. proclaim my power, and take over, but no one would believe but the politicians, the people who knew of me, but dared not to speak of me. I was a 'thing' an invisible 'thing!' but it was the Compilation that showed me the truth. And now, it has shown you the truth…" His grin soon returned, disguising the insane, lost gaze that he possessed while lecturing. And he paused for a moment, pacing back and forth, not speaking a word. Then, he turned to them.
"The computer…the Compilation…me…they are all one in the same. They are power. All symbols of power. In the background was the symphony of a savior as the SEALS choppers began to come lower, ropes falling from their open hulls, and soldiers standing at the doors dressed in white and gray camouflage that suited the occasion nicely.
They nodded to each other, waving and making gestures as they moved onto the ropes, falling over CELL, and sliding down its spine, forming a line behind Snake, and forcing him to the snow. They made signals as they descended and moved over the body, taking several posts while others led the way, building a circle around Ocelot, broken only by Snake and the company.
Ocelot examined them, as they did in return, and then, after a moment of tension, they seemed to take a few steps away, reforming their circle, but this time pointing their guns at the company. Snake took a faulty step backward only to hear the reproaching orders of the SEALS that surrounded them. "Don't move!" they cried.
"It sure is an advantage, being the President of the World. You can do things like this…you can call your own team of Navy SEALS! It looks like this time, you come away empty handed, my friends." Ocelot turned away. "You have to understand, my friends. I control everything." Ocelot looked over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the company once more before waving to the SEALS, and heading for the choppers that hovered inches above Metal Gear's body, causing the soldiers to disperse as if the company had suddenly vanished.
The company could barely move, but they didn't know if it was the cold that did it or the cruel surprise that Otacon had delivered without even a second glance at his old friend, Desperado. He hiked up to where CELL lay, and smiled, three choppers hovering inches off the ground, their doors open and inviting. Then, a nasty, uncompassionate look on his face, he hopped onto the chopper, one foot on it's leg, another on CELL, and his arm holding a silver bar tightly, holding him steady, and called. "Good day!"
"Why don't you kill us?!" Snake called, his strength suddenly returning to him. Ocelot smiled in delight, but waited a moment…running the answer over in his head.
"What good is power if you have no one to enforce it on?" he called in return, fitting his revolver into its holster and patting it lightly. "It's a game!" he cried. "Like a game of chess, my friends! This one just happened to turn out a stalemate!" He grinned, and slid into the chopper, soldiers bustling into the helicopter behind him.
There was another moment of silence, besides the repetitious song of the helicopter, their propellers beating annoyingly in the wind. The flames that burned in CELL's heart quickly reached up again, attempting to pull the helicopters down with them as they hovered into the air, but nothing could stop them. Not then. It was just another stalemate.
"It's over," Otacon said, but not in a happy tone, like the pain and suffering had all ended, but in a terrible croak of obscurity. There, they stood, their bodies huddled close together as the morning's first true light struck the plateau, illuminating it with a beautiful sparkling shimmer. The helicopters were like hazy silhouettes hovering above the horizon and as they faded into the growing clouds, Snake turned to Otacon. They had been through hell, but at that moment, things felt like they had concluded. It was the end of a bad day, and the beginning of a new one...one that together, they would make brighter.
"No," Snake thought out loud. "For today, maybe…but Ocelot won't go far." Then, his eyes wandered to Desperado who lay in the snow not far from them. He turned away from the company and knelt at the man's side, resting his hand on his heart as he pulled the slip of paper he had found near the Desert Eagles from his pocket and unfolded it. "Heh," he grunted, "maybe you did see Ocelot for who he was…sorry it had to end this way. Good day…and good night," Snake said, flattening the paper on Desperado's chest and turning his head up to the sky as the others huddled around him.
It was then that the morning's first true light shone over the plateau, setting it aflame with a glowing, shimmering reflection.
The Compilation
I put this so far down because I feel the NA can ruin the ending of a story. Read at your own risk.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: First of all, I had originally posted this chapter, but I was somewhat upset with it. I hurried to put it online and sat in bed for nearly an hour trying to figure out what was so odd about it, and what made it a disappointment to me, so as soon as I got home from school I came up here and fixed it up for…let's say two hours. With that in mind, I hope you enjoyed this story, as I did. I am sad to leave it, but not as sad as I had thought I would be. It came a long way, and I am proud of it. I have to thank everyone for being so nice to me in my steady progression (White Hornet Andy, The Combobulator, SSFury…), and one person in particular: Otaku Tess for being the best reviewer and online friend I've ever had. I'd like to keep in touch with everyone here at FF.net so if you wanna talk to me, IM me at Espresso d Gecko or email me at z_dial@hotmail.com . Thank you all so much for your support. Good day, and happy writing!
P.S.
Hmmm…what had Desperado written on that little slip of paper…??
We'll see if I decide to return with another attempt at a fic in the future. Just…let that jog your imagination until then ;D
"I advise you," Ocelot began, "to do exactly as I say. I thought the incentive I gave you was worthy of the circumstances." The line the company had created, independent of the guards as well as the remaining officers of Philosophy, did not waver in that moment, but held strong, coming together like a horde of bees, drawn to the wonderful scent of honey, which they would protect and shield from the scheming bunch that existed in nature, like the bullies of school…or the Ocelot of the world. He was one of a kind, but together they could turn him around, turn him away from CELL. They would stop him where he stood, his feet never moving from where they had been planted at the beginning of their 'verbal revolt.'
"Your incentive," Snake paused, "is bull shit." Ocelot's retreating glare had returned to its normal 'Don't tell me I didn't warn you' expression, and he slowly stepped toward Otacon, moving his hand to the holster that held his revolver.
"Through this device," Ocelot made a gesture, moving the crowd's attention to the small 'image' device, "Farrel was able to capture the completed blueprints from Otacon. So you see, there is no longer a need for our dear scientist, and it appears you do not fear for his health, so –," Snake stopped him in the middle of his sentence.
"You hurt him," Snake burst, "and I'll rip your spine out, I swear." Ocelot stopped, his hand no longer moving, but still and lifeless, lightly touching his holster. He began to pat it with his fingers, playing an unrecognizable tune, improvising, portraying the beat of his heart with the patter of his fingers. Snake's face was stern and unforgiving, and even Otacon looked at him, oddly hurt by his remark.
Slowly, an orchestra playing something like a symphony on the leather holster dangling from his belt, Ocelot pivoted on his right heel, the tension growing, his heart beating faster and faster, and the company breathing heavier and heavier, their hearts coming faster and faster as Ocelot's. It was in Ocelot's fingers, everything. He could slip out his revolver and take them all down but the Ninja before a single one of them would have been able to move for cover. And he would go for Snake first. He'd send that bullet right through his heart, or maybe aim for his forehead, and then, when it was all over he would laugh. He would chuckle for a moment, forget they ever existed, and board CELL en route for Washington D.C. or wherever he planned to destroy another number of lives. He was like a virus, its contagious strain, viciously spreading without remorse, without recollection. A virus. So sickening.
"I wonder why I don't kill you now," Ocelot said. He stopped, set his toes to the floor, and let his hand fall away from his holster, his song coming to a quick and startling halt. Mei Ling shuddered when he spoke, but she covered it well, not letting him notice her slight weakness, her hidden fear. Everyone feared something. Some feared life, people like the Ninja, while others feared death, people like Mei Ling…people like Ocelot.
"You're afraid," Snake said, realizing it all himself. "You're afraid to die." Ocelot cocked his head to the side, trying o make sense of Snake's babbling, and a smile overtook him. He found the scene to be humorous, but Snake saw it to be exactly the opposite. He did not smile, he did not grin, but he looked on with his blank stare, the one he used more than any other. It was the universal sign of Solid Snake. The universal sign of a true warrior, a legend. "You don't 'not want' to die, but you 'fear' dying."
"You do have a way of twisting words," Ocelot replied, disgusted with Snake's blow, but at the same time surprised and proud, "but you do indeed carry the power of manipulation. I have to say, I am impressed with your acting, Solid Snake."
"I don't act," he replied. There was no uncertainty in his voice. He was confident, and not even a gun barrel to his temple could turn him away from what he believed, from what he followed. "I play my role. The role I was given at birth. You play the role of some cruel role model, some clouded image. I am myself, but you…you're not even human." Ocelot's brow went crooked, and he stepped toward Snake, a menacing glare leaving everyone in a wretched silence. The only sound that filled the room was the echoing clatter of Ocelot's boots, playing a whimsical tune: one of beauty, grace, and genius. Everything, in that moment, seemed amplified and magnified, every movement and every word appearing in the most powerful of forms.
"You speak before you think," Ocelot finally broke the painful silence that gripped the company, tearing their hearts and making their minds scream in agony. "And you manage to put it beautifully. My role model was the image of a general, someone with power, someone who held a gun. I watched television, and learned to spin a revolver like the actors. I wanted to be a legend, a hero, but I grew up under the influence of violence, under the influence of stars. I'm sure I would have gone sour anyway, but afraid to die? Heh, that is your only false accusation. I have never been more willing."
"You wanted to be a legend," Snake proclaimed. "Legends aren't afraid to die. They're legends because nothing stops them. They face death and laugh. A legend? A hero? T.V. can't crank out those. It's your blood. If it's cold," he paused, "you've got a chance. But not freezing," he waited for Ocelot's reaction. It was lifeless. "It's no wonder you continue to stage your missions in the freezing wastelands. I think you missed the opportunity by just a few degrees." Ocelot grimaced at Snake, a displeasing taste arriving in the depths of his throat. He fought to send it away, but it stayed…like a stench that emanated from yourself, something that followed you everywhere.
Then, he pulled his revolver, it's barrel aimed at Snake, and once it was out of its holster, the Ninja was beside Snake, his sword drawn, and his breath heavy. Ocelot narrowed his eyes at the Ninja, his dislike for him something that was only challenged by his dislike for Snake. "Hmph," he grunted, and then swiftly spun to Otacon, firing four times.
A body slumped to the ground and Snake started forward but the Ninja managed to catch hold of his arm. Ocelot spun his revolver back into its holster, and lightly kicked the body that lay on the floor. "Umf!" Otacon replied, and Snake looked up in hope, seeing the four broken leather bindings as the scientist moved onto his feet rubbing his wrists with discomfort. Quickly, he moved over to Snake without confrontation, and the two met, their arms wrapping around each other in joy.
"You all right?" Snake asked, the two stepping away to look at each other. Otacon nodded, an awkward but somewhat casual smile on his face.
"Well," Otacon paused, rubbing the back of his head and tapping his toes on the floor, their echoing provoking him to stop. "I'm…all right, yea." Snake smiled at him, happy to know that things were still okay, and then, not knowing where to take the conversation, simply made space in the line where Otacon gladly stepped in, turning around again to face Ocelot as the others did.
"I didn't need you any longer," Ocelot sneered, "be grateful that I let you live." Otacon wasn't grateful. Yes, he had been returned to life, a life he wished to continue living, but it was…strange. Everything was. In those moments that he saw that window crack, everything was so clear. He was shot, everything faded away, and he died. It was plain cut, but being returned…he felt an uneasy sensation in the depth of his stomach, and everything was a blur. The lines of reality had vanished and his bindings had shattered. He was unsure now…not like he was before when he sat behind his computer, talking to Snake in his own safe haven. That death…and that revival…they'd changed him, but 'how' was something neither he nor Snake could point out. It was just…strange.
"Didn't need him?" Snake questioned, his tone impatient and accented with an uneasy anger. "You still need time." Ocelot began to pace back and forth, his endless speeches growing strenuous.
"No, no," Ocelot assured him, "there will be no further delays. The time has all ready come for CELL to be awakened. You see, as you were infiltrating Hell's Outpost, and Otacon was completing the blueprints, Desperado was keeping a steady connection with Farrel who fed the completed blueprints back to this very area. Then, all we needed was for the plans to be carried out.
"So we hired a staff of engineers to construct the Cell Drive and insert it into Metal Gear CELL while the rest of you went off, only seeing the minor tasks required to be carried out was this to work. Desperado supervised the construction, and once it was ready, we moved him to the surface and transported him a few miles off where he boarded a helicopter and faked his arrival. Even though we knew that Ocelot would not witness the arrival, we had to make it precise. There could be no faults, no hints, no trouble. It had to be perfect. Everything had to be perfect.
"We imitated the trade of the Perfect Cell and the 15,000 dollars, seeing as the only way the Ninja could be incorporated was through his kidnapping, and his revival. Yes, the money was real, and so was the Perfect Cell, but the transition left us with both pieces of the trade in our possession. The money…and the cell." Ocelot stopped pacing, and turned to the line, his revolver suddenly appearing in his hand. He was quick. "So you see…EVERYTHING was setup. Of course, you took this mission independently. You had no tip off but that of the media, and believing that the Patriots weren't involved was the trick to getting you here. That way, you figured the media was not false, and you came right into our hands as we wished for you to do."
"The Patriots are involved?" Snake asked quizzically. "Other than you?" Ocelot seemed as if he did not want to answer the question at the time, and so he blew it off, moving on.
"And so, we come to the final stage," he stated, Snake pondering his reason for averting the question. "Now is the time to raise CELL and march to the capital. We will show the world our power…" he trailed off, and Snake took a slight step forward, but as he did a gunshot sounded, echoing like a sick reminder through the air. Ocelot's revolver was held high, a thin trail of smoke lifted into the air, leaving its brandished end. Left inches from his right foot was a black scar, a red light burning in its center. "Now, now, Snake. It would be rather unfortunate seeing you die so late in the game." Snake retreated to his original position, and Otacon looked over at him, his heart stinging with concern. He hated seeing Snake singled out, taking on the world as he stood there doing nothing. "Desperado," Ocelot turned to his 'old friend' and gestured for them to move to CELL, "it is time." Desperado nodded wearily, but there was a slight sense of anticipation in the moment.
"You, stay here. We'll take her for a test run," Ocelot smiled, turning to Desperado as the two headed down a walkway that led to a set of metal stairs ascending upon a catwalk that eventually led to the cockpit of Metal Gear CELL, the Perfect Cell and Hell Cell in their hands. The cells would be loaded into the Cell Drive from the cockpit, making it easier for them to board without worrying about how long it would take before they could truly set off. Everyone turned, watching as they went away, and Formal and Farrel looked disapprovingly, somewhat upset to see them boarding instead of themselves. "Let's get them into confinements," Farrel ordered, and the soldiers began to move up from behind, pulling at the company, forcing them from their line.
Otacon felt a man's hand on his shoulder, but he tugged away, trying to hold his ground. There was another pull, one more powerful than the last, but he shrugged it off as well, seeing Snake beside him, not a man daring to come near him or the Ninja. Farrel saw Otacon, refusing to follow, and stepped over to him, his face implying that he was far too impatient to deal with his insolence. "You're coming," Farrel said, squeezing Otacon's arm tightly, causing him to cringe in pain.
Snake turned, gripping his hand around Farrel's forearm that was rest on Otacon's, "Don't touch him," Snake said, his face possessing no compassion or sentiment, only fury, only rage. Farrel looked at him, a look like 'Who do you think you're talking to?' all over his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but Snake interrupted. "I said…don't touch him."
Then, as Ocelot and Desperado had reached the catwalk, conquering the flight of shaky steps, Snake grabbed at Farrel's waist taking a grip on his pistol, but Farrel's hands dropped, securing the gun in its holster as the two struggled over it. The Ninja turned his head, seeing the attempt, and held out his sword, running it through a soldier's chest, blood spilling onto the cold floor. Ocelot and Desperado turned, hearing the rip of flesh and the grunts of Snake and Farrel.
By that time, everyone realized what was happening, and Formal quickly drew from his jacket a set of knives, spreading them in his hands like playing cards before setting them into the air. Soldiers fell victim to the Ninja's fierce sword, and Jack's quick boxing techniques, as the knives moved through the air, abnormally, around Mei Ling and Naomi. As the two ran for the catwalk, hoping to stop Ocelot and Desperado, they found themselves caught. Enclosed. The knives that hovered about had created the vertices of a box, and they were within its boundaries – all invisible of course. "Jack!" Mei Ling cried, and he turned from his bout, seeing the evident peril they were in. Formal turned to Jack as he moved away from the soldiers, and pulled forth two knives, gripping their handles tightly with each fist. He grinned, his eyes catching another soldier. "Bring it on!" he mouthed, the soldier's voice springing into the air the moment before he felt the impact of the Ninja's blade in his chest.
As Jack and Formal broke into a ferocious battle, Mei Ling and Naomi remained helpless, and the Ninja continued slashing away, deflecting bullets, and protecting Otacon who had been separated from Snake. Farrel and Snake were still in heavy pursuit of Farrel's own gun, their hands writhing furiously to take control. Unless someone intervened, they could keep at it as long as their bodies were able.
"Take care of this!" Ocelot shouted, and he and Desperado quickly moved along the catwalk to where the head of CELL lay even, the panel to the cockpit wide open, awaiting their arrival. The Ninja turned to another soldier, nine at his feet, and raised his sword, ready to strike off another bullet, but as he pulled it down, an unexpected shot rang out, and then another, and another, and another. The blade fell to the floor, ringing into the morning like the highest voice in an opera. Everyone turned. He fell, his body booming against the cement.
Snake had lost control of the gun…it was in Farrel's hand, raised triumphantly to where the Ninja had stood. Snake didn't move, his eyes standing still. Nobody moved. Even Formal and Jack had stopped and turned to witness the moment. Naomi fell against the invisible wall, her hand pounding against it, and tears flowing down her face as Mei Ling tried to comfort her.
The Ninja lay there, barely moving, a hole in his back. After the first shot, it had begun to regenerate…to heal, but when the second came, and then the third…the technology wasn't able to save him then. He was bleeding through the suit…bleeding fast.
Otacon – who was on the floor, his body aching and his legs throbbing with pain – stood, slowly, and watched as the soldier who stood over the Ninja dropped his UMP 450, and pulled forth a Hammerli 280, raising it to his temple. Then, he spread his own brain across the floor, killing with himself the last soldier in the room. Now, the only opposition was Farrel, Formal, Desperado, and Ocelot, their strength no less present than before.
Snake left Farrel no time to react, and pummeled right into him, running him into the cement, and sprawling him out on it. He looked up to see the pistol slide to a halt against the Ninja's side, and as he went for it, Farrel grabbed him, throwing him to the floor beside him. The two exchanged punches as Jack dodged Formal's quick slashes and returned with kicks of his own. There was much futility in their battle, for every time Formal was hit, the knives fell from around Mei Ling and Naomi, but instantly returned when he regained his balance, giving them no room for escape.
Formal stumbled back from a blow to the chest, and looked up, Jack breathing heavily. "I'll kill you," Formal said, speaking from his own vocal cords. His voice was scratchy and hard to make sense of, but Jack got the message like it rang to him as clear as crystal.
"Mimes don't talk," Jack mocked, still no smiling, but only wishing for it to end.
"They also work at circuses," he replied, eerily, as he threw open his jacket, all of the knives returning to their positions in the chest of the suit. He looked up, blood trickling from his mouth, and turned swiftly, looking for a quick exit, but Jack stopped him as he was on his way out, Mei Ling and Naomi on their feet, and hurrying to the Ninja's side. He stopped him…with a bullet.
Formal spun around, slowly this time, and woozily collapsed, his face washed of confusion. Jack turned away from him, no remorse and no concern, and hurriedly went to the Ninja who was many paces away.
The battle between Farrel and Snake still raged, and they slowly made their way to the gun. Snake noted the others who seemed so far away…so far…out of reach…he continued grabbing at Farrel, pushing him away and skidding across the floor until a shadow appeared over them, and a white jacket blew in the air, a figure taking the gun in it's hand and without any further thought, pulling the trigger.
The world seemed to stop…everything…all in that moment. The bullet pierced the air like the four that had brought the Ninja down. Snake and Farrel were both still moving, even after the shot, but one of them had felt the impact. One of them was dying whether he wanted to or not. That one was Farrel.
"Ahh!" he screamed in pain, Snake sliding him off of his chest and moving out of the way – standing to really look at him. His face was pale, lifeless, the floor slowly being polluted with another disgusting pool of crimson blood…the life force that kept the human running…like his fuel…
"No!" Naomi cried, falling beside her brother, her heart going out to him, everyone's heart going out to him. Otacon dropped the gun beside her, and stared at Snake who turned to him in remorse. 'Why?' Snake though, 'why did you make him do that? You made him shoot that gun…you could've handled it…'
Jack moved over to them, and watched Otacon as he stepped closer to Snake. "I meant to do it," Otacon said, slowly. "I did it. It wasn't your fault." Snake looked at him, saddened by Otacon's immediate reply. Damn. Damn! He knew him better than he knew himself. He knew everything about him…how he reacted to every possible question, how he walked, how he spoke…everything.
"Thank you," was the only thing Snake could think to say, and it startled Otacon more than pulling that trigger. All he expected was a lengthy apology that amounted to nothing a day later, but thank you…he had thanked him…
"Naomi," a tiresome voice called from what seemed to be miles away. Everyone looked down at the Ninja, their bodies unable to hold their sorrow. Naomi clutched at Jack, her hands trying to squeeze life into him…no use. "Naomi…I love you…don't…cry…I have to…go now…it's where…I…belong… … … … … … … …sister." And then, he fell limp like after being released from the pain of Ocelot's device, which he may have very well been resisting the entire battle…Naomi continued to cry, her tears running down her brother's back, and slipping onto the floor. The moment was deafening. Not because it was loud…but because it was so quiet…so painfully quiet.
"Naomi," Snake said, his words pulling her up from her brother's body, "come on. He doesn't want life. You have to accept his own decision." She couldn't control her crying, but the moment could last no longer, for with the cry of Metal Gear CELL, they were all pulled back to their world, leaving the Ninja alone…all alone.
"Will you still march?" Ocelot's voice boomed through the room, the source: CELL. The company turned in newborn anger and their eyes stretched to the heavens, it seemed, drawn to the green-glowing eyes of Metal Gear CELL.
"You're not going anywhere!" Snake shouted, and a full laugh came through the room, echoing for a fair length of time before Ocelot's scheming 'narration' returned.
"Remember the incentive!" he cried. "Get in our way and you go 'boom!'" He laughed again, and CELL's right leg stretched out, crashing into the cement, and shaking the room, putting Snake off balance. Snake quickly turned to the others.
"There must be some door to the surface," he began. "Something big, for Metal Gear to get out. If we want to stop them, we need to get to the surface. Fighting in here would be a waste of their own time."
"We could take the tunnels we came from," Otacon suggested.
"No," Jack interrupted. We'd never make it up there in time." There was another loud crash as the left leg met with the cement. "'We're off to see the wizard!'" Ocelot mocked. "'The wonderful wizard of Oz!' Don't stick around here too long. If we feel the need to eliminate any evidence it would be a bad place to be!"
Then, something began to move, and a loud 'crank' noise began to fill the room as a long, narrow sliver of foreign light struck the floor, an onslaught of snow crashing down on the company. The roof of the room was parting…that was the door CELL would be taking. "Out of the way!" Snake cried, and the company started off running, the falling snow trailing close behind as the morning's first light played the role of it's 'guide.'
Once they'd found cover beneath a two-leveled scaffold, and the snow had passed them up, they returned to the open space, their necks bent back as they looked up to CELL, its legs crumpling together, and then springing out, sending the mechanical body into the air and above the surface, moving forward in the air as to not fall back into the cavern-sized room. "Damn!" Snake called in frustration, searching for any possible route to the surface besides the tunnels. "Good day!" Ocelot's voice cried, finding its way to the company that stood in awe, below.
"Look!" Otacon pointed to RAY on the ride side of the room. "You see? There is a ladder mounted beside RAY! If we can climb it, and then get onto RAY…see? RAY reaches up to those pipes," the company followed his finger, analyzing the journey t the surface, "If we can grab onto the pipes, we should be able to make our way to the surface. They lead right up to it," Otacon concluded, and Snake took a moment to find a response.
"All right," he reassured them. "We're going up RAY. Come on!" The company quickly scurried across the open area, explosions erupting on the surface – Ocelot testing out the hardware – and started up the ladder, taking two bars at a time. The journey to that point was quick and painless, but when they reached the ladder's limits, and the point was which they needed to grab hold of RAY's body to their left, they slowed down.
"Just stretch out your arm and grab onto it," Snake called, all ready a ways up RAY's hull. Naomi was behind him, and Mei Ling was on the ladder, still very afraid of the 'stretch' as Snake put it. She left her right foot on the ladder, and held out her left hand as far as she could, but her arm was too short. Snake sighed, "You'll…have to jump to it," he said. Mei Ling unexpectedly took a large gulp of air, nodding slightly, and then began to sway back and forth on the ladder.
"One…Two…Three!" she cried, and she leaped to the left, her hands gripping onto a vain in RAY's structure, and her feet finding a small crevasse to latch on. She exhaled, a great weight lifted off her shoulders, and Otacon followed suit, along with Jack, making their way onto RAY and climbing behind Mei Ling in a ten-minute journey to the top where they quickly took hold of a series of pipes – luckily frozen and not heated to the extent of burning one's skin – and straddled them to the surface.
Snake fell into the snow, rolling off of his back and onto his feet. Naomi was next to climb up, followed by Mei Ling, then Otacon, and lastly Jack. Snake was watching CELL not too far away. It was still within the plateau, and was firing a series of rockets and bullet's sending powdery snow into the air and creating a cloud of white crystal. Snake observed their situation, examining the plateau and the expanse of their capabilities. When he saw the Spire, he remembered Otacon being shot, and more specifically, the explosion of the helicopter. The missile that had demolished it had come from the Spire. "Otacon, go with Mei Ling and Naomi to the Spire. There should be a Stinger located somewhere in the building. You know how to fire one of those, right?" Otacon nodded. "All right. When you use it, hit CELL in one spot, continuously. Use the Lock-On interface and things will go a lot smoother. Okay?"
"Yea," Otacon replied, somewhat unsure of himself. Mei Ling and Noami simply nodded, and then, without another word, they were on their way to the Spire. Quickly, Snake turned to Jack, an obvious sense of 'Get with it' on his face.
"All right, you and me have to do what we can to stall Ocelot," Snake demanded. "We'll keep him busy until Otacon manages to blow a hole in the armor."
"And then what?" Jack questioned.
"We'll think of something," Snake answered. "You have any guns?" Jack nodded, pulling a Hammerli from his waist, and holding it out in disappointment.
"That's all I've got," he said. Snake nodded, understanding.
"Well," he paused, trying to come up with something more assertive, but could not. "It looks like we're just gonna have to chance it." Jack nodded, and they both took a moment to think, to pay their respects to those fallen in their path, and then, looking up at each other, they started off toward CELL, its back turned to them.
Their legs pumped like pistons, furiously covering the distance in times they never thought they could. As they ran, or more suitably 'darted', Snake passed the helipad, spotting two Desert Eagles set in the snow beside the wreckage, a note left beside them, and a pile of magazines all which would come in handy soon. Snake gathered them up, reading from the piece of paper with a grin, and then continued on, catching up with Jack as they came up on Metal Gear CELL, it's enormous body towering over them, creating a shadow that stretched the radius of the snowfield. Slowly, every part of it moving, CELL pivoted, it's tail swaying back and forth, and its head lowering to get a closer look at the two Army men-like figures.
Jack grabbed at his waist; his hand gripped tightly around one of four grenades he possessed. He waited for some sort of opportunity, or some reason to use it, but none arose in the time Ocelot was looking over them. It was probably better that he didn't attempt an offensive attack with the installed laser so close to him and Snake.
"You are quite the acrobats," Ocelot's voice amplified across the field as the head of CELL withdrew, returning to its normal position, the body standing more upright now. "Do you wish to join us in our training exercise?" Snake turned to Jack calmly, and then the two nodded, shooting off in different directions. One to the left, the other to the right. The plan was simple, and it got done exactly what they needed to be done.
For the next three minutes, Jack and Snake stayed as close to CELL's legs as possible, trying to move out of Ocelot's view, but they had more to worry about than the constantly-moving legs. In the shoulders of CELL were Random-Mark Machine Turrets, and even though they generally kept out of their view, bullets would sneak up behind them, and just barely miss, letting them breathe in the smell of the Hell Cell and cringe, pulling away from it and continuing on their figure 8-like pattern.
Then, from somewhere beyond the field of commotion, a hiss sounded, and a projectile, sent from the direction of the not-too-distant Spire, streaked through the air, cutting into it like a hot knife through butter. Then, as CELL turned to it, the missile impacted, sending a wave of flames over the chest of CELL. Jack and Snake stepped back far enough to witness the attack, but remained hidden from the turrets. The chest of CELL was torn open, machinery hanging from the wound, but right there, exposed to the world was a screen of green, glowing energy, it's light pulsating quicker and quicker as the absent machinery grew over it, rebuilding itself in seconds. It was not until it had been healed, that another missile escaped the Spire, and impacted the same spot, sending the same damaging blow, and followed with the same quick glow, ending in a dying cloud of smoke, and a shining chest of armor.
"Ha!" Ocelot mocked them. "You cannot heal a wound without knowing the proper tools. It is the same with inflicting a wound. Now, it is or turn," he said, and CELL braced itself, setting its legs deep into the snow before jolting back a few feet every second as rockets shot out from its back, twisting into the air and then falling level with the third level of the Spire and shooting in its direction.
Then, from the Spire was another shot, the missile hitting one of the incoming rockets dead on, and setting them all off as they fell into the fire, colliding with debris. Snake could only imagine the look of triumph on Otacon's face, and he smiled. Then, before CELL had braced for another offensive, two shots were fired, and from the Spire came two missiles, their aim identical.
They impacted, sending a jolt through the ground. CELL fell back, slightly, and Snake watched the smoke clear, hoping to see the green glow fading away, and while it was flickering weakly, it grew in brightness, and before Otacon had fired again, it was healed.
The next attack from the Spire was three shots, one after the other, sparing only one second in between. CELL's Random-Mark Turrets engaged this time, plowing one of the three missiles with a hail of bullets. The other two made their mark, exploding not in the chest, but in the face. CELL fell back, barely catching itself as it stumbled, and then stood triumphantly again. The wound healed, and it was as if the battle had only just begun, again.
"Wait for them to shoot again!" Snake called, continuing his route beneath CELL. "When the wound is open, fire away!" Jack nodded as the two passed by each other, and a giant mechanical leg smashed down behind them. CELL turned its body, slightly, as to get a better look, and then it hinged its legs and catapulted into the air again.
Snake twisted around, watching it go, feeling the stress in the ground released with CELL's jump. It had reached the top of its arc, and drifted in that one spot for a few moments before three loud hisses emerged from it's back, and a trio of rockets went into the air, twisting downward. Two went for Snake, and one went for Jack.
As CELL descended, gravity finally taking its course, Snake turned and moments before the rockets were upon him, jumped off to the right. He stared at them for a moment, their hull's shining with an eerie red, and then dashed off. The speed of his reaction was one that the rockets could not imitate, and as he pounced forward, they detonated behind him, sending a wave of heat over his body, and melting a giant area of snow in the process. Snake turned onto his back and watched, Jack doing the same thing as he, seeing CELL crash into the ground, its haunches digging deep.
"You would have been good in track," Ocelot suggested, his voice booming, and CELL's head jutted forward, its mouth opening wide, letting a cry of frustration escape it along with a blue mist that hovered around it. Snake recognized that color, and as the mouth stayed wide open, he recognized the sound and the slight quiver to Metal Gear's body.
"He's using the laser!" he heard a voice shout in his ear. It was Otacon. The Codec. Snake nodded, forgetting all about it, and jumped onto his feet, seeing Jack do the same, which was an indication that Otacon was speaking to both of them.
"Otacon!" Snake cried, his legs ready and anticipating the moment when they would need to work, when they would need to steer him away from the oncoming attack. "Try and hit it in the face!" He did not see, but instead sensed Otacon's nod and waited. There was silence, one that had been unprecedented in the past minutes of chaos. Then, CELL's body jerked back, and a blue stream of energy…Hell's energy…emerged from the gray depths of Metal Gear's throat.
There was a sly chuckle – Ocelot's – in the background as the blue line cut into the land behind Snake, it's death biting at his heels. CELL moved quickly, but Snake moved quicker. It was a simple concept. Snake was smaller, so he could manipulate his body with better sensitivity, while it took CELL, which was many times larger, more time to manipulate its body, and the flexibility of it's arms, legs, and head was nowhere near as extended as Snake's own flexibility. Ocelot didn't think he could stop Snake with the laser, and it was obvious…he didn't want to.
But, in the distance was the sound of a helicopter. No…two, or rather three helicopters. Their familiar song came nearer and nearer, and CELL did not stop for them to arrive. Instead, it braced itself again, ending the tiring and energy-eating laser, and sent a wave of rockets into the air, their trail a thick blue smoke, tainted with a slight dab of red.
They flew through the air, magnificently, and when light struck them, three colors formed. Red, white, and blue. Something of a patriotic fluke, one could say, but that did not make them any more friendly. In no more than four seconds, they had hit the Spire. Snake's heart stopped, and the glass walls of the Spire shattered, every last one of them. It took a moment for the screech of glass to pass by Snake's ears, but when it did, he felt uncontrollable, without meaning. 'Don't let him die,' he thought. 'DON'T let him die!' "Otacon!" he screamed into the Codec…there was no reply.
But, streaming from the Spire, having been fired just before it fell into flames, was another missile, the last sign of hope. It was the meaning of People's Will. The will against the nation…the nation, which is not free, but the nation that is played. The television show, or the Broadway musical, or the orchestra…it wasn't a nation, but instead…a puppet in and of itself.
The missile struck CELL's chest, sending flames up and down it, their ends curling to make odd shapes. Jack quickly turned to Snake, tossed him a grenade, and both of them understood. As the green light pulsated, trying to rebuild Metal Gear's body, the grenades flew through the air, ignited in the light, and a great pulse of energy busted out of the wound, a 'true' explosion breaking into the Chest Que, and setting off a horde of ammunition, fuel, and rockets. In one quick 'bang' the fire broke through the wound, taking a little more of the machinery with it, but seeing as the shell was so powerful, not even the internal destruction could penetrate it. Only a few spouts in its back were created, flames spewing into the air.
And then, it fell forward, its 'knees' resting in the snow, and its body arching into the air, setting the cockpit feet above the surface. There was a low hiss as exhaust valves were switched on and off, distributing the gasses throughout the body of CELL, fueling a raging fire that burned in it's heart. Then, the panel to the cockpit slid aside, and a gloved hand gripped the edge of the panel, lifting himself out of the cockpit. He stood, one foot in the cockpit, the other out, and one hand braced against the panel to keep his balance.
"You found her weakness," he grinned…Ocelot. Snake looked at him in disgust, and then, as he hopped down to the surface, his boots crushing the snow beneath him, Desperado's only able hand stretched out of the cockpit and pulled his body forward, ducking his head as not to hit the roof of the panel. He didn't look as happy or amused as Ocelot, and slowly made his way down the side of CELL's face. "Don't mind them," he said, his hand gesturing toward the choppers that began to hover over in a circular formation, SEALS printed on their hulls in bold, black lettering. "They are merely another section of the audience." He smiled, his fingers playing a song on his holsters.
"Snake!" Otacon's voice echoed in his ear like a deafening, but well- welcomed alarm. He stood there, frozen for a moment, but did not answer. "Snake?! Snake, are you okay?! Snake!" Ocelot grinned, Snake's head tilting forward, his eyes focusing on the pure, whiteness of the snow before him. So beautiful…and so irrelevant. His environment was so out of touch with reality, it seemed. No matter the situation, nature lived on, like it was another world, one apart from is own. It was sad, almost…seeing happiness…feeling happiness…but not experiencing happiness…
"En guard!" Ocelot cried, and the only sound to be heard was the subtle crackling fire that burnt behind them, and the twirl of guns as Ocelot drew his dual revolvers, Desperado pulled his SOCOM, Snake pulled his Desert Eagles, and Jack pulled his Hammerli 280. In a movement they all executed in unison, the four jumped to their left, falling into sideways summersaults as they fired away, their bullets hitting the cold air, and passing in silence, for another loud crack to take their place.
After their initial dash, the four broke into two couples. Snake went with Ocelot, and Jack went with Desperado. Breaking away, and moving into areas of their own, the Dual Duel had begun, their guns ablaze.
Snake and Jack dodged this way and that, firing nowhere near as many shots as Desperado and Ocelot who were took the cake for 'fastest.' Snake and Ocelot had somehow moved onto CELL, the fire that melted through its back burning near. It had collapsed to a certain extent, the arch in its back less severe, and its body more sprawled, making their stunts easier to perform, seeing as the slope was much easier to conquer.
Jack and Desperado were still in the snow, each of them armed with one gun as opposed to two. Jack was not ready for the bout, not ready at all, but Desperado was a more than fair opponent. Whenever Jack had run his magazine out, Desperado stopped, his gun at his side, and waited for Jack to reload his Hammerli. He always took cover when doing say, believing that if he were to do it in the open, Desperado would surely shoot him down, but that wasn't true. Desperado was a fierce fighter, but a fair fighter.
They fought long and hard, dodging to the right, and to the left, but then, as Ocelot jumped off of CELL, dropping into the snow as all of Snake's ammunition had been expended, a loud shot rang out, and everyone turned to its origin. Snake stepped to the neck of CELL, and looked over the edge, seeing in the snow, at the base of CELL…Jack – his last bullet fired. Across from him, no more than five meters away from Ocelot was Desperado, his gun in the snow, and his hand over his stomach. He fell to his knees, coughing and choking, his arm held high for his friend.
"Ocelot…" he cried, his voice a mere whisper. Ocelot turned to him, somewhat surprised, and stepped over, a grin spreading across his face.
"I didn't mean for that Ninja to take your arm…" he said, and Desperado's face went cold. He couldn't believe it. He was a target too…nothing more than a demonstration of power…how cruel.
"You…lying cheat!" Desperado cried, choking and drowning in his own blood.
"It's like they say, old friend…your time is up…it was up long ago…a 'dead man walking.'" Ocelot huffed, and then fired again, his friend grabbing at the snow in his last attempt to survive. He turned back to Snake who wanted more than anything to kill him, and showed a face, no sign of remorse.
There was a growing patter in the distance, and in Snake's fury he looked over his shoulder, recognizing Otaon and Mei Ling and Naomi who quickly joined him and Jack, standing behind them. "You missed the tragic death scene!" Ocelot cried. "Every good movie has one," he said, gesturing to the body that lay before them all…Desperado…cold. "But, we must move on, my friends, to much more important things. You have yet to witness the final act.
"After you faced off with your brother, in my body," Ocelot began, directing the speech to Snake, "I got away with RAY, and you got away with your life. You see, the Patriots gave me a location, a location where I could meet them, find them. I went there, I traced everything I could. I hid RAY here, and went directly to Manhattan. Did you ever notice that old, abandoned warehouse on the south harbor? It overlooks the ocean. The windows – purple, and red… every color you could imagine.
"That was where I went. They gave me that location, and I went there. Yes…how long ago that seems. You see, there was barely anything there. I searched the building for hours, but all that I saw was a computer. In the middle of the main room was a computer. A computer! Can you realize how infuriated I was? How angry I was? I felt betrayed…denied by my own employers, but…no, that was not it at all. In fact, I could not have been further from the truth.
"So, I sat down at that computer…and I read what was on it's screen, what appeared on it's screen as I read it. I saw thousands of posts…thousands of requests, or…'demands' you could call them. But what I found particularly interesting was the name that sat beside every 'demand.' Do you know? Can you tell me whose name that was?" He waited, but they looked at him indignantly, and so he continued.
"Mine," he said, stopping as if he had released the greatest revelation of all. "My name…I had given those orders. I read most of them, all of them in fact, and I found myself recalling all the instances I spoke with those cloudy voices on the phone, always digitized…I remembered all the requests I made, all the things I said, and I saw them all played back to me right on that computer. You see…that, my friends, is the Compilation.
"That is where my demands…MY demands…were compiled, formed into a single 'constitution' you could say. As soon as I issued those requests, they were compiled there, they were sent out across the world to whoever needed to hear them, and when I witnessed it all…I was making the demands. I was speaking to a computer when I thought I was speaking to my 'Boss.' I was my boss. I am my boss. You see…I am the Patriots…THE PATRIOT!" Snake was too stunned, too surprised to fall backward or respond in any way. It didn't make sense. "I rule the world! I am the President of it all! Everything! The world is my stage, and you are my actors…
"Socrates thought we mutually sought power, he thought that my cravings blinded me…but I all ready had it. It was his own craving that blinded HIM. He was another pawn, another useless ornament…another instrument in the song. I wanted CELL, not to HAVE power, but to DEMONSTRATE that power. I don't want to be the invisible figure, the leader that no one can see, or touch, or hear. I am the leader of the world…I control everything, but you see…I don't want that. I want to be known! I want to be a legend…but all of this was destroyed once again.
"It would seem easy enough to simply march into Washington D.C. proclaim my power, and take over, but no one would believe but the politicians, the people who knew of me, but dared not to speak of me. I was a 'thing' an invisible 'thing!' but it was the Compilation that showed me the truth. And now, it has shown you the truth…" His grin soon returned, disguising the insane, lost gaze that he possessed while lecturing. And he paused for a moment, pacing back and forth, not speaking a word. Then, he turned to them.
"The computer…the Compilation…me…they are all one in the same. They are power. All symbols of power. In the background was the symphony of a savior as the SEALS choppers began to come lower, ropes falling from their open hulls, and soldiers standing at the doors dressed in white and gray camouflage that suited the occasion nicely.
They nodded to each other, waving and making gestures as they moved onto the ropes, falling over CELL, and sliding down its spine, forming a line behind Snake, and forcing him to the snow. They made signals as they descended and moved over the body, taking several posts while others led the way, building a circle around Ocelot, broken only by Snake and the company.
Ocelot examined them, as they did in return, and then, after a moment of tension, they seemed to take a few steps away, reforming their circle, but this time pointing their guns at the company. Snake took a faulty step backward only to hear the reproaching orders of the SEALS that surrounded them. "Don't move!" they cried.
"It sure is an advantage, being the President of the World. You can do things like this…you can call your own team of Navy SEALS! It looks like this time, you come away empty handed, my friends." Ocelot turned away. "You have to understand, my friends. I control everything." Ocelot looked over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the company once more before waving to the SEALS, and heading for the choppers that hovered inches above Metal Gear's body, causing the soldiers to disperse as if the company had suddenly vanished.
The company could barely move, but they didn't know if it was the cold that did it or the cruel surprise that Otacon had delivered without even a second glance at his old friend, Desperado. He hiked up to where CELL lay, and smiled, three choppers hovering inches off the ground, their doors open and inviting. Then, a nasty, uncompassionate look on his face, he hopped onto the chopper, one foot on it's leg, another on CELL, and his arm holding a silver bar tightly, holding him steady, and called. "Good day!"
"Why don't you kill us?!" Snake called, his strength suddenly returning to him. Ocelot smiled in delight, but waited a moment…running the answer over in his head.
"What good is power if you have no one to enforce it on?" he called in return, fitting his revolver into its holster and patting it lightly. "It's a game!" he cried. "Like a game of chess, my friends! This one just happened to turn out a stalemate!" He grinned, and slid into the chopper, soldiers bustling into the helicopter behind him.
There was another moment of silence, besides the repetitious song of the helicopter, their propellers beating annoyingly in the wind. The flames that burned in CELL's heart quickly reached up again, attempting to pull the helicopters down with them as they hovered into the air, but nothing could stop them. Not then. It was just another stalemate.
"It's over," Otacon said, but not in a happy tone, like the pain and suffering had all ended, but in a terrible croak of obscurity. There, they stood, their bodies huddled close together as the morning's first true light struck the plateau, illuminating it with a beautiful sparkling shimmer. The helicopters were like hazy silhouettes hovering above the horizon and as they faded into the growing clouds, Snake turned to Otacon. They had been through hell, but at that moment, things felt like they had concluded. It was the end of a bad day, and the beginning of a new one...one that together, they would make brighter.
"No," Snake thought out loud. "For today, maybe…but Ocelot won't go far." Then, his eyes wandered to Desperado who lay in the snow not far from them. He turned away from the company and knelt at the man's side, resting his hand on his heart as he pulled the slip of paper he had found near the Desert Eagles from his pocket and unfolded it. "Heh," he grunted, "maybe you did see Ocelot for who he was…sorry it had to end this way. Good day…and good night," Snake said, flattening the paper on Desperado's chest and turning his head up to the sky as the others huddled around him.
It was then that the morning's first true light shone over the plateau, setting it aflame with a glowing, shimmering reflection.
The Compilation
I put this so far down because I feel the NA can ruin the ending of a story. Read at your own risk.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: First of all, I had originally posted this chapter, but I was somewhat upset with it. I hurried to put it online and sat in bed for nearly an hour trying to figure out what was so odd about it, and what made it a disappointment to me, so as soon as I got home from school I came up here and fixed it up for…let's say two hours. With that in mind, I hope you enjoyed this story, as I did. I am sad to leave it, but not as sad as I had thought I would be. It came a long way, and I am proud of it. I have to thank everyone for being so nice to me in my steady progression (White Hornet Andy, The Combobulator, SSFury…), and one person in particular: Otaku Tess for being the best reviewer and online friend I've ever had. I'd like to keep in touch with everyone here at FF.net so if you wanna talk to me, IM me at Espresso d Gecko or email me at z_dial@hotmail.com . Thank you all so much for your support. Good day, and happy writing!
P.S.
Hmmm…what had Desperado written on that little slip of paper…??
We'll see if I decide to return with another attempt at a fic in the future. Just…let that jog your imagination until then ;D