By Virtual HiT MaN
hitman@evilemail.com
Chapter One: Incipience
Part One
***
Year: 2007 - Two years after the events on Shadow Moses Island
Location: Glacier, Colorado - Population: 103 - Three miles east of the Rockies
***
Lustrous flakes of pure white snow fell from the cloudy gray skies above the small mountain town of Glacier, Colorado. Hazy mists rolled down from the mountain tops to the west, smothering the town in a cloudy gray brume, obfuscating the pale white moon which hung high above the clouds in the midnight sky. Bitter air whipped against the window as the mayor stared out at the thunderheads for a moment. His eyes shifted to the doorway, where, in the distance, his secretary Anne waved goodbye, smiling and throwing the fluffy hood of her parka over her head. He smiled and waved back, and she turned, scooping up her bag, and pushed open the front door of the town hall. Harsh gusts of wind immediately began their assault on the young woman and she struggled to shut the door behind her. The glass and metal framed door was half frosted over, and the mayor could just make out her figure finally slamming the door shut, and wandering off into the night. His eyes rolled back down to his mahogany desk, and the paperwork atop it. He sighed, setting down his pen and sipping on his hot mug of coffee. A faint clicking noise sounded in the distance, but he paid it no mind. Probably just another twig smacking into the window. He rolled his cushy leather chair over from behind his desk and turned to face the idle television. The mayor pressed the power button on the remote control, and the local newswoman's voice began to come through, the picture slowly fading from black.
"-we take you live to the scene of the grisly murder of Police Chief Darren Brown, in the downtown police station. Police have barred off the entrance and have released very few details." The mayor's eyes widened as he dropped the remote onto the carpeted floor. "Earlier tonight, an unknown assailant broke into the police station and brutally stabbed Chief Brown to death. He is succeeded by a wife and two children. No witnesses have contacted the police, and the mayor has not yet been reached for commenting." His eyes focused on the flickering television screen, the mayor's hand slowly reached for the phone which sat on the corner of his desk. "-pparently the chief had stayed behind to finish up on some paperwork. The lock on the window of his office had been picked open from the outside, and the criminal quietly sneaked in from behind. One officer, the first one to arrive on the scene, commented that it seemed like he had been tortured before being killed." An unmarked black eighteen-wheeler rumbled by behind the reporter, blowing snow onto her back. She and the cameraman immediately stepped further away from the side of the icy road. The trucks had been a local nuisance for a little over a week, every few hours a day one or two would roll through the quiet town and cause a ruckus. No one knew where the trucks were going, but everyone wanted them to leave. The mayor's hand set down upon the gentle curve of the phone, and he picked it up, bringing it to the side of his face, his eyes still fixated on the screen. His other hand now moved to dial a number, his eyes still unmoving. He began to dial, but heard no beeping noise. The mayor looked over at the phone and noticed the cord had been severed. Abruptly, he was knocked out of his large chair, and a shadowy figure lifted him up and slammed his back into the television, turning it off and cracking the screen as he did. The figure swept the lamp up from atop the desk and slammed it on the carpet. The mayor rubbed his head and blearily looked up at the figure. The mellow glow of the moon shone through the clouds and into the window, allowing him to see the slight glimmer of light reflecting off of the blade the figure now held. The dusky shape leapt forward, pouncing onto the mayor and knocking the television down in the other direction. The smashed lamp sat on the floor flickering on and off in violent fits, allowing the mayor to make out the outline of his assailant. His features were rigid and grim. Faint light bounced off of his bony cheeks and only a pale glint of his eyes stood out from the darkness of the rest of his face. The figure wiped a few thin strands of wiry hair off of his face, and pulled the small knife to the mayor's throat. He looked up in horror as the figure dangled the blade no more than an inch above his very throat. The figure spoke in a raspy, hissing tone, "My methods had little luck on the police chief. Perhaps you will prove smarter."
"W-what do you want?" the mayor near-shrieked, squirming underneath
the powerful attacker who held him by the shoulder, pinning him to the floor.
In the distance, the rumbling of a truck could be heard barging through town
towards the mountains.
"Information," the figure hissed in a slight British accent.
"On-on what?" the mayor squirmed again desperately.
"On those trucks," the shadow spoke again.
The mayor wiggled again, futilely twisting his neck back and forth, "I-I
don't know anything about them!" he exclaimed. He was never a convincing
liar. The dusky figure swiftly raised the blade and jammed it into the mayor's
left shoulder. The mayor let out a deep yelp and the figure slammed his hand
over his face to silence him.
"I know you don't want to die," said the sibilant voice emanating
from the figure, who still held the blade in place, the other hand clasped over
the mayor's mouth. "Where are the trucks going?" Salty tears now streamed
down the mayor's cheeks, and he blinked his eyes trying to stop them. The figure
slowly twisted the knife just a bit. Letting out a muffled scream, the mayor
fidgeted again in a pathetically vain attempt at escape.
"Where?"
The mayor's chest heaved, and he tried to speak. The figure moved his hand down
off of his mouth and pressed it against his chest to keep him pinned to the
floor. The mayor groaned, grasping for the strength to speak. "Th-they're
going to the mountains. To the base"
The shadow pulled the knife from the mayor's shoulder and pressed the dull edge
against the mayor's throat. "What base?"
The mayor coughed, "Granite Hill, it's, it's some government base hidden
inside the mountains. D-dug into th-the side of the mountains and stretching
all the w-way down underground."
The figure pulled the knife from his neck, and slammed it into the middle of
his chest, cracking his ribcage instantly. The figure stood, and disappeared
into the shadows. The mayor convulsed, coughing up blood. Warm streams of his
own blood rolled down his cheeks as he gasped for air. The bitter taste nauseated
him as he rolled over onto his stomach, groping for the edge of his desk so
he could pull himself up. His fine white carpet quickly became stained with
a vivid and rich red. The stab wound to the chest had punctured his lung, which
collapsed in the next few moments, quietly killing him. His hand drooped down
from atop the desk, and came plopping back down onto the floor.
***
Washington D.C. - The next morning
***
"Congratulations Agent," the mechanical voice droned as the next VR simulation began to load. Slipping slowly back into reality, Agent Andrew Decker slid the pair of VR goggles off his head and set them down on the computer console. He shook his head wearily, and blinked his eyes to adjust to the light in the room. Another agent strolled up to the doorway and knocked on the opened door. Decker turned to the doorway and the other agent spoke, "Colonel wants to see you ASAP. I think he finally has a mission for you." With that, the agent wandered off. Decker stood up and headed for Colonel Reid's office.
The office was spacious and warm, and Colonel Reid waved him in, setting down a beige file folder and a few pieces of paper onto his already cluttered desk. "I'll cut right to the chase. This is an official mission. Your mission. Last night the police chief and the mayor of a town called Glacier, in Colorado, were murdered. About three miles west of that town is a top secret government installation, the Granite Hill Advanced Aeronautical and Mechanical Research and Development Facility. They've been shipping in various parts to the base in unmarked black eighteen-wheeler trucks with government tags on the license plates. The base is expanding, they're bringing in building supplies, new computer terminals, that kind of thing. The nature of these murders suggest torture was involved. Someone wanted to extract information from these gentlemen. These two men were the only ones in town who knew where these trucks are heading. The base is well camouflaged, you'd never even see the entrance if you didn't know what you were looking for. There are a few outposts in place to make sure nobody follows the trucks up. The killer or killers must have tortured them into spilling the beans about the operation. If that is so, they could slip past these outposts and possibly hijack a truck or break into the facility. The contents of the trucks are quite valuable. Hi-tech computers and such. They've bumped up security in the area outlying the town, but can't place troops within the town without raising some eyebrows. A General from the Army contacted us about an hour ago, and gave us our orders. You're going in to check out the town. Look for anything unusual, keep the general peace, and keep an ear open for news from the facility."
Decker sighed as Reid rambled on about the mission. Basically it was an elaborate hunt for a needle in a haystack. Hunt down some killer in a little mountain town. That was the mission? Keep the general peace? What fun that sounded like. Decker knew they could have done better than that. He was still a new recruit, but he had extensive training before joining this 'elite operations team' they called FOXHOUND. He knew this new incarnation of FOXHOUND wasn't quite the same thing as it used to be, but he still thought there would be some more action. That's all it boiled down to. The action. The adventure. The thrill of battle and pursuit. Decker wanted all of these things, and his superiors in the CIA recommended FOXHOUND. Hunt down a killer? Suddenly he was being turned into some twisted Sherlock Holmes, investigating some murders in some town. Keep the peace? Might as well slap a badge and a blue suit on him and have him direct traffic. There was something appealing though, something hidden in the background. Obviously there was something going on in Granite Hill that no one wanted to speak of. He wondered what it was all the way over to the private government airstrip they used to ferry agents off on assignment.
***
Somewhere in the Fox Archipelago, Alaska - One week later
***
Two figures exchanged warm glances as they looked out over the cold Alaskan
horizon, the blurry sun setting distantly, mostly blocked from view by the freezing
mists which stirred up when the wind began to blow.
"It's been a while," the younger of the two men said, his breath puffing
up and wafting away in front of his nose.
The second man smiled, "It has."
Standing in the middle of nowhere, the two figures reminisced for a long time.
As the sun disappeared from sight, a campfire kept them warm.
"So, working on any projects right now?" the older man asked, huddling
closer to the fire and rubbing his gloved hands in front of it.
"A few mercenary jobs down in South America. Just your run-of-the-mill
killing terrorists kind of deal," the younger man said, putting his own
hands up to the flames as they danced in their bed of wood and stone. "How
about you?"
The older gentleman sighed, "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. They discharged
me and I didn't even fight back. I'm and old man Snake. Just an old man with
nowhere in this new Army to call my own. They closed down FOXHOUND. About time
too."
Snake sighed softly, "Yeah, I heard about that. They also opened it back
up again."
The old former Colonel raised an eyebrow, "When?"
Snake's lip curled up and he grinned slightly. "About a year ago as a matter
of fact. A joint CIA-NSA project this time. They still basically do covert infiltration
operations, but on a smaller scale. All their old blunders finally got the attention
of the Pentagon. Mainly Big Boss and his multitask operation of running the
old FOXHOUND as well as a personal terrorist organization. Some are questioning
his 'greatest soldier ever known' qualities."
Campbell let out a raspy chuckle, "About time they did that too."
Sitting in the snow, Snake leaned back against his snowmobile and stared up
at the dark sky. "Heard from FAST lately?"
Campbell shook his head, "No, they've back off in the past year. Still
haven't found any of you."
Snake snorted, "They probably never will. Congress only passed the FAST
bill to calm everybody down in the Pentagon. Everybody was so afraid Shadow
Moses would go public. I can just see the shit sliding down the insides of their
pants. I can't believe none of the others haven't blown the lid on it yet."
Campbell looked over to Snake, "Why haven't you?"
Snake closed his eyes for a moment, "I don't care to make a big deal about
it. Every morning I wake up with nightmares about Metal Gear and Liquid. I just
want to forget. God, if I could only forget. I've got a good setup going on
right now. My mercenary contacts reach all over most of both hemispheres. I've
nothing to worry about. FAST will never find me, if they're even still looking.
I've put that all behind me and I never want to turn back. Cowardice or not,
I don't care any more." Snake dug in his coat pocket for his pack of cigarettes
and lighter.
"That's not cowardice," Campbell muttered, "that's smart thinking.
Poke your head up and FAST will come after you anyway."
Snake nodded, lighting a cigarette and sticking it between his lips.
"Have you heard from your friend Emmerich?"
Snake shook his head, exhaling a puff of smoke. "A few months ago he contacted
me, but I haven't heard from him recently. My contacts would have let me know
if FAST reported in his death. He's just keeping a low profile and hiding. It's
what he always did best anyhow."
Campbell didn't dare speak of Ocelot or Liquid. He knew FAST wouldn't find them,
and he also knew Snake didn't care to speak of either of them. Especially the
latter. "If FAST does find out where you are hiding, you can always duck
under a cardboard box." The two men laughed heartily as the Alaskan evening
froze over into night, hailstorm clouds slowly building overhead.
***