Chapter Two: The Situation
"Snake? Can you hear me?" Otacon's voice echoed in Snake's ear. He winced, the sound awakening him from a shallow sleep. "Snake?"
"Yea, Otacon," he said drowsily, rubbing his head, "I hear you."
"Good," Otacon returned. "What's your status?"
"I'm coming up on Manhattan," he said, standing, his hand bent over his brow, shielding the light that shrouded his view. Turning, he could see the horde of cars at the rear of the ship. A ferry.
"Just to make sure we don't hit any bumps in security, Jack is on a ferry from Liberty Harbor, and should dock on Manhattan island only minutes after you. Don't feel obligated to wait for him, though."
"Heh…so what's the situation?" Snake asked, stepping to the back of the ferry and leaning against the railing, watching the water ripple and churn in their pass.
"As you know, this mission isn't a typical one for either of us. This one will be in daylight, and in a crowd of hundreds. Manhattan is a pretty popular place."
"Yea…I'll have to do some sight-seeing before I leave."
"Remember, Snake, this is strictly work. Save play for later."
"In my house, we always did it the other way around."
"Snake," Otacon sighed, "let's just go over everything. You're familiar with the statement Revolver Ocelot made at Hell's Outpost, regarding the location of the Compilation, and since we don't run routine missions to Manhattan, you should be able to tell this one is a special assignment. Surprisingly, it is in no way connected with Philanthropy, and was assigned to us through UFAC, the Universal Freedom Activists Council."
"Don't remember them…" Snake searched for a memory, but nothing came.
"Don't worry, they're completely independent of the Patriot, or more specifically, Ocelot. In fact, their main objectives are to counter the acts of the Patriots through non-violent means. Most of the men or women on the council are from third-world countries like India and Brazil, but there is a number of representatives from the larger nations such as Germany and England."
"You sure of no links?"
"Positive," Otacon assured him. "Now, in more detail, you need to make your way into a seven-story warehouse just south-west of One New York Plaza. The Compilation, if Ocelot's story was true, should be in the very center of the main level. You'll be assisted by a backup team of UFAC agents, but unless something goes wrong, you might never notice they're there."
"One New York Plaza…the building south-west of it," he paused, "isn't it getting knocked down on the Fourth?"
"July Fourth," Otacon reassured him, "it goes down. That's today."
"That explains the urgency of the situation then?"
"Exactly," Otacon nodded, but it was invisible to Snake. "Wow. You don't even remember July Fourth?" Snake turned, supporting himself against the railing with his hands as they arched behind him. Taking in a gulp of sea- smelling air, he exhaled and grunted.
"Hmph…that's one year on the dot," he remarked. "The Arsenal incident seems so long ago… so does Hell's Outpost."
"Well, they're far from irrelevant. Both missions continue to influence our future movements with Philanthropy," Otacon replied.
"Hmm…looks like Battery Park is ready for tonight. They're setting up Six Flags in the back yard of Manhattan." He frowned.
"Yea. That's been their habit for quite a while. July Fourth isn't a celebration of independence; it's all commercial and media. Just another moneymaker."
"That's America for you. The world of entertainment," Snake sighed, his eyes wandering to the two steel structures that stood above the rest in the distance. Up to the eighteenth floor, there were walls, but from then on, it was a jumble of glinting gray; turned a warm orange in the morning's sunlight. Snake couldn't remember how long it had been since the attack…9- 11 as everyone had come to refer to it as. He didn't like the name…it made it no more significant than a telephone number. It seemed almost disrespectful to him, but leaving your mind in the past never helped anybody.
"Well…that's just an act," Otacon sighed, his statement referring to the 'play' or 'show' of the Patriots, as Ocelot called it. The world, his stage, and the people, his actors. "But, we aren't the only ones who can tell. The power of the Patriot spans the entire world, now. Of course, if it didn't there could be a lot of conflicts with other countries…not as if there all ready aren't, but…oh well."
"I wonder if Ocelot planned it," Snake found himself thinking out loud.
"What?"
"The World Trade Center…you know, 9-11. Don't tell me you never asked yourself that question?"
"Well, whether he did or not, he's a terrible man. He couldn't be considered any worse with that on his shoulders. You and I both know he's capable." There was an awkward moment of silence then, and it lasted for quite some time. Snake stared blankly toward the skyline of Manhattan, and Otacon sat in a secured building somewhere in the Bronx, papers littering his space.
"Snake?!" Otacon suddenly blurted. Snake had been drifting off again, but suddenly awoke from the light sleep that had overcome him in that moment.
"What is it, Otacon?"
"I just spoke to Jack! They're turning his boat around! Some sort of biological threat was made in Manhattan!" His voice was no louder than usual, but had suddenly become much more urgent. As he spoke, Snake turned from his gaze, a familiar symphony of propellers working behind him. Turning, he fell back in surprise as two choppers roared overhead, his neck twisting around to follow them toward Manhattan.
"Iriqouis?" He questioned. "UH-1N? Twin engine, carries 10 passengers…that's an Augusta; Italian. Otacon?"
"What would an Iriqouis be doing there?" He thought. "Maybe it has something to do with the bio threat?"
"Doubt it," Snake shook his head, mesmerized. "The Iriqouis' a transport vehicle. The threat could be related, but I don't see how," Snake trailed off, the wind still gathering around him from the choppers' pass. Then, he felt a lurch, and fell forward onto the floor of the ferry as the entire boat began to shift. "Damn! They're turning it around!"
"Snake," Otacon started, "if it's a biological threat, we should leave it up to the National Guard. Of course…we'd miss our shot at the Compilation."
Snake pushed onto his feet, massaged his chin, and looked to his left. To the west, there was a faint outline of two choppers moving steadily over the water, accelerating lightly as they neared the city. Then, he could hear racket from the east, and witnessed a chopper hovering over the Brooklyn Bridge, men sliding to the streets below from a long strand of rope. There was chaos, and it seemed that in those very seconds it had erupted out of nowhere, the streets becoming unsafe and the skies becoming filled with helicopters. Snake looked to the head of the ship, noticing a crowd of civilians gathering at its edge as the ferry turned, and then he looked back at Manhattan, pandemonium ensuing.
"Otacon," he said briefly, "I'm getting off this boat."
"Snake? Can you hear me?" Otacon's voice echoed in Snake's ear. He winced, the sound awakening him from a shallow sleep. "Snake?"
"Yea, Otacon," he said drowsily, rubbing his head, "I hear you."
"Good," Otacon returned. "What's your status?"
"I'm coming up on Manhattan," he said, standing, his hand bent over his brow, shielding the light that shrouded his view. Turning, he could see the horde of cars at the rear of the ship. A ferry.
"Just to make sure we don't hit any bumps in security, Jack is on a ferry from Liberty Harbor, and should dock on Manhattan island only minutes after you. Don't feel obligated to wait for him, though."
"Heh…so what's the situation?" Snake asked, stepping to the back of the ferry and leaning against the railing, watching the water ripple and churn in their pass.
"As you know, this mission isn't a typical one for either of us. This one will be in daylight, and in a crowd of hundreds. Manhattan is a pretty popular place."
"Yea…I'll have to do some sight-seeing before I leave."
"Remember, Snake, this is strictly work. Save play for later."
"In my house, we always did it the other way around."
"Snake," Otacon sighed, "let's just go over everything. You're familiar with the statement Revolver Ocelot made at Hell's Outpost, regarding the location of the Compilation, and since we don't run routine missions to Manhattan, you should be able to tell this one is a special assignment. Surprisingly, it is in no way connected with Philanthropy, and was assigned to us through UFAC, the Universal Freedom Activists Council."
"Don't remember them…" Snake searched for a memory, but nothing came.
"Don't worry, they're completely independent of the Patriot, or more specifically, Ocelot. In fact, their main objectives are to counter the acts of the Patriots through non-violent means. Most of the men or women on the council are from third-world countries like India and Brazil, but there is a number of representatives from the larger nations such as Germany and England."
"You sure of no links?"
"Positive," Otacon assured him. "Now, in more detail, you need to make your way into a seven-story warehouse just south-west of One New York Plaza. The Compilation, if Ocelot's story was true, should be in the very center of the main level. You'll be assisted by a backup team of UFAC agents, but unless something goes wrong, you might never notice they're there."
"One New York Plaza…the building south-west of it," he paused, "isn't it getting knocked down on the Fourth?"
"July Fourth," Otacon reassured him, "it goes down. That's today."
"That explains the urgency of the situation then?"
"Exactly," Otacon nodded, but it was invisible to Snake. "Wow. You don't even remember July Fourth?" Snake turned, supporting himself against the railing with his hands as they arched behind him. Taking in a gulp of sea- smelling air, he exhaled and grunted.
"Hmph…that's one year on the dot," he remarked. "The Arsenal incident seems so long ago… so does Hell's Outpost."
"Well, they're far from irrelevant. Both missions continue to influence our future movements with Philanthropy," Otacon replied.
"Hmm…looks like Battery Park is ready for tonight. They're setting up Six Flags in the back yard of Manhattan." He frowned.
"Yea. That's been their habit for quite a while. July Fourth isn't a celebration of independence; it's all commercial and media. Just another moneymaker."
"That's America for you. The world of entertainment," Snake sighed, his eyes wandering to the two steel structures that stood above the rest in the distance. Up to the eighteenth floor, there were walls, but from then on, it was a jumble of glinting gray; turned a warm orange in the morning's sunlight. Snake couldn't remember how long it had been since the attack…9- 11 as everyone had come to refer to it as. He didn't like the name…it made it no more significant than a telephone number. It seemed almost disrespectful to him, but leaving your mind in the past never helped anybody.
"Well…that's just an act," Otacon sighed, his statement referring to the 'play' or 'show' of the Patriots, as Ocelot called it. The world, his stage, and the people, his actors. "But, we aren't the only ones who can tell. The power of the Patriot spans the entire world, now. Of course, if it didn't there could be a lot of conflicts with other countries…not as if there all ready aren't, but…oh well."
"I wonder if Ocelot planned it," Snake found himself thinking out loud.
"What?"
"The World Trade Center…you know, 9-11. Don't tell me you never asked yourself that question?"
"Well, whether he did or not, he's a terrible man. He couldn't be considered any worse with that on his shoulders. You and I both know he's capable." There was an awkward moment of silence then, and it lasted for quite some time. Snake stared blankly toward the skyline of Manhattan, and Otacon sat in a secured building somewhere in the Bronx, papers littering his space.
"Snake?!" Otacon suddenly blurted. Snake had been drifting off again, but suddenly awoke from the light sleep that had overcome him in that moment.
"What is it, Otacon?"
"I just spoke to Jack! They're turning his boat around! Some sort of biological threat was made in Manhattan!" His voice was no louder than usual, but had suddenly become much more urgent. As he spoke, Snake turned from his gaze, a familiar symphony of propellers working behind him. Turning, he fell back in surprise as two choppers roared overhead, his neck twisting around to follow them toward Manhattan.
"Iriqouis?" He questioned. "UH-1N? Twin engine, carries 10 passengers…that's an Augusta; Italian. Otacon?"
"What would an Iriqouis be doing there?" He thought. "Maybe it has something to do with the bio threat?"
"Doubt it," Snake shook his head, mesmerized. "The Iriqouis' a transport vehicle. The threat could be related, but I don't see how," Snake trailed off, the wind still gathering around him from the choppers' pass. Then, he felt a lurch, and fell forward onto the floor of the ferry as the entire boat began to shift. "Damn! They're turning it around!"
"Snake," Otacon started, "if it's a biological threat, we should leave it up to the National Guard. Of course…we'd miss our shot at the Compilation."
Snake pushed onto his feet, massaged his chin, and looked to his left. To the west, there was a faint outline of two choppers moving steadily over the water, accelerating lightly as they neared the city. Then, he could hear racket from the east, and witnessed a chopper hovering over the Brooklyn Bridge, men sliding to the streets below from a long strand of rope. There was chaos, and it seemed that in those very seconds it had erupted out of nowhere, the streets becoming unsafe and the skies becoming filled with helicopters. Snake looked to the head of the ship, noticing a crowd of civilians gathering at its edge as the ferry turned, and then he looked back at Manhattan, pandemonium ensuing.
"Otacon," he said briefly, "I'm getting off this boat."