Chapter Fifteen: And the Sky Began to Bleed
"Come in!" a voice called from behind the door. Nervously, Otacon gripped the doorknob and turned it – his eyes clenched tight. "I said come in!" The voice came again, and as Otacon had nearly stopped where he was, he jumped and threw the door open in a fit of surprise.
It crashed against the wall, and the man who sat at the desk jerked his head up and glared at Otacon, sporting a somewhat forced smile. Walking over to the desk, and unknowingly dropping the files he had taken with him when leaving his own office, Otacon stood at attention before the man who remained seated. His hair was gray, and his eyes were sharp enough to cut through metal. They were the color of steel. Frightening…
"Otacon, if its about getting to Manhattan -," Carpell tried, but Otacon was not willing to forfeit this time.
"Sir, I have the next issue of the Manhattan Resident right here. I was looking through it on my way up, and a couple of articles caught my eye." Carpell sighed, massaging his forehead in a mix of frustration and pity. "Look," Otacon said, laying the paper in front of Carpell and pointing to the front-page article. "The terrorists responsible for this morning's incident are calling themselves FACtion."
Hearing the name, Carpell rested his hands on the desk and looked up to Otacon in something of surprise. Taking the paper in hand, he examined it closely and then once he had finished, held it up for Otacon to take away. "Oh," Otacon jumped. "There's one more. It should catch your interest."
Flipping a few pages through it, Otacon set the paper back in front of Carpell and smiled. Proud. "They've knocked it back a day. They're dropping the warehouse tomorrow." Reading the article close, Carpell saw every reason for Otacon to be allowed entrance to Manhattan, but the longer it took for him to analyze it, the less hope Otacon saw.
"Hal," Carpell began, sighing, "I can't let you go off to Manhattan! It shouldn't matter when that warehouse goes down. If you go on the front line, this entire operation could be compromised!" Looking at Otacon with a sharp concern, he smiled lightly. "We don't want that to happen now, do we?" Otacon looked at him sternly. There was no justice to the man's ruling. It was like a jury of prejudice terrorists. The people he was helping held him in a prison. 'How did I let this happen?' he thought. 'They're doing the right thing, but…now I have to give up on the others?'
Otacon nodded, and from Carpell there was a relieved smile. He didn't want any complications.
"Well then," he sighed, folding Otacon's paper neatly, "I guess I can expect you back in your office then?" Otacon didn't say anything, nor did he nod or shake his head. He simply smiled, snatched up his paper, and walked out the door as calmly as he ever had.
"Is the verdict in?" one of the agents asked then, a smile on his face. Otacon looked down, not even acknowledging the agent's question. The smile turned into a frown. "Well, he's a tough one to crack. Come on, I'll take you back to the office."
The agent was the only one waiting for Otacon. The other had disappeared to the first floor for something or other. As the two walked toward Otacon's office, their hands at their sides, there was a sort of waiting in the air. They waited…expecting the other to do something. What?
"Here we are," the agent said as he stopped by the door. Otacon looked up to the door, his heart dropping into his stomach as he did. Trying to step in, he felt the weight of the agent's hand on his shoulder. He turned and saw a newly sprouted smile on the agent's face. Pushing him back, and closing the door, the agent touched his ear. "Mr. Emmerich is secure."
Looking up, he saw the face. That face…he had expected it almost…he had waited for it. Seeing it all, he made the analogy of a rainy day. He waited by the window, watching the rain fall until finally it stopped, and now it had stopped. The rain had stopped falling, the sun had come out, and his savior had arrived. Looking at his face once more, he was filled with relief. "Mr. Jaeger."
There was a sense of humor in his voice as he spoke the name. "Are your things packed?" the man asked. Surprisingly enough he wore no bionic suit and no formal outfit. Instead, he wore a black trench coat. The collar was standing straight up, almost shielding his face, and at the bottom of his coat something seemed to be jutting outward – almost glinting as the light reached it.
"I knew they didn't intend on letting you die there," Otacon smiled wide. Frank grinned in return.
"That's a yes?" he asked. Otacon nodded and with that, Frank leveled his collar to his shoulders and set his outstretched hand on Otacon's back, leading him toward the elevator around the corner. "Close your eyes," he said as they turned the corner and to Otacon's horror they found a hall of crimson walls and stained carpet that appeared brown in the mix of red and blue.
Otacon was appalled, but hid his disapproval behind his hands that had found their way to his face, shielding him from the disgusting sight. Frank frowned as he passed the upturned bodies, their stomachs slit open and their throats torn out. Shaking his head and guiding Otacon down the hall, he stopped and pressed the small yellow button beside the elevator doors.
The stale stench of blood lingered in the air, and as they waited for the elevator to approach them Otacon held his nose tight, peeking through the reflection in his glasses to see the terrible picture behind him. The blood. Everywhere.
The elevator doors slid aside and giving Otacon a slight push, Frank moved into the compartment, pushing the button that requested the parking garage. Silence ensued as soon as the elevator began its descent, and even through the gore of the last hall Otacon was more concerned regarding Frank's presence alone.
"Three shots in my back, and it still kept me alive…long enough for 'him' to come," Frank stated, sensing Otacon's eagerness for an explanation.
"Long enough for who?" Otacon questioned fervently. Frank's head cocked to the side, and he grinned. "Neither friend or enemy," he said, and the elevator bounced a little as doors behind them slid open, revealing the tainted gray garage. Turning, the two of them looked at each other for a moment, not thinking they'd ever be so close after Hell's Outpost. But…they were there.
"Which one's yours?" Frank asked, and Otacon looked at him peculiarly.
"Why don't we take yours?" he asked.
"I don't need wheels to get around," he grinned, and Otacon pulled a gadget from his deep lab coat pocket. Pushing the 'Unlock' button, there was a honk and a set of tailgates lit up ahead of them – at the opposite end of the level.
Stepping out of the elevator, the doors closing behind them, the two walked rigidly through the parking garage. Frank's eyes were set on Otacon's white Dodge Caravan, but Otacon's eyes were set on Frank. 'WOW,' he thought, his hands shaking. 'How'd he make it?!' Even more surprising than the return from Shadow Moses, Otacon had a hard time comprehending Frank's unnatural presence.
The small orange lights that hardly lit the garage flickered on and off as the two came up on the van, Otacon moving to the driver's side and inserting his key in the door. Frank's eyes wandered as they stood there, and the moment seemed to turn hot. The sun moved out from behind a long cloud, and a cool breeze swept around him, over his shoulders, under his arms…and then something snapped like a baby's first toy. It tore like a long-loved blanket, and shattered like winter-touched glass. "Freeze!" was the call, and as there was a scamper of boots on the cement floor of the parking garage, the sun hid behind another cloud…hiding its shameful face from the heavy eyes of the deceived. "Hands above your head!"
Soldiers came out from behind the cars around them, and from within Otacon's van, their arms cradling seemingly identical weapons: 9mm handguns and M4 Assault Rifles. Some carried shotguns, and one or two were armed with grenade launchers. All were bound with Kevlar and equipped with nanomachines.
"On your knees!" they cried, forcing Otacon and Frank onto their knees unwillingly. As the crowd of soldiers stripped them of their coats and Frank of his sword, there was a ring from the opposite end of the garage. The elevator opened, and heralded by a horde of light armed UFAC agents came a man in full platoon camouflage, a colonel's formal jacket slung over his back and loosely clinging his shoulders.
Frank and Otacon exchanged looks of concern, but both shared anger in their eyes, something that Otacon rarely possessed. Two soldiers stood behind Otacon, and two behind Frank as the man from the elevator made his way toward them. He was not smiling. Nor was he grinning. He was looking somewhat amused, but acted as if the situation was more painful for him than for the two on their knees.
Watching his own boots as he walked, he stopped before the two men, and the soldiers who had stood around him moved to form a circle around the entire area. Lifting his military hat from his head, he raked his hand through his hair, sighing. "Well," he said, striking Otacon's nerve as he spoke, "it seems we meet again…under such harsh conditions it almost seems unwillingly so." The voice was scratchy, but one that Otacon could never forget even having only heard it a few times.
Looking up at the man, he swallowed hard and went deathly pale. The sun hid itself entirely, and the sky seemed to shake. It had betrayed them…deceived them with its bright glow.
The sun began to shudder and the sky began to bleed…
"Colonel Campbell?!"
"Come in!" a voice called from behind the door. Nervously, Otacon gripped the doorknob and turned it – his eyes clenched tight. "I said come in!" The voice came again, and as Otacon had nearly stopped where he was, he jumped and threw the door open in a fit of surprise.
It crashed against the wall, and the man who sat at the desk jerked his head up and glared at Otacon, sporting a somewhat forced smile. Walking over to the desk, and unknowingly dropping the files he had taken with him when leaving his own office, Otacon stood at attention before the man who remained seated. His hair was gray, and his eyes were sharp enough to cut through metal. They were the color of steel. Frightening…
"Otacon, if its about getting to Manhattan -," Carpell tried, but Otacon was not willing to forfeit this time.
"Sir, I have the next issue of the Manhattan Resident right here. I was looking through it on my way up, and a couple of articles caught my eye." Carpell sighed, massaging his forehead in a mix of frustration and pity. "Look," Otacon said, laying the paper in front of Carpell and pointing to the front-page article. "The terrorists responsible for this morning's incident are calling themselves FACtion."
Hearing the name, Carpell rested his hands on the desk and looked up to Otacon in something of surprise. Taking the paper in hand, he examined it closely and then once he had finished, held it up for Otacon to take away. "Oh," Otacon jumped. "There's one more. It should catch your interest."
Flipping a few pages through it, Otacon set the paper back in front of Carpell and smiled. Proud. "They've knocked it back a day. They're dropping the warehouse tomorrow." Reading the article close, Carpell saw every reason for Otacon to be allowed entrance to Manhattan, but the longer it took for him to analyze it, the less hope Otacon saw.
"Hal," Carpell began, sighing, "I can't let you go off to Manhattan! It shouldn't matter when that warehouse goes down. If you go on the front line, this entire operation could be compromised!" Looking at Otacon with a sharp concern, he smiled lightly. "We don't want that to happen now, do we?" Otacon looked at him sternly. There was no justice to the man's ruling. It was like a jury of prejudice terrorists. The people he was helping held him in a prison. 'How did I let this happen?' he thought. 'They're doing the right thing, but…now I have to give up on the others?'
Otacon nodded, and from Carpell there was a relieved smile. He didn't want any complications.
"Well then," he sighed, folding Otacon's paper neatly, "I guess I can expect you back in your office then?" Otacon didn't say anything, nor did he nod or shake his head. He simply smiled, snatched up his paper, and walked out the door as calmly as he ever had.
"Is the verdict in?" one of the agents asked then, a smile on his face. Otacon looked down, not even acknowledging the agent's question. The smile turned into a frown. "Well, he's a tough one to crack. Come on, I'll take you back to the office."
The agent was the only one waiting for Otacon. The other had disappeared to the first floor for something or other. As the two walked toward Otacon's office, their hands at their sides, there was a sort of waiting in the air. They waited…expecting the other to do something. What?
"Here we are," the agent said as he stopped by the door. Otacon looked up to the door, his heart dropping into his stomach as he did. Trying to step in, he felt the weight of the agent's hand on his shoulder. He turned and saw a newly sprouted smile on the agent's face. Pushing him back, and closing the door, the agent touched his ear. "Mr. Emmerich is secure."
Looking up, he saw the face. That face…he had expected it almost…he had waited for it. Seeing it all, he made the analogy of a rainy day. He waited by the window, watching the rain fall until finally it stopped, and now it had stopped. The rain had stopped falling, the sun had come out, and his savior had arrived. Looking at his face once more, he was filled with relief. "Mr. Jaeger."
There was a sense of humor in his voice as he spoke the name. "Are your things packed?" the man asked. Surprisingly enough he wore no bionic suit and no formal outfit. Instead, he wore a black trench coat. The collar was standing straight up, almost shielding his face, and at the bottom of his coat something seemed to be jutting outward – almost glinting as the light reached it.
"I knew they didn't intend on letting you die there," Otacon smiled wide. Frank grinned in return.
"That's a yes?" he asked. Otacon nodded and with that, Frank leveled his collar to his shoulders and set his outstretched hand on Otacon's back, leading him toward the elevator around the corner. "Close your eyes," he said as they turned the corner and to Otacon's horror they found a hall of crimson walls and stained carpet that appeared brown in the mix of red and blue.
Otacon was appalled, but hid his disapproval behind his hands that had found their way to his face, shielding him from the disgusting sight. Frank frowned as he passed the upturned bodies, their stomachs slit open and their throats torn out. Shaking his head and guiding Otacon down the hall, he stopped and pressed the small yellow button beside the elevator doors.
The stale stench of blood lingered in the air, and as they waited for the elevator to approach them Otacon held his nose tight, peeking through the reflection in his glasses to see the terrible picture behind him. The blood. Everywhere.
The elevator doors slid aside and giving Otacon a slight push, Frank moved into the compartment, pushing the button that requested the parking garage. Silence ensued as soon as the elevator began its descent, and even through the gore of the last hall Otacon was more concerned regarding Frank's presence alone.
"Three shots in my back, and it still kept me alive…long enough for 'him' to come," Frank stated, sensing Otacon's eagerness for an explanation.
"Long enough for who?" Otacon questioned fervently. Frank's head cocked to the side, and he grinned. "Neither friend or enemy," he said, and the elevator bounced a little as doors behind them slid open, revealing the tainted gray garage. Turning, the two of them looked at each other for a moment, not thinking they'd ever be so close after Hell's Outpost. But…they were there.
"Which one's yours?" Frank asked, and Otacon looked at him peculiarly.
"Why don't we take yours?" he asked.
"I don't need wheels to get around," he grinned, and Otacon pulled a gadget from his deep lab coat pocket. Pushing the 'Unlock' button, there was a honk and a set of tailgates lit up ahead of them – at the opposite end of the level.
Stepping out of the elevator, the doors closing behind them, the two walked rigidly through the parking garage. Frank's eyes were set on Otacon's white Dodge Caravan, but Otacon's eyes were set on Frank. 'WOW,' he thought, his hands shaking. 'How'd he make it?!' Even more surprising than the return from Shadow Moses, Otacon had a hard time comprehending Frank's unnatural presence.
The small orange lights that hardly lit the garage flickered on and off as the two came up on the van, Otacon moving to the driver's side and inserting his key in the door. Frank's eyes wandered as they stood there, and the moment seemed to turn hot. The sun moved out from behind a long cloud, and a cool breeze swept around him, over his shoulders, under his arms…and then something snapped like a baby's first toy. It tore like a long-loved blanket, and shattered like winter-touched glass. "Freeze!" was the call, and as there was a scamper of boots on the cement floor of the parking garage, the sun hid behind another cloud…hiding its shameful face from the heavy eyes of the deceived. "Hands above your head!"
Soldiers came out from behind the cars around them, and from within Otacon's van, their arms cradling seemingly identical weapons: 9mm handguns and M4 Assault Rifles. Some carried shotguns, and one or two were armed with grenade launchers. All were bound with Kevlar and equipped with nanomachines.
"On your knees!" they cried, forcing Otacon and Frank onto their knees unwillingly. As the crowd of soldiers stripped them of their coats and Frank of his sword, there was a ring from the opposite end of the garage. The elevator opened, and heralded by a horde of light armed UFAC agents came a man in full platoon camouflage, a colonel's formal jacket slung over his back and loosely clinging his shoulders.
Frank and Otacon exchanged looks of concern, but both shared anger in their eyes, something that Otacon rarely possessed. Two soldiers stood behind Otacon, and two behind Frank as the man from the elevator made his way toward them. He was not smiling. Nor was he grinning. He was looking somewhat amused, but acted as if the situation was more painful for him than for the two on their knees.
Watching his own boots as he walked, he stopped before the two men, and the soldiers who had stood around him moved to form a circle around the entire area. Lifting his military hat from his head, he raked his hand through his hair, sighing. "Well," he said, striking Otacon's nerve as he spoke, "it seems we meet again…under such harsh conditions it almost seems unwillingly so." The voice was scratchy, but one that Otacon could never forget even having only heard it a few times.
Looking up at the man, he swallowed hard and went deathly pale. The sun hid itself entirely, and the sky seemed to shake. It had betrayed them…deceived them with its bright glow.
The sun began to shudder and the sky began to bleed…
"Colonel Campbell?!"