Chapter Seventeen: The Rush
"Throw 'em in here!" one of the soldiers cried, gesturing toward the room on their right with his arm. Two agents guided Frank and Otacon down the hall, their hands tight on their upper arms. They shook their heads with the other's order.
"The Colonel wants him over here," one of the two agents returned, pointing to a door on their left. Smashing Otacon and Frank against the wall, one of the men reached for his waist but upon finding no ring of keys, another agent pushed the door and they watched it creak open. Unlocked.
"Get in there!" they yelled, grabbing hold of their collars and flinging them into the room before closing the door and moving a chair under the door knob. After having assigned four men to the hall, the rest retreated to other areas of the building. A peculiar silence filled the air.
Otacon pushed himself onto his feet, but Frank remained on his back – his body sprawled about the blue carpet. Thinking, his fingers tapping his sweaty forehead, Otacon paced across the room in a fit of nervousness – his mind racing. Eventually, he stopped where he was and shot a quick look around the entire room. A small table sat in the center of the room – one chair beside it – and beside that it was fairly normal. "That wall," he started, seeing a pale discoloration of the right wall of the room.
Frank's gaze turned to the wall he had pointed out, and as he did he saw something strapped beneath the table. Moving onto his knees, he pulled an envelope from the underbelly of the table and opened it. Pulling a slip of paper and a disc from its depths, he read the slip of paper. "'You've got my vote,'" it said. Looking at the disc, he heard something slide behind him and moved onto his feet before turning to see the wall of the room slid aside like a giant closet door. There, exposed by the absence of the wall's cover, was a computer.
"That's what this is for, then," Frank said as he held the disc up for Otacon to see. Quickly, pulling the chair from the table in the center of the room, Otacon took a seat in front of the computer and Frank stepped over to him. He stood behind him and watched as the computer was booted up, the 'tower' squealing and talking to them as the cable line was tapped into. When the desktop had appeared, the Internet was enabled, and the CD- ROM drive was open and ready for their disc.
Otacon dropped it into the tray, and forced it back into the computer.
A few levers turned, circuits were charged, and fans turned on. The cursor on the screen morphed into an old-fashioned alarm clock as a traditional Startup menu appeared. Otacon clicked through the windows, and the two waited and watched as the disc's contents were loaded to the computer's hard drive.
Otacon's hands were in his hair.
Frank's fingers played a tune on the back of the chair.
The moment was cold…silent.
'Done.' A window appeared at the conclusion of the installation and just as Otacon moved the cursor over the 'OK' button and pressed down on the mouse a number of windows popped onto the screen. Among them was a detailed map of Manhattan that was completely identical to the one The Customer or The Sir had used from the safety of the coffee shop. Another window was an IntraComm 'Buddy list' of sorts, and just as Otacon was about to click it away a message appeared on the screen.
'USER (CRC001): Stay on-line,' it requested, 'This disc is a slight alteration of the software FACtion is using to conduct the operations. It takes a certain amount of programming skill, but you should be able to handle it.'
Just then, Otacon heard a distant beep somewhere in his head, and he touched his ear eagerly. "Hello? Snake?" he questioned immediately.
"No. Me," the voice answered. The Colonel. Otacon sneered at him. "Listen, Otacon. This software will give you full access to the activities of FACtion through the entirety of their mission. Like I said, it will take some time to master it but it should help."
Otacon was puzzled. "You talk about FACtion like you're no longer a part of it," he insisted, and the Colonel's voice returned following a distressed sigh.
"Just take the disc and get out of there. I'm doing you a favor."
"What about the guards?" Frank asked, touching his ear and continuing the conversation on Codec.
"Gray Fox, right? You can handle them. Your sword is in the next room to your left. I used the keys to the room your in and left it unlocked. They've probably moved something in front of the door, but whatever it is you can move it out of the way."
"And until we get my sword…?" Frank questioned.
"I'll try to clear as many agents as I can, but hand-to-hand combat will be your only tool against those that remain. They wont shoot either of you. Otacon, if you die Snake and Jack will know that something is wrong. And if you die, Frank, FACtion will have miss out on one fabulous recruiting opportunity."
"Sorry," Frank announced. "I'm all ready employed." The Colonel seemed half- amused by Frank's quick remark.
"Good luck," the Colonel ended. "Oh, Otacon?"
"Yes?"
"Tell Snake I'm sorry," he replied. Otacon nodded and the transmission was closed. Peering over his shoulder at Frank, he removed the disc from the computer and pocketed it.
"Well, Frank, I'm no fighter," Otacon began.
"Fox," Frank interrupted. Otacon looked at him uneasily. "Fox?"
"Call me Fox. Frank is a name of the past...he died years ago, along with my innocence." Otacon nodded. "And don't worry. I'll take care of the guards if you can get my sword."
Otacon forced a smile – a weak one – and then retreated to the opposite side of the room where he watched the seemingly rippled contours of the wall. He wasn't nervous, really. With Fox by his side, nothing quite seemed a challenge. Sure, he didn't particularly 'know' the mysterious ninja-like character, but he knew his skills. They were brutal but necessary.
"You are okay?" he asked Otacon. Following a hesitating silence, a nod of reassurance sufficed, and Otacon turned to Fox with a new expression. It was not one of fear, or nervousness, or of pride or courage…but a simple willingness. He was ready – not struck with fear or filled with honor – but he was ready, and for Snake…for Jack…for the freedom and the fulfillment of the 'American Dream,' he would fight.
Fox managed some sort of dance as he seemed to glide above the floor. Resting his hand on the doorknob and even waving eloquently, Otacon hurried over and examined the door as if he was taking down measurements for wallpaper. "Ram," Fox said, and Otacon's eyes swung to him in a desperate fashion. He knew what Fox had meant by 'ram' and he was not enthused.
Reluctantly, Otacon took several steps back, and continued to clench and unclench his fists as he stared down the door like a bull in the center of a dusty arena. Arching his back and folding his body closer to the floor, he inhaled deeply.
'Tired. Silence. Time. Think. Don't think. Just go. No! No. Stay where you – move, Otacon! Stop! More time. You need more time. Just think. Quiet. Silent. Time. Tired…GO!'
Otacon started into a run just as there was a grinding noise beyond the door. His heart seemed to skip a beat and he bolted through the wood of the door with unprecedented strength. His feet left the floor. His elbows crossed before his face. The wood shattered. A chair collapsed under his force, and with the unexpected action, Fox had appeared amidst the lingering dust – standing before three formally-clothed agents. Otacon was on the floor, still.
Shooting Otacon a sharp look, he got the message. 'My sword!' he cried within, and Otacon's heavy eyelids parted just as they needed to take it in. Nodding warily, he stumbled to his feet – oblivious to the catapulting of an agent and the heavy forceful blows that were traded between Fox and the remaining two.
"Yea," Otacon told himself, under of what he was thinking at the moment. His glasses were not broken, nor were they scathed at all, but they were dangling from his right ear. He didn't suspect a thing, for he expected his sight to be as blurry as it was. The only time he'd seen someone truly blow through a door was on a movie set or when he was on a mission with Snake…but he'd never experienced it. The rush.
Proceeding into the room left of their previous confinement, Otacon found an open door and an empty room. 'I'll try to clear as many agents as I can,' he remembered the Colonel stating. It was a good thing too – that there were no agents left standing in his way – for if it were any different he wouldn't have had the strength to fight…but the rush.
He found the sword laying sheathed on the room's sole desk. It seemed he had just wrapped his hands around it that he was in the hall again. And by that time, it was unsheathed and had brought the silent touch of death to two agents. The other was knocked out and far from returning to consciousness. Otacon was in an odd state of awe, and all that he could focus on was the blade that shimmered in Fox's tight grip.
Looking at him, Fox grinned and sheathed his blade before slinging it over his shoulder to rest. "Nice," he said rather simplistically and then he started down the hall, stopping only to assess Otacon's frozen stance. "Coming?" he asked, but there was no physical gesture to portray Otacon's deep mental involvement.
But then life was restored to him and he was no longer idle, but walking beside Fox as if nothing had happened, and Fox looked ahead as if nothing had happened.
"It's the rush," Fox voiced calmly, catching Otacon's attention, as they stopped at the end of the hall – the wall no more than a glass barrier. "I know. I've felt it too…against Snake it is impossible to ignore. And believe me," he paused, pulling forth his sword and holding it at his side, "you'll feel it again."
Then, in a blur, a design of gashes formed in the glass and Fox grabbed Otacon around the waist. Nodding to him subtly, he smiled…and then there was a shatter, and the rush of wind…the rush of feeling…the rush of life.
The rush...
"Throw 'em in here!" one of the soldiers cried, gesturing toward the room on their right with his arm. Two agents guided Frank and Otacon down the hall, their hands tight on their upper arms. They shook their heads with the other's order.
"The Colonel wants him over here," one of the two agents returned, pointing to a door on their left. Smashing Otacon and Frank against the wall, one of the men reached for his waist but upon finding no ring of keys, another agent pushed the door and they watched it creak open. Unlocked.
"Get in there!" they yelled, grabbing hold of their collars and flinging them into the room before closing the door and moving a chair under the door knob. After having assigned four men to the hall, the rest retreated to other areas of the building. A peculiar silence filled the air.
Otacon pushed himself onto his feet, but Frank remained on his back – his body sprawled about the blue carpet. Thinking, his fingers tapping his sweaty forehead, Otacon paced across the room in a fit of nervousness – his mind racing. Eventually, he stopped where he was and shot a quick look around the entire room. A small table sat in the center of the room – one chair beside it – and beside that it was fairly normal. "That wall," he started, seeing a pale discoloration of the right wall of the room.
Frank's gaze turned to the wall he had pointed out, and as he did he saw something strapped beneath the table. Moving onto his knees, he pulled an envelope from the underbelly of the table and opened it. Pulling a slip of paper and a disc from its depths, he read the slip of paper. "'You've got my vote,'" it said. Looking at the disc, he heard something slide behind him and moved onto his feet before turning to see the wall of the room slid aside like a giant closet door. There, exposed by the absence of the wall's cover, was a computer.
"That's what this is for, then," Frank said as he held the disc up for Otacon to see. Quickly, pulling the chair from the table in the center of the room, Otacon took a seat in front of the computer and Frank stepped over to him. He stood behind him and watched as the computer was booted up, the 'tower' squealing and talking to them as the cable line was tapped into. When the desktop had appeared, the Internet was enabled, and the CD- ROM drive was open and ready for their disc.
Otacon dropped it into the tray, and forced it back into the computer.
A few levers turned, circuits were charged, and fans turned on. The cursor on the screen morphed into an old-fashioned alarm clock as a traditional Startup menu appeared. Otacon clicked through the windows, and the two waited and watched as the disc's contents were loaded to the computer's hard drive.
Otacon's hands were in his hair.
Frank's fingers played a tune on the back of the chair.
The moment was cold…silent.
'Done.' A window appeared at the conclusion of the installation and just as Otacon moved the cursor over the 'OK' button and pressed down on the mouse a number of windows popped onto the screen. Among them was a detailed map of Manhattan that was completely identical to the one The Customer or The Sir had used from the safety of the coffee shop. Another window was an IntraComm 'Buddy list' of sorts, and just as Otacon was about to click it away a message appeared on the screen.
'USER (CRC001): Stay on-line,' it requested, 'This disc is a slight alteration of the software FACtion is using to conduct the operations. It takes a certain amount of programming skill, but you should be able to handle it.'
Just then, Otacon heard a distant beep somewhere in his head, and he touched his ear eagerly. "Hello? Snake?" he questioned immediately.
"No. Me," the voice answered. The Colonel. Otacon sneered at him. "Listen, Otacon. This software will give you full access to the activities of FACtion through the entirety of their mission. Like I said, it will take some time to master it but it should help."
Otacon was puzzled. "You talk about FACtion like you're no longer a part of it," he insisted, and the Colonel's voice returned following a distressed sigh.
"Just take the disc and get out of there. I'm doing you a favor."
"What about the guards?" Frank asked, touching his ear and continuing the conversation on Codec.
"Gray Fox, right? You can handle them. Your sword is in the next room to your left. I used the keys to the room your in and left it unlocked. They've probably moved something in front of the door, but whatever it is you can move it out of the way."
"And until we get my sword…?" Frank questioned.
"I'll try to clear as many agents as I can, but hand-to-hand combat will be your only tool against those that remain. They wont shoot either of you. Otacon, if you die Snake and Jack will know that something is wrong. And if you die, Frank, FACtion will have miss out on one fabulous recruiting opportunity."
"Sorry," Frank announced. "I'm all ready employed." The Colonel seemed half- amused by Frank's quick remark.
"Good luck," the Colonel ended. "Oh, Otacon?"
"Yes?"
"Tell Snake I'm sorry," he replied. Otacon nodded and the transmission was closed. Peering over his shoulder at Frank, he removed the disc from the computer and pocketed it.
"Well, Frank, I'm no fighter," Otacon began.
"Fox," Frank interrupted. Otacon looked at him uneasily. "Fox?"
"Call me Fox. Frank is a name of the past...he died years ago, along with my innocence." Otacon nodded. "And don't worry. I'll take care of the guards if you can get my sword."
Otacon forced a smile – a weak one – and then retreated to the opposite side of the room where he watched the seemingly rippled contours of the wall. He wasn't nervous, really. With Fox by his side, nothing quite seemed a challenge. Sure, he didn't particularly 'know' the mysterious ninja-like character, but he knew his skills. They were brutal but necessary.
"You are okay?" he asked Otacon. Following a hesitating silence, a nod of reassurance sufficed, and Otacon turned to Fox with a new expression. It was not one of fear, or nervousness, or of pride or courage…but a simple willingness. He was ready – not struck with fear or filled with honor – but he was ready, and for Snake…for Jack…for the freedom and the fulfillment of the 'American Dream,' he would fight.
Fox managed some sort of dance as he seemed to glide above the floor. Resting his hand on the doorknob and even waving eloquently, Otacon hurried over and examined the door as if he was taking down measurements for wallpaper. "Ram," Fox said, and Otacon's eyes swung to him in a desperate fashion. He knew what Fox had meant by 'ram' and he was not enthused.
Reluctantly, Otacon took several steps back, and continued to clench and unclench his fists as he stared down the door like a bull in the center of a dusty arena. Arching his back and folding his body closer to the floor, he inhaled deeply.
'Tired. Silence. Time. Think. Don't think. Just go. No! No. Stay where you – move, Otacon! Stop! More time. You need more time. Just think. Quiet. Silent. Time. Tired…GO!'
Otacon started into a run just as there was a grinding noise beyond the door. His heart seemed to skip a beat and he bolted through the wood of the door with unprecedented strength. His feet left the floor. His elbows crossed before his face. The wood shattered. A chair collapsed under his force, and with the unexpected action, Fox had appeared amidst the lingering dust – standing before three formally-clothed agents. Otacon was on the floor, still.
Shooting Otacon a sharp look, he got the message. 'My sword!' he cried within, and Otacon's heavy eyelids parted just as they needed to take it in. Nodding warily, he stumbled to his feet – oblivious to the catapulting of an agent and the heavy forceful blows that were traded between Fox and the remaining two.
"Yea," Otacon told himself, under of what he was thinking at the moment. His glasses were not broken, nor were they scathed at all, but they were dangling from his right ear. He didn't suspect a thing, for he expected his sight to be as blurry as it was. The only time he'd seen someone truly blow through a door was on a movie set or when he was on a mission with Snake…but he'd never experienced it. The rush.
Proceeding into the room left of their previous confinement, Otacon found an open door and an empty room. 'I'll try to clear as many agents as I can,' he remembered the Colonel stating. It was a good thing too – that there were no agents left standing in his way – for if it were any different he wouldn't have had the strength to fight…but the rush.
He found the sword laying sheathed on the room's sole desk. It seemed he had just wrapped his hands around it that he was in the hall again. And by that time, it was unsheathed and had brought the silent touch of death to two agents. The other was knocked out and far from returning to consciousness. Otacon was in an odd state of awe, and all that he could focus on was the blade that shimmered in Fox's tight grip.
Looking at him, Fox grinned and sheathed his blade before slinging it over his shoulder to rest. "Nice," he said rather simplistically and then he started down the hall, stopping only to assess Otacon's frozen stance. "Coming?" he asked, but there was no physical gesture to portray Otacon's deep mental involvement.
But then life was restored to him and he was no longer idle, but walking beside Fox as if nothing had happened, and Fox looked ahead as if nothing had happened.
"It's the rush," Fox voiced calmly, catching Otacon's attention, as they stopped at the end of the hall – the wall no more than a glass barrier. "I know. I've felt it too…against Snake it is impossible to ignore. And believe me," he paused, pulling forth his sword and holding it at his side, "you'll feel it again."
Then, in a blur, a design of gashes formed in the glass and Fox grabbed Otacon around the waist. Nodding to him subtly, he smiled…and then there was a shatter, and the rush of wind…the rush of feeling…the rush of life.
The rush...