Chapter Twenty-Six: Under A'Hundred Heavy Eyes
"Snake!" Otacon called as the rotors stirred the wind around them with tremendous force. Snake looked upward, his right arm tightly gripping the third rung of the ladder and his legs dangling carelessly below. "Climb up!" Otacon concluded, and Snake pulled himself upward, wrapping his legs on either side of the bottom rung and moving his hands onto the fifth. The bottom of the ladder bowed out to the right under Snake's force and he waited there for a moment, as if sitting back in a nest of air.
Admiring the vista, the sunset growingly beautiful, he heard a loud crash as the coffee house crumbled. He was wary to look to the remains, knowing that Formal and Frost were among the ruins, but he turned his glance toward the rubble and watched as four armored vehicles – lead by a jeep – raced through the narrow streets and alleys of the surrounding areas, searching aimlessly for shelter until the time was right to proceed.
Like the soldier atop the coffee house, others had died to protect Dante, but their efforts were fruitless. They had held up against a number of Army Rangers for quite some time, but when Ocelot's sentries had arrived their number was up. Each and every one of them died to protect the fort, and still Dante was forced from it, to flee the marching soldiers.
And then, forcing the realization that FACtion had survived from his mind, Snake continued up the ladder until he had reached the hull of the helicopter and had climbed within and found a wall to lean against. He rested his back against the steel walls, and elevated his knees, setting his elbows on them and letting his chin touch his chest. Otacon had moved into the second pilot seat, and Jack was further back, resting in a giant bed of spare, unmarked uniforms and first aid equipment – seemingly more comfortable than it truly was.
"There was another release of the Manhattan Resident," Otacon remarked, looking around the back of his seat. "The UN contacted the Press Circle and managed to send me a copy through the computer." Otacon quickly unbuckled himself and ducked into the open body of the helicopter where Snake sat. He opened the two pieces of his laptop and set it on the floor of the chopper, moving beside Snake to help point out important articles.
"There wasn't much," he proclaimed. "Most of Manhattan is on the streets, so there isn't much developing behind the scenes that reporters would be able to figure out, but there are a couple articles that stood out. Nothing with substantial information, but…here," he said pointing to an article on the third 'page' of the digitally reproduced newspaper. "Until Death do us Part," he said, reciting the headline. Moving the laptop onto his lap, he read the article aloud.
"The Triborough Bridge and parts of the Tribeca area were demolished this afternoon. Believed to be retaliation against the citizen riots that have successfully taken control of several enemy strongholds throughout the city, we ask that any and all participating in these acts withdraw. Please – Manhattan is little compared to our lives, and those of our loved ones. It is essential that the riots stop. There is no telling what they will do now."
That was the entire article, certainly a small one, but Otacon quickly scrolled through the paper until he found another line of bold, black text stating "Enemies Unveiled." He smacked his lips together and then began.
"The agency FACtion, which earlier forfeited its identity to the press, and to the public, has introduced explosives, putting new leverage on the situation. But, even as these terrible tragedies have conspired, reporters from 'The Manhattan Resident' have contacted the UN and have managed to piece together some of the puzzle.
"Months ago, a weapons stockpile was attacked, seized, and emptied of its supplies. Believed to be somewhere in the Middle East, contacts in Russia have claimed that the stockpile was within their borders, and went by the codename 'Trinket.' The United Nations believe that after raiding the stockpile, the suspects fled to Cuba where they assembled their forces and hid their supplies until the time came to strike their primary target: Manhattan Island.
"Nearly one week ago, a number of men landed on the coast of the United States, and quickly established homes after consulting governmental agents on immigration terms. They found homage in New York City, charting with them several heavy-armored vehicles and weapons that had gone unnoticed in the hull of a tanker going by the name of 'Discovery.'" Snake's eyes suddenly opened wide, and Otacon looked at him wearily. "The rest is just about them flying into the city, but you remember Discovery don't you?"
"That was over three years ago," Snake said, and Jack quickly slid over near them, interested in the conversation. "It can't be the same one."
"It's not," Otacon admitted, "but I think that their intentions may have been similar."
"Hmm?" Snake questioned. Otacon was delighted by Snake's yearning to know more, and cleared his throat before continuing.
"The U.S.S. Discovery was the tanker used to transport Metal Gear Ray from the Manhattan Harbor to another position, one that we couldn't determine by the conclusion of our mission. Nonetheless, it was leaving Manhattan, just as this tanker is arriving. Seeing that Discovery was rigged with SEMTEX and blown out of the water, there's no way that the very tanker could be in Manhattan now. But, I think that the name Discovery is not a title – rather a codename. The codename used for missions regarding the transportation of Metal Gear prototypes." Snake looked at Otacon as if estranged. "There's a Metal Gear in that tanker."
"So you think the U.S. government charters Metal Gears around the world?" Snake asked.
"Snake, Manhattan is obviously a center for the Patriot network, and I think that the Metal Gears are very much connected with the Patriots." Snake was still rather confused. "Listen, Snake. I think that the U.S.S. Discovery has brought a new Metal Gear prototype to the coast of Manhattan – for whatever reason – but that this reason is very similar to that of Metal Gear Ray."
"So, they're trying to frame me again?" Snake mocked.
"Not at all," Otacon explained. "The intention of Metal Gear Ray was not to frame you. Ocelot just managed to pull that off on the side. Why it was passing through Manhattan is beyond me, but we can't ignore the fact that another tanker, similar in name to that of the one that carried Ray, is in Manhattan for more reasons than to bring over some armored vehicles. That's certainly not the case."
"Well, what if it is?" Snake commented.
"Well, it isn't," Otacon proclaimed, and at tat moment the pilot of the helicopter turned around the back of his seat and called: "We're almost there!" The pilot nestled himself back into his chair, and Otacon turned to Snake and Jack again.
"Otacon, forget about Discovery," Snake commanded. "We need your concentration on the mission." Otacon nodded reluctantly, realizing that Snake was right in his request.
Meanwhile, Jack had moved to the open door of the helicopter and was watching as the two World Trade Center towers came closer and closer after every passing moment. Turning to the others, he said, "They're going up fast!" Referring to the towers, Otacon sported a smile like one would use to reassure a little child in efforts towards becoming the next Mozart or Raphael.
"All right!" the pilot cried. "I'm taking her down!" Slowly, the helicopter descended through the air, coming closer to the street in a smooth fashion. Several blocks away, the Rangers and Ocelot's sentries were breaking up the riots and beginning to move the civilians away from the World Trade Center area, creating a large, open circle of roads, buildings, and street lamps.
"They're cooperating," Jack said, noticing the civilians who were moving back generously for Ocelot's sentries and the Rangers. Snake looked at him and chuckled.
"Anyone who wears the flag is welcome here," he said, and Jack nodded – not really paying attention – before looking off into the expanse of blue and orange heavens, contrasted deeply by the grays of the pavement. Otacon turned to Snake and pulled something from his deep jacket pocket, its weight bringing down his hand.
"Here," he said, holding a SOCOM pistol out for Snake. "Found it in the back," he added with a smile as Snake took the gun up in his hands, massaging his eyes with its elegance and its beauty. Turning his glance up to Otacon, he grinned slightly.
"You wanna try it out?" he offered, forcing it on Otacon who quickly backed away, waving his hands in the air.
"No way, Snake," he waved his finger. "I get my job done with this," he gestured to his laptop before turning toward Jack. Before he could move away, Snake grabbed his upper arm, and he glanced back at him quizzically.
"Thanks, pal," Snake said, and with a bright, accepting smile Otacon moved next to Jack, folding up his laptop and bracing his right hand against the wall as he looked out.
"I'll set her down, but get out fast – don't want to risk taking on enemy fire!" the pilot hollered over the annoying spin of the rotors. Snake nodded unconsciously, and moved beside Otacon and Jack, peering out of the door and watching as the pavements came up to their faces. "Now!" the pilot cried, and they all felt the helicopter jerk before touching down upon the pavement.
Pushing themselves from the hull of the helicopter they jumped safely onto the sidewalk, composing themselves and standing immediately after impact. Turning to the pilot of the helicopter, they saw him raise his hand to his eyebrow – the beginning of a salute. Snake lifted his own hand, as did Jack and Otacon though less eloquently and more rigid, and dropped it again with honor painted a hundred times on his forehead. The pilot smiled as he lowered his hand to his side, and just as Snake, Otacon, and Jack began to turn away they heard a gun fire, flesh break, blood splash, and glass crack.
Twisting back to the helicopter, the pilot's head was drooped over his shoulder, and blood had shrouded the windows and controls. Noting a general- sized hole in the window on the other side of the helicopter, Snake pulled out his SOCOM and gestured for Otacon and Jack to get down, but before they even had the time, a voice broke over the sound of the dying rotors.
"Welcome!" it called, menacingly through the air. Snake looked this way and that, noticing the tone, but searching for the origin. He could see cranes and machines littering the open cement area where he stood – at the foot of both the World Trade Center towers – each nearly 13 stories complete. There were mounds of dirt and metal and steel, and the site had obviously been evacuated with the dawning of the FACtion invasion.
Then, the rotors halted and the almost-echoing footsteps started to pace the cement floor, little shaking, shimmering sounds heralding the clap of boots. Slowly, the sounds moved across the cement, and Jack had pulled forth an M9 standard sidearm – one he had smuggled from the supplies in the back of the helicopter. They continued…slowly as ever, menacingly as ever, quiet and loud as ever…and then, as a shadow walked out from behind the helicopter, passing in front of it…the tune paused and another took center stage.
A quiet twisting of the air spun loose from the shadow's origin, sending occasional streams of reflected light across the cement and the surrounding pieces of machinery and metal. It was something so small, so insignificant…something that Snake heard after the end of every tense duel…and then it stopped, muffled by a cage of leather and hide. And with two more clapping footsteps, the figure followed the path of its shadow and moved out in front of the helicopter, a grin on its face and two stars on its waist.
"Ocelot!" Snake exclaimed, his grip intensified about the handle of his SOCOM, and his finger ready to pull the trigger at any moment.
"Snake," Ocelot returned with a subtle wave of his gloved hand. "I have not seen you in so long…at least not directly. One could debate that we were just meeting in the house of the Compilation, but…oh, who would debate on such a topic? I am here to welcome you to our new arena. Embassy Square!" Ocelot threw out his arms, holding them wide as if expecting a hug. It seemed to be one of his default gestures.
"Embassy Square?" Jack questioned with a grunt, and Ocelot's eyes shifted over him with a sudden intensity.
"The gathering place of the Six Points," Ocelot proclaimed. "It is the universal embassy…the pinnacle of prosper…the origin of organization. One size fits all…a feast for the numbers…here is where the world's truly important matters are sorted out. Right here, in Tower One of the World Trade Center," he said with a smile. "It is the beating heart of this world."
"Hmph," Snake groaned. "Rather the tumor." Ocelot scowled at him, and with distaste in his tone he called back.
"Perhaps, if you manage to stay alive I will be able to introduce you to these six…tumors, as you call them. But, I will not attempt to foretell the future…instead, I will simply watch. You must be patient with time," he commented, and then pivoted on the heel of his boot as a hundred voices cried out in unison from behind: "Freeze!"
Snake, whose finger sat tensely upon the worn trigger of his SOCOM, gestured for Jack to lower his gun and pivoted just as Ocelot had until stopping before a mass of Ocelot's sentries – their guns aimed and ready.
"You made it in time for the parade, boys!" Ocelot wailed happily. "If I never see you again, this will be the very moment by which I will remember you!" And then, Ocelot was hidden within Tower One, and Snake, Jack, and Otacon all stood tense.
And under a hundred heavy eyes, their hearts stopped beating.
"Snake!" Otacon called as the rotors stirred the wind around them with tremendous force. Snake looked upward, his right arm tightly gripping the third rung of the ladder and his legs dangling carelessly below. "Climb up!" Otacon concluded, and Snake pulled himself upward, wrapping his legs on either side of the bottom rung and moving his hands onto the fifth. The bottom of the ladder bowed out to the right under Snake's force and he waited there for a moment, as if sitting back in a nest of air.
Admiring the vista, the sunset growingly beautiful, he heard a loud crash as the coffee house crumbled. He was wary to look to the remains, knowing that Formal and Frost were among the ruins, but he turned his glance toward the rubble and watched as four armored vehicles – lead by a jeep – raced through the narrow streets and alleys of the surrounding areas, searching aimlessly for shelter until the time was right to proceed.
Like the soldier atop the coffee house, others had died to protect Dante, but their efforts were fruitless. They had held up against a number of Army Rangers for quite some time, but when Ocelot's sentries had arrived their number was up. Each and every one of them died to protect the fort, and still Dante was forced from it, to flee the marching soldiers.
And then, forcing the realization that FACtion had survived from his mind, Snake continued up the ladder until he had reached the hull of the helicopter and had climbed within and found a wall to lean against. He rested his back against the steel walls, and elevated his knees, setting his elbows on them and letting his chin touch his chest. Otacon had moved into the second pilot seat, and Jack was further back, resting in a giant bed of spare, unmarked uniforms and first aid equipment – seemingly more comfortable than it truly was.
"There was another release of the Manhattan Resident," Otacon remarked, looking around the back of his seat. "The UN contacted the Press Circle and managed to send me a copy through the computer." Otacon quickly unbuckled himself and ducked into the open body of the helicopter where Snake sat. He opened the two pieces of his laptop and set it on the floor of the chopper, moving beside Snake to help point out important articles.
"There wasn't much," he proclaimed. "Most of Manhattan is on the streets, so there isn't much developing behind the scenes that reporters would be able to figure out, but there are a couple articles that stood out. Nothing with substantial information, but…here," he said pointing to an article on the third 'page' of the digitally reproduced newspaper. "Until Death do us Part," he said, reciting the headline. Moving the laptop onto his lap, he read the article aloud.
"The Triborough Bridge and parts of the Tribeca area were demolished this afternoon. Believed to be retaliation against the citizen riots that have successfully taken control of several enemy strongholds throughout the city, we ask that any and all participating in these acts withdraw. Please – Manhattan is little compared to our lives, and those of our loved ones. It is essential that the riots stop. There is no telling what they will do now."
That was the entire article, certainly a small one, but Otacon quickly scrolled through the paper until he found another line of bold, black text stating "Enemies Unveiled." He smacked his lips together and then began.
"The agency FACtion, which earlier forfeited its identity to the press, and to the public, has introduced explosives, putting new leverage on the situation. But, even as these terrible tragedies have conspired, reporters from 'The Manhattan Resident' have contacted the UN and have managed to piece together some of the puzzle.
"Months ago, a weapons stockpile was attacked, seized, and emptied of its supplies. Believed to be somewhere in the Middle East, contacts in Russia have claimed that the stockpile was within their borders, and went by the codename 'Trinket.' The United Nations believe that after raiding the stockpile, the suspects fled to Cuba where they assembled their forces and hid their supplies until the time came to strike their primary target: Manhattan Island.
"Nearly one week ago, a number of men landed on the coast of the United States, and quickly established homes after consulting governmental agents on immigration terms. They found homage in New York City, charting with them several heavy-armored vehicles and weapons that had gone unnoticed in the hull of a tanker going by the name of 'Discovery.'" Snake's eyes suddenly opened wide, and Otacon looked at him wearily. "The rest is just about them flying into the city, but you remember Discovery don't you?"
"That was over three years ago," Snake said, and Jack quickly slid over near them, interested in the conversation. "It can't be the same one."
"It's not," Otacon admitted, "but I think that their intentions may have been similar."
"Hmm?" Snake questioned. Otacon was delighted by Snake's yearning to know more, and cleared his throat before continuing.
"The U.S.S. Discovery was the tanker used to transport Metal Gear Ray from the Manhattan Harbor to another position, one that we couldn't determine by the conclusion of our mission. Nonetheless, it was leaving Manhattan, just as this tanker is arriving. Seeing that Discovery was rigged with SEMTEX and blown out of the water, there's no way that the very tanker could be in Manhattan now. But, I think that the name Discovery is not a title – rather a codename. The codename used for missions regarding the transportation of Metal Gear prototypes." Snake looked at Otacon as if estranged. "There's a Metal Gear in that tanker."
"So you think the U.S. government charters Metal Gears around the world?" Snake asked.
"Snake, Manhattan is obviously a center for the Patriot network, and I think that the Metal Gears are very much connected with the Patriots." Snake was still rather confused. "Listen, Snake. I think that the U.S.S. Discovery has brought a new Metal Gear prototype to the coast of Manhattan – for whatever reason – but that this reason is very similar to that of Metal Gear Ray."
"So, they're trying to frame me again?" Snake mocked.
"Not at all," Otacon explained. "The intention of Metal Gear Ray was not to frame you. Ocelot just managed to pull that off on the side. Why it was passing through Manhattan is beyond me, but we can't ignore the fact that another tanker, similar in name to that of the one that carried Ray, is in Manhattan for more reasons than to bring over some armored vehicles. That's certainly not the case."
"Well, what if it is?" Snake commented.
"Well, it isn't," Otacon proclaimed, and at tat moment the pilot of the helicopter turned around the back of his seat and called: "We're almost there!" The pilot nestled himself back into his chair, and Otacon turned to Snake and Jack again.
"Otacon, forget about Discovery," Snake commanded. "We need your concentration on the mission." Otacon nodded reluctantly, realizing that Snake was right in his request.
Meanwhile, Jack had moved to the open door of the helicopter and was watching as the two World Trade Center towers came closer and closer after every passing moment. Turning to the others, he said, "They're going up fast!" Referring to the towers, Otacon sported a smile like one would use to reassure a little child in efforts towards becoming the next Mozart or Raphael.
"All right!" the pilot cried. "I'm taking her down!" Slowly, the helicopter descended through the air, coming closer to the street in a smooth fashion. Several blocks away, the Rangers and Ocelot's sentries were breaking up the riots and beginning to move the civilians away from the World Trade Center area, creating a large, open circle of roads, buildings, and street lamps.
"They're cooperating," Jack said, noticing the civilians who were moving back generously for Ocelot's sentries and the Rangers. Snake looked at him and chuckled.
"Anyone who wears the flag is welcome here," he said, and Jack nodded – not really paying attention – before looking off into the expanse of blue and orange heavens, contrasted deeply by the grays of the pavement. Otacon turned to Snake and pulled something from his deep jacket pocket, its weight bringing down his hand.
"Here," he said, holding a SOCOM pistol out for Snake. "Found it in the back," he added with a smile as Snake took the gun up in his hands, massaging his eyes with its elegance and its beauty. Turning his glance up to Otacon, he grinned slightly.
"You wanna try it out?" he offered, forcing it on Otacon who quickly backed away, waving his hands in the air.
"No way, Snake," he waved his finger. "I get my job done with this," he gestured to his laptop before turning toward Jack. Before he could move away, Snake grabbed his upper arm, and he glanced back at him quizzically.
"Thanks, pal," Snake said, and with a bright, accepting smile Otacon moved next to Jack, folding up his laptop and bracing his right hand against the wall as he looked out.
"I'll set her down, but get out fast – don't want to risk taking on enemy fire!" the pilot hollered over the annoying spin of the rotors. Snake nodded unconsciously, and moved beside Otacon and Jack, peering out of the door and watching as the pavements came up to their faces. "Now!" the pilot cried, and they all felt the helicopter jerk before touching down upon the pavement.
Pushing themselves from the hull of the helicopter they jumped safely onto the sidewalk, composing themselves and standing immediately after impact. Turning to the pilot of the helicopter, they saw him raise his hand to his eyebrow – the beginning of a salute. Snake lifted his own hand, as did Jack and Otacon though less eloquently and more rigid, and dropped it again with honor painted a hundred times on his forehead. The pilot smiled as he lowered his hand to his side, and just as Snake, Otacon, and Jack began to turn away they heard a gun fire, flesh break, blood splash, and glass crack.
Twisting back to the helicopter, the pilot's head was drooped over his shoulder, and blood had shrouded the windows and controls. Noting a general- sized hole in the window on the other side of the helicopter, Snake pulled out his SOCOM and gestured for Otacon and Jack to get down, but before they even had the time, a voice broke over the sound of the dying rotors.
"Welcome!" it called, menacingly through the air. Snake looked this way and that, noticing the tone, but searching for the origin. He could see cranes and machines littering the open cement area where he stood – at the foot of both the World Trade Center towers – each nearly 13 stories complete. There were mounds of dirt and metal and steel, and the site had obviously been evacuated with the dawning of the FACtion invasion.
Then, the rotors halted and the almost-echoing footsteps started to pace the cement floor, little shaking, shimmering sounds heralding the clap of boots. Slowly, the sounds moved across the cement, and Jack had pulled forth an M9 standard sidearm – one he had smuggled from the supplies in the back of the helicopter. They continued…slowly as ever, menacingly as ever, quiet and loud as ever…and then, as a shadow walked out from behind the helicopter, passing in front of it…the tune paused and another took center stage.
A quiet twisting of the air spun loose from the shadow's origin, sending occasional streams of reflected light across the cement and the surrounding pieces of machinery and metal. It was something so small, so insignificant…something that Snake heard after the end of every tense duel…and then it stopped, muffled by a cage of leather and hide. And with two more clapping footsteps, the figure followed the path of its shadow and moved out in front of the helicopter, a grin on its face and two stars on its waist.
"Ocelot!" Snake exclaimed, his grip intensified about the handle of his SOCOM, and his finger ready to pull the trigger at any moment.
"Snake," Ocelot returned with a subtle wave of his gloved hand. "I have not seen you in so long…at least not directly. One could debate that we were just meeting in the house of the Compilation, but…oh, who would debate on such a topic? I am here to welcome you to our new arena. Embassy Square!" Ocelot threw out his arms, holding them wide as if expecting a hug. It seemed to be one of his default gestures.
"Embassy Square?" Jack questioned with a grunt, and Ocelot's eyes shifted over him with a sudden intensity.
"The gathering place of the Six Points," Ocelot proclaimed. "It is the universal embassy…the pinnacle of prosper…the origin of organization. One size fits all…a feast for the numbers…here is where the world's truly important matters are sorted out. Right here, in Tower One of the World Trade Center," he said with a smile. "It is the beating heart of this world."
"Hmph," Snake groaned. "Rather the tumor." Ocelot scowled at him, and with distaste in his tone he called back.
"Perhaps, if you manage to stay alive I will be able to introduce you to these six…tumors, as you call them. But, I will not attempt to foretell the future…instead, I will simply watch. You must be patient with time," he commented, and then pivoted on the heel of his boot as a hundred voices cried out in unison from behind: "Freeze!"
Snake, whose finger sat tensely upon the worn trigger of his SOCOM, gestured for Jack to lower his gun and pivoted just as Ocelot had until stopping before a mass of Ocelot's sentries – their guns aimed and ready.
"You made it in time for the parade, boys!" Ocelot wailed happily. "If I never see you again, this will be the very moment by which I will remember you!" And then, Ocelot was hidden within Tower One, and Snake, Jack, and Otacon all stood tense.
And under a hundred heavy eyes, their hearts stopped beating.