Chapter Thirty-One: The Sacrificial Lambs
"Alpha Gear?!" Snake inquired with a hint of surprise hidden deep in his harsh tone. Checking the crowd nervously, he noticed a slight shift of weight when the words were spoken. He wasn't alone.
"Alpha Gear," Dante repeated. "It's being held somewhere in New York City, watching after the Patriot with a heavy eye. Lucky for him, he was granted an army and a forty-foot robot. Otherwise, we would have found him a grave years past." Snake sneered, but held back the unfitting comments he was so eager to voice.
"With the creation of the Wisemen's Committee, there came a heralding outcry for greater personal security. They passed a vote for a Personal Guard, the origin of the soldiers you see before you…the Patriot's own army. But, soon after the Wisemen's Committee was eliminated, the nation of America became a clouded dictatorship at its core, and with the request of the first Patriot there came demand for a new, ultimate weapon.
"Alpha Gear. The details are still unclear, but there are a number of analysts at the CIA under orders from the President of the United States currently looking into it. The disc that I hold in my hand is in ten thousand computers around the world at this very moment, and will be available for download on another thousand servers in just an hour's time." He paused, beginning to pace before taking in a gulp of moist, hot air. "News sure travels fast."
"Then what's Metal Gear?" Otacon interjected. "How are they different?"
"Ah," Dante raised his index finger and stepped nearer. "You see, the collateral information recovered from A: Objective had sparked curiosity in the politicians of our world, and it was only a matter of time before they caught wind of 'ALPHA,' the top-secret committee in charge of researching and constructing the Alpha Gear weapon. It was with THAT information that the UFAC was formed, later leading to the discovery of the Patriot. And it was ALSO with that information that, the thing that is today called Metal Gear, was brought to life. It was only a matter of time before the information was filtered through the UFAC to spies, who then leaked it to their superiors, and who then began constructing their own weapons."
"Why would the Patriot rely on an out-dated piece of weaponry to protect him?" Snake asked aloud, and Dante looked back at him – intrigued.
"Snake," he began, stopping to find the suitable words. "I would very much like to sit down with you sometime over a cup of coffee. You are an interesting character, indeed. I can see why they believe you a legend." Snake was more or less angered by Dante's approach – exactly the opposite of his intentions.
"I'm not here to talk, and neither are you," Snake declared, defiantly. There was a sparkle in Dante's eye.
"You are so similar…you and him," Dante claimed, absently, as if he and Snake were the only two present in the room.
"Hmm?" Snake grunted.
"A man from the history books," Dante continued – dazed. "And a legend, himself -" Then, there was a shifting shadow across the floor as something moved on the staircase abroad.
"Norman," a voice whispered in the shadows. "Keep a close ear. I want to know everything as it is said."
Then, a shot.
The bullet screamed through the air, breaking the wind around it and penetrating a Ranger's forehead with a force that sent him off of his feet and onto the floor. A splash of blood spurted out, staining a Patriot Sentry who he'd been guarding. Dante had started off to the right side of the room, Wordsworth was running toward him, the third Romantic raised his shotgun and a spare UMP 450, and Fox had turned to Snake and bid him farewell as Jack pulled out a Hammerli and stood in front of Otacon as a shield.
"We leave here now," Fox declared. His arms went up to the right, quickly, jerking his sword forth and deflecting a round of Sentry ammunition. Snake's eyes turned to the crowd and saw the disruption. With that one shot and that one life taken, the entire room had exploded with gunfire. Snake turned back to Fox and shook his head. "From here, it only takes time. We are no longer needed."
"It wont just work itself out," Snake exclaimed, throwing up his arm s a hail of gunfire was deflected again by Fox's blade. "We ARE still needed." Jack had moved beside them, Otacon tugging on his shoulders in fright. The main battle was being fought between the Rangers and Sentries, leaving the company almost unnoticed by the masses.
"Look!" Jack pointed toward the stairwell that led to the second floor, and then to the third, and so on and so forth. The shadowy figure had disappeared, but Dante had directed three others to it. One of the characters was bulky, an oddly shaped knife in his hand. The other was a woman, her hair falling over her shoulders and bouncing against her back as she ran. The third was familiar, though. He was Klaymore. "The 1st Officers Unit," Jack claimed. "That's all three of them, I'll bet. Tauran, Klaymore, and Esher."
"The giant is Tauran," Otacon guessed. Snake looked at him and laughed before turning his head up toward the three. His eyes searched wildly, but they were nowhere.
"They're heading for the plus levels," Snake noted. "FACtion may not be your enemy," he said, directing his statement toward Fox, "but it is ours." Snake looked up at the third Romantic, his guns firing off crazily – each one hitting its mark. He was the most talented shot Snake had ever witnessed. He wasn't good with one gun, or so fast he could take seven foes in three seconds – like Revolver – but he could use any weapon handed to him like he'd trained with it for weeks.
But…he still didn't know his name.
"Take care of the girls," Snake requested, looking over Fox's shoulder and seeing Wordsworth grab their wrists and pull them through a back door, the Colonel following close behind. "Contact us when they're safe." Fox turned, sending a number of rounds back in the direction of the masses – two of them striking Sentries.
"We'll be here," Fox declared. "We won't leave." Snake looked at him grimly.
"You had better not," he replied, shaking Fox's hand hastily. "You don't want to miss your train," Snake pointed, and Wordsworth had just disappeared through the doorway.
"Where's Dante?" Jack questioned. Snake's eyes scrolled over the floor, but saw nothing…except a glass entrance door sliding shut and a shadow disappearing beyond the WTC area. "Gone," Snake said, looking back to where Fox had stood and seeing no more than unsettled dust.
"The Rangers are losing," Snake noted. He looked at the third Romantic again and saw him pull forth a small radio from his beltline. He spoke for a moment, still firing off his UMP 450 with his spare hand, and then tucked the radio back into his pocket before peering over his collar and catching Snake's stare in his view. He responded in no way, and turned and ran.
"Gone," Snake said again, frustrated still that he hadn't seen more than the top of his eyebrows.
"Come on!" Otacon yelled, nervously stepping in front of Jack. "FACtion and the Patriot are our main priorities. We don't leave until they've been stopped!" Snake looked at him. It was touching, seeing Otacon step out like that, but only the foolishness kept Snake from showing his compassion…that and the fact that bullets were passing by them in every direction, stirring the wind around them.
Snake looked at Jack who nodded. Snake did the same. "Then we run," Snake said rather matter-of-factly, and without any inclination as to when, he started off. Running, straight through the center, Otacon and Jack looked for ways around the masses, but saw none as the entire floor was littered with Sentries and Rangers.
Jack went first, Otacon after that. Snake, who was ahead of them both, could feel the bullets churn the air about their paths. He heard their screams and their whistles and could taste their bitterness. Screams of pain from Sentries and Rangers filled his head, as did the bullets, and their breaking bones and nervous parents who sit at home and can only wonder. Can only wonder what they go through…
And then, he fell.
His legs became weak, his knees soar, and his shins aching. His breathing quickened its pace, his arms lost feeling, and his lungs curled in on themselves. His heart started beating, faster than he'd ever felt it before, and the colors and sounds and sights were wrapped around him in a terrible haze, smothering him with sickness and pain.
"FOX!" Liquid had cried. "Die!" Snake had exclaimed. 'Damn,' Snake thought now, his world falling apart. 'Not now!'
'Your age shows,' a voice called. It was Liquid. 'FOX-DIE isn't willing to give up its grip on you, is it? Poor, poor brother. I would have gladly taken death over life, were I even given the option. You are burdened by the mercy of time. "A random card," Naomi had said. You simply never know.'
'I'm dead, then?' Snake asked. Liquid's image appeared in the black void that was his mind. He lifted his index finger and shook it wildly.
'Of course not, Snake! This is a simple tremor…the lightning before the thunder. I am surprised you managed to suppress it this long, but now it is clear. You are human, Snake. You can be killed. Everyone loses sometime.' Snake couldn't speak.
'When does it end? When will I come out?'
'You're awake,' Liquid answered. 'Its like your eyes have turned into the back of your head, Snake. You're simply looking at it differently. You are watching your death, as your friends hold onto your life.' He paused. 'You expected it too, didn't you? You didn't think you would last this long, did you?'
Snake began to lose touch with Liquid, and the black void began to fill with light.
'You're coming soon! I can feel it! We will meet again, soon, Snake! I will be waiting for you!' And the darkness was filled with light…
…Just as the elevator beeped and the doors to the first floor slid shut. Snake set his hand on his heart, but no longer felt any pain. Otacon moved over him as Jack stood by the doors.
"Snake!" Otacon cried. "Snake, are you all right?" There was urgency in his voice, but that didn't change even when Snake's eyes had opened. The world was still something of a blur, but he was relieved to feel the pain and the pressure in his chest and his legs had subsided. He nodded at Otacon and sat up.
"Snake! What was that?" Otacon asked, Jack still standing alert at the doors as the floors beeped by. Snake looked at the elevator control panel and saw the light for the third floor alive with an orange glow.
"The third floor?" Snake asked. Jack looked at him and lifted his shoulders as the elevator fell a few inches, stopping at the respective level. Snake began to stand as the doors slid apart, a 'ding' sound signaling their arrival.
Otacon threw his hand over his mouth and Jack turned away, facing the back of the elevator. Snake stood for a moment, finding his balance and setting the world back on its feet, and then stepped out of the elevator. "Snake!" Otacon protested, but Snake lifted his hand.
"Go ahead," Snake said. "Jack, keep him safe." Jack nodded, on his way out of the elevator, and then stepped back in pushing another button on the elevator controls. Then, the doors slid shut, and only a feeble "Good luck" could be heard from Otacon before the elevator ascended again. That left Snake alone…surrounded by innumerable corpses.
"All Sentries," Snake noted. 'FACtion,' he thought to himself, stepping over one of the forms. They were in terrible shape. They hadn't been shot or beaten…they'd been torn. Their limbs remained in tact, but there were unbelievable gouges ripping through their stomachs, into their chests, and down their backs. They'd been slaughtered like a herd of confused lambs, and their blood soaked into the carpet – still leaving some, for the carpet was even too saturated.
One man was slumped against a cubicle wall, his neck partly severed and his chest gauged out, leaving no trace of his heart or any other organs. Snake couldn't stand it. It was too sick, too unimaginably horrific. But, he could hear sounds coming from a room adjacent the nearest hallway that broke away from the present workspace. Pulling his SOCOM out of its holster, he held it down by his thigh, his arms extended to their max. His heart was beating quickly. Very quickly.
'Is it your time now, brother?' he could hear Liquid asking him. 'I do hope so.' Snake shook his head, stood where he was, and closed his eyes. Then, when they opened, Liquid was gone. "I got Mantis out of here," he declared, tapping his temple. "You're no different." He was whispering as he stepped into the hall, listening intently still to the sounds that came from ahead.
They were wet…sick noises. There was tearing flesh and dripping blood and anything one could imagine…and still far worse. Snake had never heard a more frightening sound, but he was not fearful. His heart was beating slightly faster than usual, yes, but he was calm. He had fought the worst of the world…what remained could only turn out weaker.
But then, he was there. He was standing just outside the door, listening to the sounds within. His eyes narrowed, his grip tightened, and his legs stood solid like the stone legs of a statue. Then, he twisted around the corner, pushing the door wide open, and stopping in the doorway with his SOCOM raised level with his own eyes.
But what he saw…it was like something out of a Stephen King novel, or an even more terrible rendition of the Red Dragon or Hannibal. Stretched along the ceiling and the walls of another office room, filled with cubicle after cubicle, was a colossal spider's web, stretching over the cubicles and the lights and the fans. A number of spiders rested on the silky tresses, but they were not made of silk at all. They were red…red like blood. Sitting on the floor, there was a large, built man…his hands working their way inside a Sentry's chest, and a silver, twisted knife in the Sentry's forehead. He looked up, his pupils a dark crimson, and grinned.
"Solid Snake," he growled. "What a pleasant surprise." Snake was tempted to shoot, seeing the terrible atrocities the man had all ready committed, but he did not. He was…curious…intrigued.
"Tauran?" Snake guessed, and the man's eyes widened, the pupils growing larger and more frightening.
"By some," the man groaned before pulling a line of veins from the victim's body. Snake cringed, only on the inside to hide his disgust.
"And by others?" he asked. Tauran raised his shoulders, a smile on his face. "How'd you get the name Tauran?"
"It is the name of my Queen," he said, lifting his hand into the air and the vein with it. A single spider, one that appeared larger than even Tauran's hand, descended on a line of sticky blood. Engulfed the vein, sucking it into its body like a cord of lickerish, Tauran smiled and brought it in his hand to the corpse before him.
It turned in his palm and looked at him, almost as if seeking his approval. With a nod from Tauran, the spider leapt out of his hand and buried itself in the victim's chest, pushing up the corpse's skin as it walked inside it. Tauran watched Snake closely. He blinked with every one of Snake's blinks, and cringed with every one of Snake's cringes. And then, the spider broke violently through the man's stomach and scurried up Tauran's arm, grabbing hold of a strand of blood, and climbing quickly up it.
"That is she," Tauran explained in a low tone again. His skin was lightly tanned, suggesting that he came from South American soil.
"So you gut 'em, and they eat 'em?" Snake suggested. Tauran was taken aback, shifting in his seated position and taking the knife that remained firmly lodged in the victim's forehead and dislodging it, pulling a chunk of bone and flesh with it and showering the floor with a torrent of sticky blood. Tauran's eyes went hungrily to Snake and he bit his teeth together as if to scare. Then, with his free hand, he reached into the man's head and pulled forth a messy clot of sludge and mass.
"Sometimes I eat too," he said, sinking his teeth into the mess of wrinkles and taking a lump of it into his mouth. He ground it several times with his teeth – its sound suggesting it was rather tough – and then swallowed, exhaling and sending a wretched smell across the room. Snake faltered back a ways, disgust being the only emotion he could express any longer. "The human brain…chewy."
Snake wasted no more time, pushing his finger down on the trigger of his SOCOM and sending a well-placed bullet into Tauran's left arm. He ground his teeth together, showing his pain, but then began to laugh as a horde of spiders descended strands of blood and crawled down the walls then up his legs to reach the wound.
Quickly, they broke their way into his body, squeezing into the hole formed by the bullet, and began to feast on his muscle and on his blood. "A cycle," Tauran proclaimed as he stressed his muscle and as ten crunches were heard. "I feed them…and they feed me." Snake looked at him, appalled. "They are no more than a pool of blood, wrapped in a weak membrane of silk and fur. And these," Tauran said, referring to the Sentries that littered the floors, "are there's as well."
The spiders had covered nearly every inch of Tauran who took his hand holding the brain and smacked it on the victim's uniform. Grabbing the man's collarbone and lifting him into the air, the lights – tainted red by the webs that were built over them – glistened on the handprint and the spiders crawled up Tauran's arm and quickly covered the victim, eating him as they scurried over him.
"These…are the sacrificial lambs!"
"Alpha Gear?!" Snake inquired with a hint of surprise hidden deep in his harsh tone. Checking the crowd nervously, he noticed a slight shift of weight when the words were spoken. He wasn't alone.
"Alpha Gear," Dante repeated. "It's being held somewhere in New York City, watching after the Patriot with a heavy eye. Lucky for him, he was granted an army and a forty-foot robot. Otherwise, we would have found him a grave years past." Snake sneered, but held back the unfitting comments he was so eager to voice.
"With the creation of the Wisemen's Committee, there came a heralding outcry for greater personal security. They passed a vote for a Personal Guard, the origin of the soldiers you see before you…the Patriot's own army. But, soon after the Wisemen's Committee was eliminated, the nation of America became a clouded dictatorship at its core, and with the request of the first Patriot there came demand for a new, ultimate weapon.
"Alpha Gear. The details are still unclear, but there are a number of analysts at the CIA under orders from the President of the United States currently looking into it. The disc that I hold in my hand is in ten thousand computers around the world at this very moment, and will be available for download on another thousand servers in just an hour's time." He paused, beginning to pace before taking in a gulp of moist, hot air. "News sure travels fast."
"Then what's Metal Gear?" Otacon interjected. "How are they different?"
"Ah," Dante raised his index finger and stepped nearer. "You see, the collateral information recovered from A: Objective had sparked curiosity in the politicians of our world, and it was only a matter of time before they caught wind of 'ALPHA,' the top-secret committee in charge of researching and constructing the Alpha Gear weapon. It was with THAT information that the UFAC was formed, later leading to the discovery of the Patriot. And it was ALSO with that information that, the thing that is today called Metal Gear, was brought to life. It was only a matter of time before the information was filtered through the UFAC to spies, who then leaked it to their superiors, and who then began constructing their own weapons."
"Why would the Patriot rely on an out-dated piece of weaponry to protect him?" Snake asked aloud, and Dante looked back at him – intrigued.
"Snake," he began, stopping to find the suitable words. "I would very much like to sit down with you sometime over a cup of coffee. You are an interesting character, indeed. I can see why they believe you a legend." Snake was more or less angered by Dante's approach – exactly the opposite of his intentions.
"I'm not here to talk, and neither are you," Snake declared, defiantly. There was a sparkle in Dante's eye.
"You are so similar…you and him," Dante claimed, absently, as if he and Snake were the only two present in the room.
"Hmm?" Snake grunted.
"A man from the history books," Dante continued – dazed. "And a legend, himself -" Then, there was a shifting shadow across the floor as something moved on the staircase abroad.
"Norman," a voice whispered in the shadows. "Keep a close ear. I want to know everything as it is said."
Then, a shot.
The bullet screamed through the air, breaking the wind around it and penetrating a Ranger's forehead with a force that sent him off of his feet and onto the floor. A splash of blood spurted out, staining a Patriot Sentry who he'd been guarding. Dante had started off to the right side of the room, Wordsworth was running toward him, the third Romantic raised his shotgun and a spare UMP 450, and Fox had turned to Snake and bid him farewell as Jack pulled out a Hammerli and stood in front of Otacon as a shield.
"We leave here now," Fox declared. His arms went up to the right, quickly, jerking his sword forth and deflecting a round of Sentry ammunition. Snake's eyes turned to the crowd and saw the disruption. With that one shot and that one life taken, the entire room had exploded with gunfire. Snake turned back to Fox and shook his head. "From here, it only takes time. We are no longer needed."
"It wont just work itself out," Snake exclaimed, throwing up his arm s a hail of gunfire was deflected again by Fox's blade. "We ARE still needed." Jack had moved beside them, Otacon tugging on his shoulders in fright. The main battle was being fought between the Rangers and Sentries, leaving the company almost unnoticed by the masses.
"Look!" Jack pointed toward the stairwell that led to the second floor, and then to the third, and so on and so forth. The shadowy figure had disappeared, but Dante had directed three others to it. One of the characters was bulky, an oddly shaped knife in his hand. The other was a woman, her hair falling over her shoulders and bouncing against her back as she ran. The third was familiar, though. He was Klaymore. "The 1st Officers Unit," Jack claimed. "That's all three of them, I'll bet. Tauran, Klaymore, and Esher."
"The giant is Tauran," Otacon guessed. Snake looked at him and laughed before turning his head up toward the three. His eyes searched wildly, but they were nowhere.
"They're heading for the plus levels," Snake noted. "FACtion may not be your enemy," he said, directing his statement toward Fox, "but it is ours." Snake looked up at the third Romantic, his guns firing off crazily – each one hitting its mark. He was the most talented shot Snake had ever witnessed. He wasn't good with one gun, or so fast he could take seven foes in three seconds – like Revolver – but he could use any weapon handed to him like he'd trained with it for weeks.
But…he still didn't know his name.
"Take care of the girls," Snake requested, looking over Fox's shoulder and seeing Wordsworth grab their wrists and pull them through a back door, the Colonel following close behind. "Contact us when they're safe." Fox turned, sending a number of rounds back in the direction of the masses – two of them striking Sentries.
"We'll be here," Fox declared. "We won't leave." Snake looked at him grimly.
"You had better not," he replied, shaking Fox's hand hastily. "You don't want to miss your train," Snake pointed, and Wordsworth had just disappeared through the doorway.
"Where's Dante?" Jack questioned. Snake's eyes scrolled over the floor, but saw nothing…except a glass entrance door sliding shut and a shadow disappearing beyond the WTC area. "Gone," Snake said, looking back to where Fox had stood and seeing no more than unsettled dust.
"The Rangers are losing," Snake noted. He looked at the third Romantic again and saw him pull forth a small radio from his beltline. He spoke for a moment, still firing off his UMP 450 with his spare hand, and then tucked the radio back into his pocket before peering over his collar and catching Snake's stare in his view. He responded in no way, and turned and ran.
"Gone," Snake said again, frustrated still that he hadn't seen more than the top of his eyebrows.
"Come on!" Otacon yelled, nervously stepping in front of Jack. "FACtion and the Patriot are our main priorities. We don't leave until they've been stopped!" Snake looked at him. It was touching, seeing Otacon step out like that, but only the foolishness kept Snake from showing his compassion…that and the fact that bullets were passing by them in every direction, stirring the wind around them.
Snake looked at Jack who nodded. Snake did the same. "Then we run," Snake said rather matter-of-factly, and without any inclination as to when, he started off. Running, straight through the center, Otacon and Jack looked for ways around the masses, but saw none as the entire floor was littered with Sentries and Rangers.
Jack went first, Otacon after that. Snake, who was ahead of them both, could feel the bullets churn the air about their paths. He heard their screams and their whistles and could taste their bitterness. Screams of pain from Sentries and Rangers filled his head, as did the bullets, and their breaking bones and nervous parents who sit at home and can only wonder. Can only wonder what they go through…
And then, he fell.
His legs became weak, his knees soar, and his shins aching. His breathing quickened its pace, his arms lost feeling, and his lungs curled in on themselves. His heart started beating, faster than he'd ever felt it before, and the colors and sounds and sights were wrapped around him in a terrible haze, smothering him with sickness and pain.
"FOX!" Liquid had cried. "Die!" Snake had exclaimed. 'Damn,' Snake thought now, his world falling apart. 'Not now!'
'Your age shows,' a voice called. It was Liquid. 'FOX-DIE isn't willing to give up its grip on you, is it? Poor, poor brother. I would have gladly taken death over life, were I even given the option. You are burdened by the mercy of time. "A random card," Naomi had said. You simply never know.'
'I'm dead, then?' Snake asked. Liquid's image appeared in the black void that was his mind. He lifted his index finger and shook it wildly.
'Of course not, Snake! This is a simple tremor…the lightning before the thunder. I am surprised you managed to suppress it this long, but now it is clear. You are human, Snake. You can be killed. Everyone loses sometime.' Snake couldn't speak.
'When does it end? When will I come out?'
'You're awake,' Liquid answered. 'Its like your eyes have turned into the back of your head, Snake. You're simply looking at it differently. You are watching your death, as your friends hold onto your life.' He paused. 'You expected it too, didn't you? You didn't think you would last this long, did you?'
Snake began to lose touch with Liquid, and the black void began to fill with light.
'You're coming soon! I can feel it! We will meet again, soon, Snake! I will be waiting for you!' And the darkness was filled with light…
…Just as the elevator beeped and the doors to the first floor slid shut. Snake set his hand on his heart, but no longer felt any pain. Otacon moved over him as Jack stood by the doors.
"Snake!" Otacon cried. "Snake, are you all right?" There was urgency in his voice, but that didn't change even when Snake's eyes had opened. The world was still something of a blur, but he was relieved to feel the pain and the pressure in his chest and his legs had subsided. He nodded at Otacon and sat up.
"Snake! What was that?" Otacon asked, Jack still standing alert at the doors as the floors beeped by. Snake looked at the elevator control panel and saw the light for the third floor alive with an orange glow.
"The third floor?" Snake asked. Jack looked at him and lifted his shoulders as the elevator fell a few inches, stopping at the respective level. Snake began to stand as the doors slid apart, a 'ding' sound signaling their arrival.
Otacon threw his hand over his mouth and Jack turned away, facing the back of the elevator. Snake stood for a moment, finding his balance and setting the world back on its feet, and then stepped out of the elevator. "Snake!" Otacon protested, but Snake lifted his hand.
"Go ahead," Snake said. "Jack, keep him safe." Jack nodded, on his way out of the elevator, and then stepped back in pushing another button on the elevator controls. Then, the doors slid shut, and only a feeble "Good luck" could be heard from Otacon before the elevator ascended again. That left Snake alone…surrounded by innumerable corpses.
"All Sentries," Snake noted. 'FACtion,' he thought to himself, stepping over one of the forms. They were in terrible shape. They hadn't been shot or beaten…they'd been torn. Their limbs remained in tact, but there were unbelievable gouges ripping through their stomachs, into their chests, and down their backs. They'd been slaughtered like a herd of confused lambs, and their blood soaked into the carpet – still leaving some, for the carpet was even too saturated.
One man was slumped against a cubicle wall, his neck partly severed and his chest gauged out, leaving no trace of his heart or any other organs. Snake couldn't stand it. It was too sick, too unimaginably horrific. But, he could hear sounds coming from a room adjacent the nearest hallway that broke away from the present workspace. Pulling his SOCOM out of its holster, he held it down by his thigh, his arms extended to their max. His heart was beating quickly. Very quickly.
'Is it your time now, brother?' he could hear Liquid asking him. 'I do hope so.' Snake shook his head, stood where he was, and closed his eyes. Then, when they opened, Liquid was gone. "I got Mantis out of here," he declared, tapping his temple. "You're no different." He was whispering as he stepped into the hall, listening intently still to the sounds that came from ahead.
They were wet…sick noises. There was tearing flesh and dripping blood and anything one could imagine…and still far worse. Snake had never heard a more frightening sound, but he was not fearful. His heart was beating slightly faster than usual, yes, but he was calm. He had fought the worst of the world…what remained could only turn out weaker.
But then, he was there. He was standing just outside the door, listening to the sounds within. His eyes narrowed, his grip tightened, and his legs stood solid like the stone legs of a statue. Then, he twisted around the corner, pushing the door wide open, and stopping in the doorway with his SOCOM raised level with his own eyes.
But what he saw…it was like something out of a Stephen King novel, or an even more terrible rendition of the Red Dragon or Hannibal. Stretched along the ceiling and the walls of another office room, filled with cubicle after cubicle, was a colossal spider's web, stretching over the cubicles and the lights and the fans. A number of spiders rested on the silky tresses, but they were not made of silk at all. They were red…red like blood. Sitting on the floor, there was a large, built man…his hands working their way inside a Sentry's chest, and a silver, twisted knife in the Sentry's forehead. He looked up, his pupils a dark crimson, and grinned.
"Solid Snake," he growled. "What a pleasant surprise." Snake was tempted to shoot, seeing the terrible atrocities the man had all ready committed, but he did not. He was…curious…intrigued.
"Tauran?" Snake guessed, and the man's eyes widened, the pupils growing larger and more frightening.
"By some," the man groaned before pulling a line of veins from the victim's body. Snake cringed, only on the inside to hide his disgust.
"And by others?" he asked. Tauran raised his shoulders, a smile on his face. "How'd you get the name Tauran?"
"It is the name of my Queen," he said, lifting his hand into the air and the vein with it. A single spider, one that appeared larger than even Tauran's hand, descended on a line of sticky blood. Engulfed the vein, sucking it into its body like a cord of lickerish, Tauran smiled and brought it in his hand to the corpse before him.
It turned in his palm and looked at him, almost as if seeking his approval. With a nod from Tauran, the spider leapt out of his hand and buried itself in the victim's chest, pushing up the corpse's skin as it walked inside it. Tauran watched Snake closely. He blinked with every one of Snake's blinks, and cringed with every one of Snake's cringes. And then, the spider broke violently through the man's stomach and scurried up Tauran's arm, grabbing hold of a strand of blood, and climbing quickly up it.
"That is she," Tauran explained in a low tone again. His skin was lightly tanned, suggesting that he came from South American soil.
"So you gut 'em, and they eat 'em?" Snake suggested. Tauran was taken aback, shifting in his seated position and taking the knife that remained firmly lodged in the victim's forehead and dislodging it, pulling a chunk of bone and flesh with it and showering the floor with a torrent of sticky blood. Tauran's eyes went hungrily to Snake and he bit his teeth together as if to scare. Then, with his free hand, he reached into the man's head and pulled forth a messy clot of sludge and mass.
"Sometimes I eat too," he said, sinking his teeth into the mess of wrinkles and taking a lump of it into his mouth. He ground it several times with his teeth – its sound suggesting it was rather tough – and then swallowed, exhaling and sending a wretched smell across the room. Snake faltered back a ways, disgust being the only emotion he could express any longer. "The human brain…chewy."
Snake wasted no more time, pushing his finger down on the trigger of his SOCOM and sending a well-placed bullet into Tauran's left arm. He ground his teeth together, showing his pain, but then began to laugh as a horde of spiders descended strands of blood and crawled down the walls then up his legs to reach the wound.
Quickly, they broke their way into his body, squeezing into the hole formed by the bullet, and began to feast on his muscle and on his blood. "A cycle," Tauran proclaimed as he stressed his muscle and as ten crunches were heard. "I feed them…and they feed me." Snake looked at him, appalled. "They are no more than a pool of blood, wrapped in a weak membrane of silk and fur. And these," Tauran said, referring to the Sentries that littered the floors, "are there's as well."
The spiders had covered nearly every inch of Tauran who took his hand holding the brain and smacked it on the victim's uniform. Grabbing the man's collarbone and lifting him into the air, the lights – tainted red by the webs that were built over them – glistened on the handprint and the spiders crawled up Tauran's arm and quickly covered the victim, eating him as they scurried over him.
"These…are the sacrificial lambs!"