AUTHOR'S NOTE: Chapter Thirteen contains graphic scenes of torture. YOU
HAVE BEEN WARNED LITTLE CHILDREN, the rating will still be PG-13. YOU HAVE
BEEN WARNED, THANK YOU.
Chapter Thirteen: Questions
The small commuter jet glided into restricted United States airspace with no notice of what it had done. It was merely a hunk of metal and electronics, and did not care where it went, or even if it crashed. It cut through the heavy layer of clouds that concealed the sky, and skirted past the massive cloud of tan dust that engulfed Manhattan.
The jet's pilot, on the other hand, was another story. The man was sweating bullets, and he continually took large gulps of a chalky-white antacid medicine from a large plastic container. His mood did not brighten when an F-34 Shark air interceptor sidled up beside his port wing and informed him that he had two minutes to leave United States airspace before being shot down.
"Transmit the signal on the disk," Big Boss said. The pilot nodded, biting his lip. What if it didn't work? He slid the disk into the plane's computer and transmitted its contents to the F-34.
"What's this crap?"
The fighter pilot's voice came over the radio, gruff and of indeterminate age. "Send it to your superiors," the pilot said nervously. "It's a clearance code."
The pilot laughed. "Clearance code? Boy, you don't fly over the U.S. of A at the moment unless you have stars on your wings and a flag on your fuselage, understand?" The amusement in his voice disappeared as he said, "now, you're down to twenty seconds to get out of here, before I take you down."
The pilot turned to Big Boss, his eyes with a hopeless look in them. "I can't do anything," he said. "They're going to shoot us down."
Big Boss' eyes twinkled with laughter. "Let me talk to that pilot, son," he said. "I recognized his voice." Grabbing hold of the mike, he said, "Lt. Colonel James A. Henderson, this is George Sears."
"What? President Sears?"
Big Boss chuckled. "Yes, Lt. Colonel. You are going to let us land at JFK, because I am a former President of the United States, and I have clearance. If you would transmit that signal to your superiors, they will inform you that I have enough clearance to terminate your position, which will happen if we are not allowed to land."
The gruffness and bravado was gone from Henderson's voice as he said, "fine, I'll transmit the signal. And when it doesn't stand up, I'll be more than happy to blow both of you out of the sky."
"Temper, temper," Big Boss said. They waited several minutes, circling over the ocean, the F-34 staying right beside them. Finally, Henderson's voice came back, this time sulky: "you're cleared to land at JFK, President Sears. I'll escort you. Stay clear of the dust cloud, unless you want to ram into something."
"Will do," Big Boss said. Turning to the pilot he said, "see? We made it in. Now land us at JFK." Speaking into the mike once more, he said, "Lt. Colonel Henderson, radio the men at charge in JFK and tell them I expect that Sphere will be ready for me when I arrive."
"Of course, President Sears," Henderson said, although by his tone it was clear that he had no idea what Big Boss was talking about.
The jet screamed over the water, the F-34 pacing it. The ruined mass of the Empire State Building, the foundation of Outer Heaven, was not far away.
* * *
Griffin smiled as acrid smoke curled from Snake's still form. "Wake him," he said to Sasaki. Jonny nodded and slapped Snake until he woke. "I'm sorry about this," he whispered. "Shut up," Snake hissed out through clenched teeth. "I can handle it."
"Don't talk to him!" Griffin shouted, effortlessly backhanding Sasaki into the control panel. "Ocelot, Snake, and myself are the only ones to talk in this room. Understand, guard?!"
Sasaki nodded. The cruel smile once again played over Griffin's lips. "Good. Now, Snake, why don't you tell us about Big Boss?"
"I expect you know enough about him yourself." Snake spit blood-stained phlegm out his mouth, and started hacking, his chest arching up as the coughs rattled his chest cavity.
"Not feeling so young anymore, eh, Snake?" Ocelot said. "I do hope your number doesn't come up anytime soon. It would be quite… disappointing… if Naomi's random little number came up within the next few hours. Oh, you will die, Snake."
"I'll die after I kill you."
Ocelot laughed. "I remember a colleague of mine saying that," he said. "She's dead now. As dead as you will be in a few hours. That time, you were right, Solid Snake. This time, it will be my pleasure to prove you wrong. Sasaki, fifteen. I want this scum to talk."
Sasaki slowly turned the knob, and hit the power button. Immediately, Snake's arm began to brown, and Griffin said, "Ocelot, now I'm the one who's a little worried. He'll permanently lose the usage of that arm if you continue. You'll put him into shock."
"Like we care," Ocelot said. "Sasaki, sixteen."
Snake had ceased howling long ago; now he merely jerked as each current ran through his body, a white froth issuing from his lips. Griffin finally yelled, "Sasaki! Enough! Turn it off."
Jonny, trembling, his body filled with a mixture of disgust and anger, nodded and hit the switch. Snake slowly sank back onto the torture device, his eyes wildly going all over the place. "This… bed… gives a pretty nice… massage," he managed to make out. "Even if the masseuse was a bit… rough."
Griffin laughed. "I like you, Solid Snake," he said. "I'd heard of your exploits even before Ocelot broke Osprey and myself out of Pease. FOXHOUND used to mean something, back then. Now… its just a shadow.
"Now, tell me about Big Boss! Or you will feel what none have felt before—the wrath of this machine on level 20. Ten seconds on level 17 will kill you—I wonder how long 20 will take."
"No."
The word, so simple, infuriated Griffin. "Talk!" he yelled. "I will learn what I want to know about Big Boss before anyone leaves this room, and if I don't, you will be the one to die, Solid Snake!"
Snake said nothing.
Griffin let out a low growl, before he said to Sasaki, "level 20. Kill this sorry relic."
Jonny, for the first time in his life, it seemed, stood up to someone, at that moment. "I can tell you about Big Boss," he said quietly. "All you want to know."
Griffin smirked, and even Ocelot's lips creased a bit. "Can you, now?" Griffin said, his voice light and patronizing. "This should be very interesting, Mr… Sasaki?"
Jonny stood straight, his eyes focused on a bit of plaster on the far wall. "Big Boss, as he is called, was born in 1932. He was a 'child soldier' used by the United States to keep Japanese forces at bay in the Pacific while the real troops were sent to Europe. During this time he ran away and became a mercenary, hiring out his services to the highest bidder. By the end of the war, he was only thirteen, but had the most impressive kill rate of any soldier in the war—thanks to his work for the Allies and the Axis powers.
"After the war he disappeared, and was eventually caught in Tokyo by the newly made CIA in 1949. He completed many solo missions for the CIA during the Korean and Vietnam conflicts, but also extensively rented out his services to whoever could pay him during this period. By the early 70s he was already being called the "greatest soldier of the twentieth century" and "the greatest mercenary ever." It was then that he was recruited the "les enfants terrible" project, which ultimately produced Liquid, Solid, and Solidus Snake.
"When High-Tech Special Forces Unit FOXHOUND was created by President Reagan in 1985, Big Boss was chosen to be the commander of the unit. FOXHOUND participated in many "black" ops, and took part in the overthrow of Panamanian dictator Manuel Noriega in 1989 and the Desert Storm operation in 1991.
"In 1995, an armed fortress city called 'Outer Heaven' appeared in the middle of South Africa. The United States sent FOXHOUND operative Gray Fox to investigate Outer Heaven, and the rumors of massive weapons development going on there—"
"That's enough," Griffin said. "If I wanted Big Boss' life story, I would have asked Ocelot here. Mr. Sasaki, you have proven that you know nothing more than any of us do about Big Boss, save for his birth date. 1932. That, at the least, is mildly interesting. Do you know the exact date?"
"I… I believe it was sometime during October or November, sir," Sasaki said. "Now that is interesting," Griffin said. "Take Snake back to his cell."
"Yes, sir," Sasaki said. He began to unstrap Snake, taking care to not injure the operative's smoking left arm. As he helped Snake up, the former FOXHOUND whispered, "sorry, Jonny, but I gotta do this."
"Do what?" Sasaki whispered back, just before Snake landed a hard right in his gut. In a flash, Sasaki's five five sixer was in Snake's hands, and firing. Figures Sasaki wouldn't have a PIN lock on his gun, Snake thought as he raked the room with fire.
Jonny yelped in fear and leapt behind the device, huddling down as bullets ricocheted all around him. Ocelot dove through an open door, and pulled out his Colt Single Action Army, before deciding that this time discretion was the better part of valor. "Griffin, get out of there!" he yelled. Pulling out a radio, he spoke low and fast into it, calling for reinforcements.
Griffin, meanwhile, had also pulled out his own gun, the MP40 Schmeisser, and was calmly firing back at Snake. He jerked suddenly, and seemed surprise at the red flowers that were blossoming all over his chest. He continued to fire as the red stained his black leather jacket, until he fell over, the MP40 falling from his hands to clatter to the floor. "Bastard…" he said, before going into a fit of coughing, blood leaping out of his throat to the floor. When the coughing stopped, Griffin's lifeless eyes bored into the ceiling of the torture chamber.
Holding in the trigger on the five five sixer, Snake found the crate containing all his gear. He quickly donned his Sneaking Suit, grabbed his FAMAS, SOCOM, and M9, stuffed some rations and extra clips into his ammo packs, before he tossed the gun to Sasaki. "See you later," he said, before taking the level 3 security card from Sasaki's breast pocket and running through a door on the opposite side of the room from Ocelot.
Sasaki slowly stood, taking in the shattered glass, blood, and Griffin's body. The room was in a shambles. Ocelot slowly reappeared, his handgun ready, when two squads of Genome Soldiers, clad in riot shields, bulletproof vests, and Kevlar helmets burst into the room, followed by Raiden. "What happened here?" he asked coldly.
"We were interrogating Snake," Ocelot said, "and Griffin told this guard to take Snake back to his cell. As they were leaving, Snake got a hold of this guard's gun and killed Griffin. I called for backup. Snake escaped."
"Damn," Raiden said. He spoke into his radio. "Begin Red Alert Protocol. Search every section of the structure. Do it in pairs, or better, in squads of four. Do not be alone at any time. We will stay on Red Alert until myself or Liquid has rescinded the order."
Red strobe lights began to flash all around the Devil's Attic as hundreds of guards began searching the halls for one man: Solid Snake. A squad spotted him, moving quickly toward the lower levels. Within seconds, all four were dead, their bodies riddled with bullets. Another squad spotted him entering a stairwell. Within moments the stairwell had turned into a charnel house, dark, dark blood splashed against the walls, the ruined bodies of the guards lying on the stairs like dead cattle after being "harvested."
Solid Snake was angry. Each throb of blood pulsing through his almost- ruined left arm seemed to madden him ever more. Nothing would stop him until every terrorist in the Devil's Attic was dead.
Nothing.
Chapter Thirteen: Questions
The small commuter jet glided into restricted United States airspace with no notice of what it had done. It was merely a hunk of metal and electronics, and did not care where it went, or even if it crashed. It cut through the heavy layer of clouds that concealed the sky, and skirted past the massive cloud of tan dust that engulfed Manhattan.
The jet's pilot, on the other hand, was another story. The man was sweating bullets, and he continually took large gulps of a chalky-white antacid medicine from a large plastic container. His mood did not brighten when an F-34 Shark air interceptor sidled up beside his port wing and informed him that he had two minutes to leave United States airspace before being shot down.
"Transmit the signal on the disk," Big Boss said. The pilot nodded, biting his lip. What if it didn't work? He slid the disk into the plane's computer and transmitted its contents to the F-34.
"What's this crap?"
The fighter pilot's voice came over the radio, gruff and of indeterminate age. "Send it to your superiors," the pilot said nervously. "It's a clearance code."
The pilot laughed. "Clearance code? Boy, you don't fly over the U.S. of A at the moment unless you have stars on your wings and a flag on your fuselage, understand?" The amusement in his voice disappeared as he said, "now, you're down to twenty seconds to get out of here, before I take you down."
The pilot turned to Big Boss, his eyes with a hopeless look in them. "I can't do anything," he said. "They're going to shoot us down."
Big Boss' eyes twinkled with laughter. "Let me talk to that pilot, son," he said. "I recognized his voice." Grabbing hold of the mike, he said, "Lt. Colonel James A. Henderson, this is George Sears."
"What? President Sears?"
Big Boss chuckled. "Yes, Lt. Colonel. You are going to let us land at JFK, because I am a former President of the United States, and I have clearance. If you would transmit that signal to your superiors, they will inform you that I have enough clearance to terminate your position, which will happen if we are not allowed to land."
The gruffness and bravado was gone from Henderson's voice as he said, "fine, I'll transmit the signal. And when it doesn't stand up, I'll be more than happy to blow both of you out of the sky."
"Temper, temper," Big Boss said. They waited several minutes, circling over the ocean, the F-34 staying right beside them. Finally, Henderson's voice came back, this time sulky: "you're cleared to land at JFK, President Sears. I'll escort you. Stay clear of the dust cloud, unless you want to ram into something."
"Will do," Big Boss said. Turning to the pilot he said, "see? We made it in. Now land us at JFK." Speaking into the mike once more, he said, "Lt. Colonel Henderson, radio the men at charge in JFK and tell them I expect that Sphere will be ready for me when I arrive."
"Of course, President Sears," Henderson said, although by his tone it was clear that he had no idea what Big Boss was talking about.
The jet screamed over the water, the F-34 pacing it. The ruined mass of the Empire State Building, the foundation of Outer Heaven, was not far away.
* * *
Griffin smiled as acrid smoke curled from Snake's still form. "Wake him," he said to Sasaki. Jonny nodded and slapped Snake until he woke. "I'm sorry about this," he whispered. "Shut up," Snake hissed out through clenched teeth. "I can handle it."
"Don't talk to him!" Griffin shouted, effortlessly backhanding Sasaki into the control panel. "Ocelot, Snake, and myself are the only ones to talk in this room. Understand, guard?!"
Sasaki nodded. The cruel smile once again played over Griffin's lips. "Good. Now, Snake, why don't you tell us about Big Boss?"
"I expect you know enough about him yourself." Snake spit blood-stained phlegm out his mouth, and started hacking, his chest arching up as the coughs rattled his chest cavity.
"Not feeling so young anymore, eh, Snake?" Ocelot said. "I do hope your number doesn't come up anytime soon. It would be quite… disappointing… if Naomi's random little number came up within the next few hours. Oh, you will die, Snake."
"I'll die after I kill you."
Ocelot laughed. "I remember a colleague of mine saying that," he said. "She's dead now. As dead as you will be in a few hours. That time, you were right, Solid Snake. This time, it will be my pleasure to prove you wrong. Sasaki, fifteen. I want this scum to talk."
Sasaki slowly turned the knob, and hit the power button. Immediately, Snake's arm began to brown, and Griffin said, "Ocelot, now I'm the one who's a little worried. He'll permanently lose the usage of that arm if you continue. You'll put him into shock."
"Like we care," Ocelot said. "Sasaki, sixteen."
Snake had ceased howling long ago; now he merely jerked as each current ran through his body, a white froth issuing from his lips. Griffin finally yelled, "Sasaki! Enough! Turn it off."
Jonny, trembling, his body filled with a mixture of disgust and anger, nodded and hit the switch. Snake slowly sank back onto the torture device, his eyes wildly going all over the place. "This… bed… gives a pretty nice… massage," he managed to make out. "Even if the masseuse was a bit… rough."
Griffin laughed. "I like you, Solid Snake," he said. "I'd heard of your exploits even before Ocelot broke Osprey and myself out of Pease. FOXHOUND used to mean something, back then. Now… its just a shadow.
"Now, tell me about Big Boss! Or you will feel what none have felt before—the wrath of this machine on level 20. Ten seconds on level 17 will kill you—I wonder how long 20 will take."
"No."
The word, so simple, infuriated Griffin. "Talk!" he yelled. "I will learn what I want to know about Big Boss before anyone leaves this room, and if I don't, you will be the one to die, Solid Snake!"
Snake said nothing.
Griffin let out a low growl, before he said to Sasaki, "level 20. Kill this sorry relic."
Jonny, for the first time in his life, it seemed, stood up to someone, at that moment. "I can tell you about Big Boss," he said quietly. "All you want to know."
Griffin smirked, and even Ocelot's lips creased a bit. "Can you, now?" Griffin said, his voice light and patronizing. "This should be very interesting, Mr… Sasaki?"
Jonny stood straight, his eyes focused on a bit of plaster on the far wall. "Big Boss, as he is called, was born in 1932. He was a 'child soldier' used by the United States to keep Japanese forces at bay in the Pacific while the real troops were sent to Europe. During this time he ran away and became a mercenary, hiring out his services to the highest bidder. By the end of the war, he was only thirteen, but had the most impressive kill rate of any soldier in the war—thanks to his work for the Allies and the Axis powers.
"After the war he disappeared, and was eventually caught in Tokyo by the newly made CIA in 1949. He completed many solo missions for the CIA during the Korean and Vietnam conflicts, but also extensively rented out his services to whoever could pay him during this period. By the early 70s he was already being called the "greatest soldier of the twentieth century" and "the greatest mercenary ever." It was then that he was recruited the "les enfants terrible" project, which ultimately produced Liquid, Solid, and Solidus Snake.
"When High-Tech Special Forces Unit FOXHOUND was created by President Reagan in 1985, Big Boss was chosen to be the commander of the unit. FOXHOUND participated in many "black" ops, and took part in the overthrow of Panamanian dictator Manuel Noriega in 1989 and the Desert Storm operation in 1991.
"In 1995, an armed fortress city called 'Outer Heaven' appeared in the middle of South Africa. The United States sent FOXHOUND operative Gray Fox to investigate Outer Heaven, and the rumors of massive weapons development going on there—"
"That's enough," Griffin said. "If I wanted Big Boss' life story, I would have asked Ocelot here. Mr. Sasaki, you have proven that you know nothing more than any of us do about Big Boss, save for his birth date. 1932. That, at the least, is mildly interesting. Do you know the exact date?"
"I… I believe it was sometime during October or November, sir," Sasaki said. "Now that is interesting," Griffin said. "Take Snake back to his cell."
"Yes, sir," Sasaki said. He began to unstrap Snake, taking care to not injure the operative's smoking left arm. As he helped Snake up, the former FOXHOUND whispered, "sorry, Jonny, but I gotta do this."
"Do what?" Sasaki whispered back, just before Snake landed a hard right in his gut. In a flash, Sasaki's five five sixer was in Snake's hands, and firing. Figures Sasaki wouldn't have a PIN lock on his gun, Snake thought as he raked the room with fire.
Jonny yelped in fear and leapt behind the device, huddling down as bullets ricocheted all around him. Ocelot dove through an open door, and pulled out his Colt Single Action Army, before deciding that this time discretion was the better part of valor. "Griffin, get out of there!" he yelled. Pulling out a radio, he spoke low and fast into it, calling for reinforcements.
Griffin, meanwhile, had also pulled out his own gun, the MP40 Schmeisser, and was calmly firing back at Snake. He jerked suddenly, and seemed surprise at the red flowers that were blossoming all over his chest. He continued to fire as the red stained his black leather jacket, until he fell over, the MP40 falling from his hands to clatter to the floor. "Bastard…" he said, before going into a fit of coughing, blood leaping out of his throat to the floor. When the coughing stopped, Griffin's lifeless eyes bored into the ceiling of the torture chamber.
Holding in the trigger on the five five sixer, Snake found the crate containing all his gear. He quickly donned his Sneaking Suit, grabbed his FAMAS, SOCOM, and M9, stuffed some rations and extra clips into his ammo packs, before he tossed the gun to Sasaki. "See you later," he said, before taking the level 3 security card from Sasaki's breast pocket and running through a door on the opposite side of the room from Ocelot.
Sasaki slowly stood, taking in the shattered glass, blood, and Griffin's body. The room was in a shambles. Ocelot slowly reappeared, his handgun ready, when two squads of Genome Soldiers, clad in riot shields, bulletproof vests, and Kevlar helmets burst into the room, followed by Raiden. "What happened here?" he asked coldly.
"We were interrogating Snake," Ocelot said, "and Griffin told this guard to take Snake back to his cell. As they were leaving, Snake got a hold of this guard's gun and killed Griffin. I called for backup. Snake escaped."
"Damn," Raiden said. He spoke into his radio. "Begin Red Alert Protocol. Search every section of the structure. Do it in pairs, or better, in squads of four. Do not be alone at any time. We will stay on Red Alert until myself or Liquid has rescinded the order."
Red strobe lights began to flash all around the Devil's Attic as hundreds of guards began searching the halls for one man: Solid Snake. A squad spotted him, moving quickly toward the lower levels. Within seconds, all four were dead, their bodies riddled with bullets. Another squad spotted him entering a stairwell. Within moments the stairwell had turned into a charnel house, dark, dark blood splashed against the walls, the ruined bodies of the guards lying on the stairs like dead cattle after being "harvested."
Solid Snake was angry. Each throb of blood pulsing through his almost- ruined left arm seemed to madden him ever more. Nothing would stop him until every terrorist in the Devil's Attic was dead.
Nothing.