Note: This chapter may be kind of confusing because the age of a certain character doesn't seem to add up, but I assure you, THINGS WILL BE EXPLAINED LATER ON!!!! So don't fret!

P.S. I've fixed the previous chapter's time problem. Oh yeah, BTW, it happens at the same time as chapter five for those of you who didn't get that. Sorry for any confusion.



Chapter 7



Ivan Gurlukovich sat in the back of the black ATSFU (Anti-Terror Special Forces Unit) truck. Today they would be raiding a suspected terrorist hideout. There had been an anonymous tip that a terrorist cell had established a secret operations base within the New York City limits.

The truck jolted as it ran over another pothole. New York had fallen into relative disrepair in the last several years with the majority of government funds going to National Security and the War Effort in the Middle East. The cold autumn wind bit into his skin and he shivered. It was a dreary day. The sky was gray and it seemed like it was going to rain. The weather seemed to be getting worse everyday, now.

Ivan glanced around at the other seven men in the truck with him. He had been with the Unit for four years now. From the very beginning, he had shown promise as a leader and as a soldier. He had climbed the ranks quickly and was well respected in his department.

Miller wasn't with them today. He was undoubtedly the most experienced of them all. He had just divorced his wife and was going through a lot. It was decided that he was no longer fit for active duty. Ivan felt sorry for his older friend. He knew how much he had wanted to come along. It pained him to bring him the news that he would be discharged from the unit but it had to be done. Miller hadn't said anything but he had just stared at him with those sad blue eyes; almost begging.

Ivan shook his to get the image out of his head. It hurt to think of it. Instead, he looked across the truck at Miller's replacement. He was young; no older than eighteen.

"Hey, bro!" he called out cheerfully.

Ivan was surprised by the boy's enthusiasm, but he managed to utter a reply. "Oh, hi. You're . . . Zack, right?"

"Yeah! You know my name!"

"I read your record. It's pretty impressive."

"Aw, stop trying to humor me. It's not impressive at all compared to yours. You were famous back in training! Everyone knew your name! They said, 'Work hard and by like that Gurlukovich boy!' and that's what I did."

"That's really flattering, but most of it probably isn't true. I'm not really that great in person."

"Hell! Oh course you are! Don't deny it!"

"Okay, okay. Whatever you say. Bro?"

Both men laughed.

"We're almost there," a voice from the front of the truck yelled out.

"Gear up men! Let's get this over with quick." Ivan said as he shouldered his M4-E1.

Each of them carried a modified M4-E1 equipped with a silencer, laser sight, and scope. Add that to the stun grenades, fragmentation grenades, advanced SOCOM pistol, high impact bulletproof body armor, riot shield, CODEC communication device, and blast helmet with infrared and night-vision goggles as well as a gas mask and personal oxygen supply and you have an ATSFU Commando.

Ivan grasped the handle of the combat knife hidden in his belt, performing the ritual he performed before every mission. His mother had given it to him ten years ago - the day before the Big Shell Incident. It had been her lucky charm until that day - now it was his. It's strange how fate works. The day after his mother gave him the knife she was killed in the rescue mission. She was the only woman in the rescue effort and Ivan had no doubt she had fought at least as hard as the men in her unit.

The truck stopped. Ivan motioned for his men to get ready. They jumped out of the truck single file and quickly ran to the brick wall of the apartment complex. Ivan saw Team Jeta run around the other side. He glanced up at the surrounding buildings. He saw the glint of glass lenses. The snipers were in position.

"Mako Leader, are your men in position?"

"Affirmative command."

"Commence the raid."

Ivan Gurlukovich flattened himself against the brick wall. He signaled for his men. They moved in unison, like a pack of wolves surrounding their prey. Team Jeta had already shut down the security systems. Ivan took out his hand-held precision cutter and began working on the locked door. It barely made any sound at all. The lock was old; it still required a key to open. Cutting though it took no time at all.



Slowly, Ivan opened the door covering his body with the riot shield. He scanned for any resistance but there was none. Switching to infrared, he saw several infrared beams across the hallway. They weren't hooked up to any explosives or transmitters. They were probably hooked up to a security system. The fact that terrorists got their hands on infrared technology bothered him, but he had no reason to complain. He reached for the reflective tape on his combat belt and carefully applied it to each of the emitters. Team Mako moved in. Ivan stood in front disabling each of the infrared sensors. A door at the end of the hallway had a high concentration of beams. After disabling those sensors, he tested the door. It was unlocked. Taking a deep breath, he raised the shield and rushed in with all of Team Mako at his back.



Otacon had finished packing. He didn't have much to pack - only a couple pairs of worn out clothes and his laptop computer. He walked out of his room into their makeshift computer room. The man at the computer called to him. He was slightly plump but made up for it in genius.

"Hey, Hal. You ready? Take over for a second. I'll go warm up the truck."

"Sure go ahead. Anything to keep you from hogging the computer, Al."

Al walked up the stairs but before he could open the door, it was swung backwards with tremendous force. He landed in a heap at the bottom, knocked senseless by the impact. Eight men dressed in black body-armor with M4's and riot shields descended the staircase. The first one lost his footing and fell to the bottom; not expecting there to be stairs under his feet. They formed a protective wall with their riot shields as grenades were thrown from behind.

Several of the Philanthropy members pulled out firearms and began exchanging fire with the ATSFU. Two of the men fell, hit by bullets but they climbed right back up; with the bullets stopped by the body armor. The grenades went of, blinding some and killing others. The soldiers opened fire. It was total chaos.

Otacon dived behind the computer desk. He could hear the gunfire and the screams of friends. He didn't need to see to know what was going on. Fear had over taken him and he had frozen up completely. A stern voice yelled out "DON'T MOVE! Put your hands behind your head! Slowly come out of the desk."

Ivan looked at the pathetic wretch he had pulled out from underneath the desk. The man had brown hair that had started to gray and glasses. He must have been in his late forties or early fifties. He looked up at Ivan trying to his face, but the helmet prevented him from doing so. The fighting behind them had stopped. The remaining members of Philanthropy were being rounded up and marched away.

"Up on your feet. Go."

Otacon looked at the grizzly scene before him. His friends and peers, dead, dying on the cold bloodstained floor. Unable to contain he emotion, he struck at his captor.

"How could you?! How could you kill them all!!! They were innocent people - all of them caught up in this mess of a war!! And you KILLED THEM!!!! You deserve to rot in hell - all of you!!!"

"Shut up!!! You can't justify what you did that day at the Big Shell. My mother died that day and she died because of terrorists like you!!! We should of shot you all on the streets so all the families who lost loved ones could see their deaths avenged!!! MOVE!!!"

"You don't understand!!!! We are "Philanthropy" not terrorists. We were an Anti-Metal-Gear organization until the day they accused us of being behind the Big Shell Incident. The government you know or you think you know is not real! You have to believe me!!! They framed us and they are manipulating you!!!"

"Go up the stairs. I'll follow you."

"Please!!! Believe me!!!"

"Do I need to shoot you to make you shut up!!! Besides, why should anyone believe you?"

Suddenly, Ivan felt the cold draft of wind. The M-4 slipped from his hands, clattering against the floor. The face of a familiar stranger appeared before his eyes. It was same face as the ones in his dreams. He fell to his knees. At the same time, his combat belt loosened and the combat knife fell to the ground.

Otacon saw the blade. It was initialed: O.G. He looked up in surprise. Olga . . . Olga Gurlukovich!!!

"IVAN!!! What happened?" Zack rushed over.

"What did you do?!" He yelled at Otacon.

"It wasn't him, Zack. It must have been that fall from the stairs." Ivan said as he picked himself off the floor.

"Need any help?" Zack asked.

"No, get back to the truck,"

"Okay, see you there." Zack said as he ran up the stairs.

"Your mother didn't happen to named Olga did she?" Otacon asked.

It was Ivan's turn to be surprised. Ivan picked the blade off the ground and sheathed it once again.

"How did you know?!! Tell me!!!"

"Hurry up Ivan!"

Ivan glanced around.

"Get in the truck. We will talk later." Ivan whispered to Otacon.