Chapter 8



The prison cell bore the same likeliness as Philanthropy's underground bunker. The walls were the same colorless gray. There was no evidence of a door or a window, but Otacon knew that they were watching him. He had sat on his bed for most of the time, pondering how he could possibly get himself out of this one. Many things raced through his mind: questions without answers and feelings without words to describe them.

The Gurlukovich boy-his age just didn't add up. Olga was pregnant with him on that tanker twelve years ago, but how could he be fully-grown? Why was he working for the government? Memory implants? Misguidance? So many questions . . .

His thoughts were interrupted when part of the wall slid open. Otacon stood up. Four men walked into the room. Their leader was a tall man of maybe 24. He was very well built and reminded Otacon much of Snake. His blonde hair was buzz cut in a military fashion. He looked Russian. Otacon guessed that he was Gurlukovich child. Only he wasn't a child. The only things that bothered him were his eyes. Never before had Otacon seen anyone with such sad eyes.

The door shut behind them. There was no seam.

"Leave us." He said in a stern voice, without a hint of a Russian accent.

The other three men looked quizzically at Ivan.

"I wish to interrogate this prisoner--alone."

"But -"

"Please Zack, do what I say."

The three other men left without another word. Ivan waited until the door had sealed itself behind them. He grabbed Otacon by the collar, hoisting him clear off the ground.

"Now tell me how you know my mother!"

"Hey! Calm down! And let me down! Thank-you. Much better."

Otacon began to tell his story. Of the events ten years ago in the Big Shell. Of how it was a staged training session by the Patriots, and of Olga's involvement. Ivan didn't say a thing during the entire time.

"The only thing that I'm not sure of is how you are here. Your mother gave birth to you around eleven years ago, meaning that you couldn't possibly be full grown today."

Ivan's face remained emotionless, but his head in turmoil, not sure of what to believe. The mysterious stranger that had appeared in his dreams seemed to be looming off somewhere in the background. A blue bandana, kept his long, untidy hair in place. His face was stern; wrinkled and strained with age. He seemed to be talking to someone who wasn't there. Suddenly, he turned around and the vision vanished. Replacing it: was the face of another, someone that he had known and loved.

'Mother . . .'

A wave of anger burned through him like wildfire. Suddenly, he pulled out a pistol, pointing it at Otacon's head.

"A good story. Worthy of applause. But not the truth. My mother gave birth to me twenty-two years ago. I was born and raised in New York City. I never knew my father. He died in a car accident before I was even born. My mother and I lived alone in a one-bedroom apartment. She was a fighter; on of the best that New York had to offer, but we were down on luck. On the day of the Big Shell Incident, she was sent with the SEALs to rescue the president. At that time, I was only twelve. Just the day before, she had given me he combat knife. It had been her lucky-charm, her protection. When the Big Shell blew, I was horrified. I was the one who robbed her of her luck. I was the one who killed her. When she did not come out, I promised-I swore by my very own life, that I would avenge my mother's death and do my part to the world. People like you disgust me. You lie; you kill, to achieve your own means. I don't know how you know my mother but I am sure of one thing: you deserve to die."

"Don't do this, I know that you are angry-and you have every right to be, but I am not the one doing the lying. I know it sounds farfetched but it is the truth. The world you live in is not as you think! Everything is scripted out, planned to the finest detail by a phantom government!"

Ivan's hands were shaking. Another cold draft of wind came from seemingly nowhere. He was no longer in the room with Otacon, but rather in freezing chamber. Bluish light illuminated the room. Ivan looked around and saw row after row of empty vats. The bandana-wearing stranger stood before him. He did not speak but just stood there, staring. Suddenly, the image began to morph into another. Ivan gasped. His mother stood there in front of him; her eyes narrowed and her voice stern.

"Do it Ivan! Do it for me! Kill the bastard!"

He image flickered for a second and fizzed out completely.

"MOTHER!!!"

"Don't believe her, Ivan! That is not your real mother!" a gruff voice from behind him yelled out.

Ivan turned around and stood facing the stranger.

"Who are you?!"

He just stood there, not saying a word.

Ivan blinked as the thought entered his mind.

"Father?" he whispered uncertainly.

The man laughed and shook his head. "No, just a -"

His voice became distorted; his face began to melt away.

"KILL HIM!! KILL---"

"NO, IVAN, NO!!! SHE'S NOT--"

"SHOOT HIM NOW!!!"

"VARIETY LEVEL 11: RESCUE MERYL!!!"

"TRAITOROUS DOG!!!"

"I NEED SCISSORS! 61!"

The images around him began to twist and discolor. He felt his legs slip out from under him. He looked down and found himself staring into a deep dark void. Lightning flashed from all directions and darkness consumed him.







"What happened there, sir? Is he alright?"

"Yes, he is just fine. The conflicting signals his namomachines were sending him must have temporarily blacked him out. We're not the only ones with his brain frequency. THEY have it as well."

"Yes, I see . . ."

"Don't worry my little friend, he is stronger than most humans. We made him so. It will be interesting to see how the Patriots will deal with this new development."

"Yes, master. Interesting indeed. Do you think they will suspect?"

"No, not another being on this planet knows of our existence. Let us keep it that way."

"Yes, master."







"Bro, are you alright?"

"Ugh . . ."

"Don't worry, its all taken care of now."

Ivan recognized Zack's enthusiastic voice. He felt the feeling flow back into his body. He was in a bed - a soft comfortable bed. The Medical Wing . . . Yes . . . That was where he was. He opened his eyes. Everything was blurry. The light was painful to look at. Ivan turned his head so that it was not as bright.

"What happened, Zack?"

"I dunno. You just kinda keeled over like you did at the raid. Are you sure your alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a matter of curiosity, do you know your parents well?"

"Huh? Wh--what do you mean?"

"Have you ever had a-a dream or a . . .Aw, forget it. It all must sound so silly to you."

Zack sighed, "No . . . not at all . . . I never was very . . . close . . . with my parents. They always wanted me to . . . to study hard and . . . become a doctor or something . . . and I . . . I just wanted to live life, ya'know? Just go out and do something. I've always wanted to travel. More than anything . . . more than anything, I wanted to visit Alaska. Huh. Kind of a strange dream, I know. Ever since I was six, and I heard of the Northern Lights, I just wanted to be able to see them. Not on TV, but in person. Oh, I'm so sorry! I'm rambling on again. Well that's enough about me. What about you?"

"Huh? Me? Well, there's not much to tell. I was raised in New York City. My mom was with the SWAT team - one of the best."

"That's where you get it from?"

"Yeah, I guess. I never knew my father. And then . . . April 30th happened . . ."

"What? What happened?"

"My mother was a victim of her own success. The SEALs were short one man that day. My mother jumped at the opportunity. Then . . ."

"I'm so sorry . . . I had no idea the real Ivan Gurlukovich had it so tough."

"I'm no hero. I'm no legend. The true heros and heroines are those who give their own lives for the sake of others. I'm just as special as you or any other person on this planet."

"Your right, Ivan. Everybody is special and everybody deserves so credit for his or her actions. I never though of it as that way. Thanks, Ivan! Hey where are you going! The doctor said-"

Ivan had risen out of the bed. He need think. His head was swirling. The man with the bandana, he had seen him before in other dreams and at the raid, too. And also, why was his mother there and why were the two fighting? Something about the prisoner's story had also made sense. Something about it sounded familiar. Almost like a dream from a totally different world: so far, yet so real.

"I'm going for a walk. I need some fresh air."

"Do you need me to come with you?"

"No, I'd rather be alone."

"Oh, I understand completely."

"See you around, Big Bro."

"You calling me old! Get back here you young upstart!"

Zack just laughed.

"Enjoy your walk . . . and don't break a hip!"

After Zack had left Ivan got up. It was amazing how childish that Zack could be. But then, childhood had its advantages.

"Thank-you, Zack. For bringing happiness back into a troubled soul. Thank- you . . ."