Disclaimer: I don't own Metal Gear Solid (or anything Metal Gear for that matter,) and I don't own Max Steel. My profit from this is an exact figure of zero dollars.

Metal Gears, Nanoprobes, and a Word from our Sponsor

Chapter X

by Alhazred

madarab20@hotmail.com

http://www.rockettownonline.com/~alhazred

Upon dashing around the corner and aiming his SOCOM over Berto's shoulder, Snake had to fight the urge to verbally sigh at the sight of another FOXHOUND reject. He hadn't quite caught the name. "Who's laying who, now?"

Kat merely sighed. "Oh, I don't believe this."

L'Étranger just crossed his arms, giving all three the distinct impression that he was glaring at Snake. "Very funny. Or not."

"I can't believe this," Kat rolled her eyes, thoroughly unimpressed. "You are still such a lamer!"

"Ah, ma chere Katherine," the Frenchman spread his arms, almost, if disturbingly, implying that he expected an embrace. "I didn't recognize you at first. I never thought I'd see you again...let alone wearing a dress of your own volition."

Berto, suddenly forgetting that L'Étranger was not only capable of flooring them all and probably rather angry with himself in particular, realized that this wasn't the kind of conversation one usually had with a rather violent mercenary. But Kat and L'Étranger had never met...at least, never during the old official-spy-business days.

She growled. "I am so going to kick your ass."

"You're welcome to make your usual feeble attempt," L'Étranger laughed. "Though you might want to consider the fact that I'm actually on your side, as ludicrous as it is."

Unable to keep quiet after that, Berto opened his mouth. "Oh, right, and I'm the Virgin Mary!"

"Quiet, Doctor," L'Étranger tilted his head towards Berto. "I still owe you the world's largest swirly."

Berto didn't flinch.

"Would someone tell me what's going on here?" Snake asked, his gun steady as he looked back and forth between the other three.

Otacon came back on the Codec, the sounds of his wireless modem establishing a connection now drowning out the Kasatka. "I'll dig up some dirt, Snake."

"This is ridiculous," Kat concluded, cracking her knuckles. "I'm just gonna knock your face off."

And she meant that. This was apparent when, despite being in high heels, she stomped towards him with murder in her eyes.

And then Josh walked into the corridor; right between them. He took one look at Kat, and one strangely calm look at L'Étranger before he did a double-take back to the former and realized all Hell was about to break loose. "Okay, whoa, everybody calm down!"

"What is going on?" Snake whined, still being ignored.

"Ignorance, thy name is bliss," L'Étranger leaned on the doorframe at his back. "Really Monsieur Steel, it's bad enough I must bend my back to your will, do I have to work with the peanut gallery?"

Revelation knocking him for a loop, Berto took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes before staring at Josh like he was a total stranger. This is a dream. This is a dream. I'm asleep. "You hired L'Étranger? Are you insane?"

"Actually," Josh started, his eyes shifting. "Dad hired him."

Kat was equally dumbfounded. "You know, screw him, I'm gonna kick your ass first, McGrath."

"Would you calm down and listen to me!" Josh was getting irritated, and the fact that he realized he'd done this whole thing entirely wrong and shouldn't have expected anything else then this reaction just irritated him more. "Do you have a better way to find Dread, short of swimming around the bay? So we pay French Fry and deal with him later, lesser of two evils!"

Berto opened his mouth to say something again, but stopped short upon hearing a new sound in the corridor, a sort of low power hum and... it hit him; optic camouflage. "Where's Psycho?!"

Everyone looked at the spot the madman in question had fallen at, but he was gone, even to Max's infrared and Snake's thermal goggles.

"Well, that's embarrassing," Snake remarked, feeling as stupid as everyone else. And he even had the excuse of listening to Otacon babble about L'Étranger over the Codec.

Kat broke the silence by smacking Josh across the back of his head.

"And what was that for?" he jumped.

Her face staying neutral, Kat gave him a shrug. "I felt like it. What the hell were you thinking?"

"As much as you amuse me, Katherine," L'Étranger walked away from his perch against the wall, "please stop humiliating him. I would like to get back to work so I can enjoy my money, if you don't mind.

"Work? You?" She asked. "That's a new one."

The only indication that he reacted was his head tilting to the side, but there was probably a nasty glare under the mask. "Yes. Work. It just so happens I've been tailing Vamp for most of the day. Did you know they're planning something tomorrow?"

"Wait, what?" Snake broke in, no longer caring for the personal conflicts.

Pulling some simple slight-of-hand, L'Étranger whisked out a small micro-cassette recorder, held it out, and pressed 'play.'

"Yes, King," Vamp's voice played out, a little garbled but unmistakable. They couldn't hear the other end of the conversation, of course, but Vamp was enough. "Yes, we're set to go. Everything is ready for tomorrow...I doubt anyone will know what hit them either..."

"And on and on," finished L'Étranger. "Not that he gave any specifics away."

"So I guess we wait until tomorrow," Snake scratched his head. "Unless, you...weirdo...skull-faced guy, I don't suppose you found Arsenal Gear?"

"Still searching, unfortunately," L'Étranger growled. "Tomorrow, then."

---

"Josh, if I didn't need sleep last night, I would've been up the entire time yelling at you."

"I know, I know," Josh sighed, Berto glaring at him with a passion. He wasn't even fully awake yet.

"And Kat and I are hitching a ride with him when he heads out."

"You're what?" Josh promptly fell out of his chair and was quick to stand back up. "You are not..."

"Trusting him," Berto crossed his arms, "which is why yes, we are. Besides, even if we did, we don't trust him to get the job done. I mean, how many times have we stopped him? There's kind of an incompetence issue here. And where's Snake?"

"Outside," Josh motioned to the door. "He's practicing for the event later. His false records are still set up, right? We didn't trash it when we thought he wasn't competing with us after all?"

"Nope, it's all set. Even Jefferson'll play along if he has to," Berto chuckled. "I need to talk to him. Snake, I mean."

With that, he left Josh and went to the aforementioned outside. The sight that greeted him was absolutely hilarious.

"No, no, bend your knees," she shoved him off of his skateboard to prove the point.

"I know, Lady. This is not my first time!"

"Too much information, Tiger," she winced. "Oh, hey Berto."

"Morning. Snake, I have something for you."

"Oh come on, what did I ever do to you, besides break your ank- oh, never mind." He received a pair of blank looks for his troubles. "Okay, you see how hard it is to not develop a reflex after every terrorist in the world has told you that to signify some sort of large, obscene weapon."

More staring ensued. Berto decided it was time to stop doing that, no matter how weird Snake was being. He held up the injection gun he was carrying. "Right, well, all I've got is the cure for FOXDIE. And it'll probably feel like a heart attack for a minute."

"Hah, lay it on me, Doc." Snake promptly rolled up his sleeve, and Berto gave him the injection. They waited for a moment...and waited.

"That's funny," Berto raised an eyebrow. "It hurt like hell on my ankle."

"Maybe I'm just lucky," Snake poked at his chest a little, still anticipating a reaction. Berto shrugged and turned back to the van.

"Berto," Kat said, "we should change your bandages before Skull Boy picks us up later."

"Eh heh, riiight," he winced.

"Hey Doc," Snake reached under his shirt and handed Berto what he usually kept no more then two feet away. "I think you need this under your pillow more then I do. Just don't think blithely using it'll make you feel better."

Looking at it, Berto almost seemed to have no reaction at all to the offer. But he took Snake's SOCOM without a word.

---

"Had a nice swim?"

The glare Vamp gave Dread would have been lethal to some. "Ery unny."

And Dread simply smiled, checking his watch. Six in the morning and none of them had slept. No matter, the day had started last night as far as they were concerned. "And Psycho?"

"Has uh eadach."

"Yes. Well, I'm sure I don't need to ask how you're doing," Dread stood, seeking out his weapons and armor on the wall. "I told him to take care of L'Étranger... and perhaps you'll find it prudent to stop flirting with everyone?"

Removing his guns and the HF broadsword from the rack, Dread briefly went through a mental checklist of what he was going to do in mere hours. And then Vamp spoke again.

"No," the bloodsucker managed to smile, his 'injury' suddenly gone. "Josh is a good kisser..."

"Thank you for sharing, Vamp," Dread rolled his eyes.

"And he tastes good-"

"Vamp!" Dread shot him a look that indicated, quite clearly, 'I do not want to know.' "You know what to do."

"Of course, King," Vamp took a mock bow, "of course. And after?"

Ocelot took that moment to walk in.

"Do what you will with him," Dread replied, turning when he heard the door slide open. "I don't care. Everything ready, Ocelot?"

"Perfectly," was his reply. Ocelot looked smug for a moment...but he flinched when his arm tensed. "Bypassing that damn dead AI control was a bitch, but its working. The remote link is right on my control console."

"In that case," Dread shoved a clip into one of his guns and cocked the slide, "I believe it's time to go."

---

Morning at the N-Tek building had started off fairly well for most employees. Jefferson was not one of these people, as he was anything but a morning person, but his secretary knew better then to disturb him before he had caffeine in his system. He was, in fact, intent on being cranky all day, because he didn't think the idea of L'Étranger double-crossing Josh would ever work its way out of his head. But then again, they had paid him a lot of money...it was almost scary, how that simple fact pretty much meant they could trust the asshole, whether they liked it or not...

And then there was that whole thing with ESPN doing a behind-the-scenes feature at N-Tek as a sidebar to the final DOX event...

Jeff said a simple word as the morning processed in his mind. "Ugh."

If all of this wasn't bad enough, there was already a camera crew from ESPN running around in the building above ground, filming a behind-the-scenes look at the people who had been making the best sports equipment around for a decade. It was something Jeff would never had allowed before this year, it was just too risky...and a part of that paranoia stuck.

The intercom on Jefferson's desk buzzed, and he groaned. Ten minutes into the day and already something unexpected was happening. "Yes Janine?"

"Uh...Mr. Smith? There's...um...someone here..."

He didn't understand why she was so terrified; he wasn't THAT much of a monster before getting coffee. But he was more annoyed then curious. "Yeah, send 'em in..."

Not even looking up from the odds and ends he was going through on his desk, Jeff wondered why the crap and useless documents left on his desk at the end of the day for tomorrow was always astoundingly plentiful.

He contemplated this as he heard the doors swing open, and got the distinct impression this person was admiring the sea windows that made up the back wall. Newcomers were always rather spellbound by that. And to think, Bill Gates only made his office bigger then everyone else's! An underground working area had its advantages...

"My my, I've always missed this view..."

The pen in Jeff's hand fell, his other arm slowly moving to the gun nailed to the underside of his desk. That voice didn't need any introduction as far as he was concerned. He looked up slowly, praying he was hearing it wrong, just hallucinating because of what Josh had told him...

"Don't go for the gun, Jefferson," Dread pulled one of his own weapons the instant their eyes met, a glint of light reflecting from the black weapon flashing over Jeff's vision. "Funny how I never had cause to go for it when I sat there."

Withdrawing his hand, Jefferson didn't give Dread the satisfaction of intimidation.

"I'd be rather happy if you didn't reach for one of the alarms, either. You may want to call an ambulance for poor Janine out there," Dread snapped his head back. Jeff could see the poor old woman out cold, slumped over her desk past his door. "You might say she's seen a ghost."

Typical Dread, knocking her out after being let in. "Been a while, Marco."

"Oh, so we're not denying our old friendships now that Josh knows the truth?" Giving an honest chuckle, Dread motioned for Jefferson to stand up. "You know, sometimes I still wonder how things could have gone if I thought you and Jim would've come with me."

"Oh please." That got Jeff riled. "You're nothing more then a small coward, Dread. The most sickening thing about you is that you used to be a good man."

"Yes, well, perhaps one day you'll see I still am," Dread turned his head slightly, as if pondering the statement. The Infinite Ammo brand logo on the arm of his shades caught the bluish light from the windows; Jeff idly wondered, in a moment of stress-induced mind-wandering, how Dread still afforded those things even after his entire organization and financial base had gone down the drain. Dread was wearing a really big sword on his back, too. "Now, if you'll be so kind as to walk out in front of me, we'll get to my demands."

---

Snake had been through a lot in life...but this took the cake. "Do I have to wear this thing?"

"Snake, you're at the starting line; it's a bit late to argue," Otacon came back. Snake craned his head around and looked up, the Kasatka looking like one of the many camera choppers buzzing about. ESPN and ZNN really went nuts over this thing.

And he realized Otacon was right, but still. As far as he was concerned, he looked absolutely ridiculous in the N-Tek jumpsuit. It was an obnoxiously bright blue as opposed to the nice, dark, easy-on-the-eyes color of his sneaking suit, and without the chest plate Josh wore as Max, it looked even more ridiculous.

Snake found himself tracing over the N-Tek logo with his finger to kill the time until the race started. "But it's not my color..."

Someone looked at him, and Snake decided it was a bad idea to talk to himself when Josh wasn't right next to him to provide faux conversation. Josh was, in fact, on the next street over, closer to one of Vamp's teammates. Vamp himself had a position not far away from Snake's starting point.

Orrin was close by, too. The guy had been overly fascinated with Snake's age (why, Snake couldn't guess,) and made sure to mention him as a nifty bit of useless trivia every time he did a report. From this distance, Snake could hear him explaining the final event's rules to the camera.

It was pretty simple, actually. The DOX had held this event with bicycles before, a free-form race through a part of Del Oro with the competitors taking any route they wanted towards the finish line. The catch was they were in the harbor district; if a certain large submarine was hanging around the bay, they couldn't be any closer without L'Étranger providing transportation.

---

Dread wasn't only smart, but he knew Jeff well, and that was a dangerous combination. He didn't give Jeff a single opportunity to get away as he forced him through the corridors and to the main lab in the building proper, not underground but with a view out the massive columns of side windows. That meant it was a legitimate R & D area for corporate N-Tek, things the FBI hadn't taken or shut down.

However, seventeen of the twenty workers in this lab had worked in the espionage division's weapons department prior to this year, and they knew Dread's face well even if they'd never met him.

And that was the reason all work stopped the instant they saw their boss shoved into the room at gunpoint. And there was a reason Dread had picked this specific lab to drag Jeff into; the ESPN camera crew was here.

Amused at how everything was falling into place, Dread shoved Jeff forward and shot a round into the ceiling. "Good morning ladies and gentleman, my name is Solid Snake, and you are all my hostages."

---

Berto had to admit, the Akyna was pretty impressive, especially from the inside. He'd never really had a chance to notice it, not being on the mission two years with Rachel. And that time in Hawaii was...well, he had been busy with other things.

Those 'other things' made him worry for his own safety right now. He might've trusted L'Étranger a little more if the man didn't owe him serious payback for being flushed out into Pearl Harbor.

But then, the operative phrase was 'a little more.'

Kat, on the other hand, wasn't deterred at all by being inside the thing; she was pacing around behind him, receiving odd looks now and then from some of the crew and L'Étranger himself.

Eventually, however, he grew irritated. "Katherine, why don't you, say, sit down somewhere?"

"'Cause I'd rather stand," she replied flatly, not even looking at him.

L'Étranger merely laced his fingers and leaned back in his chair. "Ah, but my dear, I want you to be comfortable."

"And I want you to shoot yourself out of a torpedo tube," she smiled, "but I'm still waiting for that, aren't I?"

"Your compatriot might have better luck making that happen," he chuckled.

Berto cringed, and tried to concentrate more on the sonar readings.

One contact, in particular, was starting to look stranger and stranger the closer they came...

---

"That thing's headed your way, Kid," Snake called.

Josh waited a second, and sure enough, Vamp shot out of an ally way on his board, almost knocking down another racer. "Yeah, I see him."

And Josh watched as Vamp, perfectly balanced, turned to him and bowed as he skated across the street and took a turn that blatantly screamed 'follow me.'

"And he just broke off from the race," Josh added.

"Any luck, Hermano?" Berto's voice hit his ears.

"Sorta, Bro. Vamp's going...somewhere," Josh answered, as he turned and pumped for more speed to follow the bloodsucker. "What's up on your end?"

"No huge submarines yet, but... the DOX just called off the event."

"Uh oh," Snake intoned.

"I know I'm gonna regret asking this," sighed Josh, "but, why?"

"Sit down for this, Josh; the news is all over 'Solid Snake,' known to us unfortunate souls as John Dread, conducting a terrorist action at..."

The hesitation on Berto's part creeped Josh out more then Vamp ever could. "Bro...where?"

"N-Tek."

Josh frowned, almost knocking into the railing he'd planned on sliding on. This news prompted to go around and not even try. "You're kidding me."

"'Fraid not, Hermano."

"Great," Josh let out a curse or three.

"Bastard brothers just don't know when to quit," Snake came in over the comm line again. "Stay on Vamp, Kid. I'll head towards you and we'll see if we can strangle what's going on out of him."

Berto cut back into the line. "Looks like we found Arsenal Gear; it's right off the N-Tek island, of course."

Sounding like a dead man, Snake said, "Of course."

"Dread's got a damn camera crew right there," Berto said, "but he hasn't made any demands yet..."

Distracted by this, Josh failed to notice there was an obstruction in his path; Vamp's arm, much the same as it had been the night before. Josh went down not unlike last time, except his speed made for one mother of a skid.

Finally coming to a halt, he stood and found that his assailant wasn't Vamp at all; it was Psycho. That didn't stop him from going into Max Mode. "Well well, finally decided to come back to me after too much Snake, Smiley?"

"Ah, Max," Psycho laughed, his claw folding down. "Don't you wish."

Unbeknownst to Max, Snake had quietly rounded the corner he had just come from and promptly jumped off his board at Psycho's back. Unfortunately, Psycho had heard him regardless, and was quick to spin around, grab him in his claw, and hurl him towards his other adversary.

Snake hit Max like a missile and they both went down, but neither was really fazed. In fact, Snake simply dusted himself off after he stood. "You know, you're really starting to annoy me."

"Good," Psycho drew his HF Sword with his left hand, his claw clanking a few times. "You hero types are so stressed out you don't have many nerves to get on."

"Very good Smiley," Max rolled his eyes. "It's pretty damaging to stand here and know you're trying to get us to kick your ass at the same time to keep us away from Dread." He turned to Snake; "You want him?"

"Again?" Snake said. He raised a fist, as did Max, and Psycho watched patiently as they played Rock-Paper-Scissors.

Snake went with scissors and summarily lost.

"Have fun, old timer!" Max hopped on his board and was soon off, leaving Snake to make a mental note to hit him later. Hard.

"Are you finished?" Psycho was tapping his foot, tossing his sword to himself.

"Yep."

---

Jefferson was getting sick of this. Security was right outside the door, and Dread was alone, but it didn't matter. The entirety of the lab was still in his control, and the cameras were rolling. "Alright, 'Snake,' an accurate description, I might add, the suspense is killing me. What do you want?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Dread smiled, keeping one of his guns on Jeff. "I want a Level 5 computer AI control module. And I know you have them, you had them when Mairot was here."

Jeff's reaction to this demand was a lot of blinking. "That's all?" What could he possibly want that for...

"It is," answered Dread. "You see, Arsenal Gear is far too much trouble to control while bypassing its mangled AI program, but that nice little toy of yours would give us the benefit of a new intelligent interface and no world-dominating program to contend with. Pity they're so expensive on the black market."

Finding that he didn't really care about the 'what,' Jeff realized this was a fruit of the labor; Dread had really planned ahead for this. This was also the lab one would find such a thing. He was also the only one, minus the camera crew, not on his knees with his hands behind his head, so he quickly searched out the department head and nodded to him.

Said scientist rose slowly, and walked to the lab's storage closets near the windows when it was evident Dread wasn't going to blow his brains out. From one of the closets he retrieved a simple, wide and heavy black case; he needed two hands to lift it from the handle. Once he'd walked back about halfway, Dread pointed a gun at his heart. "Put it down and kick it over."

The case scraped the floor and didn't even reach Dread's personal space, but he didn't mind. Putting Luce away, he stepped over and hefted the case up with one hand, Ombra still trained on Jefferson. No one dared to move with one gun still aimed at their boss, especially security out in the hallways.

"I do believe I'll be leaving now." Tucking the case under one arm, Dread pulled a the radio from his belt. "Ocelot, I'm ready, over."

There was no response.

"Ocelot?"

Still nothing; Jeff couldn't help but be amused. "Problems?"

A frown was all Dread gave up. There was a problem, certainly. Ocelot should've acknowledged him, of course, but even if he didn't, Metal Gear RAY should've already burst up through the water and landed on the island, perfectly visible through the massive windows of the building and high enough to reach from this lab.

But nothing was happening, and Dread tried again. "Ocelot, wake up!"

Finally, the radio squawked back, but the voice that came over it had a vaguely British accent attached. "Not Ocelot..."

"Liquid," Dread spat.

Tossing the radio down, Dread put his gun away. In the split second before Jeff lunged at him, he drew his sword and charged at the door. The unfortunate security guards outside the lab found themselves lambasted by the now-flying door when Dread knocked it clear off its hinges. Jefferson hot on his tail, Dread rocketed down the corridor on his jet-propelled footwear, skidded to a stop and made it around a corner just as some of N-Tek's finest managed to stand up and raise their guns. He distinctly heard Jefferson's voice yelling something like "After him!"

But he was almost home free. Down these stairs, through another few halls and out the lobby...

And at the bottom of those stairs, a platoon of yet more guards dashed up after him and opened fire with quite a few machine guns. Turning around so fast he couldn't even tell what kind of guns he was being attacked with, Dread ran as fast as he could up the staircase, where there would be less, if any resistance. The roof didn't have a heliport or space for a helicopter to land and an escape by going up wouldn't be possible.

And that meant it was time to improvise.

---

Why oh why did I give my gun, my gun to Doc Martinez, Snake lamented, dodging around another of Psycho's laser blasts. There wasn't much here in the way of cover. The street opened up not too far away, but that was a big, open space, so for now, Snake settled for diving behind a stack of wooden crates and cardboard boxes. He would have preferred the gate into the warehouse these things were piled against was open, but alas, it was not. And why can't I have an uber-death-ray...

No sooner had that thought crossed his mind then Psycho fired through the boxes and, fortunately, missed him completely. Maybe he could tip the things on Psycho when the loony stalked over. The crates, at least, might hurt if they hit flesh.

Expecting this almost immediately, Psycho flipped the switch on his wrist and, wearing the Ninja armor across his legs and left arm, promptly used the extra agility to jump up and land on top of said crates. "Hi."

So Snake threw himself into the base of the pile. Psycho hadn't counted on that, and, with a yell, went tumbling down as he lost his footing. "The bigger they are," Snake grinned, tugging at the rather annoying collar of his N-Tek jumpsuit.

"The more they shoot," Psycho smashed up from the boxes, raised his arm and firing, but Snake dropped to the ground before the beam could take his head off. This had, however, served a purpose. Psycho had shot through the wall of the warehouse behind him, and he must've hit some counterweight, because that locked gate suddenly rolled open in a second flat.

Snake wasted no time in dashing inside. And Psycho was on his feet and chasing him soon after.

But Snake was gone by the time he was in the dark expanse. Flicking off the armor, which, ultimately, was a movement hindrance when he wasn't bouncing off walls, Psycho peered around and stepped cautiously. There weren't many places to hide in here, either, but then, Solid Snake was good at this...

And then something caught Psycho's ear. First something mechanical turning on, and then something mechanical, chugging very loudly. He whirled around, and realized he'd walked right by a ladder next to the entrance. Following it up with his eyes, he saw that ladder lead up to a catwalk. That catwalk led to a crane used for moving heavy things, and sitting in that crane was Snake. The arm, invariably, lead to numerous large, heavy metal boxes and a few more of those annoying wooden crates suspended directly over Psycho's head.

Waving out of the window and grinning like, well, like Psycho, Snake pulled a lever.

The crane let go. And Psycho had one thing to say before he was crushed under a weight too large even for him to shrug off. "Aw...crap."

---

Two more corridors, one more long flight of stairs, and Dread was free...relatively speaking. He still needed to figure out how to survive on the roof until Ocelot was in control again. With that thought, he slid his sword back into the clamp on his back. It was bloodied now, its first real victim that of an unfortunate guard that had walked around a corner and literally bumped into him. There just wasn't room to draw a gun, and the sword was clumsy one handed...it hadn't been a clean cut. But he put that behind him, literally, as he continued his stride. At the very least, Jeff had rang the evacuation alarm as soon as he was able; aside from security, everyone in the building was long headed for the mainland using the submersibles in the docking bay or the Behemoth.

And a voice called his name from behind, even further back then that bloody corpse. Dread knew the voice, alright. He couldn't run from this one, he would follow until he was out of steam, wear him down until he couldn't fight anymore...so he set the black case down on the floor and turned. "I see you've made your inevitable heroic appearance, Mr. Steel."

Stalking towards Dread, Max didn't pay the gory scene at his feet any heed as he stepped over it. His eyes and mind were on Dread; nothing else. The bastard had waltzed right in to his father's office, and Max didn't take that likely. "Hey, I just go where I smell trash."

Contrary to Max's unyielding pace, Dread stood still and waited for him. "You know, I think the S3 plan was improperly tested. They should've used you as the controlled variable, after all, you can do what Solid does with as many casualties as you decide on, and the only difference is your mouth."

When Max was close enough, Dread struck first. He didn't dare try to swordfight in the cramped environment, so he lashed out with a fist instead. Max leaned to the side and retaliated in kind, slugging him across the face. Moving with the blow instead of fighting it, Dread dropped down and swept Max's feet our from under him.

Not to be outdone, Max swung a leg up and kicked Dread across the face, almost knocking his glasses off before he stood. Back to square one, the two stared each other down. "You know what, Dread? Something's been bugging me. When did you learn how to fight, sitting behind a desk when you were at N-Tek? Don't tell me, let me guess...you were bored one day, so you decided to learn some Kung-Fu."

"I'm a Snake," Dread chuckled, catching Max's arm in mid-swing. "Do you know how torturous it was for me to act like a desk jockey for the better part of twenty years? Alas, going into the field during my tenure here would have attracted the Patriots more then I could afford, and fighting you personally would have tipped you off that something was amiss."

Max swung his other arm, catching Dread once more in the face. Dread stumbled, but he hopped backward when Max pressed his attack, letting his adversary's fist splinter a wooden door in two.

That gave Dread an idea. He promptly picked up the half-door that had fallen and slammed Max across the face with it in the manner that professional wrestlers wielded steel chairs. As Max reeled and finally fell to one knee, Dread relished in his adrenaline rush. "If you want a picture of the future, Mr. Steel," Dread smiled, hitting him again. This blow left Max on his back, but he managed to sit up somewhat. "Imagine-"

Dread swung his makeshift weapon again, but this time, Max caught it in the edges. He glared into Dread's shades and finished his quote. "A boot stamping on a human face, forever."

"I see you learned something in college after all, Mr. Steel. But I'd say not nearly enough."

Dread wasn't letting go, so Max, still holding on, slid a hand across the plank to his other forearm. "Well I'd say, going turbo!"

No match for so much strength, Dread soon found the slab of wood smashed back across his face. Before the blow even registered, Max put his own boot to Dread's chest and shoved. The much larger man, in turn, tumbled through the air, spinning around and landing on his face before skidding a foot or so.

Max sprung to his feet as Dread fought off fatigue and pushed himself up. A few seconds after Max dropped out of Turbo Mode, however, a familiar beep echoed out.

And Max, on his way to Dread, fell to his knees.

"Saved by the bell," Dread mused, stepping over with a slight limp. "You don't seem to get much mileage without your primary source of power, do you, Josh?"

Now desperate, Max flipped on the nanosword and took a swing, but Dread's reflexes didn't fail in prompting him to grab the blade perfectly between his palms and yank it out of Max's hands before turning it off and clipping it to his belt.

Satisfied, Dread put his fists together, brought them down, swung up and cracked Max in the jaw. He fell back again, but this time he didn't get up.

An air of calmness about him, as if he had not just been one-half of a knockdown, drag out brawl, Dread walked over, picked up his case, and headed for the stairs.

"Boss!"

Glad that something was finally going right, Dread snatched his spare radio from his pocket. "It's about time, Ocelot!"

"It's getting harder and harder to fight him off," the slightly garbled response came back. "I'm on my way to the hanger now; I should be in the water in a minute or so."

"Get as close to the building as you can," Dread radioed back. "I was forced to...take a bit of a detour."

---

"We're too close for torpedoes," L'Étranger sighed.

"Energy weapons won't dent that thing," Berto slammed his laptop closed. "You fire on him with those, and all he does is see us."

Not loosing his cool in the least, the masked man gave a simple reply. "I have no intention of firing at all. We're going to destroy it from the inside. I assume you have a plan for that contingency."

"Of course," Berto crossed his arms and glared.

"Helm, stealth boarding procedures," L'Étranger ordered before he turned to Kat. "Ma chere, what did you do to your genius? I must put my engineer through the same thing to give her a backbone."

"Forget it," one of Kat's eyebrows angled down in her own subtle face of scorn. "You'd enjoy it more then Ocelot did."

She noticed, idly, that Berto wasn't crossing his arms so much anymore as he was clinging to himself.

But she put that thought aside; now wasn't the time; especially since the Akyna's docking clamps were already attaching themselves to Arsenal Gear's outer hull.

"Well then, I suppose you still don't trust me and whatnot," L'Étranger slowly rotated his chair around, running a few infiltration ideas through his head.

"Of course I do," Kat answered, seemingly surprised. "For as long as it takes you to fall after I knee you in the crotch."

"Oh that's very mature, Katherine," L'Étranger let out a huff. "Eat any good books lately?"

---

Slapping his palm down on the guard rail, Dread gazed out over the building and to the mainland. His only choice was to hold out until Ocelot came and even two or three minutes was a long time to last with an entire corporation's security force looking for you.

Deciding it best not to give N-Tek an inch, he turned back around, pulled his broadsword off of his back, and utterly wrecked the doorway to the point where several men would need a battering ram to get it open.

Distracted by this action, he turned around when the noise of a close by helicopter became deafening; the news choppers buzzing about weren't that close, but it wasn't one of them.

Seeing Snake's Kasatka with Snake ready to dive out the side and onto the roof, Dread stabbed his sword into the ground and drew his guns. His first shots ricocheted back off of the Kastaka's far interior wall, as Snake had already dived out with his M4 in hand, so he changed his aim and shot at the cockpit.

"Otacon, get out of here!" Snake yelled over the Codec. Fortunately, Dread's aim was off at medium ranges and Otacon pulled the Kasatka away with little incident.

Cocking the M4, Snake wasted no time in firing on Dread, and Dread, in turn, skidded halfway across the roof, came to an abrupt stop, and went back in the opposite direction when Snake fired again. "I can do this all day, Solid."

"So can I," Snake responded by firing a grenade off.

---

Arsenal Gear was, for all of its size, simple to navigate. It was made doubly simple by the schematics displayed on Berto's PDA. He had to wonder about that. Psycho had given them that optical disk with the plans and the cure for Snake when he was still wearing the Ninja exoskeleton, but why help them that much? The "ninja's" betrayal hadn't hurt them nearly as much as this information was useful.

"You have the entire layout and you still paid for me," L'Étranger found this highly amusing.

Berto didn't respond to that, too tempted to talk down to him at an extremely steep angle while explaining they just needed the Akyna and he could go to Hell. Kat, on the other hand, didn't see the harm in making a...comment. "You need to shut up now."

Behind his mask, L'Étranger snickered. "You were always quite loud as I recall, Katherine."

The innuendoes getting on his nerves, Berto double-checked their direction they were walking in and stopped. "This way."

The door led into the Metal Gear hanger. Some of the shelves were conspicuously empty, and the room was devoid of personnel, except for the woman in a lab coat standing in the middle, looking right at all of them.

Not quite able to place the face, Kat found the name on the tip of her tongue. "Is that..."

Berto held his glasses up and squinted past them, recognizing the woman's features not from memory, but from Nastasha Romanenko's written description. "Naomi Hunter?"

Naomi responded, in turn, by raising the USP handgun clutched in her fingers and opening fire. She started walking toward them and emptied the entire clip as they took cover, Berto and Kat behind a surplus of cargo and L'Étranger behind the closest Metal Gear RAY, inside the cubby hole it sat in.

Berto felt a need to comment on this new development as Naomi's last bullet bounced off his cover and she loaded a new clip. "She's shooting at us!"

"No, really," L'Étranger called back, "I hadn't noticed."

Deciding he had the best position to mount a counter attack, L'Étranger hopped over the RAY unit's legs and swung onto the staircase, gaining access to the upper catwalks. He intended to drop down on Naomi from above, but halfway across the catwalk that spanned the hanger's width, he looked ahead and came face-to-face with another obstacle.

Revolver Ocelot, in turn, drew one of his colts and fired. L'Étranger was quick to dive over the railing and cling to the catwalk, but he had to swing back up as soon as Naomi pointed her gun away from Berto and Kat. Ocelot, however, had made the mistake of approaching his position, and the small gap gave L'Étranger the chance to approach him and kick the gun out of his hand.

In turn, Ocelot's other hand went to another holster, but L'Étranger kicked him back before he could draw it and promptly right-hooked him across the face. "Some things, it seems, do not improve with age."

Hearing that accent and spitting out a mouthful of blood, Ocelot declared, "Bah, fucking Frenchman..."

"Sorry, Monsieur, only with women."

But he realized L'Étranger was right, there was no way he was going to beat anyone at hand-to-hand these days. But he knew someone who could, and when he remembered that, he did something he never dreamed he'd ever had any reason to do.

He let Liquid out to play.

Of course, to L'Étranger, this was only a scream of agony as his arm throbbed and Naomi continued shooting at the others downstairs. Then Ocelot opened his eyes again... or he would have, if Ocelot was home.

Caught totally off guard, L'Étranger felt the spur on his boot slice at his face when Liquid kicked up. More stunned then injured, he backed off to assess this new development. Standing with the strength Ocelot didn't have, Liquid gave him a once over, pulled the tie Ocelot kept in his hair out, and flung the silver locks back behind his head. "This should prove amusing, eh?"

No sooner had he said that then L'Étranger launched himself into an attack.

Kat watched this from behind her cover, paying more attention to the situation at hand. She and Berto still had to get through Naomi.

So when she heard Naomi's gun click and the magazine drop, she jumped up onto the crates, launched off, and, before Naomi could cock her gun, delivered the most elegant flying kick of her career to the woman's head. Naomi crumpled like paper, and Berto made a mental note never to make Kat mad.

Unfortunately, Naomi wasn't actually knocked out cold, and she was already dragging herself to her feet, a crazed look in her eyes. Above this, L'Étranger received Liquid's favorite punch-punch-kick combination and, before he could retaliate, he also received Liquid's shoulder in his chest.

Tumbling over the railing, L'Étranger grabbed Liquid and took him down as well. While L'Étranger hit the floor, Liquid smashed into Naomi and this time, she didn't stay conscious.

Liquid rose more slowly and deliberately, his body language said he was being sarcastic as well as lazy. Kat was more then a little surprised. "The old guy did that?"

"Old," Liquid narrowed his eyes at her, the veins of his forehead almost bulging out even more. "I should show you how little a difference 'old' makes."

"That's not Ocelot," Berto drawled out, idly noting that Liquid was still wearing the EM shield anyway.

Liquid just laughed, turned around... and started walking away. "You'll excuse me, but there are only two obnoxious little serpents crawling around, and I intend to cut them both in half."

Too stunned and too happy to avoid a confrontation to really make a big deal, Berto said, "Well, that was easy."

L'Étranger dusted himself off with an air of forced dignity and scoffed. "Whatever. Can we please finish...whatever it is we came here to do?"

"Yeah yeah, Mr. Hurry-Up," Kat sighed. "Nothing new there, I suppose..."

On their way again, in the opposite direction Liquid had taken, it wasn't long before they reached an open, brightly lit hexagonal room with a massive drop-off into white light beneath the floor and a ladder that led up the equally massive wall. Berto checked his schematics.

"'Ascending Colon.' This is it." Berto reached into his pocket. "You can damage almost any part of this thing and it won't do much, but the impeller tubes merge down there…"

He pointed to the edge of the platform. She understood why this was important when he unrolled the little cloth from his pocket and retrieved the vial of Infinity Ice contained within. A few drops would solidify the water moving through the propulsion system and then some in sixty seconds, tops.

"That's funny," Berto hesitated, peering into the vial and noticing the compound was only filling a quarter of it, "this was full when we left..."

Caring more about their objective, Kat asked, "Does it matter?"

"No, this is more then enough," Berto said, reaching into his pocket one more time and fitting the vile with a small electronic device. He switched it on, and the little red light started flashing incrementally. He promptly walked over to the railing and dropped the vile down, all of them hearing the faintest of splashes after several seconds. The homing beacon also started to display over his schematic. "I'm not gonna set it off until it's washed down the system a little, make more dead ice weight in the stern that way."

---

Liquid climbed into RAY effortlessly, but he comprehended Ocelot's changes with even less difficulty. Had he not been capable of perceiving the world through Ocelot when he wasn't in control, he would have been lost.

As it was, he knew what was what on the modified consoles, and, after closing the hatch for safety's sake, he started the procedure on his mind. Once RAY itself was powered up, he engaged the remote link that gave Ocelot manual control over Arsenal Gear and, to an extent, the production models of RAY neighboring him in the docking bay.

The manual controls were clunky and unrefined. Three or four RAYs could be controlled from the setup, but that was even less efficient. Still, Liquid decided he might be able to use one or two very shortly. But for now, he started Arsenal's primary power systems and fired the engines up.

---

Arsenal's startup sequence was more then a little bumpy. There was so much turbulence throughout the massive vessel that Berto almost fell into Kat and L'Étranger as they made their way to the Akyna. "I don't like the sound of that..."

"If he moves too fast," L'Étranger realized, "the shearing effect on the Akyna won't be pretty."

Even Kat knew the rocking they felt was probably the Akyna's docking clamps pulling against the hull as it was rocked about, which wasn't a good sign.

The three of them ran the rest of the way, and, upon getting back to the entry point, and into the Conn from the lift that sat under the Captain's chair, Berto and Kat were promptly shoved aside.

"Release docking clamps," L'Étranger barked to one of his command crew. She didn't need to be told twice. Not calming down, the masked man was quick to hit the nearest intercom even before the noise of those clamps breaking off echoed through the hull. "Engineering, reverse engines; all-back-full!"

"They'll hear us," Berto warned him, shocked that L'Étranger could be that foolish.

"Better they hear us then plow through us!"

As much as he hated to, Berto had to admit that L'Étranger had a point.

---

Out of ammo, Snake resorted to rushing Dread and aiming for his head with the butt of his M4. Dread simply caught the gun mid-swing and wrenched it away from Snake, the now-useless weapon discarded to the roof. And this left room for pure hand-to-hand combat.

Dread didn't get the upper hand until Snake rushed at him, turning to dash up a wall, but instead of rocketing away from it, he merely flipped over, landed behind Snake and shoved his brother face-first into said wall.

Holding him there, Dread spoke right in his ear. "No weapons, just like Gray Fox, eh Solid?"

Enraged, Snake smashed an elbow into Dread's gut and backhanded him across the face. Stumbling, almost falling due to the extra weight on his back from his HF sword, Dread wiped off the drop of blood forming on his lips and chuckled.

At that moment, a massive splash of water resounded through the air, and some of that water itself sprayed the roof. Dread turned and looked down to see Metal Gear RAY landing from its leap out of the sea and getting its footing on the island. All was finally coming together. But he didn't notice that Snake was talking over his Codec.

"Hey, Shades-boy," Snake called.

Dread turned back...and nearly has an aneurism on the spot. Snake was holding the case containing the parts for Arsenal Gear, dangling it as if he expected Dread to beg like a dog as he inched towards the roof's edge.

Dread, whose temper flared, stalked toward him. "Put it down, Solid."

"I don't think so," Snake looked at his watch, almost expecting something. Right on time, Otacon flew in closer and threw something out of the Kasatka at Snake.

And Snake caught his skateboard, hopped on it at the end of the roof, and skated right off.

"Solid!" Dread yelled, running after him, determined to get back what was his. Snake's plan had one hurdle to overcome; Dread was faster. As soon as he leapt over the edge, Dread rocketed down the side of the building, casting flames behind him all the way. With Snake pulling necessary board tricks to avoid slamming into the bumps and windows along the way and Dread doing the same with fancy footwork, it was mere seconds before they reached the ground.

Snake, unfortunately, had no control over his velocity at this point and promptly went flying when his board hit a snag. Dread, on the other hand, simply angled his legs to change direction and didn't stop until he was standing over Snake, backlit by the streak of incendiary he'd left behind.

"Thank you for that performance, Evil Knievel," Dread laughed, picking up the case where Snake had dropped it. The ground rumbled as RAY walked around the N-Tek building to their new location. "But I'll be going now."

And then another torrent of water hit them. A production model RAY had leapt out of the water and landed towards the other way. Then another splashed out and landed near them on the shoreline. Much like before, Dread's impatience grew when he thought of how this was not part of the plan.

"Hello, brothers," Liquid shouted through RAY's intercom. "I think it's time we settle our little family matter once and for all! How about it!"

Now ignoring Snake, Dread set the case down on the grass once more, calm as ever. "How about I show you, Liquid," Dread started, pulling Luce, ejecting the perfectly fine magazine and replacing it with one that looked almost electronic, if the small glowing lights on the side were any indication. He did the same with Ombra before putting both guns away. "That anything my brothers can do..."

The RAY unit reared back, one of them aiming a chain gun, one of them hunching over to use missiles as Liquid opened the mouth of his own RAY, ready to splatter his family across the N-Tek walls with the water gun.

"I can do better."

The water gun was going to come first; when Dread realized that, he put his gun away and pulled his sword from his back. Liquid fired, and he braced himself, held his sword up...

Everyone at the scene looked at Dread like he was insane, especially Liquid. The shot seemed to take forever, but that small eternity passed eventually, and RAY's strongest weapon, the shot from which was as large as Dread in itself, fired.

It didn't do much. Dread held his sword up and kept it there as the stream of water smashed into the HF blade. The shape of it split the water into two sprays to his sides, freakishly making half of a rainbow to his right.

When it finally stopped, Dread's boots had dug up the lawn for a good meter as he'd been pushed back, but he wasn't even flustered in the least.

It didn't end there. Turning around just as the other two RAYs fired off, Dread continued to elude them. First he almost seemed to dance around the Vulcan gun fired off by one, finally skidding backward, blocking himself from sight with the fire from his boots. When the RAY stopped firing, he dashed forward again, blazing flame across the wall of the building and using the angle to land on the robot's head.

But the other RAY could still see him, a fact made evident when it hunched over and launched a payload of missiles from its back.

Those rockets, in turn, homed in on two targets. Snake ran and dived away for his life on the ground, each missile exploding behind him. Dread, however, waited. And he waited. And then he burned into a skid and used the curve of the RAY's head to launch himself into the air again.

The missiles intended for him crashed into the Metal Gear instead, destroying one if its shoulders and the head unit. In midair, Dread swung his broadsword around once, using the weight to twist himself around, sword pointed at the other RAY's head. When he landed, the sword went through its armor plating like it were paper, sinking to the hilt.

The RAY unit let out an ear piercing mechanical shriek as Dread twisted the blade and made shreds of its control systems. As Liquid watched on, the RAY fell to its knees and stayed there as dead as the first.

With one more target, Dread drew his guns again, crossed his arms at the wrists, guns sideways, and fired.

---

"This is ridiculous," L'Étranger shouted over the calamity, grabbing a fire extinguisher from the wall and blasting it at a damaged console before the small flickers of fire erupted into full-blown flames as it was elsewhere. Half of the command crew were running around trying to control damage. "You did sabotage it?"

"Of course we," Berto started, stepping away from whatever it was that had just showered him in sparks. "Of course we did, these things take time..."

The sonar operator made it clear that time was not in abundance. "Torpedoes in the water, range eight-thousand yards and closing!"

Somehow ending up back in his captain's chair, L'Étranger considered the situation. "We're lucky he's toying with us and not launching the whole damn payload at once. Reload countermeasures."

"Sir," one of his crew turned to him, looking fairly terrified despite the heavy helmet she wore. "We're out."

"You jest."

She gave him a shrug. "We weren't going to restock until Tuesday."

"Okay, that leaves Plan B," Berto tossed Kat his PDA. "Kat, see that red light? When it moves down another centimeter or so, press the button."

He promptly grabbed his laptop, still plugged into the sonar system, and shuffled over to the weapons console, shoving the corresponding officer to the side in the process. "Turn towards Arsenal."

"Those torpedoes will arm long before they hit us, even then," L'Étranger told him.

"I know that, and I know what I'm doing," Berto glared at him. "Besides, we've been in worse situations then this...I can't recall when at the moment..."

Waiting only for a second, L'Étranger turned to the helmsman. "Right hard rudder, bring us to bear."

"Torpedo impact, twenty seconds," someone called out.

Berto waited, and he held on as the Akyna banked around. As soon as they had turned enough, he started furiously typing a calculation into his laptop, using the results for a firing solution he entered at the same time.

He pressed the trigger. Still in its turn, the Akyna started leveling off as one of the forward beam cannons came to life, swiping in a precisely pre-determined arc. It crossed the first torpedo's path dead on and detonated it.

He repeated the process and hit the second torpedo as well, but it had been closer, and the Akyna suffered from the explosion even if it wasn't a direct hit.

Kat couldn't catch herself and she fell, none the worse for wear, but losing Berto's PDA. Scrambling to grab it before someone stepped on it, she noticed that red dot had gotten where Berto had told her to watch for.

So she pressed the button.

Deep inside Arsenal Gear's propulsion system, the small vial Berto had dropped in was still tumbling aimlessly around. And then the little tracking device on top exploded.

When the Infinity Ice hit the water, it froze it over in a rapidly expanding, oversized ice cube, and it didn't stop. The water going through Arsenal's propulsion system turned solid in less then a minute. When the ice hit the outside, it started wrapping around the hull. As it crept inside the seams of rivets and hatches, freezing even parts of the interior, Arsenal Gear slowed from its already sluggish pace and started to drop deeper into the bay, spikes forming on the outside as the ice started expanding outward.

By this time, the Akyna had passed right over it and had put a fairly large gap between them again.

This was not lost on Berto. "Now who wants to see what happens when you crack an iceberg?"

He pressed the fire button once more. A single torpedo shot out from one of the Akyna's aft tubes, and it streaked through the water unhindered. Once it struck a part of Arsenal that had frozen over and detonated, the ice cracked. That crack turned into a web of cracks, and those cracks spread until the ice, and Arsenal itself, most of its hull turned brittle from the cold, split down in a line off center where one of the propulsion tubes had been frozen for longer. It didn't actually break in half, but it broke open and truly sank.

And everyone on the Akyna's bridge caught their breath, relieved at the fact that no one was firing on them anymore.

---

No bullet came from the guns. The slides didn't even move back. Instead, a blue field of EMP gathered at the end of each muzzle, and then it shout out and hit RAY right on the cockpit, shorting out every single system Liquid had his hands on...a mere instant before Liquid fired off RAY's last anti-tank missile.

Joined by Max on the ground, Snake watched as RAY twitched and stumbled from the blasts of Electro-Magnetism, and as Dread promptly spun on his heels and hid behind the dead RAY he had stood on.

The missile from Liquid's Metal Gear slammed into the steel corpse, and it didn't provide Dread the cover he expected. Blown out by the impact, a huge chunk of debris separated from Dread's side, cracked him in the head, and dropped him like a stone.

Desperately trying to regain control of RAY and having a small measure of success as its EMP sinks did their job, Liquid shouted out over the intercom and took a clumsy step towards Snake and Max, cockpit hatch halfway open so he could see. "Time to say goodbye!"

"My kingdom for a Stinger," Snake pined.

And then a missile streaked through the air and smashed RAY square I the shoulder. Another streaked down and hit closer to its head. Everyone looked up in time to see a small, two-man aircraft zoom by, barely higher in altitude then RAY was tall.

"What the hell," Snake blinked.

But Max recognized it instantly. "That's a Hawk." Zooming in as the Hawk banked around for another pass, Max caught the pilot's face. "Dad, you saved our asses..."


And Jefferson fully intended to make sure it stayed that way. Another pair of ATG missiles streaked from the Hawk's wings and exploded across RAY's back, Liquid unable to turn fast enough to keep up in its crippled state. Briefly, Max wondered how his father had hidden a Hawk from the Feds all this time, but he didn't care.

On the other hand, Liquid cared. He forced the hatch open all the way and stood, abandoning the sluggish controls for a Stinger launcher propped over his shoulder. In no time at all, he took aim at the small craft and fired.

Jefferson dropped decoys, but he had been too close to Metal Gear from the onset and the Stinger missile punched a hole through his left wing. Hawks were made to stay in the air despite such damage and, with a cloud of black trailing from him, he quickly recovered from the blast and started a glide down to the mainland not far away.

Seeing that Max had been completely distracted by the sight of his father in danger, Snake reached over and yanked the grapple gun from his belt.

Liquid was just looking down at them when he saw the line of high-tensile wire fly at him, but he wasn't fast enough to stop the grapple from looping around his weapon, hooking onto it's own wire, and yanking back from the surprisingly strong motor in the gun.

At a loss for words, Liquid didn't even try to come up with a curse for this lunacy. After all, Solid Snake was that annoying.

He didn't move when Snake grabbed the launcher and fired a missile at him, either. Said missile curved radically off target as it approached, harmlessly sailing off into the air. "Did you think Ocelot was incompetent enough to not wear it, Snake?"

Liquid sat back down in the cockpit, forcing RAY to move and testing how much longer it would be before the EMP effect was completely non-existent. The hatch started closing again as well.

"I'll show him incompetent," Max growled. "Going turbo!"

Snake felt the gust of wind blow by him as Max broke into his run. His steps were careful, deliberate, and extraordinarily fast: first he hopped on Dread's back as he was just standing, knocking him right back onto his face. Pushing off, he landed on the dead Metal Gear Dread had tried to hide behind and kicked off of that even harder, flipping over exactly once in midair, and landing just behind Liquid's cockpit high up on the original RAY. Catching the hatch, he wrapped one arm around the bottom and forced it to hold open, the gears grinding against him.

And Liquid pulled one of Ocelot's guns. "Stupid child."

He pulled the trigger and...nothing. Liquid had forgotten to pull the hammer back. Perplexed, Liquid was vulnerable. Max pulled his arm away from the hatch for the time it took to grab Liquid's collar, pull him close, and deliver the mother of all head-butts to his face.

With Liquid falling backwards into the pilot's seat, blood running from his nose and stars around his head, Max grabbed the EM shield from his belt, crushed it in his hand before he could feel it drain him further, and pulled the hatch back again. He planted a foot on the other side of the cockpit for more leverage. Finally looking back at Snake, who still had his weapon in hand, he called down, "Fire the Stinger!"

And Snake simply froze, his finger twitching. The similarity was like a fuse going out in his mind, instantly bringing him right back to that hanger bay at Shadow Moses.

He couldn't fire with Fox in the way, but he couldn't fire with Max in the way either. And so much time went by as he remembered Fox pinned to the ledge by REX's beak, Liquid sitting there as an otherwise perfect target, that Max seemed to notice he was most certainly not firing to the point where he tried to hold the hatch open even more...

But Max was so rooted in his own task that he hadn't seen Dread stand up either. Snake didn't notice him at all until Dread spoke, "He who hesitates is a damned fool," getting his attention before slugging him in the face and taking the Stinger himself.

Dread hesitated for a different reason. Long enough for Max's face to fall at the realization his efforts had been for naught. Dread liked that. He liked the feeling he experienced from letting the crosshairs sit on Max himself even as Liquid pulled himself out in a daze, one last shot in the launcher, one shot with which he could annihilate the one man who always brought him to ruin.

"Satan, thy name is Max Steel," Dread smiled, aiming lower and pulling the trigger.

Max could already tell he wasn't the target, but he didn't care why Dread had done this at the moment. Instead, he stood up on RAY's head, still holding the cockpit hatch open as much as possible.

Liquid saw the missile at the same time Max leapt off of Metal Gear and crashed through a window into the N-Tek building. He was only able to do so because he was still in Turbo Mode, Liquid realized he wouldn't be able to make that jump in the split second he had to act, so he leapt the other way, deciding to tuck and roll on the ground.

Except he'd forgotten that the hatch had been trying to close all this time. Without Max holding it anymore, it sat still for a second...then snapped down, both ends catching his right arm just below the elbow as he fell away, crushing it hard. Liquid screamed a loud, terrible cry as the missile slipped through the gap his arm held open, but not from the violent explosion that totally obliterated Metal Gear's cockpit. The hatch kept trying to close, and Liquid's voice started to fade, just as loud but slowly becoming Ocelot's.

Before it went totally off line, Metal Gear's last bit of power snapped the hatch shut, severing the arm completely. And Liquid Snake died right then, Ocelot falling to the grass below.

Finally dropping out of Turbo Mode, Max managed to raise his head and realize, with some amusement, he had crashed into the same lab Dread had held up earlier. Powering down, Josh figured he might as well at least try to move. He felt like he was running on fumes, but after some effort, he even managed to stand up.

Then more glass shattered, and Snake flew by him, clearly not by choice, smashing into the far wall. Before Josh could even turn around, something heavy pressed against his back and, almost instantly, he felt an electric current.

A very strong one. His voice totally lost, he collapsed unconscious. Behind him, Dread watched as trails of smoke curled up from his HF sword; getting through the insulation Josh's nanoprobes provided had taken more juice then he thought it would.

---

The first thing Josh realized when he woke up was that his arms were sore. The fact that this was because his wrists were handcuffed to a table above his head was the second thing he realized. At the very least, it was a pretty low table, and the only reason there was any semblance of suspension was the fact that he was stretched out.

Naturally, on reflex, he tested the strength of his bonds before his eyes were even focuses. For all the good it did; before he could see clearly, he could see Dread standing not far off, in front of a door blocked with all kinds of heavy paraphernalia.

"Don't pick at your handcuffs Josh," Dread smiled, leaning forward on his sword. "It's rude."

"Funny," came the answer, "I'd call this entire scene pretty damned masochistic."

Laughing at that, Dread straightened his posture and waited...and waited...and when Josh discreetly maneuvered his hands around in a better position and flipped his Biolink out to press that magic button, Dread drew Ombra and fired so fast it would've made Ocelot's head spin.

The bullet cracked through the middle of Josh's Biolink, totally obliterating the interface. The metal was strong enough to keep it from hitting flesh, and Josh could already feel the nanoprobes healing the inevitable bruise. But they would take a lot longer, and probably a lot more T-juice, to fix the gauntlet; Max wasn't going to come out to play.

His voice rather dull, Josh responded to this with a simple statement. "Nice shot."

"I try," Dread holstered his weapon, briefly pulling Luce out to switch the expended EM clip with a real one. He didn't actually cock it before putting it away. "So, here we are, Mr. Steel. Have you figured it out yet, or are you ignorant even now?"

Glancing up at his bonds again, Josh said, "Dread, I've figured out that you're a lying, backstabbing, deranged, and downright neurotic man, and frankly, I don't care about anything else."

More then a little insulted, Dread's face turned to a frown behind his thin shades. "Brave words. But you won't leave here alive to do anything about it. Neither will my dear brother, for that matter," he turned and looked at the still-unconscious Snake for a moment. "This was, I suppose you could say, my secondary objective."

"Secondary?" Josh asked before he could stop himself. Now he was confused...wasn't Dread's entire plan to kill them all and be rid of them so he could take Arsenal Gear out and hold the world for ransom?

"Of course," was the answer, as if Josh should've known. "My dear boy, you think I care about you, and Snake, and your friends scurrying about in your altruistic delusions of stopping me? I never wanted Arsenal Gear to begin with; I used you to destroy it!"

Josh blinked. "You are completely out of your mind."

This time, Dread didn't feel insulted. "Think about it, Josh. I lured you and Solid to that island, where Vamp, not you, released your friends. It was so unexpectedly easy, I must admit. A few choice words from Vamp and your friends were down to the computers in minutes destroying that loathsome AI, acting out of self preservation. I might add that I allowed it access to the island's computers so they could arm the nuclear warhead. And I'll clue you in, Josh; I didn't wait for the AI to be dead, I started usurping its control long before that, too slowly to notice and first, and by the time it realized something was wrong, I was already in too far."

Tossing this information around in his head, Josh put the pieces together. He remembered what Otacon was talking about the other day, about how he and Berto had destroyed the Wisemen's Committee, and that was the seat of the Patriots... "You've...but how...how can you do that unnoticed?"

"Call it a design flaw," Dread yanked his sword from the ground and started to pace, running a hand over one flat edge of the large blade. "Even the highest ranking Patriots don't know who the Wisemen's Committee are. Or more precisely, what they are. All you need is the names of the people they give orders to, and then you just prevent those orders from ever being received and substitute your own. That was why I faked my death again, Josh, I needed less then a low profile, I needed no profile. I couldn't have that if even one person ever traced something to me, and I especially couldn't do that with you breathing down my neck at every turn. I arranged for N-Tek's espionage division to be terminated just after I broke out of prison. Not that I 'broke out,' I had enough contacts already to simply stage the entire thing. I knew precisely what Jefferson would do with me, it was only a matter of time."

"Everything...everything we've been doing," Josh muttered, staring blankly at the ground, his eyes roving to find a spot to focus on and not succeeding. "You've just planned it all?"

"Not all of it," Dread thought back, "Psycho has only been with me for three months or so, I had a hard time tracking him down while he freelanced. In more recent events, I hadn't intended for Dr. Martinez to get a first hand lesson in KGB interrogation tactics, but alas, Ocelot's rather insistent on these things. Or he was. Be that as it may, this all went rather smoothly. Arsenal Gear is gone, once I assume power I can see to it that it's never salvaged. You see, that's where they always went wrong. They had too much infrastructure, too much people could see. You don't need to censor digital information to control the populace, only to satiate your own ego. Metal Gears, nanoprobes..."

"And now, a word from our sponsor," Josh deadpanned. "Get on with it, Dread."

"The point is, I don't need to do that, Josh, I only want to do what's right. And so I shall."

"By taking away free will and the things people cherish away," a groggy voice called out. Dread turned again to watch as Snake woke up, already struggling against his cuffs. "I don't see a difference here."

"There is a difference, Brother," Dread smiled. "Ocelot told you the S3 plan is a method of recreating you in another soldier. That's not entirely accurate. Oh, it can create a new Solid Snake, but that's not scratching the surface at all. Imagine the application that can have on normal people, Solid. Imagine a scientifically proven method that can change people into you, and scale it down. Imagine the presidential candidate saying the exact things that will guarantee an election without a rigged vote. Imagine conditioning terrorist organizations to believe that their opinion is wrong without firing a shot, or manipulating the employees of major corporations to conveniently give up illegal business tactics? Imagine turning the young man mowing lawns as a summer job into a carbon copy of today's greatest soldier. It all sounds very abstract, but it's easy to see what this means. It's all the same, and the S3 is that well developed, Solid. I can make everyone do what's right for everyone; it's a simple matter of checking any given situation against the S3 behavior management conditions and making the right phone calls."

"Heh," Snake rolled his eyes. "You all just get worse. Liquid wants to make war-not-love this, Solidus wants to kill the Patriots that, you want to be the Patriots..."

"It's better to be the devil then to serve him, Solid," Dread chuckled. "After all of your missions fueled by plausibly denied bureaucracy, you're an expert on that."

"Keep your metaphors to yourself," Snake rolled his eyes, trying not to look obvious. If Shadow Moses had taught him one thing, it was to always carry a lock pick, and he was currently using it. "You're giving me a headache."

"What the hell's the point, Dread," Josh was equally disinterested, having long discarded any suspicions that Dread might have any sanity left. "You were working toward all of that two years ago! What's the difference?"

"The difference is, Josh, that my organization didn't work," he growled, genuinely angered at this point. For the moment, Josh thought he'd simply hit a nerve, reminding Dread of all the defeats Max had handed him. But Snake heard something deeper in his voice as he went on. "Oh, it was a good idea, and I tried, I tried to make it work! I always thought with more time, more money...I was bound to surmount the massive hill that was you, Mr. Steel. Except you weren't the real problem. I only found this out very recently; in fact, you'd be surprised what information I plucked from the AI along with the S3 plan. Did you know the Patriots were influencing us, Josh? All through our little games, they were watching, taking action when needed, steering things in just the right directions to make sure the balance between us never really changed until it was I who fell from grace. After that, they would've knocked N-Tek over in flames long before I did if they still had the ability. And do you know how they did all this?"

"Let me guess," Josh drawled. "Your mother? Oh wait, she's a test tube."

"I'll choose to ignore that," Dread answered, more amused by what he was about to say. "It was Mairot."

The name left a bitter taste in Dread's mouth, but to Josh, the revelation's irony was intoxicating. "Mairot? Hah! Your mole was a mole, eh Dread? Now raise your hand if you feel like an idiot."

"Make your jokes, Josh," Dread chuckled. He finally stopped pacing around and shoved his sword several inches into the floor. Taking off his shades and wiping them off on his shirt, he went on without even looking up. "The fact is, he hurt you more then I would have had him. And he hurt me, too. I imagine I would've beaten you long ago if it wasn't for his meddling, but, as I said, they thought there had to be a balance until I was out of the picture. Who knows, maybe, unhindered, you would've beaten me. But he didn't allow it. Conveniently sending your best equipment into the field while telling us the best way to destroy it all. Allocating N-Tek's funds away so you could never rebuild your infrastructure, the things I wanted to take for myself were never meant for either of us, they hoped bringing us down over time would make it that much easier to bring us down period. I can say it was certainly easy to topple N-Tek over. He blithely embezzled from my fortune and I never even knew it! I was funding the Patriots!"

Rolling his eyes, Josh answered, "So sad, Dread. Psycho must've really pissed them off when he dumped the suspension tank on me."

"Actually, he did," laughed Dread. "The AI was easily angered. Especially after Big Boss pulled his little stunt in France..."

Snake almost dropped his lock pick. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"You didn't know?" Dread turned to him, honestly surprised. "You thought it was them, didn't you?"

Snake's response was to stare at Dread, awaiting more information.

And Dread was happy to oblige. "No, Brother, the Patriots aren't responsible for us, our father is responsible for us."

"That doesn't make any sense..."

"Oh, but it does. Who else could have seen the potential in one's own children being just like you are besides Big Boss? He had a big dream, Solid. An army of his own family, every bit as competent as he was to embrace and protect Outer Heaven...he knew the right people, and those people started the Les Effants Terribles project..."

"I can't stand it anymore," Josh shook his head madly, his mind at the breaking point. "You bastard...don't you know you're saying 'the the Terrible Children?'"

Realizing his thunder had been blithely stolen, Dread snatched Ombra from its holster and fired off a shot. Josh didn't flinch, but then, he didn't need to. The bullet grazed the chain of his handcuffs, coming oh-so-close to breaking them. "To get back to my point, Solid...Big Boss started the project because he had an...interesting view of how a man can raise a family. I'm sure you figured out he sent you to Outer Heaven in the first place to get rid of you. Since the project had proven a success in the creation stage, he wanted to start anew. Liquid and Solidus evaded him too, of course."

"And you?" Snake asked.

"I, it seems, am the only one who was ever on speaking terms with the man," Dread snickered. "Being the genetic accident that I am. When the project directors were choosing which of our brothers to abort, they noticed certain...defects in me. And you know how scientists are, they can't resist going over their mistakes with a fine-tooth comb, so I was spared. I told you I renounced the namesake, that's not entirely true. I was never given a name to begin with: Solid, Solidus, Liquid, and the defect. That's why I don't look exactly like you do, why you and Liquid are blond and I'm not and so fourth. You might say Big Boss was my father in the same way he wasn't for the three of you. And then I found out what his life really was...I was crushed, you see? I couldn't comprehend that the man was evil. And then you killed him, and I decided it was time to right his wrongs."

"You just keep thinking that, Dread," Josh spat in his direction. "But you can't fix terrorism with terrorism!"

Answering that, Dread almost seemed deeply hurt. "Oh yes you can, until the Patriots found me, anyway. That's why I left N-Tek; I thought with enough time, something like N-Tek could catch up to them and end it all, but it didn't work, so I tried something else. I grew weary of being a pawn, pushed and prodded in one single direction under anyone's control but my own. Everything was always taken from us. From me. The chance to lead a normal life...to raise a family...even Jefferson helped take that."

Josh didn't want to hear this; it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out where Dread was going. But the defiant look on his face gave away that it struck a nerve.

"Oh, surely, Josh, you must've wondered sometimes why Jefferson was so eager to take you in. The truth is, after your mother died, Jefferson was elsewhere in the world on business for corporate N-Tek and I was the only one around who could give Jim a shoulder to cry on. Ironic, isn't it?" Dread was looking at the ground himself now, digging through the painful memory of seeing a friend after his loss, so worried for what was left. "He asked me to look after you if anything happened to him. Jefferson was starting to suspect something was amiss, though. He didn't waste any time getting to you first, to this day I think he figured me out before I'd even faked my death. But he never had proof. So you see, things like that, and the fact that my brothers and I were more then just engineered, we were violated before birth...well, need you wonder why I'm bitter?"

"Poor you," Snake said. "All bitchy because you can't get what you want. Guess what Pal; that's life. There are more ways to pass on a legacy besides having children."

"As if the legacy," Dread turned to Snake, "of the world's most infamous environmental terrorist is something you wanted to pass on, Snake?"

Snake didn't have a reply for that.

"And I always get what I want," smiled Dread, yanking the stolen nanosword off of his belt.

Taking careful aim, he fired at Josh one more time, and this shot destroyed the chain of his cuffs completely. He hit the ground and fell flat on his face.

"There's a certain destiny handed to myself as well as my brothers," Dread holstered his gun, tossing the nanosword into the air. It landed next to Josh's hand, and he was quick to pick it up and flip the switch. "From our birth we were doomed to be the ultimate experiment, some of us more then others. Liquid hated Big Boss because he 'chose' Solid instead, and Solid hates him for what the man he was. In a way, so do I. But I hate him even more because he 'chose' all of us, without any thought to the consequences of his actions or the lives that he created. And so, here we are, the pinnacle of Father's dream; sons that followed in dear old Dad's footsteps to claim the world as their battlefield. You of all people should understand that, Josh. Look at yourself, taking after Jim with every bit of your life and your soul until some foolish madman calling himself a terrorist gets a lucky shot on you, as well. That's all it takes, Josh; do you ever think about that?"

"To tell you the truth," Josh looked him straight in the eyes, not budging an inch. The nanosword scraped on the ground and he rose to his feet, ready for the duel that was bound to come. "I don't think about it. I don't want to think about it, because I know it'll happen one day. But that's life, and it's my life. I don't need psychotic dictators giving me advice, Dread. You realize you're the foolish madman?"

"Not a madman, Josh," smiled Dread. "My brothers and I are called monsters, replicates of evil genes. Made to relish in war and killing, to flourish in the dark side of humanity. And I am a monster, because I do relish in it. In every life I've taken. What besides a monster can still feel that, when shooting one of his best friends?"

It hit Josh then, and his heart skipped a beat. It was the bleeding obvious, so easy to figure this out, but he'd never put two and two together. His eyes grew wide, and he found no words to express the sheer amount of rage and loathing he felt.

"And by the way, Josh," Dread didn't even need to say it. But he did anyway, pointing his massive HF blade at his enemy. "I was the one who killed your father."

---

Ocelot was pissed. Dread had actually shot him, with a goddamned Stinger missile of all things. But on the other hand, it had been a partial blessing; Liquid was gone. The voice no longer chewed at his mind, and for the first time since Shadow Moses, he felt free.

Still, there was the whole lack-of-arm thing to deal with. And deal with it he would, after getting out of here. If Naomi's new nanoprobes worked like they were supposed to, he could just grow a new one anyway.

Of course, they were supposed to destroy Liquid from the inside, as well, and Ocelot saw how far that had gone.

He was also a little annoyed when he reached N-Tek's underwater docking bay and realized every single submersible had been taken when Jefferson ordered the evacuation. And the Typhoon class submarine surfacing in the dock didn't bode well, either.

So Ocelot, good hand holding his rumpled duster over his brand new stub, turned around.

And came face to face with Vamp. "Don't do that, you damn near gave me a heart attack!"

"Such a pity it would have been," Vamp smiled. Pulling a throwing knife from his belt, he snaked his tongue across the blade, happy at the blood this produced. "What I have planned is much more fun."

Controlling himself, Ocelot took a step back and spoke calmly. "And that would be?"

"It's a surprise." Vamp stepped toward him in kind, and Ocelot found his hand edging closer to a Colt.

"I never figured you for a backstabber. A freak, maybe."

"Oh, we're all backstabbers, Ocelot," Vamp told him, "you know Queen was never working on getting Liquid out of you?"

That floored Ocelot, and he quickly dropped his coat, drew a gun and fired.

Vamp merely stepped to the side. "Two years, Ocelot. I've been waiting for this...for two years, and the fact that you have no idea why angers me more then anything."

"Enlighten me," Ocelot pulled the hammer back and fired again, but Vamp dodged in due kind.

"You killed them."


"Oh, that narrows...it...down," Ocelot started to trail off, the revelation totally absurd to him. "You can't be serious."

"Even I have morals, Ocelot," Vamp plucked another knife from his belt. "They number in the single digits, but I have them. You killed someone who meant a great deal to me on the tanker two years ago. Solidus promised me your head when we were done, but it was never his to give, considering everything that was planned for him. You notice I wasn't on top of Arsenal Gear with the rest of you. Then you killed Fortune, and I was still forced to wait. Revenge may be a trivial thing, but that doesn't mean I won't enjoy it."

Snarling, Ocelot aimed for Vamp's head and fired, and Vamp raised one of his knives...

---

"I'm not going to kill you, Dread," Josh taunted his adversary, ducking under a massive swing from his broadsword. "You're not worth that effort."

"You don't think so?" Dread smiled, guiding Josh's nanosword away from his face with a well-timed parry. "Your father didn't think so. He was foolish enough not to bring a gun when he knew he'd catch me red-handed setting the largest piece of Semtex you've ever seen under this very room, and look what happened to him."

"I'd rather watch you rot again," Josh spat, trying to strike from a lower position, but Dread pushed him back again. "Can you break out without the country slaving for you?"

"The question is, can you imprison me and break my control at the same time?" Dread answered, swinging parallel to the ground with the intent of slicing Josh clean in half. Josh was smart enough to back off, so Dread used the momentum to spin on his heels, take a step closer, and swing downward. Josh still evaded him. "No, you can't. But I'll tell you this much, Josh, if you kill me, Vamp and Psycho will have neither the knowledge nor the monetary inclination to become the Wisemen's Committee. If you kill me, it all ends. And if you don't kill me, we'll see how easy it is to capture me when I kill you."

---

The submarine Ocelot had noticed didn't take long to fully surface. And after Berto and Kat had left it, L'Étranger wasted no time in leaving, his contract fulfilled. Even as he left, however, Berto couldn't shake the foreboding feeling he had. "Is it me, or does something smell like... blood?"

"I'd gather it's because something does," Kat answered, nudging him and directing him to look at a different wall. Kat had controlled herself, but Berto couldn't help jumping in fright at the sight that greeted him.

Ocelot was crucified on the wall...sort of. His good arm was nailed to said wall with several knives, as was what was left of his other arm. The part that was gone had been painted on the wall in Ocelot's own blood, complete with a handprint and more knives sticking through it.

A combat knife sat, embedded to the hilt, in his forehead.

At that moment, the hatch into the underground corridors opened, and Otacon, having landed his Kasatka out front and in desperate search of people, came running in. "There you are- yyeeee!"

He was equally stunned.

"I am not cleaning that up," Kat remarked.

After she said this, Vamp stepped out of the shadows behind them, unnoticed until he spoke. "You won't have to. I'll drink him dry."

Quick on the reflexes, Otacon grabbed an errant lead pipe propped against the wall, swung around, and tried to bash Vamp's head open, but Vamp merely caught said pipe and tossed it away before lifting Otacon up by the neck. "You know, Dr. Emmerich, I'm sorry about your sister. Really. She was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Such is life, and such is death. But you are starting to annoy me!"

His breath visible, Vamp bared his fangs. And Otacon reached into his pocket and pressed something against Vamp's hand.

Vamp howled in shock when the sensation hit him. Otacon fell from his hand as it iced over from the inside-out, the bluish crystal spreading up his arm, beyond his control even as he flailed about trying to make it stop.

The coating went through his chest, his other arm, and down his legs, freezing even his clothes solid. His head and face came last, locked in an expression of twisted agony, desperate to get out. But he wasn't getting out.

"I was hoping that was something nasty," Otacon, from his place on the floor, coughed out. Berto looked down and saw an injection gun in his hand, the rest of his Infinity Ice, minus the few drops Vamp had gotten, loaded into it.

And Kat picked up the pipe Otacon had tried to strike Vamp with. Except she casually tossed it and watched the lead crash through Vamp's midsection, splintering the ice and turning him into a pile frozen inhuman parts. "Oh, oops, look what I did."

---

Dread wondered in the back of his mind if Josh would have been more...vocal in his rage if he could be Max right now. The way Josh stared at him with quiet, focused anger wasn't unnerving, per se, but it wasn't particularly a good thing, because it meant he was letting his anger focus him as opposed to letting it control him.

And what didn't kill you only made you stronger. Not to be deterred, Dread brought his sword up to deflect Josh's and, seeing a possible opening, twisted his wrist around and stabbed forward before Josh could recover. Ducking his head to the side before Dread's massive blade could spear it like shish kabob he brought the nanosword up and used the flat edge to shove Dread's sword further away. The light-green blade slide down its HF antithesis, Josh hoping to run Dread through right there, but Dread's reflexes were faster and he pulled his weapon back, catching the nanosword on the hilt.

Both of them held there, vainly putting force towards the other and neither giving an inch. A grin on his face, Dread said, "If I'd have known telling you those things would have gotten such a good fight out of you, I would've done it long ago."

Josh's response was a near-inhuman snarl filled with so much hate that Dread was actually glad he'd never said a word; poor Psycho never would've survived the onslaught, as he was usually in the middle of everything. And Psycho was a good lackey to have around.

Pulling his sword back and breaking the stalemate, Josh hopped to the side as Dread's HF sword swung down from the force he'd been applying. Playing the part of the acrobat before Dread could recover, Josh hurled himself backward, flipping over the blade before Dread raised it again and kicking him across the face in the process. The position he ended up in was equally opportunistic; his judgment clouded by the anger of being stricken, Dread swung for his neck, and Josh crouched under, hurled himself forward and went for the same place on Dread.

Unfortunately, Dread was quick to step back and the nanosword's tip didn't even graze his skin. Unsatisfied, Josh didn't stop and, spinning on his heels, slashed again at Dread's ankles. Hopping over the blade, Dread brought his own weapon down hard from overhead, but he was too slow and Josh side-stepped yet again. Instead of trying to hit him with the sword again, Josh shifted his weight to make the strike and used his fists instead.

The wind knocked out of him, Dread quickly stepped away for a breather, sword held high. "I believe it's time to end this, Josh."

Dread pulled his sword back, the high-frequency blade surging with power. Josh didn't have the strength to guard against the blow that was coming, he was too tired from low energy levels and whatever bruises Dread had given him.

But he tried, and when Dread swung, Josh held fast. The blade clanged against his nanosword, and he had to hop backward on bad footing to stop from losing his head. But he lost his weapon; the force of the blow tore it right from his hands and it clattered to the ground not far away.

It was too far to risk going after, especially when Dread swung around and tried to cleave him in two. Josh dodged to the side, trying to get closer to where his weapon had fallen.

His opponent wouldn't let him, though. Dread tried to downright impale him on the broadsword, and he almost succeeded, but Josh ducked around the heavy blade, took a step forward and swung a fist into Dread's stomach before he could recover. His other fist smashed Dread across the face, taking a chunk out of his shades.

Dread didn't appear to mind. He simply brought his sword up and slashed it down. This time, Josh decided he wasn't going to beat Dread like this, not at this disadvantage. The nanosword was nearly at his feet, but he couldn't go for it yet, so he took the chance, reached up...

And he caught Dread's heavy blade between his hands before it could split his head open. Stepping back, Josh held fast as Dread tried to pry his weapon away.

"I guess Solid never bothered to warn you about HF swords," Dread chuckled. Before Josh could ponder that, the sword itself crackled with power and sent a current through him even the nanoprobes couldn't insulate against.

He didn't want to give Dread the satisfaction of crying out, but he couldn't help it, and Josh realized, a bit uselessly, that this was what shocked him and knocked him out in the first place. The sword didn't have its full charge this time, so Dread pulled it back and kicked Josh into the table, watching as he bounced back but fell to his knees in the process. Right on top of it, Josh reached for the nanosword with a scorched hand, only to watch Dread kick it away.

And then he felt Dread's hand wrap around his head, shoving him upright and holding him there so he wouldn't fall over. His sword tumbled softly in his other hand, he caught it when it pointed to the ground like a dagger, raising it only to reach his shades, pull them off and toss them away. Even his new scar was almost gone, and his eye was no longer tinted with unnatural color. "No joy, or pain. Tell the devil I sent you, Josh."

He raised the broadsword up. It pulsed one more time, and Josh realized this would do more then slice him apart; he would be better off hurling himself into a meat grinder. Franticly trying to think of a way out, he glared up at Dread, defiant until the end, unwilling to give the man an inch if he could help it. And he noticed...that Dread wore his guns backwards, he drew them with the opposite arm; they were pointing in just the right direction...

So he reached up as Dread's sword went higher and higher... but the sword was heavy, too heavy, and it took Dread too long to bring it above his head. He realized he couldn't be fast enough as Josh snatched Ombra from its holster and pressed the muzzle up to his chest.

"Goodbye, Dread."

The shot seemed even louder against Dread's body, but Snake didn't hear it. It was almost anticlimactic yet horribly dramatic at the same time; he tore the handcuffs off at that moment, the slug pinging off the wall above his head. It trailed a thin line of blood through the air, dropping it to the ground in a drizzle.

For the briefest of moments, Dread didn't move. He could feel his arms going numb, then his hands, and then his sword tumbled to the ground harmlessly as he stumbled back. Blood in his mouth, he reached a hand to his back and felt for the exit wound, for all the good it would do.

There were no second thoughts in Josh's head, no regrets. It wasn't like he hadn't thought he'd killed Dread twice before. In fact, this was even more invigorating, to shoot the man at point blank range and put him down for good. Lost in his thoughts, Josh realized the weapon was empty. He noticed something else as he turned it in his hand; there was another inscription on the other side of the slide, he hadn't noticed it before. Dread always wielded it with the name facing out.

Jesus Christ is in Heaven now.

And Josh chuckled, wondering if Dread's ego was that large; to leave a message like that after it was over. He thought it was over. Dread would simply bleed to death, his heart pulverized.

Hardly able to stand anymore with his shirt so soaked in red that blood started dropping off instead of staining it further, Dread managed to stay on his feet a little longer. "You'll...never have a quiet world, Josh," he coughed, voice wet, "until you knock the Patriotism from the human race..."

With that, he reached to his side, pulled Luce from his belt and, with no small amount of effort, managed to cock the slide. Josh swore under his breath; to come so far and be rid of Dread once and for all, only to be stricken down because he forgot to take the other gun...

Dread aimed...then another hand came down over his gun, and Snake pried it out of his hand as if it were a simple act in a script before shoving him back. Dread had no more to give, he tried to utter a curse as he fell, but all that came out of his mouth was a simple gargle of blood. Snake didn't touch him after that, he lost his footing and toppled over on the spot.

Standing there, Josh watched him bleed to death, a stark contrast to Snake, who simply walked away from his own dying brother and tossed the gun toward its twin on the ground, plucking his cigarettes from the jump-suit's only pocket and taking a long drag off of one as soon as it was lit. "First time, Kid?"

Josh knew what he meant, though he was so fixated on the blood still leaking from Dread to realize Snake was talking to him for a second. "Hmm?" He looked up. "No. Well, first time I don't have to be paranoid he'll pull a Vamp."

"If you want something done right," Snake stood beside him and turned to face the last of his family again. "Just shoot 'em in the first place."

"I just killed your brother." This time, Josh sounded uneasy. After all, every time he thought Psycho or Dread or the random crazy of the day had finally bought the farm, he'd never had a consequence to care about. Like what he'd done to their families.

"So?" Snake blinked, his cancer stick bobbing up and down with his lips.

Stunned, Josh turned to face him. "Dude. I just killed your brother."

"He wasn't my brother," Snake shrugged. "Of course, I say that a lot. I say it a lot about Liquid and Solidus, too. But family is more then sharing common blood or being conceived in the same lab culture. It's about ideals and actions. For people like us, people like me... there is no definition of family. The people in your family are people you can love, and I'll be damned if that's a bunch of weirdoes with delusions of grandeur."

Josh watched as, after one last gasp for breath, Dread stopped moving entirely. "How do you just think of it like that with a gun to their heads? It was hard with Mairot, I didn't even know him very well, and I knew what had to be done, but..."

"I can do it because we're not just tools of the government, or anyone else," Snake reached behind his head with his cigarette-free hand and, for the first time Josh ever saw, untied his headband. "Fighting is the only thing I'm good at, but at least I always fight for what I believe in. So do you. That's all you need, Kid."

"People like us don't really have anything else, do we," Josh said, already knowing the answer. It didn't bring him down, though. "There are the normal lives we could have, and then there's this. We always pick this."

"Then this is normal," Snake told him. "This is what we're good at. It's what we do. And unlike my esteemed relatives, we can at least tell ourselves that it's the right thing to do if only because it's to help people. You remind me of me years ago, you know."

Josh deadpanned. "That's a scary thought."

"Very funny. But you do. I was about your age during Outer Heaven, and Fox was about my age now."

"So?"

"So," Snake rolled his eyes, "thank god you've already done this before because I do not feel compelled to take Fox's shoes and help the rookie."

Holding out his hand, Snake offered Josh the headband.

Josh summarily blinked at it. "What's this for?"

"Not a fucking thing," Snake said. "Thinking too much isn't healthy. And you're the first person I've met in this business who doesn't have some screwed up mental problem wrought on by outside forces. I always figured I'd give this to someone to prove no point whatsoever. Just take it and remember that."

So Josh did. The headband was overly long, but he could see the inside embroidery in the part his hand held. The small, curvy red letters sewn in read "Infinite Ammo."

"Let's get the hell outta here."

With that, Snake took the last drag off of his cigarette and tossed it away.

---

The ref list:

-Note Kat using Mary-Jane Watson vocabulary on page 4.

-L'Étranger's "eat any good books lately" is line delivered by another John de Lancie character in Star Trek: The Next Generation.

-Dread is a veritable factory of quotes:

"If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face, forever." --from George Orwell's 1984

"He who hesitates is a damned fool." --Mae West

"You'll never have a quiet world until you knock the patriotism from the human race" --George Bernard Shaw.

"Jesus Christ is in Heaven now" is written on the side of one of Alucard's guns in Hellsing.

-The line about things not arriving until Tuesday is from Star Trek: Generations.

-Josh's comment about Dread's lack of appropriate grammar is inspired by a scene from Stargate SG-1.