chapter FIFTEEN: A Ghost

"Awake," a voice came slithering from the shaded corner as the crumpled creature shifted to stand. Brant sat up, flattening his back against the hard, cold wall and reaching around his beltline, thinking maybe he'd not been stripped of his gun. It was a vain attempt, he figured, but when he put his hand on his holster he felt a cool metal shape within it. Whipping it from the holster, he aimed his Mark 23 ahead in the darkness and waited for the nearly invisible creature to stop and retreat, but it did nothing of the sort. It continued forward until it was just before Brant and then looked down upon him, the red eye stinging in the empty room.

"You didn't take my gun," Brant said, staring upward. "Why?"

The creature cocked its head then turned to face the little cut in the wall through which the wide rays of moonlight were streaming. "Guns are useless to me…and bullets harmless." Turning back to Brant and reaching out for him, almost lunging forward to grab him and lift him up, two shots rang out – but even before the first gunshot sounded, the creature became a swift blur and a sharp shining edge was caught in the moonlight.

The bullets went absurdly off course and dug into the walls to either side of Brant. Looking up, horrified and in awe, he let the gun go down. "How – you aren't human!"

"A part of me remains such," the creature said, returning to the opposite corner and concealing the shining edge somewhere as it stood watching through the window, but out of the way of the moonlight.

"Who are you?" Brant struggled to say, his heart slowly returning to normal. He'd been in hostage situations before, dealt with nearly every sort of military operation imaginable, but never had he seen two bullets deflected before his very eyes – and at point blank range. "What's your name?" he said again, trying to imagine the thing's body even though he could see no more than the glowing red eye.

"I am like you," the voice came again, only this time not as slurred or chilling. More matter-of-factly. "I have no name." And the red eye slowly faded until the corner was consumed by shadow, not a thing remaining in its place.

~*~

"Mei Ling," he said.

She giggled. "It's been a long time. How have you been, Snake?"

Snake groaned, mind returning to the cold. "I've been better," he said. Mei Ling giggled again, that funny sound she always seemed to utter whether you'd made a funny joke or not said anything at all. She was always happy, it seemed. "So – where've you been? Brant had told me to expect your call. I was beginning to think you didn't want to talk to me," he joked.

"That's ridiculous," she smiled. "I've been running some names for Mr. Brant. He sounded urgent when he requested my help."

"Hmph, what names?" Snake said, his voice still shaky. He tried covering it up, but he couldn't. The cold was terrible.

"Most of them went by without any suspicion, but one caught my eye. William Beck."

"Will Beck? Director of the NSA?"

"That's right. I met him several years back when the government first heard my name and caught wind of my reputation. They were excited to have me there, but Beck wasn't the least bit enthused. He put on a fake smile, hugged me, and strode off down the hall."

"That made you suspicious? A little premature, huh?" Snake rolled some thoughts over in his mind as he waited for Mei Ling to respond.

"It wasn't that that made me suspicious. I was looking through his files, personal history, psychological reports, and things of that sort, when I came across a few dates."

"Dates?"

"He was reported in a meeting at the White House just a matter of minutes before the Discovery was seized in the Manhattan Harbor two years ago. When you…" she stopped. Two years ago. That had been when Snake was taken down. He hadn't remembered the incident well, but it still stung in his mind, tormented him day after day. He had heard the voice of the man who'd captured him. He knew full well who it had been. It hurt him, made him angry whenever he thought about it. "I'm sorry," Mei Ling said, apologetically. She knew the failed operation had crippled his pride, but it hadn't hurt him that bad. By all means, Snake was still the man he was before the incident. He was still Solid Snake. That wouldn't change.

"It's fine," he said. "What do you think that has to do with anything, though?"

"I think he may have known of the operation before it began."

"That's assuming the President and the rest of the White House staff had an idea as well."

"They would have to if the meeting were being held there, which it was. The government gets threats and intelligence reports day after day. Surely, they would have known that something like this was going to happen."

"Sounds like they were too late," Snake said. "Just minutes before the incident – I doubt they had full knowledge, then."

"You're probably right," she sighed. "Anyway, Snake, is there anything you need?"

"I wouldn't mind one of those Anti-Freezing Peptides right about now," he joked. "Even if it meant Naomi had to poke me with her damn needles too. By the way, talk to her at all lately?"

"Naomi?" Mei Ling asked. "No. Last I heard she was working with foreign governments to promote new medical programs. Certain benefactors have helped her move through the ranks. A lot of work in the Middle East if I remember right. Everyone needs medical assistance there. That was almost two years ago, though."

"So, she got out of the country," Snake said. "Not much of a surprise. I doubt she had many fans back in the States, considering her history."

"I guess," Mei Ling said, sounding uncomfortable. She knew Snake had gotten over the FOX-DIE complications, at least for the most part, but it felt wrong to listen to him speaking about her. "Well, I should try and get in touch with Mr. Brant. If anything comes up I'll contact you. And be sure to call me on the Codec whenever you need me. You know the number."

"Sure do," he said, almost forgetting the icy mist that sprayed before him every time he exhaled. And, with that, the transmission was ended.

Looking over his shoulder and through the clear, frosted cubicle walls to make sure that no one had found his or her way into the room while he was speaking with Mei Ling, he stood, seeing no one. Ahead, he saw the double doors – Plexiglas like the last he'd passed through. There was no real light coming through these doors, just more of that odd fluorescent blue that acted much like a black light. Not for lighting at all, but for something else.

Snake went casually to the double doors, breathing the stiff air in and out making his throat raw and setting it ablaze with pain. Putting his hand to the door handle, he tugged and – suddenly, there was a purr and a hum and then a click that sent him twirling around in surprise.

In the corner of the room, a computer monitor had blipped on and the terminal to which it was wired began working furiously. He hurried over to it, leaning over the desk and watching as the computer booted up. Commands ran by the screen, noting the viable operations that were carried out before the terminal was truly operational. It scanned the hard drive, checked for viruses, made sure all required accessories were attached, and then the desktop took over the screen.

But, what Snake saw next surprised him. It wasn't what he'd expected, of course what was there to expect? As he watched, the cursor ran across the screen and highlighted a certain icon. Then, the computer started up humming again and the screen was filled with what looked to be some sort of code, but as Snake looked closer he saw something more there. It wasn't just simple code. It was genetic code.

Line after line of A's T's G's and C's flashed by, filling the monitor and going on and on beyond it.

And then, as he continued to watch, another window popped up and his face screwed up in anger and shock. Staring at him, in bold print, were three words:

"Welcome back, Snake."

~*~

'They know I'm here…how the hell?'

The codec began to ring. Snake ignored it, but only for a moment, and then touched his hand to his ear, his eyes never shifting away from that glowing monitor, that purring terminal. "Yea?" he said, his tone indicating his preoccupation, as well as his confusion.

"Snake, what you're staring at right now is a sample of genetic code." Mei Ling.

"You see it, then. What about this message. Someone knows I'm here…how the hell?" Snake ranted.

"Of course I saw it," she said. "The equipment you and Otacon used during your Philanthropy days is considered out-dated by today's standards. And besides, US equipment is far more advanced than anything on the market today. Of course, thanks also go to Present Future for that."

Snake looked strangely ahead, side-tracked by the tangent, while still trying to concentrate on the code and the message. "Present Future? The United States gets equipment from them?"

"Oh yeah," she said, her pace increasing, a sign that she quite enjoyed sharing her apparent wealth of information. "Ever since FOX-HOUND was re-established as a body of the United States Special Forces Present Future has been working closely with US tech-specialists on more than three fourths of the military's field and combat gadgets."

"Isn't Present Future a Russian company?" Snake asked.

"Technically, but it holds closer ties to the United States than to Russia," she responded. "Anyway, to the point," Mei Ling said and Snake stored her information in his mind for when he would need to address it later, "your suit shares some of its inner-workings from the suit you wore at Hell's Outpost. The photographic aspect of this is different, though. At Hell's Outpost, when you're heart rate increased dramatically, a picture was taken by a miniature lens engineered into the chest of the suit. But, in the suit you're wearing now, there's a sensor that activates only when there is a drastic change in light, temperature, or your vital signs. When any one of these changes occur, the sensor activates and five different lenses – three in the chest, and one on each leg – film the scene until the sensors read normal again. Each and every one of those 'home movies' is transmitted right to my desktop."

"Neat," Snake said, shaking his head and rolling his eyes, "but what about this code? And how the hell was the computer operated without me even turning it on?" There was a short pause. "And how do they know I'm here…let alone my name?"

"Snake, I have no idea what the code is doing, or how the computer was being run from a different location, but," she said, then hesitated. "Hold on, just a second. I'll get right back to you – Mr. Brant is trying to contact me. I'll tell him what you found."

"Thanks," Snake said, and ended the transmission before saying good-bye. Then, he looked back at the monitor, stared at it, was mesmerized by it. That endless code, the A's the G's the C's the T's – they burned into his eyes, painfully so, but he couldn't turn away. The monitor's eerie glow kept him glued there, unable to shift his attention. But then, just as it felt in his heart that he was on the very edge of something huge, that he was looking through a foggy glass but was finally finding forms of people, outlines, and silhouettes behind it – the code disappeared, the message window blinked off, and the desktop faded into black.

All that remained was a black command screen, a prompting program designed like the late MS-DOS. And then, as the white block that was the cursor blinked and blinked and blinked and blinked, Snake sat down in the chair before the terminal and rested his fingertips on the keys of the keyboard. Slowly, he began to type "Who are you," but he stopped himself and deleted it hastily before he was able to push 'Enter'. He couldn't admit that he was there, but he didn't even know what the black screen meant, or what would happen if he entered a message. Would it be sent to whoever had tried to contact him or would another line pop up beneath what he had written and tell him he'd entered an incorrect command?

He watched that blinking cursor, watched it and watched it, wanted to type his message again and enter it and then start a conversation and talk all day, childishly, foolishly drawn by something that deeply intrigued him, something that he couldn't quite pinpoint still – but he quickly reached out and pushed the power on the CPU and continued to stare ahead, even as the blinking cursor was gone, swept up in that black void.

But then, he saw something more frightening – a pale reflection – and he heard a voice call from a place to his back. "The commander's message," the voice called, and Snake twisted around in the chair. "I assume you got it?"

Standing there, or floating maybe, cheek bones bulging, skin shining, eye – the other a black prosthetic – staring him down from above, was the cryptic figure of a man. He looked starved and pale as death, but as his lips curled in a cruel, dark fashion, he turned in the air and was gone. He did not walk off, did not disappear…but, just…no longer was. He shifted out of being, his long, knobby fingers passing away with him, and Snake stayed sitting there, stunned, words rolling over in his mind that seemed to jump out at him.

"I hope you enjoy company," was what he thought. He didn't know why, or if it was something the ghost had said to him before 'shifting' as it did. They were simply words that came to mind, and the voice that spoke them in his mind was one without identification. He knew not where the message came and did not act upon it then. He just stayed sitting there, stunned…like he'd seen a ghost.

He stayed that way until the doors opened from the hallway and three men came in with guns over their shoulders. That was when he moved. And he moved quick, just as the ghost wanted him to, still watching from some other place.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: A ghost, eh? ^_^ Well, I am SOO deeply sorry for having been absent for so long. But, my days aren't as free as they once were, and my interest in this trilogy is slowly diminishing – much of the plot is getting fuzzy and complicated in my mind and every time I write a line it just seems as if that thing I write shouldn't happen yet or should be saved for later. Unfortunately, to be truthful I will say that I DON'T think I'll be updating regularly, even though I am starting it back up. I'm tired of telling you one thing and then not being able to deliver, so let's just consider this a LONG work in progress. But, I DO promise you – I will finish it, whether it be this month, or the next, or far past that. We shall see…but for anyone who is still reading, I am sorry I have not been coming through for you, but I am very thankful that you have not abandoned this story.

Thank you and please – do enjoy as I continue to update! CIAO!