chapter SIXTEEN: The Big Blue Balloon

He dove forward and squeezed under one of the cubicle desks as the doors to the hall way swung open. Three men, suited in all black uniforms – vests of one and a half inch Kevlar, pockets and compartments stocked with ammunition and flash bangs, belt loops fastened with grenade fuses, and goggles covering what skin their ski masks did not. They carried Naval MP5s and AKs, their straps slung over their shoulders, and were equipped with various side arms, ranging from the Five Seven to the Glock 18.

Their knees were bent and they crept into the room slowly and cautiously, placing one foot perfectly in front of the other. One of them moved around the center cluster of cubicles, one of which Snake was hidden under, to the left, another to the right, and the third inspected a circuitry closet to the right of the doors to the hall. The two moving around the center cluster clicked on little flashlights mounted to the tops of their MP5 and AK and shined them above and below the desks. Snake waited, knowing that they would come to him in moments, knowing that he had no way to escape the situation.

'Damn,' he thought, searching his waistline for a gun but, unsurprised, finding none. His first enemy encounter and all ready they'd caught him. The two soldiers moved around and met at the back of the room, then began to kneel, and shined their lights under the last desk. Snake was caught in their rays, caught huddled under the desk, an intruder. But, as the soldier's eyes grew wide, surprised to find anyone, the doors to the hall swung open wide and Snake, seeing the diversion of attention in the solders' eyes, swung his leg out and sent one of them on his back. The other stood, quickly, stepping away from the cubicle as he aimed for the door, and raised his MP5 to the silhouette standing in the doorway.

"Don't move!" he cried, holding his weapon steadily. The other soldier, who now lay on his back, managed to regain a grip on his AK and aimed it back at Snake who was then forced to stay still. The figure caught in the doorway raised a gun and matched the stance of the soldier across the room from him. "Drop your weapon! Drop it!"

The man inspecting the circuitry closet pulled out his Five Seven and approached the figure in the doorway from the right. "Drop the gun!" he hollered, his Russian accent seeming forced. "Drop it now!" He pushed the head of his Five Seven into the figure's temple and looked apprehensively to his comrades at the back of the room. "Drop the gun, soldier," he said again, this time more firmly.

The figure turned its gaze to the man beside him, centering the enemy's Five Seven in his forehead, and smiled wide. "Which one?" Suddenly, he swung his other arm up and pinned the head of a USP under the enemy's chin. Snake wished he could tell what was happening, wanted to do something but could not.

"You'll shoot me," Snake said. The man who still lay on his back, his neck turned up so that he could still see who he was aiming at, simply looked on. "You're no rookie," Snake continued. "You have a sure mark. Who are you with?" The man didn't answer him, just made a move to get onto his knee, and as he did Snake noticed the SOCOM holstered at his waist. Snake's hand searched around behind his back, sorting through wires and power cords. "You Russian?"

Snake found something and pressed it. There was a click and then a hum and a purr, and the terminal above booted up. The soldier aiming at him looked shocked up at it and Snake shot his leg forward again, snapping the enemy's wrist and sending his AK out of his hands and skittering across the floor. The soldier winced in pain but reached for the gun as Snake leapt forward, pinning him on the floor and reaching at his belt for the SOCOM that had caught his attention.

Slipping it out of the holster, he extended his arm across the soldier's face and snapped his neck, then spun over, onto his back, and aimed up at the soldier who had turned his attention from the figure in the doorway and was ready to fire on Snake. Two shots rang and the soldier dropped backward, two holes in his chest.

The two men by the doorway shifted their attention, but the unknown figure slid away from the enemy's aim and pulled the trigger of his USP once. The bullet was sent through the soldier's jaw, the roof of his mouth, and out the top of his head, spraying slaughter in all directions.

Snake flipped onto his feet and stood swiftly, aiming now at the door. The figure, blurred by distance and the poor blue lighting, pushed open the doors to the hallway and slipped out of the room. Snake started around the middle set of cubicles, stepping over the bodies of those who'd fallen, and went to the doors. But, by the time he reached them and pushed through them there was no one there. No one at all.

Snake walked back through the room, looking first over the body by the doorway. His arms and legs were twisted awkwardly as he lay there, silent and without breathing, and his face was broken backward from the force of the gunshot. A stream of deep blue blood seeped from the top and bottom of his head and spread like a puddle across the floor. The lights changed everything, made everything in the room different than it really was, made that blood seem no more important than blue Kool-aid.

Made the slaughter seem like a video game.

But, it wasn't a video game. The lights created illusions, blurred the truth. That blood, that corpse – they were both crimson and pale…dead. It wasn't something happening miles and miles away, something you only saw on television, like a war played out in someone else's back yard, it was death and it was right in front of him. It was slaughter and it was terrible.

Snake closed his eyes and turned his back on the body. He'd dealt with death for as long as he remembered, but he hadn't enjoyed or managed to completely divert its effect, even after all this time. It never got easier. Never.

~*~

The horns and sirens of the emergency vehicles and news vans died out behind him. The breeze was still picking up strength, the trees planted along the sidewalks swaying, their leaves rattling. Slowly, as he passed back into the heart of the city, the chaos faded and he was again witnessing normal DC life: couples walking their dogs, businessmen and women marching down the sidewalks with their cell phones and headsets and wearing their heavy black suits or skirts. A little girl was parading through a grassy lot, vacated weeks before and made into a small play ground, holding the string of a giant blue balloon that bobbed up and down with each of her strides. Her parents didn't seem to be around.

Desperado watched her from the opposite side of the street, stopping and waving even though her back was turned to him. He smiled and then checked the traffic before passing across the street and seeking out a wooden bench mounted in the sidewalk before the playground. Easing himself onto the bench, he laid back and stretched his arms over the back of the seat. All the while, he watched the little girl and her giant blue balloon, her wide smile and long ponytails, her dark complexion and her emerald eyes.

Then, shaking in his jacket pocket, was his phone. He was reluctant to answer, but pulled it from his pocket and flipped it open. "Hello?" he said, initially.

"I explained the situation to him, and he is willing to comply." It was that same whispering voice, scratchy and chilling. Desperado's cheerful expression melted into a sudden firmness, but his eyes stayed set on the little girl.

"Willing?" Desperado inquired.

"He understands our motives," the creature said and Desperado nodded uneasily.

"Does he know about 'her' involvement?"

"Mei Ling's?" the creature returned. "I don't know."

"And what about Snake?" Desperado said, a coldness washing over him, a great guilt and worry.

"No news."

Desperado could only imagine what would happen when Snake learned that Brant had been captured by himself. And if so, he wondered also if Snake would learn that he was the one who had taken him in those years ago on the tanker. It had been a long time since they'd spoken…"Thanks," Desperado said and hung up the phone.

When he pushed it back into his pocket he realized that the little girl was standing right before him, her hand still gripping the big blue balloon tightly. She was watching him strangely, not with a smile but some funny air of curiosity. Desperado watched her, seeming to be caught off guard, and grinned.

"How are you?" he asked. She turned her head, letting it hang somewhat sideways, and arched her eyebrows in question. Then, the reached her free hand out and touched his nose, then molded his cheeks and his chin with a bright smile on her face. She giggled and he laughed and then she stepped back and looked at him again with that inquisitive look, almost like she was studying him.

"Like grandpa," she said, her words unintelligible and odd, giggling like she had before. Then, she forced her other hand at him, the one in which she held the balloon, and waited there with her fist clenched around the string. She shook her hand at him and he took the string in his fist, cautiously, like she might attack. Then, she let go and backed up. "Smile," she said.

He did. "Thank you," he said, like a grandfather would to his granddaughter, and she smiled big again, showing her brilliant white teeth.

Then, without saying 'your welcome' or even 'bye,' she giggled and skipped off down the sidewalk, meeting up with a man and a woman who took her hands on either side and walked with her until Desperado could see them no more.

And he sat there for a very long time, his arm still held out awkwardly straight. And, bobbing up and down, side to side, as the wind made its strides through the lot, was the gift the little girl had given him – the big blue balloon.