Chapter TWENTY-SEVEN: Opening the Door to the Demon

"With tension between the President and the Vice President rising, and the question of who lay beneath the sheet weighing heavy on all those who waited silently in the rooms of Trinket, there was no time for a breather. What was happening now, though shocking, was only preparation. The final act was yet to come and if what was all ready in the works was any indication, that final act was sure to be one hell of a ride."

~*~

"There is only one key player still missing from our lineup," Ocelot began anew, a grin springing to life on his lips, his mustache twitching anxiously, both hands crafting elaborate gestures in the air as he stepped toward the sink and stove. Pulling at each finger, he eased the glove from his left hand to expose the radically-contoured skin, veins etched into the back of his hand. All ready, Snake was sure what was happening. He knew what was coming. "This damn arm has tormented me for far too long," Ocelot confessed, waving Dr. Kelmar to his side. The apprehensive doctor did as requested, picking a shiny tool off the stovetop while Ocelot slid a ragged stool to the counter and laid his arm flat against its cool surface. "Of course this won't rid me off the problem in its entirety, but I welcome a better-tempered appendage for the time being."

The entire room braced itself, the Spetsnaz soldiers jumping to stop Kelmar before Ocelot told them off. Pressing a syringe into Ocelot's skin, he injected a thick yellowing substance that managed to, in a very short time, numb the length of his whole arm. The pleasure on Ocelot's face, that mix of wonder and giddied excitement, was indescribable. Snake saw his eyes sear red when the lights above caught their surfaces just right. It was like a portal to the fires of Hell, a window into the deepest and most wretched of souls.

And as Dr. Kelmar lifted the tool – a sharp knife from the looks of it – many in the room turned away. But, even as Kelmar made the first incision, followed by the application of more equipment and the grinding of both bone and muscle, Ocelot's terrible voice could not be muffled. All the while, he laughed and taunted, gaze upon his own bleeding body, Dr. Kelmar applying bandages and using all sorts of tools to maintain the blood flow.

Snake watched, but Raiden did not. Either way, it was it was a sickening scene. Worst of all was how Ocelot sucked the air through his teeth and made a sharp sound like the hiss of a snake. But, Snake just watched, seemingly unaffected by the brutality, only flinching when the arm came completely free from his body and remained still and cold on the top of the stove.

"Hold this to the wound," Kelmar ordered to one of the Spetsnaz, who clenched a sanitary cloth to the severed crook of his arm while Kelmar retrieved a long box from somewhere else along the counter. Lifting off the lid, he pulled forth a realistic-looking forearm with care and set it on the stovetop. Wrapping the arm of Liquid tightly in a cloth, he slid it aside and told the Spetsnaz quickly away before removing the sanitary cloth and craning over Ocelot's stub of an arm.

He went quickly to work, fiddling with each and every tool on the table, and proceeded for nearly an hour – an hour of Ocelot's slimy comments and shrill hisses, and of the slowly-engulfing cold, and of the exhaustion and misery of the rest who sat around the room. And at the end of that hour, when Dr. Kelmar stepped back and helped Ocelot to stand, Snake found that he was very near to drifting off to sleep. But, when seeing Ocelot bend his arm and stimulate movement in his fingers – though delayed and minute – he was wide awake again.

The new arm looked no different from the one he carried before Gray Fox's intrusion so many years ago on Shadow Moses, and it delighted Ocelot very much to be free of Liquid's 'control.' There was a lazy grin on his face, maybe due to the numbing substance he'd been exposed to earlier, but there was no doubt that this change excited him. "I imagine it's time, then."

Snake knew what for. As much as he dreaded it, as much as he may have wished to deny it, he was sure what Ocelot was planning. Before, it seemed no more than a possibility, but now that he thought about it, now, after Ocelot's most recent actions, how could there be any doubt who lay beneath that plain white sheet on the bed beside him?

His brother...

~*~

"You called."

The President of the United States shifted uncomfortably in his chair, phone receiver to his ear, and swallowed hard. "Yes, Alex," he said, Alex Moore no doubt sitting relaxed on the other end, not a care in the world it would seem. "Alex – I need help."

"What's wrong?"

It was hard speaking to the Vice President at the time. There was a barrier between them almost. So much was worrying the President, but the routine tone of the Alex's responses was chilling if not an immediate confirmation that he'd probably be of little help at all when it came to counseling the President or assisting him in making a decision. "Something struck me just moments ago. It was on my mind quite a lot at the time, but with the passing of two years it lost significance and I eventually gave up worrying about it. But, like I said, it returned to me just moments ago."

"What's that, Mr. President?"

"I seem to recall the incident in the harbor two years ago," he began, but Alex quickly interjected.

"When you requested the capture of Solid Snake, sir?"

The President paused, hindered in his speech for a moment. "Yes," he eventually continued. "When I requested the capture of Solid Snake." He pictured Alex being composed and serious on the other end of the line, though he knew that beyond his facial expressions this was all just a game to him. "I remember you meeting with a number of department directors, namely William Beck of the NSA and Carl Woods of the CIA just before the plan was carried out. At first, I didn't find it alarming, but I eventually grew apprehensive. I'm wondering, Alex, what was the meeting about?" There was a boldness in the President's voice, almost a mock-humor, like he was explaining this all to a four year-old.

"Mr. President," Alex retorted sharply, his first show of emotion since the beginning of the conversation, "if I remember correctly we merely discussed the operation in more detail. I wanted all the departments on the same level. I was hoping to avoid any misinterpretations of the objective."

"Misinterpretations, Alex? I'm sure we went over the plan more than a dozen times. If any further clarifications had been needed, I would have been more than welcome to provide. Do you think I am out of line to suppose your behavior suspicious?"

"Why, not at all, Mr. President. I only wish that you worried less about such trivial things and gave yourself a little more credit. I mean, you were the mastermind. You succeeded in nabbing Snake. It was quite a show," Alex said, being intentionally and obviously over-assertive. The President was quick to catch his tone and wasted no time in responding, inching forward in his chair as his knuckles squeezed the receiver.

"You've been working behind my back for almost two years now," he said, his temper boiling but his voice remaining forcefully calm. "You've been dealing with Russian affairs as well," he continued, speaking as if he was thinking aloud, almost ignoring the fact that Moore was even on the line with him.

"Mr. President," Alex exclaimed, acting very shocked and appalled, "I have no idea what you mean!"

"I've been watching you the whole time, Alex," the President sighed, eyes closed tight. "I can't believe you did this…and what are you doing today? What are doing that has to do with Trinket? You know what's happening there today. You're jeopardizing the operation…as well as START 3."

"How terrible," Alex admitted. "You got me, Mr. President! You caught me!" He had to be smiling wide now, grinning and nearly laughing. "It will be a shame when I have to speak up about you letting Big Boss out of his prison for your little 'operation' at Trinket."

The President was filled with anger, but was determined not to release it now. "Alex," he said, unable to fathom why the Vice President had done so much wrong, "you're committing suicide here."

There was a short silence as the Vice President of the United States stifled a laugh and shook his head with a smile. "No, Mr. President, I'm just trying to be heard."

~*~

"Liquid!" Snake hissed when the sheet was pulled away. Lying on the bed beside him, most of his skin spotted or rotting and carrying a purple tint, was what remained of Liquid Snake. His skin was leathery and cold, but a very faint shade of peach resided in his cheeks. His left arm was cut off above the elbow – the rest of it lying on the counter.

"The company would not be complete without him. I've all ready taken what I need and he needs two hands if he wishes to pilot Metal Gear." Ocelot grinned.

Dr. Kelmar was very quick in reattaching the arm. He used simple stitches and left it at that before baring a shiny razor, with which he drew a long cut up Liquid's chest, separating the skin that lay over the ribs and setting in the wound some sort of brace to hold it open. Snake watched Liquid's eyes the whole time. Watched them as they remained still beneath the lids, hidden from them all. Snake imagined him watching them all, surveying them from his lifeless corpse, lighting a brief fire in the pupils of his eyes and catching a glimpse of the company. Snake imagined him grinning, but there was no movement in his lips. He was still. Calm. Dead.

Dr. Kelmar slipped off his first pair of gloves and pulled a second pair tightly over his hands. Then, returning to a box on the counter, he lifted the caging of the Perfect Cell – that bright shining orb resting within, suspended as if by an invisible thread. Snake couldn't help but cringe at the sight of it. He'd never found it so disturbing before, but after realizing it had entered his own body, after realizing he had been dead and returned…he didn't know how to feel. But, seeing Kelmar stop and hold it over Liquid's gaping chest made him burn with rage. He couldn't let Liquid return. He couldn't let his brother come back.

There was a faint click as the tip of a gun was pressed against the back of his head. He turned around and sneered at Tintern who was shaking her index finger side to side. She knew he would have knocked the Cell to the floor if she'd not been there to stop him. What good that would have done, who knew? But, at least he wouldn't have sat there and watched the whole thing happen.

That which he was now forced to do.

Ocelot leaned over Liquid's body and stared down into his chest, a grin shaping in his lips as Dr. Kelmar prepared to release the cage. Everyone was attentive, scooting forward, sitting up, or stepping closer to get a better view. Snake just continued to stare at the eyes even as they remained still. KING and Sears watched the hands. Daves, Crais, Turkish, and Red watched his lips. Tintern, Raiden, and May concentrated on the hair – wilted and gray and sparse. Ocelot watched the chest. The room waited.

Kelmar pressed two intersecting points on the cage and the Perfect Cell dropped, beautifully shining, its shape so perfect and stunning, its descent smooth and unhindered, and disappeared beneath the surface of Liquid's chest. Ocelot was amazed as the inside of Liquid's body was quickly illuminated, and the rest of the room was shocked as well as the hair grew long and golden blond, the dead strands either coming to light with the new or shedding to the floor, as his lips shuddered, the corners of his mouth squeezing instinctively, as his fingers suddenly burst to life, flexing and then going limp again.

The brace holding his chest open buckled and Kelmar fought to wrench it from the skin as it molded around it. Finally pulling it free, the Perfect Cell shot up after it and entered its caging again, its intense beauty becoming something less as it hung inside the cage.

And that was it, it seemed. Liquid was alive, but all so suddenly, he seemed just as dead as he had before. Everything was silent, waiting for him to sit up or do something. And then, he came wildly to life, his eyes shooting open and his neck turning slowly to Solid Snake. He looked at him with a sterile gaze, no sort of emotion existing there any longer, and thrust his arm sideways at his brother, catching him by the throat and squeezing with all his might. His fingers pressed into Snake's neck, but he tried to pry them loose as Ocelot pulled forth one of his Revolvers with his new arm and fired it at the ceiling.

A trail of dust came down and Liquid released his grip, his eyes quickly turning more human and his body coming under control. He became silent and subdued, but as he lay on his back and watched the ceiling, Snake eyeing him with the greatest hatred as he shrugged the pain in his neck, memories returned to him and the world rapidly came into view. He remembered his name, who he was. Examining the little pricks of paint on the ceiling, he recognized his breathing, his heartbeat, and he smiled.

"Welcome back, Liquid," Ocelot said. Liquid turned his head a little, looked at Ocelot, and sat up on the bed. Looking around the room, noting KING and Sears and Snake in his mind, he laughed subtly. And, with almost too much kindness it would seem:

"Why thank you, Ocelot." And when he turned and faced Snake again, they both felt the nostalgia. "Dear brothers…and father?" He says 'father' in mock surprise. "What a pleasure seeing you here." Snake could sense a broken tie between the two. Liquid had once made Big Boss' remains a request in exchange for the world's safety, but it seemed he found his father no more significant than Trinket or May or Daves or any of the other faces he couldn't put names to. Just another piece in the puzzle. Another branch of the family tree.

The door opened very quickly, two Spetsnaz entering the room. They looked to Ocelot who looked back in curiosity. They were both very calm, their faces stern and unchanging. One of them had a sharp goatee beneath his bottom lip and a thin mustache above his upper. His eyes were cold and gray, a characteristic that made him seem possessed or detached from the rest of reality. The other was clean shaven, but his face was skinny and long, his cheek bones bulging and his skin pulled tight over his skull. His hair was long and black and fell from the snow cap that he wore, greasy and tangled. They were strange company, but not in the presence of those all ready in the room. "What is it?" Ocelot asked.

"Two units were taken down near here just moments ago," the first said, his little mustache raising and lowering with his speech. His tone carried a thick Russian accent, which was fitting for a Spetsnaz. But, when the second spoke, it was clear that he was not Russian at all. His voice was obviously British, though only remotely so. He didn't look British, though. "We need to move you to another location," he said, and Ocelot turned and nodded to Tintern.

"Where are we going?" Ocelot asked as Kelmar began packing his tools by the stove. "We're going down one level. The stairwell is on the northern wall." Ocelot nodded. "Fine, then. Everyone, get ready."

Crais and Turkish stood Daves and Raiden up, Red made sure KING and Sears stood slowly, and Tintern helped Snake onto his feet. He shrugged off her light grip, but she grasped his arm tighter after his slight retaliation. "I'm let letting you run free now," she said, hushed, in his ear. Liquid sat at the edge of the bed and looked about for his clothes. He was there naked, the sheets covering his lower half, but naked nonetheless. "Here you are," Ocelot smiled, tossing a pile of clothes to Liquid who caught them and laid them down by his side.

He was quick about changing, but didn't particularly mind showing skin as he pulled on his pants, a shirt, and a long leather jacket much like the one he'd worn at Shadow Moses, but even more like the one Ocelot wore now. Smiling, he ran his hands through his hair and pulled on a pair of gloves, then holstered a SOCOM – given to him by Ocelot. The SOCOM, Snake could tell, was the same he'd been carrying earlier.

The Spetsnaz in the room quickly checked their equipment before going to the door and standing by it at attention. The Japanese man and Phillip Harte both moved slowly out of the corner, feeble looks on their faces. They were, if not frightened, a good deal uncomfortable in the company of so many soldiers. When Ocelot saw them coming over he shrugged for no particular reason, it would seem, and pulled a revolver from his holster.

The rest of those in the room were moving to the door, but when they heard Ocelot's gun slide free they all looked to him. He raised it level to the floor and fired once in the direction of Harte and the Japanese man. The Japanese man was thrown off his feet when the bullet struck him square in the heart, sending him onto his back – dead. Harte looked on Ocelot with a horrified expression.

"What're you doing!" He cried, but Ocelot ignored him, pulling the trigger for the second time and sending another bullet through another heart. Phillip Harte sprung back and clutched at his chest as he arced through the air and fell, lifeless, to the floor.

Dr. Kelmar watched in only mild shock when the gun was turned upon him. Ocelot frowned, though only slightly, and pulled the trigger. There sounded the third loud crack and Kelmar crumpled to the ground, dropping a pair of shiny scissors to the floor. They clattered on the tile and Ocelot holstered his gun again after spinning it wildly on the index finger of his new hand.

"I'll take that," he said, taking the box in which the Perfect Cell lay dormant and going to the head of the Spetsnaz. Everyone watching him as he took the head of the line, disgusted or amused. But then, pulling Liquid up to stand beside him, that hatred building up within Snake again, he turned to the rest and put his finger to his lips.

"Be careful," he said quietly, "the creature awaits." And with that, the Spetsnaz opened the door to the demon.