chapter THIRTY: The Shadow is Cast

"The Red Shirts played a large role in the operation of the United States government all through the early years of the new millennium. For a long time, they provided the President with regular intelligence reports, but as the political scene became more dangerous, the Vice President keeping an eye out for anti-Patriot activity, they eased out of affiliation with the President and took up other means of informing him. But, in the years following the FACtion incident, the President lost a lot of his edge and grew afraid of exposing the Vice. In a way, it was his neglect towards the situation that let the whole thing get out of control."

~*~

They pulled up chairs in the next room, which branched off of the main one through a door in the right wall. There was a table, long and wide and metal, that they sat before, side by side. Across the table were two men, the fatter one and the more reasonably-built one. They had their hands folded and leaned over the table a little, on the edges of their seats. Fox and Brant were sitting casually in their chairs.

Through the doorway, most of those in the main room watched as the two visitors were questioned.

"What happened at the apartment?" the fatter one asked, the other brandishing a rubber-gripped Bic pen and a white legal pad. Fox and Brant traded looks for a number of seconds, Brant nodding – a signal for Fox to begin the telling – and so, after straightening his back and clearing his throat, Fox started.

~*~

Basement level one. The entire group, led by a gang of Spetsnaz and Ocelot, stopped at the bottom of the stairs on command of the Spetsnaz. Daves, along with Sears and KING, took a seat on the last step – Red held her aim steady on them as they reclined against the stairs. Tintern had moved away from the rest, leaning against a wall. Turkish and Crais both cradled their wounds, going unaided by the Spetsnaz who seemed to only be concerned with Ocelot's safety. And Liquid's.

Liquid was somewhat isolated himself, standing a few feet from the others and looking off in the opposite direction. There was a grin spread on his face, but something was eating at him – that was obvious. There was something missing from him. It wasn't his arm, of course, which he looked at for a moment and flexed before continuing to gaze further off, but there was most certainly something gone, lacking.

Everyone seemed to retain a similar look, though. They were thinking no funny thoughts, dreaming no pleasing dreams. Everything now was grim and violent and worn through. Daylight was dawning outside, though through the snowstorms it would probably not be noticed hardly at all, and the popular feeling seemed to be one of helplessness and of exhaustion. For some reason, it simply didn't feel right to be working. It felt as if a finale was long overdue.

"Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!" Crais hissed, kneading at the skin around his wound in an effort to slow the bleeding – or simply because the bullet lodged in his muscle hurt like hell. Turkish was breathing slowly, deeply. There was a piece of his own shirt tied like a bandage over the hole in his body. Daves looked slowly over at Crais and gritted his teeth, very obviously upset at the moment.

"Would you shut your fucking mouth?" he snapped at Crais who glared at him, popping out the veins in his neck and very nearly tearing something as his body grew tense, muscles contracting erratically from the injury.

"Is no one fucking kind enough to lend me a fucking hand!?" Crais hollered, but none of the Spetsnaz paid him any attention. Ocelot, though, turned on his heel to face him. He grinned, thought to say something – even opened his mouth as if to begin – when May came gliding down the stairs behind Crais and Turkish. He stopped at the stair behind them and Ocelot looked at him, somewhat oddly, until he realized that Snake was not with him.

"Where's Solid?" Ocelot said, his tongue slithering in the bowl of his mouth. His eyes seared with an angry curiosity, teeth bared, canines resembling fangs.

May said very slowly and calmly: "He killed the Spetsnaz and made off." Then, he just stood there looking at Ocelot. There was nothing even remotely similar to fear on his face.

"You couldn't stop him?" Ocelot said. May shook his head. "I tried," he answered, "but, like I said, he got away."

Ocelot's stare was hostile. His face muscles trembled. And then he just smiled, after having watched May so closely it seemed he was analyzing him, and turned to face Liquid. "Liquid – why don't you go check up on your big brother?"

~*~

The halls in the second wing were no different from those in the first. The walls were crumbling and decaying, the lights dim – though those in the first wing were shut off all together. But, if one thing was different, it was the temperature. The air in the past halls had stung at his flesh, prickling it with its biting cold, whereas the second wing seemed warmer. Then again, it could have been from all the running, the fierce beating of his heart, the burning desire to avenge the death of Raiden.

                Whatever was causing the change, he couldn't exactly tell, but that wasn't on his mind. He wanted his gun and then he wanted to kill someone. That was all he was concerned about - that and the clap of boots sounding somewhere around the next bend.

                Doing as he always did and avoiding hesitation, he flattened himself against the wall and slowly inched his way to the intersecting halls ahead. The clapping was coming from the hallway to his right. It was growing in both intensity and closeness. Whoever was coming didn't seem to be worried about getting caught.

~*~

He told them about what had happened at the FOX-HOUND safe house, their second meeting with Will Beck, their race to Norman Keys' apartment building, his treachery, the explosives, their escape, and their tip from Desperado to seek shelter with the Red Shirts. Brant picked up from time to time to elaborate on different parts of the story, and when they had finished, most of the men and women having moved into the room to hear it all better, the two men – the fat and the reasonable – both slouched back in their chairs. The reasonable one clicked off his Bic pen and laid it on the legal pad, remaining silent.

Then he rummaged in his pant pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and plucking one from the box before pocketing it again. The fatter man, eyes steady on Fox and Brant, pulled a lighter from his pant pocket and sparked it to life. The reasonable one held the end of his cigarette in the long flame from the lighter and then put it to his lips when the butt was glowing orange and red. The fatter man put away his lighter, the reasonable one drew on his cigarette.

They both leaned forward, then, at the exact same time, the reasonable one blowing the smoke out the side of his mouth. Taking a breath, they stared ahead for a moment longer, before the reasonable one blinked his eyes and, looking directly at Fox and Brant, sighed and said to the others…

"Get Emmerich on the phone."

~*~

"Brother?" the voice called, slithering down from the intersecting hall. Liquid, Snake thought. "Come on. Don't play games, Snake. Come out and show yourself. Let me get a look at you." The footsteps continued to come closer, Snake's beating heart accelerating as the voice of his 'brother' became more poignant. "We should sit down and have a talk – we've been apart for so long." He drew out the last word and Snake knew why.

Forcing himself forward and spinning around the corner, he found himself face to face with Liquid. And in the next quick moment, he had locked his arms around his brother's neck, and as he struggled to keep his hold tight Liquid managed to pull the SOCOM from his holster and pin it against Snake's jaw. They may have appeared unmoving from a distance, but as they stood there, holding each other with fierce grasps, their arms and legs and entire bodies fought to sway the opponent.

They stayed that way for a while, even, strung together and exhausted, gritting their teeth and tensing their muscles. And only after they both acknowledged that the other would never give in, they pressed off of each other and collapsed into each other again, this time finding themselves in a different stance. Liquid still had the gun to Snake's head and Snake still had his arms around Liquid's neck, but they couldn't have forced the other any which way if they had tried. They seemed locked there, Snake sucking air in through his teeth and Liquid grinning at their near-equal futility.

"It's good seeing you, Snake," Liquid said after a while. Snake didn't answer, just remained there in silence and listened while Liquid continued. "I'll admit I might be having a better time if I wasn't having to use your gun, but so far it's been a blast." At that moment there was a new race of footsteps coming from the hall Liquid had appeared. Snake, his eyes watching over Liquid's shoulder, saw three Spetsnaz units hurrying forward, their sub-machine guns raised and fingers poised on the triggers.

"Don't move!" one of them yelled as Liquid continued to smile brightly. Both Snakes could see the Spetsnaz coming from the way they stood, but Snake turned his head to watch down the right hallway as if judging his environment and planning out an escape.

"You don't want me to die, Snake," Liquid said. "Snap my spine and you lose your tongue. And then, I imagine, you get a few shells in the face from them. That's not the right way to go is it?" There was another pause as the Spetsnaz got closer, easily in range of firing on Snake but hesitant, worrying that Liquid may go with him. Snake breathed heavily, cursing under his breath. Damn, he thought, what now?

"Snake, you're not dumb! You know you can't die. Ocelot wants me alive. If I die here, I come right back. If you die – assuming your jaw is gone and your skull fractured to the point of disrepair – well, big brother…I wouldn't count on it."

"Maybe," Snake said, the Spetsnaz continuing to holler as they were just meters away, "but they did it for Fox. They can do it for me." And then, loosening his grip on Liquid's neck, he scooted backward and pulled his head free of his brother's aim, proceeding to twist his SOCOM from his hand and turn on his heel, starting down a new hall.

His legs pumped furiously. His heart trampled in his chest. His arms beat through the air.

And behind him, fading in the distance he covered every second – the Spetsnaz helping Liquid to his feet and beginning to run after Snake – he could hear his brother laughing. And then, after a few minutes and a few turns down new halls, he couldn't hear him at all. It wasn't until he turned through two tall swinging doors and found himself in a cavernous storage room, large crates arranged in neat rows and powerful lights grinning down on him from the tall ceiling, that he realized he now had a gun in his hand – the one thing he needed before going after the ghost that had injured his friend.

But, no sooner did he realize that than he heard a man speaking to him from behind – uttering a tone that was horrifyingly familiar to him.

"Finally – the one I've been waiting for." And as Snake moved to turn and face the voice, he felt a cold shadow appear out of nowhere. And as his eyes swept the floor before him, he saw it lay directly over his own. And he saw the two no different from each other.

He saw a shadow identical to his own.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, I said it would get done. And I warned it may take some time. And, even though I'd said that, I still can't help but feel really really terrible about never updating. I love this story, but I'm finding that I'm just too used to Snake. I feel as if I've expended his character to the point that I've got nothing new to write about him. But, seeing as the story is moving into the more climactic moments, I think I'll be able to bring out his style and skill as I usually do. And, I think that as the story gets more interesting, I'll write quicker. For anyone who continues to read this – I apologize for my struggles, but I thank you endlessly for your continued support. Keep reading and I'll do my best to keep wowing. ~ espresso de gecko