chapter THIRTY-TWO: The Selfish Gene
"The A: Objective had been and integral part of the Cold War, but one largely unrecognized by the public. Only well-off government officials had any knowledge of the on-goings, but there was a whole history to the Cold War that the public would never know. Stories that founded relationships and the state of the world today were largely due to some of the things that happened in the A: Objective. In fact, one of the most important pieces in the puzzle of the Snake clones was derived there. Something that would answer a lot."
~*~
Liquid struggled to stand, his leg defiant and the blood running steadfastly from his ankle. The bullet had shaved one side of his bone and torn through his tendons. The pain was unbelievable, but he steadied himself, his weight lying predominantly on the uninjured leg, and went as quickly as he could down the hall. It was new to him, but as he went along something seemed familiar. The lights or the walls or the sound his footsteps made. Something about the environment struck him as nostalgic.
Through the swinging doors came Spectral, his pace slow and calm. Liquid heard him coming up from behind and tried to move quicker, but his ankle would not allow it. Instead, he continued to hobble, sweat beading on his forehead, hair sticking to his skin. His heart was beating wildly, but he managed to remain cool on the outside. Not once did he, frightened, turn his head over his shoulder to check where Spectral was, but even if he had he would only see the still air, the same hall, and the trail of blood that seeped from his ankle still.
And so, as Spectral began to taunt him with words, he did not go any slower or faster. He kept his pace, stomached the pain, and made the grip on his SOCOM firm. "You're injured," he said, his voice so similar to Snake's. Though it could never be seen, he wore a crooked grin as he followed Liquid, simply walking after his prey. "I would have gotten father, but…he really should come last. You, on the other hand – how could I pass up the opportunity?"
Liquid didn't try to understand. All he wanted was to leave this hallway alive and see Snake again. Their duel had been interrupted. He wanted to finish.
Squeezing once more on the handle of his SOCOM, he let his legs collapse and turned as he fell down through the air. His SOCOM aimed somewhere behind him and, frantically, he unloaded it in that direction. Shot after shot – crack after crack – only the softened walls felt the impact, exploding as each bullet dug a hole in it. And when the ammo was expended, his grip loosening and the gun dropping onto the floor, he felt the cold touch of a gun press against his forehead. But Spectral was invisible, still.
"I think you would be 'uncle' to me," Spectral began. "Technically, you're not really, but Snake isn't 'technically' my father, either." Liquid swallowed and tried to put on a resistant smile, something to show Spectral that he didn't care what happened. But, all that showed was a sour cringe and a slight confusion in the arch of his eyebrows. "I came from a tube just like you, or…maybe not just like you. The methods of the United States are far more refined than those that the Soviets used when you became."
"Isn't it so strange that you will die here? Ironic, almost."
And then, there was a gun shot.
~*~
Snake busted through the swinging doors, running as fast as his legs would allow. He thought briefly of what he had last seen of Liquid – his ankle imbedded with lead, his dive through the doors on the opposite side of the room. He was weakened now. He could take care of him quickly. But Spectral was somewhere. Surely, though, he would be after Liquid as well.
When Snake came to the same intersection of halls, where he and Liquid had first run into each other, he turned down the right hallway and sprinted, AK still in the crook of his right arm and his finger still weighing slightly on the trigger.
Everything went by so quickly – too quickly for him to think or to watch. He had to reach Liquid before Spectral did. He had to.
At the next intersection he turned right again and started down that hall. It ran parallel to the one he had come down after exiting the storage room. This hall was connected to the doors Liquid had come out of. He noticed this, was sure of this, when he heard the voices somewhere ahead, and as soon as he heard them he ducked and laid flat on his stomach. The poor lighting was to his advantage – he could see them, but they could hardly see him, no light overtop of him.
Liquid was crumpled on the floor, his head up and facing the opposite direction, a stillness to his awkward stature that meant he wasn't still down because it was the best vantage point he could find to defend himself. Snake's SOCOM was discarded by his side. This was bad news to Snake.
"I think you would be 'uncle' to me," he heard Spectral say. Slowly, he crawled closer, remembering to stay in the dimmest light. "Technically, you're not really, but Snake isn't 'technically' my father, either." Snake realized how much he hated hearing Spectral speak when he mentioned him in his words. Mentioned him with that voice that was his own. That voice, that face, that person – all stolen from him.
"I came from a tube just like you, or…maybe not just like you. The methods of the United States are far more refined than those that the Soviets used when you became." And at that, Snake was angry. He was furious. All that he could see in his mind was the strand of DNA he had found on the computer in the first wing of Trinket, the face of Spectral staring into his eyes and calling him father, the scene of Liquid tumbling through the swinging doors and fighting to stand.
"Isn't it so strange that you will die here? Ironic, almost." And at that very moment Snake sprung off of the floor and raised his AK high, aiming it just above Liquid's head. But, before he could press down on the trigger he felt something pull at his right shoulder and then he felt a slice of pain and a cracking of bone and then – after all that – he heard a SOCOM blast from ahead.
When he winced, his arm failing on him, Spectral appeared ahead of Liquid and Liquid ducked, swung out his uninjured leg, and kicked him off his feet and into the air. As Snake moved the AK into his left arm, the pain destroying his right, Liquid made to stand and Spectral fell heavily on his back, the first of his two SOCOMs falling out of his hand.
Snake took aim, Spectral looked at him in surprise and in horror, and Liquid grabbed the SOCOM Spectral had dropped and held it on his face. Snake and Liquid both looked at each other and then at Spectral.
"Take the other one," Snake said to Liquid, who then pulled the second SOCOM from Spectral's holster and aimed it, also, at his face.
"Why are you calling me 'father'?" Snake began, his glare stinging like the bullet in his arm. Spectral didn't struggle, just laid there on his back and laughed a little. Then, composing himself, he answered with the same gruffness as Snake, a smile on his face.
"Well, you see – it's actually very interesting."
~*~
"Here's something," Dennis said, pulling a file out of one of the file cabinets and laying it on his lap as he took a seat by the desk with the single computer terminal. Opening it and sifting through the papers inside, his eyes grew heavy and burdened. There was something there.
Looking up at Desperado, he nodded, and Desperado pulled out his cell phone.
~*~
Fox and Brant had fit headsets over their ears and had taken seats in the main room, sitting before the control panel and watching the television screens and computer monitors as the Red Shirts went about their work. The fat man and the reasonable man came up from behind and tapped Fox on the shoulder. Both of them turned around in their chairs and pulled the headsets from their ears.
"We ran up your backgrounds – didn't find much on you," the reasonable one said, nodding to Fox who smiled and nodded.
"You shouldn't," he answered.
"Regardless, you're allowed to use any of our resources to keep in contact and to command Solid Snake in Trinket. We've been trying to reach Raiden for some time now, but he hasn't been responding. Before you go through with anything, though, run it by the two of us. We've been dealing with Trinket for the past three days – gathering background, doing anything we could to get an idea as to what our man is going through. Just so happened, your guy ended up at the same place."
"You were working with Raiden?" Fox asked. The reasonable one nodded.
"For the past year or so, yes. Good kid. You know him?"
"We've had a couple of run-ins in the past," Fox smiled. The reasonable man nodded and the fat man, seemingly impatient or annoyed, grunted. That was the exact moment Brant's cell phone started ringing.
Most of the room fell silent as he pulled it from his pocket and flipped it open. Pressing it to his ear and waiting for the connection to take, he said cautiously: "Hello?"
~*~
The information is blurred here. Sources have told varying stories, usually throwing in too much insight to make good sense. The way that it happened, though, was simpler than it seemed. Desperado lifted the file from Dennis' lap and started reading over the phone.
"During the A: Objective the United States was in a state of heightened alert. Troubles with Cuba were beginning to ignite. The Cold War was growing tense. And behind enemy lines the A: Objective was being carried out without the public informed. Everything was secret. Nothing was supposed to get out.
"There was a young member of the United States military. His abilities were tempered to the extreme and he was believed, by many, to be one of the most refined soldiers in the military. When men were picked for the A: Objective he was one of the first to go up on the list.
"In the winter of 1964 he went into action. He was given an alias, the proper passports, all the fake background he needed to get along in a new world. When he was flown over to Russia he landed in Noril'sk and set up a life for himself. He spent three years building a structure for his life. In 1967 he heard from the United States.
"He had a target – it was Trinket.
"Two months after hearing from the States he received more detailed information on the facility's whereabouts, the on-goings within its walls, and the actual blueprints. He had everything he needed at that point and after a few weeks of preparation and of studying the blueprints and memorizing the guard posts and their tendencies he was ready to go in.
"What is believed and accepted by most is that on the night of February 5th, 1968 – some reports estimated in the earlier days of January or the later days of February – he entered the facility and found evidence of something the United States had been trying to find information on for quite some time. Within Trinket he found experiments in nuclear energy, psychokinetic control, mind-reading, chemical and biological warfare, advanced missile launching systems, surveillance mechanisms, and cloning.
"He took pictures, imprinted what he couldn't fit onto a camera in his brain, and made to leave. Before he had made it back to the first floor of the building he was caught and captured.
"He dropped off the edge of the earth. Russia was outraged, but they couldn't speak of it without alighting rumors about Trinket and what was housed there. They kept quite, but raised the stakes on the international scale. They were ready to go to war with the United States.
"Something funny about all this was that they never knew that the man came from the United States at all. He didn't carry anything that would lead him back there and he never spoke up about it. All they had were the initials of his full Russian alias – K.I.N.G.
"No more than two weeks later another American man, one also living in Noril'sk, one who had come to Russia three weeks after KING and started a life for himself under a fake identification, was contacted by U.S. officials and given detailed information on a young Spetsnaz employed at Trinket as a guard. He was the only son of a retired but highly-respected GRU member who had also settled at Trinket and currently ran the security of the facility. The GRU member was called General Ivan. His son was Shalashaska – and would also carry his father's name in his later years. And the other American man went by Desperado – a title assigned to him while he was serving in the United States military."
By this time in the telling, Desperado had strayed away from what was on the paper before him and began speaking exactly how he remembered it. His voice was detached, his gaze straight ahead or shuttered by his closed eyelids. His hand hardly gripped the phone.
"Sometime in March I met with Ocelot. He wasn't fit for a Spetsnaz – at least not yet. When we spoke he was cocky and foolish. His old man's popularity had boosted him up on a pedestal, explaining his rank as Spetsnaz. My objective was to get Big Boss – KING, whatever you want to call him – out of Russian hands. The government wanted to know what was happening inside that base. They wanted it bad."
"The American agent Desperado worked a deal with Shalashaska. In return for fifty thousand U.S. dollars, money Desperado had been awarded for negotiation purposes from the United States, Shalashaska insured that KING would be released. Two nights later the two met again at the same place."
"Ocelot was calm. Big Boss, on the other hand, looked hardly alive. His face was swollen, cuts up and down his cheeks. There was blood smeared everywhere that his skin would show. He was mostly hidden under a heavy coat I imagine Ocelot gave to him. I was apprehensive of the trade, but took Big Boss and handed over the money." Desperado closed his eyes and sighed.
"Ocelot and I didn't talk for another thirty years. I got Big Boss back to the States – we were both pulled out of Russia and returned immediately. I got my old home and the government got their old hero – and an outline of Trinket in its entirety. He was even responsible for information on the star project going on over there…Metal Gear. The old guy had it all up in his head – never said a word to the Russian interrogators, just kept running everything through his mind.
"He didn't turn out so great, I guess, but he was a fighter. When he saw that Gear he fell in love. He wanted to go back all along – he wanted it for the longest time. And I'm willing to bet that he hasn't changed a bit."
~*~
"There was more, though," Spectral choked. He was still on his back, three guns aimed at him. Snake stepped closer, kneeling beside him and speaking quietly into his ear. "Why don't you tell us, then?" he asked, and Spectral winced, his body wanting to lash out and strangle Snake and Liquid at the same time, but his better judgment sustaining him.
"After a few days interrogations seemed useless. They weren't going to get anything out of him. No names, no places, no plans – nothing. He was keeping quiet and that wasn't going to change." Spectral was speaking slowly, as if trying to stall for backup, but all three of them knew that none were coming. "So they inducted him and threw him into one of their 'experiments.'
"At the time, cloning was a subject that was gathering a lot of interest. It was considered impossible by most, but so many things happened here that no one could have dreamed possible. The powers that be in America knew that something was happening here. They knew that they were years behind in research and development for technological industries when compared to the Soviet Union. And so, they stole for it. They sent the Boss over and got what they could – but Russia got a little trinket from it as well."
Snake was growing tired of waiting – waiting for Spectral to finish, but stood by, anticipating the resolve. And then Spectral sighed and then grinned.
"Russia got you."
"The Russian method for cloning was archaic at best. In fact, it required what was known as the Selfish Gene. The Boss happened to have just that. Bodies of those dead or alive were drained of their blood and preserved for the experiment. Small amounts of the Boss' blood – and the DNA that was crystallized within it and every other fiber of his body – were transferred to nearly thirty of these pre-preserved bodies. That was all that they needed. The Selfish Gene did the rest.
"In theory this gene had the ability to spawn from itself, building a duplicate and taking control of whatever it inhabited. It worked through the corpses quickly, building an entire nervous system, organs, cells, veins, a brain, and even remodeling the physical attributes of that person. Almost thirty of these 'shells' were brought to life, but only three of them survived the resurgence. I'll leave it up to put that one together.
"According to sciences investigating the Selfish Gene, it would continue to duplicate, but would, in some instances, never produce an exact replica. The results of the Boss' cloning were unique in that one subject did come out bearing the exact same DNA as the Boss. Only one.
"Two of you were more like flukes – your DNA was so similar that only extensive research could find you false. The third – that was the cream of the crop. A success of science and of theory and of ideals. Which one of you might that be?"
Snake jumped forward, grabbing at Spectral's throat and pressing the barrel of the AK against his temple. There was a fierceness in his gaze, a savage brutality captured in the glaze of his eyes. "Who the hell is it?!" he hollered. Liquid had stepped back, but was watching intently. "You know! Which one?!" Spectral looked him in the eye calmly, but seemed disturbed by Snake's reaction. He didn't expect to see that from him.
"The obvious answer has been in front of you forever!" Spectral said. "You should know this all ready. You should know it!" Just then, the dim lights overhead began to flicker and die out, their tint changing when they blinked back on. The hall was set aflame with flashing red bulbs, a siren sounding and the intercom calling to anyone who could hear it.
With an automated voice – one distorted and mismatched – the message was made sound: "Metal Gear Activating...Resources Loading…All Units Stand-by…Evacuate Test Field." Snake looked sharply at Liquid and then turned back to Spectral. "They're activating it all ready?!"
Spectral shrugged his shoulders. "They're crazy enough, aren't they?" Liquid swooped down and pulled Spectral onto his feet. Snake stepped back and looked down the hallway. "Though it doesn't make sense," Spectral continued, calling Liquid and Snake's attention back to him. "I didn't think they had the means to activate it yet. But…no," he said, for the first time showing disbelief, for the first time showing sign of humanity. "Either shoot me, let me go, or follow me, because if we're not there soon we're all as good as dead."
"What do you mean?" Snake questioned, and Spectral looked at him, stepping a little closer and staring deeply into his eyes.
"I have a duty to uphold here, and if you don't let me take care of it then we are all going to die. Simple." Snake and Liquid looked at each other. "All Units Stand-by…Evacuate Test Field…Metal Gear Activating…"
"Fine," Snake said, grabbing Spectral harshly by the arm. "Lead the way. And don't slow us down."
And with that, Snake, Liquid, and Spectral all started swiftly down the hall, the lights still flashing red, the voice still sounding dully. And as they ran, both of them thought they had that gene in them. And both of them wished they didn't. But whoever had it, it was beyond their control.
The Selfish Gene chose them. It was not the other way around.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Whelp, I'm trying to keep up here. There are probably only four chapters left – maybe three. Some more questions will be answered in the next one, and I expect some fun Moscow action with Otacon. There's a lot to cover and not much time to do it. I said it many chapters ago, but I will say it again (and this time I REALLY mean it) – we are into the best stuff now. The climaxes are coming – and coming fast. ~ espresso