OK, by right now you are probable asking yourself what this is all about.
As I said, I think my first chapters weren't up to speed with the new ones,
and I decided to remake them. With no more to say . . .
Disclaimer: I have not created Metal Gear Solid, nor it's characters nor many concepts However, ECLIPSE is a personal creation of Mrs. Wade and myself, capiche?
tactical espionage action
METAL GEAR SOLID
--eclipse team--
By Pablo Nicolás Naso.
Editing by Simon Wolf-Gough
Created by Pablo Nicolás Naso and Sarah Wade.
New York City, United States of America, September 12th, 2009.
The feeling in the air was saturating. The combined smell of near- decomposed Pizzas, alcohol, electronic equipment and two men who had not bathed in days was enough to set a feeling of Darkness, or decadence. The atmosphere was of gloom, without any efficient way of illumination and the walls, dressed with moisture and rust. It could be said that it fitted the feeling of the people inside, that of facing a gigantic, invincible enemy.
The only light bulb hanged from a cable. They could use better, but it was better to just pretend it was a poor neighborhood's home, or a crack house. The paranoia was still in their minds, they wouldn't like to realize that the place was bugged.
Despite of the depressive look, there was something going on. The computers were always on; there was always something to see, even if it leads to another dead end, to another impenetrable side of the armor of the monster.
And that was all that it seemed. Fighting that entity, the Patriots, was an overwhelming task, not for people who gave up easily. Fortunately, they did not. It required patience, but that seemed lacking. They had tried, and the depressive atmosphere also reflected tiredness, boredom, and hopelessness. It seemed impossible.
Once, PHILANTROPY's mission had been to hunt down the Metal Gears around the world. Metal Gears, the deadliest creation of the human mind. A massive, Mobile Nuclear Launch Platform, with the ability to fire a nuclear warhead from any place to any place in the World, and with a Walking mode of transportation, allowing it to go though the most difficult terrain. They had been the object of desire of Generals and Terrorists, and the ultimate weapon. But not anymore. At the end of the day, a physical threat such as Metal Gear was nothing compared to an unsubstantial threat; an organization that didn't officially exist, an army of shadows, the La-Li-Lu- le-Lo. It was the lack of knowledge, the feeling that they were fighting blind-folded that drove you insane and made you wonder if putting a bullet into your brain could solve things. Sometimes it felt like that.
And why? All because of a promise, impossible to fulfill, but neither of them gave up that easily. Those 12 names where encrypted, to a point that not even the most powerful computers (The National Security Agency's Cray 3) would be able to decipher it.
The reason of the contributor's finding was the fact that each 12 members of the Wise men committee had a different encryption protocol; the one on the 7th member was a slightly modified version of the TAPDANCE code used by the NSA; Otacon could half-decrypt it, and fond that one of them had actually lent $1,500,000 dollars to Philanthropy in Europe. Of course, every Philanthropy contributor was anonymous, thus leading, as always, to nothing.
It was so dark, so hard; neither of them would dare to even mention a rest. It was stressing, but it had to be done. If didn't, no one would. Besides, neither of them really believed that they could get some sort of vacation. They were watched, they would always have to remember that . . . There's no walking out, everything had to be done covertly, looking over your own shoulder, whispering in the dark.
"I'm sorry, Hal, but it's impossible" if he was calling him by his real name, that meant something was going wrong. Or maybe he just wasn't in the mood to call him "Otacon"; they had never been so down.
"Snake . . . " Otacon's eyes were reprobating, as he turned from working on his PC, maybe he was reprobating his attitude, maybe to the fact that he had not shaved in half a week, maybe it was just he was just a frustrated as Snake was. "We made a promise to Olga, remember?"
"I know . . . It's just. . . " Snake never doubted what he was going to say. He was always straight-forward, Otacon dared to say cruel. "It isn't as easy as I though it would be. I told Raiden not to worry, but fuck . . ."
"Snake, we all have ups and downs . . ."
"Lately, all we had is downs. Face it, Otacon." Snake said. Otacon didn't seem to want to listen; he turned again to the PC. Snake turned around. He had been living in Hal's apartment since he found a bug (hidden below his phone) in his old home. It wasn't safe anymore. "We are fucked. Help isn't coming down from the sky"
Looking around, the rust in the walls seemed to grin, everything was so degraded it felt like the place was about to fall apart. Otacon had not called any exterminator in months, fearing they didn't kill bugs, but plant them, so it wasn't quite a surprise to see a cockroach every now and then.
"Are you giving up, Snake?" Otacon's eyes seemed disappointed again. Just looking at him in the face made you feel guilty of things you didn't even do.
"No, I'm not. But I just wanted to say that we need to search for the intelligence, not wait for it. We need to be more aggressive, Hal."
"Wait . . ." Hal interrupted, raising his hand and turning to the PC.
"E-Mail? If it's spam, I'll shoot that thing." Snake seemed in the border of a psychopathic seizure.
"No . . . Snake, this E-Mail . . . Roy Campbell?"
"Colonel . . ." Snake's voice exhaled demons, remembering traumatic past events and unfinished business.
"Wasn't him an AI?"
"It was just an imitation . . ." Snake said, more to himself than to Otacon. "Open it up."
"Ok, here it goes."
"SNAKE,
I wish I could tell this to you in person, but my current situation doesn't allow me more ways of communication than this . . . I know that your friend was fooled using my image, but the Patriots have made a deal with me . . . Snake, I know this may sound insane, but I have something to tell you. You have to come. Meet me at the Verrazano Bridge.
Your good friend, Roy."
"The bastard is still obsessed with being my friend." Snake said, while taking a Lucky Striker out his box, and looking for a match in the mess of Otacon's desk.
"Look! There's an Image file attached. Want me to open it?" Otacon asked, curiously.
"Hmmph" He responded grunting, with the not yet lit cigarette in his mouth.
The image appeared on screen. The photo showed the usual military unit photography, all posing in front of a camera. Behind the soldier's back it showed a large military field, with several white buildings around them. The faces weren't familiar to Snake. They were all young, wearing some sort of black BDU, but they did have some resemblances to people he knew. A large guy in the back, like Vulcan Raven, was holding an F249 machinegun with a single arm and upwards, not task for usual men.
Otacon's eyes caught another of these soldiers, a sniper posing in a confident stance in the left area of the frame, holding a sniper rifle upwards, and like all, a black uniform. But he looked like . . . The same piercing eyes, the wavy blond hair.
"Who are these people?" They both ask each other. Otacon asked louder, so Snake decided to answer.
"I don't know, but I have the feeling we are going to find out . . ." Snake said, getting up and going to get his jacket.
"So, are we going?" Otacon asked, standing himself.
"Otacon, this is our only lead. Campbell knows something, and I think the Patriots released him. Why? I don't know. But I'll ask."
"Suit yourself."
-- -- --
The faces still rose every time Snake closed his eyes, their eyes staring at him. What was all that about? Who were they? Now he was walking, next to Otacon, in the pedestrian walkway at the side of the bridge. It wasn't raining, but seeing the George Washington Bridge in the distance reminded him of two years before, the Tanker incident.
Now, all that was behind. He would try to push it at the back of his mind, but like all his missions; they stayed there, in his mind, playing tricks on him, making him suffer. There was a feeling of moisture in the air, and the wind grabbed his arm with its cold fingers, not a pretty feeling.
But, liked it or not, he was there, there'd be no magic way out of that, and well . . . In the distance, through the fog and the dark, three figures stood, and Snake and Otacon knew that was their company. They accelerated the march, and walked to them, standing, without letting themselves lose.
The one in the middle turned to see them; an old man, a mixture of scars and wrinkles across his face, and his eyes were losing color; Colonel Roy Campbell had seen better days. He still kept himself in shape, and looked pretty threatening for a man in his 60's.
"Snake . . . I knew you'd come."
"What's all this about, Colonel?" Snake asked, violently and straight to the point, as Campbell's escorts (wearing Ski Masks) turned to face him. Through the masks, Otacon could see the professionalism, the lack of soul.
"Snake, I've been granted the honor, of informing that you have been recruited."
"By the Patriots? Forget it! I'm not their puppet anymore!"
"No; the US Government."
"C'mon, Colonel, both of us know that there's no such thing."
"A day or two days ago I would have agreed with you." Campbell informed, showing a bit of a smile, letting Snake know he was not an enemy. "Remember the Arsenal Gear crash a few months ago?"
"How could I not? I almost drowned trying to get to Liquid . . . Seems he outran me with his RAY." Snake also wanted to show friendship to Campbell. He preferred a joke, much more informal. "What about it?" Snake's voice became grim and determined again.
"Ha! Well, Snake, the word is spreading. The GW plan was screwed, and someone within the government filtered out some information. The Patriot's security is at risk. That's why the decisions have been given to the puppets now, at least until the La-Li-Lu-Le-Lo figure out how to deal with those rumors."
"Unbelievable" Snake said, checking on Otacon, who, like Campbell's escorts, hanged off in the background.
"Yes . . . We believe this moment of weakness will open the gates to new threats." Campbell detected the look on Snake's face. "Snake, we can't keep sending one-man armies every time a Next Generation Terrorism threat appears."
"And that's why you called me. Why?"
"Snake, do you remember what happened to all the future operations planned for FOX-HOUND after the Shadow Moses incident?"
"They were given to the Delta Force and Navy SEAL, I believe."
"Snake, do you seriously believe the government is going to send regulars like the Delta Force to do wet works of that kind? Snake, that's why I want you to come with us."
"You want to rebuild FOXHOUND with me?" Snake asked, violently.
"No Snake, you got me wrong. FOX-HOUND had been trained in Irregular warfare. However, we then had to face this new wave of Next Generation Terrorism, and we need a team specifically trained to handle it. A unit capable of both irregular warfare and counterterrorism tactics."
"And why do you want me? Don't you have fresh recruits from the USSOCOM?"
"Snake, we are trying to recreate FOX-HOUND here. Up to a genetic equality, even."
"If you want my genes, get in line." Snake was clearly unimpressed by Campbell.
"Snake, we don't want your genes. We want you. We are trying to get to a genetic similarity with FOXHOUND and DEAD-CELL."
"A search like that could take years." Snake said, and Campbell nodded back.
"Yes . . . Unless you have a lead. We have been searching for carriers of the same soldier genes. Blood relatives, Snake."
"You got to be kidding."
"There's no international law that keeps us from doing that."
"And let me guess. I'm brother of both Liquid and Solidus Snake, so I have been chosen to be the leader."
"Pretty much."
"I refuse."
"What?"
"Colonel, I don't want to be a puppet. I don't want to think you are telling the truth so you can stab me in the back. Do you really think I believe you, after all that's happened? How do I know you are not a lackey for the Patriots?" Snake asked, increasingly upset, yet Campbell seemed to whisper.
"Want a proof, Snake? If I brought you to the base, you'd be one step closer to find the Patriots. Do you really think they want that? When unfound, they are invincible. But if detected" Campbell nodded. "They are vulnerable." Snake was tempted by the phrase "One step closer to find".
"OK . . ." Snake reconsidered. He would be one step closer to find Olga's child, after all. "How much to wait until we find those blood relatives?"
"No time, Snake. They are all waiting in the base."
"Where?"
"I'm not in liberty to discuss that. You'll be told soon, I promise."
". . ."
"Trust me, Snake! I'm just a figurehead here!"
"How many times have I heard you say that?"
Campbell shrugged. Many times. He wasn't exactly lying, but it was always a part of a large network of lies. Usually, to drive Snake to do something he wouldn't otherwise do.
"Snake, I'm sorry. For everything. I really am. But this has no point. If you don't come, you'll spend the rest of your days searching a way to crack the Patriot's security. If you come, I'll promise you'll have your reward."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I know you lost track of Liquid Snake. The GPS transmitter was killed by an EMP attached to RAY."
"And?"
"Snake, ECLIPSE's mission is to counter Next-Gen terrorist threats. Wouldn't that include your brother? Just imagine being able to hunt down Liquid with Patriot resources!" Campbell explained, ignoring the rain.
"I don't have much to lose, do I?" Snake asked.
"No, Snake. Trust me. Come with us. A truck is waiting for us on the mainland area of New York."
"Let's go."
-- -- --
Neither Snake or Otacon could explain in basic terms what drove them to accept. They were now within a black van, Campbell and his two Gorillas watching them. Snake decided that he would get in. Why not? Maybe Philanthropy could return to its former objective; The destruction of Metal Gear and the plans of those who used them.
The atmosphere was dark. Only one red light in the ceiling allowed to see the faces, swollen by the cold. Otacon was sleeping, and Campbell's men were again pretending they were deaf and keeping Snake from doing anything stupid. Did they really doubt the legend's self-control so much?
"Tell me about them." Snake said, sharply.
"About who, Snake?" Campbell asked. But he knew the answer.
"ECLIPSE."
Campbell's eyes went half closed. "We found one relative of each of the terrorists of Shadow Moses and Big Shell. The search was mainly about leads, interviews and psychological analysis of the terrorists. A real adventure."
"Are they trained?"
"They have undergone basic Light Infantry warfare concepts, and full Counter Terrorism manual. Each has had a basic overlook of their relative's specialties. Right now, they are doing exercises to keep in good shape until your arrival."
"And then?"
"You'll become active director and will decide about training and weapons."
"Could you tell me more about them?"
"What if you meet them?" Campbell answered. "You'll get there with your advisors. We'll pick up one, and other two are expecting you at base."
"Really?"
"Yes. I asked you to bring Dr. Emmerich because we think he might be your CTHA"
"CTHA?"
"Chief Technical Advisor. He'll brief you on equipment, communications and hacking."
"Pretty much what he did for me back in Philanthropy."
"Yes. The one we are picking up is a one . . ." Campbell checked the list. "William Sharp. He's a Colonel with the National Security Agency. I heard he's an expert in unofficial warfare and intelligence gathering. He'll be your acting CSA. We're picking him up soon."
"Chief Strategic Advisor, huh?"
"Yes. The other ones are CTA (Chief Tactical Advisor) and CPA (Chief Psychological advisor.)"
"Any other?"
"We'll later choose your CMA (Chief Medical Advisor), CWA (Chief Weaponry Advisor), and CIntA (Chief Intelligence Advisor). Not too soon, but after your first mission you should have acting officers."
"Where are we going?" Snake asked.
"I told you. First we pick up Sharp. Then, we'll head directly into the ECLIPSE team Headquarters."
Snake seemed to drop, It was late, and his eyes started to close. The tension kept him up, he knew he couldn't sleep, but the sensation was too powerful. He was genetically engineered, how could he feel so weak? He started to fall asleep, but Snake's mind was unnaturally awakened. Before closing at the mysterious Narcolepsy, he noticed why.
He had a Tranquilizer dart sticking from his stomach, and one of Campbell's men had fired his weapon, an M9-T. Seemed the model became very popular after the USS Discovery incident. That was his last thought as he fell into the lands of evil his nightmares were.
-- -- -- -- -- --
Author's note: Liked it? Tell me if you want the next chapters remade, and I'll obey. I'll answer a review I got, and I couldn't respond due to it's "anonymous" nature::
What you said about the disorganization is partly true. Special Forces are all about synchrony. However, in real life, Spec Ops practice much more improvisation than originally planned. Besides, ECLIPSE isn't your average Spec Ops unit, is it?
About the RPG7, it is true. I only found out after the chapter was uploaded. I'm extremely sorry for the mistake. However, it isn't impossible for an RPG to take down a helicopter. Watch "Black Hawk Down" if you don't believe me.
M16. I forgot to say they were M16A2. I again apologize.
The G3/SG-1. You said it was smaller, but not small. I never said it was small. I just said "small enough to carry around". About the rifles you recommended, I don't like neither of them. I'm trying to give ECLIPSE a stylish look, and the WA2000 is the most horrible gun I have ever seen. I still appreciate the recommendations.
Have anymore mistakes of mine? Ask away! If you want an effective
response, ask through my E-Mail pablonasociudad.com.ar.
And please, I'd really thank longer reviews. I try to improve, and your
criticisms help. Besides, I want to know each of your favorite character.
Disclaimer: I have not created Metal Gear Solid, nor it's characters nor many concepts However, ECLIPSE is a personal creation of Mrs. Wade and myself, capiche?
tactical espionage action
METAL GEAR SOLID
--eclipse team--
By Pablo Nicolás Naso.
Editing by Simon Wolf-Gough
Created by Pablo Nicolás Naso and Sarah Wade.
New York City, United States of America, September 12th, 2009.
The feeling in the air was saturating. The combined smell of near- decomposed Pizzas, alcohol, electronic equipment and two men who had not bathed in days was enough to set a feeling of Darkness, or decadence. The atmosphere was of gloom, without any efficient way of illumination and the walls, dressed with moisture and rust. It could be said that it fitted the feeling of the people inside, that of facing a gigantic, invincible enemy.
The only light bulb hanged from a cable. They could use better, but it was better to just pretend it was a poor neighborhood's home, or a crack house. The paranoia was still in their minds, they wouldn't like to realize that the place was bugged.
Despite of the depressive look, there was something going on. The computers were always on; there was always something to see, even if it leads to another dead end, to another impenetrable side of the armor of the monster.
And that was all that it seemed. Fighting that entity, the Patriots, was an overwhelming task, not for people who gave up easily. Fortunately, they did not. It required patience, but that seemed lacking. They had tried, and the depressive atmosphere also reflected tiredness, boredom, and hopelessness. It seemed impossible.
Once, PHILANTROPY's mission had been to hunt down the Metal Gears around the world. Metal Gears, the deadliest creation of the human mind. A massive, Mobile Nuclear Launch Platform, with the ability to fire a nuclear warhead from any place to any place in the World, and with a Walking mode of transportation, allowing it to go though the most difficult terrain. They had been the object of desire of Generals and Terrorists, and the ultimate weapon. But not anymore. At the end of the day, a physical threat such as Metal Gear was nothing compared to an unsubstantial threat; an organization that didn't officially exist, an army of shadows, the La-Li-Lu- le-Lo. It was the lack of knowledge, the feeling that they were fighting blind-folded that drove you insane and made you wonder if putting a bullet into your brain could solve things. Sometimes it felt like that.
And why? All because of a promise, impossible to fulfill, but neither of them gave up that easily. Those 12 names where encrypted, to a point that not even the most powerful computers (The National Security Agency's Cray 3) would be able to decipher it.
The reason of the contributor's finding was the fact that each 12 members of the Wise men committee had a different encryption protocol; the one on the 7th member was a slightly modified version of the TAPDANCE code used by the NSA; Otacon could half-decrypt it, and fond that one of them had actually lent $1,500,000 dollars to Philanthropy in Europe. Of course, every Philanthropy contributor was anonymous, thus leading, as always, to nothing.
It was so dark, so hard; neither of them would dare to even mention a rest. It was stressing, but it had to be done. If didn't, no one would. Besides, neither of them really believed that they could get some sort of vacation. They were watched, they would always have to remember that . . . There's no walking out, everything had to be done covertly, looking over your own shoulder, whispering in the dark.
"I'm sorry, Hal, but it's impossible" if he was calling him by his real name, that meant something was going wrong. Or maybe he just wasn't in the mood to call him "Otacon"; they had never been so down.
"Snake . . . " Otacon's eyes were reprobating, as he turned from working on his PC, maybe he was reprobating his attitude, maybe to the fact that he had not shaved in half a week, maybe it was just he was just a frustrated as Snake was. "We made a promise to Olga, remember?"
"I know . . . It's just. . . " Snake never doubted what he was going to say. He was always straight-forward, Otacon dared to say cruel. "It isn't as easy as I though it would be. I told Raiden not to worry, but fuck . . ."
"Snake, we all have ups and downs . . ."
"Lately, all we had is downs. Face it, Otacon." Snake said. Otacon didn't seem to want to listen; he turned again to the PC. Snake turned around. He had been living in Hal's apartment since he found a bug (hidden below his phone) in his old home. It wasn't safe anymore. "We are fucked. Help isn't coming down from the sky"
Looking around, the rust in the walls seemed to grin, everything was so degraded it felt like the place was about to fall apart. Otacon had not called any exterminator in months, fearing they didn't kill bugs, but plant them, so it wasn't quite a surprise to see a cockroach every now and then.
"Are you giving up, Snake?" Otacon's eyes seemed disappointed again. Just looking at him in the face made you feel guilty of things you didn't even do.
"No, I'm not. But I just wanted to say that we need to search for the intelligence, not wait for it. We need to be more aggressive, Hal."
"Wait . . ." Hal interrupted, raising his hand and turning to the PC.
"E-Mail? If it's spam, I'll shoot that thing." Snake seemed in the border of a psychopathic seizure.
"No . . . Snake, this E-Mail . . . Roy Campbell?"
"Colonel . . ." Snake's voice exhaled demons, remembering traumatic past events and unfinished business.
"Wasn't him an AI?"
"It was just an imitation . . ." Snake said, more to himself than to Otacon. "Open it up."
"Ok, here it goes."
"SNAKE,
I wish I could tell this to you in person, but my current situation doesn't allow me more ways of communication than this . . . I know that your friend was fooled using my image, but the Patriots have made a deal with me . . . Snake, I know this may sound insane, but I have something to tell you. You have to come. Meet me at the Verrazano Bridge.
Your good friend, Roy."
"The bastard is still obsessed with being my friend." Snake said, while taking a Lucky Striker out his box, and looking for a match in the mess of Otacon's desk.
"Look! There's an Image file attached. Want me to open it?" Otacon asked, curiously.
"Hmmph" He responded grunting, with the not yet lit cigarette in his mouth.
The image appeared on screen. The photo showed the usual military unit photography, all posing in front of a camera. Behind the soldier's back it showed a large military field, with several white buildings around them. The faces weren't familiar to Snake. They were all young, wearing some sort of black BDU, but they did have some resemblances to people he knew. A large guy in the back, like Vulcan Raven, was holding an F249 machinegun with a single arm and upwards, not task for usual men.
Otacon's eyes caught another of these soldiers, a sniper posing in a confident stance in the left area of the frame, holding a sniper rifle upwards, and like all, a black uniform. But he looked like . . . The same piercing eyes, the wavy blond hair.
"Who are these people?" They both ask each other. Otacon asked louder, so Snake decided to answer.
"I don't know, but I have the feeling we are going to find out . . ." Snake said, getting up and going to get his jacket.
"So, are we going?" Otacon asked, standing himself.
"Otacon, this is our only lead. Campbell knows something, and I think the Patriots released him. Why? I don't know. But I'll ask."
"Suit yourself."
-- -- --
The faces still rose every time Snake closed his eyes, their eyes staring at him. What was all that about? Who were they? Now he was walking, next to Otacon, in the pedestrian walkway at the side of the bridge. It wasn't raining, but seeing the George Washington Bridge in the distance reminded him of two years before, the Tanker incident.
Now, all that was behind. He would try to push it at the back of his mind, but like all his missions; they stayed there, in his mind, playing tricks on him, making him suffer. There was a feeling of moisture in the air, and the wind grabbed his arm with its cold fingers, not a pretty feeling.
But, liked it or not, he was there, there'd be no magic way out of that, and well . . . In the distance, through the fog and the dark, three figures stood, and Snake and Otacon knew that was their company. They accelerated the march, and walked to them, standing, without letting themselves lose.
The one in the middle turned to see them; an old man, a mixture of scars and wrinkles across his face, and his eyes were losing color; Colonel Roy Campbell had seen better days. He still kept himself in shape, and looked pretty threatening for a man in his 60's.
"Snake . . . I knew you'd come."
"What's all this about, Colonel?" Snake asked, violently and straight to the point, as Campbell's escorts (wearing Ski Masks) turned to face him. Through the masks, Otacon could see the professionalism, the lack of soul.
"Snake, I've been granted the honor, of informing that you have been recruited."
"By the Patriots? Forget it! I'm not their puppet anymore!"
"No; the US Government."
"C'mon, Colonel, both of us know that there's no such thing."
"A day or two days ago I would have agreed with you." Campbell informed, showing a bit of a smile, letting Snake know he was not an enemy. "Remember the Arsenal Gear crash a few months ago?"
"How could I not? I almost drowned trying to get to Liquid . . . Seems he outran me with his RAY." Snake also wanted to show friendship to Campbell. He preferred a joke, much more informal. "What about it?" Snake's voice became grim and determined again.
"Ha! Well, Snake, the word is spreading. The GW plan was screwed, and someone within the government filtered out some information. The Patriot's security is at risk. That's why the decisions have been given to the puppets now, at least until the La-Li-Lu-Le-Lo figure out how to deal with those rumors."
"Unbelievable" Snake said, checking on Otacon, who, like Campbell's escorts, hanged off in the background.
"Yes . . . We believe this moment of weakness will open the gates to new threats." Campbell detected the look on Snake's face. "Snake, we can't keep sending one-man armies every time a Next Generation Terrorism threat appears."
"And that's why you called me. Why?"
"Snake, do you remember what happened to all the future operations planned for FOX-HOUND after the Shadow Moses incident?"
"They were given to the Delta Force and Navy SEAL, I believe."
"Snake, do you seriously believe the government is going to send regulars like the Delta Force to do wet works of that kind? Snake, that's why I want you to come with us."
"You want to rebuild FOXHOUND with me?" Snake asked, violently.
"No Snake, you got me wrong. FOX-HOUND had been trained in Irregular warfare. However, we then had to face this new wave of Next Generation Terrorism, and we need a team specifically trained to handle it. A unit capable of both irregular warfare and counterterrorism tactics."
"And why do you want me? Don't you have fresh recruits from the USSOCOM?"
"Snake, we are trying to recreate FOX-HOUND here. Up to a genetic equality, even."
"If you want my genes, get in line." Snake was clearly unimpressed by Campbell.
"Snake, we don't want your genes. We want you. We are trying to get to a genetic similarity with FOXHOUND and DEAD-CELL."
"A search like that could take years." Snake said, and Campbell nodded back.
"Yes . . . Unless you have a lead. We have been searching for carriers of the same soldier genes. Blood relatives, Snake."
"You got to be kidding."
"There's no international law that keeps us from doing that."
"And let me guess. I'm brother of both Liquid and Solidus Snake, so I have been chosen to be the leader."
"Pretty much."
"I refuse."
"What?"
"Colonel, I don't want to be a puppet. I don't want to think you are telling the truth so you can stab me in the back. Do you really think I believe you, after all that's happened? How do I know you are not a lackey for the Patriots?" Snake asked, increasingly upset, yet Campbell seemed to whisper.
"Want a proof, Snake? If I brought you to the base, you'd be one step closer to find the Patriots. Do you really think they want that? When unfound, they are invincible. But if detected" Campbell nodded. "They are vulnerable." Snake was tempted by the phrase "One step closer to find".
"OK . . ." Snake reconsidered. He would be one step closer to find Olga's child, after all. "How much to wait until we find those blood relatives?"
"No time, Snake. They are all waiting in the base."
"Where?"
"I'm not in liberty to discuss that. You'll be told soon, I promise."
". . ."
"Trust me, Snake! I'm just a figurehead here!"
"How many times have I heard you say that?"
Campbell shrugged. Many times. He wasn't exactly lying, but it was always a part of a large network of lies. Usually, to drive Snake to do something he wouldn't otherwise do.
"Snake, I'm sorry. For everything. I really am. But this has no point. If you don't come, you'll spend the rest of your days searching a way to crack the Patriot's security. If you come, I'll promise you'll have your reward."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I know you lost track of Liquid Snake. The GPS transmitter was killed by an EMP attached to RAY."
"And?"
"Snake, ECLIPSE's mission is to counter Next-Gen terrorist threats. Wouldn't that include your brother? Just imagine being able to hunt down Liquid with Patriot resources!" Campbell explained, ignoring the rain.
"I don't have much to lose, do I?" Snake asked.
"No, Snake. Trust me. Come with us. A truck is waiting for us on the mainland area of New York."
"Let's go."
-- -- --
Neither Snake or Otacon could explain in basic terms what drove them to accept. They were now within a black van, Campbell and his two Gorillas watching them. Snake decided that he would get in. Why not? Maybe Philanthropy could return to its former objective; The destruction of Metal Gear and the plans of those who used them.
The atmosphere was dark. Only one red light in the ceiling allowed to see the faces, swollen by the cold. Otacon was sleeping, and Campbell's men were again pretending they were deaf and keeping Snake from doing anything stupid. Did they really doubt the legend's self-control so much?
"Tell me about them." Snake said, sharply.
"About who, Snake?" Campbell asked. But he knew the answer.
"ECLIPSE."
Campbell's eyes went half closed. "We found one relative of each of the terrorists of Shadow Moses and Big Shell. The search was mainly about leads, interviews and psychological analysis of the terrorists. A real adventure."
"Are they trained?"
"They have undergone basic Light Infantry warfare concepts, and full Counter Terrorism manual. Each has had a basic overlook of their relative's specialties. Right now, they are doing exercises to keep in good shape until your arrival."
"And then?"
"You'll become active director and will decide about training and weapons."
"Could you tell me more about them?"
"What if you meet them?" Campbell answered. "You'll get there with your advisors. We'll pick up one, and other two are expecting you at base."
"Really?"
"Yes. I asked you to bring Dr. Emmerich because we think he might be your CTHA"
"CTHA?"
"Chief Technical Advisor. He'll brief you on equipment, communications and hacking."
"Pretty much what he did for me back in Philanthropy."
"Yes. The one we are picking up is a one . . ." Campbell checked the list. "William Sharp. He's a Colonel with the National Security Agency. I heard he's an expert in unofficial warfare and intelligence gathering. He'll be your acting CSA. We're picking him up soon."
"Chief Strategic Advisor, huh?"
"Yes. The other ones are CTA (Chief Tactical Advisor) and CPA (Chief Psychological advisor.)"
"Any other?"
"We'll later choose your CMA (Chief Medical Advisor), CWA (Chief Weaponry Advisor), and CIntA (Chief Intelligence Advisor). Not too soon, but after your first mission you should have acting officers."
"Where are we going?" Snake asked.
"I told you. First we pick up Sharp. Then, we'll head directly into the ECLIPSE team Headquarters."
Snake seemed to drop, It was late, and his eyes started to close. The tension kept him up, he knew he couldn't sleep, but the sensation was too powerful. He was genetically engineered, how could he feel so weak? He started to fall asleep, but Snake's mind was unnaturally awakened. Before closing at the mysterious Narcolepsy, he noticed why.
He had a Tranquilizer dart sticking from his stomach, and one of Campbell's men had fired his weapon, an M9-T. Seemed the model became very popular after the USS Discovery incident. That was his last thought as he fell into the lands of evil his nightmares were.
-- -- -- -- -- --
Author's note: Liked it? Tell me if you want the next chapters remade, and I'll obey. I'll answer a review I got, and I couldn't respond due to it's "anonymous" nature::
What you said about the disorganization is partly true. Special Forces are all about synchrony. However, in real life, Spec Ops practice much more improvisation than originally planned. Besides, ECLIPSE isn't your average Spec Ops unit, is it?
About the RPG7, it is true. I only found out after the chapter was uploaded. I'm extremely sorry for the mistake. However, it isn't impossible for an RPG to take down a helicopter. Watch "Black Hawk Down" if you don't believe me.
M16. I forgot to say they were M16A2. I again apologize.
The G3/SG-1. You said it was smaller, but not small. I never said it was small. I just said "small enough to carry around". About the rifles you recommended, I don't like neither of them. I'm trying to give ECLIPSE a stylish look, and the WA2000 is the most horrible gun I have ever seen. I still appreciate the recommendations.
Have anymore mistakes of mine? Ask away! If you want an effective
response, ask through my E-Mail pablonasociudad.com.ar.
And please, I'd really thank longer reviews. I try to improve, and your
criticisms help. Besides, I want to know each of your favorite character.
