Chapter 4: First blood
2650 Wisconsin Avenue, Washington D.C., Russian embassy, United States of America, 100 Hours.
The strike had to be successful, was his first thought, as he inserted a fresh magazine into his CZ Skorpion Sub-machinegun. The car advanced through the night, silently, entering the Russian embassy's grounds. The guard, who had his AN-94 pointed towards heaven, saluted the car, and then gave a stop signal.
The driver shifted the direction of the car, and stopped next to the guard.
"Tovarish Colonel" the guard said, with a characteristic Russian accent. "I require your documentation."
"Sure, comrade" The driver said, and took out his documentation, old papers written in Russian. The guard took them and started reading them. That gave the driver's partner time to look at the Embassy. A boring square building, typical of Soviet design. It was illuminated by reflectors at ground level, giving it a weird brightness, the walls were white. That, combined to the reflectors, allowed it to be visible in the night. Light poured out of the windows, the embassy was fully functional. His thoughts were interrupted by the guard's voice.
"Hang on a second! This documentation expired in 1993!"
"I'm so sorry, comrade. I'll give you the new papers right away." He got his hand inside his pocket, but no paper came out this time: Rather a silenced Makarov PMM, calibre 9x 18mm, the Russian version of the German Walther PKK. The guard's eyes looked like plates, while the driver pulled the trigger.
The bullet hit right between the guard's right eye and the lower part of his nose. Point-blank range, the bullet opened its way into the guard's brain, turning his grey matter into a liquid, which was ejected from the back of his head, whole the bullet had left after crossing his head. The guard fell silent.
"There you go, comrade." He said, laughing, and then taking out a cell phone. "This is entry team. Guard eliminated. Proceed."
The passenger could hear the sound of an engine: Effectively, a truck entered the grounds, high speed and without any considerations to the signs. It stopped, and a man walked out of the truck: He was wearing dark cloths, hard to see in the night, but the Passenger didn't recognise him: After all, all facial features were hidden by a woollen balaclava. He had a Makarov in hand. He waked towards the back of his truck, and opened it.
The doors were opened, and between eight and twelve men jumped out: Wearing Urban Pattern Camouflage trousers and Kevlar vests over their uniforms. The last thing he noticed, though, was their weapons: Kalashnikov assault rifles. And all of them wearing the same black woollen balaclavas, some wearing a red beret, which had a symbol on it: The golden Hammer and Sickle, over a red background: The symbol of the Communist Party.
He looked for a final time to the ID badge of the driver. It read in Russian: "We are the sword and shield of the Party", and over it "Committee of State Security". Translated to Russian, those words form an abbreviation: KGB.
"Let's move it, Comrade" He said, as he opened the door and walked out.
---
Inside, the discussion was friendly. The group of Russians were really engaging in a conversation with their American counter-parts. Most of them were Capitalists, Russian exiles, who ran away from the Soviet dictatorship, and were now representing the modern Russia in front of its former enemy, the United States of America.
"So, Andrei, what's the biggest thing to change now that Russia is turning to the free market?" One of the Americans asked. Andrei Nikolayevich Sobrietsky was the new Russian ambassador, with that winner smile and short white hair, and with a slight overweigh (Must be the Vodka, the American said to himself)
"The people's mentality" Andrei explained. "In example, before 1995, the average Russian didn't know what a Credit Card was. People were used to accept what the state gave them, and never complain." He said, in excellent English.
"Are they starting to build banks?" The American asked, with a slight smile. He was a banker, and Russia was like a virgin territory for a Wall Street businessmen, like him. And some of the men surrounding them were. It seemed like an Embassy toast, yet it was just a meeting between the USA and Russia's best Diplomats.
"We already had banks, James. They belonged to the state, like everything in Russia back then. Just now they are open to the Citizens." He said, quite eloquently. "By the way, Mr. Stevens, when are you coming to the American Embassy in Moscow?"
"Not soon." James Stevens responded, actually with a sad look on his face. "I'm a really busy man, Andrei Nikolayevich."
"Come on, James. The economy here can't be going that badly."
"Well, it is. No one wants to but American products anymore."
"That was the one good thing about Communism: You didn't have to worry if people bought a product or not" Andrei joked, and he laughed a bit, to support it. James didn't respond. "And why is that, my friend?"
"Ever since the 2003 Gulf Conflict, the World has seen America like this huge evil empire. They think they can just fuck us by not buying American, and its working."
"Does this thing have anything to do with the events of the last year?"
"The Big Shell takeover?" James asked. "Don't even remind me" James was one of the Businessmen that had inverted huge sums of money into the building of the Big Shell. When those terrorists blew it up, he tried to get the Government to take his money back. They didn't, so he sued. And the Government won the trial. That was the beginning of James's crisis. "Well, I guess so. Those Philanthropy bastards. "
"Well, James, did you ever hear about The Patriots?"
"Why?"
"Heard the name. Who are they?"
"They are a group that secretly."
He stopped talking, and looked to his sides, taking some saliva down. He had a bad feeling. Some one may have heard them, and that froze every muscle. The doors suddenly opened up. One would think everyone would start screaming, yet the sight of men with Ski-Masks and AK-74 Rifles could only freeze him.
The group suddenly busted it: Firing rounds into the ceilings and walls. In a second, the air was filled with screaming; everyone was running, some jumped to the floor. One of the Americans, prey of desperation, with crazed eyes pulled out his .38 revolver and aimed it to the entering men. The second later, a 5.45mm burst went through his chest, piercing his lung, and pumping blood into his throat, which he ejected from his mouth. With his last breath, pulled the trigger of his .38 Special, sending his bullet flying off his gun, punching against a column and bouncing off the white walls, creating holes in the wall. Then, a second burst had opened its way through his head, punching his upper skull backwards, in a semi decapitation.
By that time, James and Andrei were taking cover in the floor, showing no opposition to the Terrorist forces. James looked forward: The terrorists advanced carefully, with their guns ready, covering each other, through the main area. He heard incoming footsteps.
Could it be? The US secretariat of State had hired security personnel to support the Russian Army battalion guarding the Embassy. And they were running downstairs, armed with 9mm Clock 18C Automatic Pistols, with their expensive tuxedos and headsets. They aimed with their 18C to the men in front.
The trail of bullets made their appearance: Ricocheting around the terrorists, a single bullet punching through their Kevlar and hitting him in his heart, with an instant kill, while the rest ducked for cover, slightly balancing their knees, raising their AK-74 and aiming to the heads. The group of masked men started spraying the area next to the stairs, making the group of security guards fall, choking on their own blood and covering their wounds with their hands.
"Area secured, Colonel!" One of the invaders assured, confident. His AK was aimed towards Andrei Sobrietsky. "We have the Ambassador, alive."
"Excellent. I'm calling the White House right away, Comrade" A voice behind his Radio announced. ---
---
"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is the situation" Eclipse Six, AKA Solid Snake told his men, who were sitting in black chairs, in a dark room, as if a constant night had fallen, in the dark blue of the walls. The tactical and strategic advisors were sitting behind the legend. Snake was wearing his usual work clothes, an officer uniform. The rest were wearing off-duty uniforms, with a wood pattern camouflage.
"Exactly two hundred hours ago, terrorists attacked and captured the Russian Embassy in Washington. Their demands: Two Billion Dollars, and a fully-loaded Metal Gear REX. They have ordered the Washington police department to stay away from the Embassy, and don't even think about surrounding it, since they have threatened to kill the hostages if they do." Solid Snake explained, feeling like he was filling Colonel Campbell's shoes. In a way, he was.
"Have they been identified?" Sergeant First Machuttes asked, showing a rather eerie calmness.
"Former KGB operatives backed with former Alpha team members and Russian Army effectives serving as security guards..." Both names gave the more experienced ECLIPSE members a shudder. The KGB, known from it's ruthlessness during the Cold War, and the Alpha Team, Russia's own Counter- Terror Ops team, a descendant from the Soviet Union's "Spetznaz".
"Why us?" Bogart asked. He didn't want to get into a battle with no reason, he just wanted to be sure everything was alright.
"Conflict of interests. The Russians would love sending their Spetznaz team to save the hostages, but the closest base of Spetzailnoye Nazraine (Special purpose troops) to the US is in Tbilisi, Georgia. Washington would like sending the boys of the FBI, but that would need some serious cop deployment, thing the terrorist don't want. We are the only international team (with both Russian and American members) prepared for this type of Improvised assault."
"What do we know about the terrorist's plan?" Sub commander Monroe asked, without showing much emotion. She never did.
"Unfortunately, nothing. It seems they plan to use a truck to remove their objective, the Russian Ambassador" A picture of Sobrietsky appeared in the screen. "We doubt they use the Metal Gear REX as a transport. Maybe they might launch from the Embassy's grounds. They are crazy enough. If we deliver that REX, ladies and Gentlemen, Washington, maybe the whole state of Maryland. The whole fucking east coast will be theirs!"
"What about their Equipment?" Elijah Slervansk asked. The Kurd was an excellent poker player. Not the game itself, but he was a good liar. And he knew how to keep calm when hell was coming.
"So far, Avtomatav Kalashnikov 1974 assault rifles, calibre 5.45mm. Czech Skorpion Sub-Machineguns, calibre 7.65mm Browning, and Makarov calibre 9 x 18mm Handguns are among their equipment. They are equipped with Satellite Radios, and Kevlar vests. "
"Do we know why are they attacking their own country's embassy?" Nadia Slonoskvo asked curiously.
"Err." Snake didn't know how to respond. "I'll pass you over to Doctor Hanson."
Hanson stood up, and in his odd sort of way he walked forward, cleared his voice, and began.
"Well, Nadia, they don't actually consider it their country. If you asked them, they are Soviets, not Russian. They think the new Democratic Russia deserves the same faith as the Tsarist Russia. Our best guess is that they want REX to pressure Moscow secretly, and then set their own Coup D' Etat."
"Excuse me, Doc" Bob Bogart interrupted. "That explains the KGB guys, but what the heck does this have to do with the Alpha fella's?"
"Robert, most of them have a Spetznaz background. They were employees of the Soviet Union, and that's the way they like it."
"How exactly is Washington going to deliver REX, in case they have to?"
"After the crash of that Stealth Cruiser against Manhattan, the government won't have it delivered in the streets. They might drop it in a low population area so the terrorist hijack it."
"What about our plan?" Nikolai Amerstraus asked.
"I'm sorry, Nick. I don't know anything about military affairs. I'll switch over to Mr. Jack Sears, our Tactical Advisor."
"Ok." The former rookie doubted, and then started. "We'll split. Our snipers and Private Rodriguez will be the first in the "Hot Zone". Corporal Amerstraus, you'll be placed in the building in front of the Embassy. You'll be the shooter. You must keep an eye in front area of the Embassy grounds. Sergeant Slervansk, you will be inserted in the entry. Your duty will be to sneak into the service building and take a Vantage point. From there off, you'll have to cover the back of the Embassy grounds."
"Why not an aerial insertion, like Nick?" The Kurd suggested.
"Because Satellite images show that the terrorists have an RPG7 SAM missile launcher, pointed to the back of the building. You must sneak in there at all costs. Private, you will go with Elijah to the entry: Then, you'll sneak into the building undetected, find the hostages, and take a picture of them with you optic fibre camera. Then, you'll send it to us by CODEC. "
"And then?"
"All three of you will call the security's attention while the rest of the team bursts in and rescues the hostages."
"Insertion method?" Sean Rodriguez dared to ask.
"A Blackhawk chopper. The three scouts will be dropped in the building in front of the Embassy. Then, Sergeant Slervansk will eliminate the RPG crew with his Sniper Rifle. Then, the rest will Fast-Rope descend to the embassy's rooftop. Then, we will split in two parts. Bravo, under Sergeant Machuttes, will rappel until they reach the third floor's windows, and then enter. Their mission will be to hit the hostage zone and secure it. Team Epsilon, under Corporal Bogart, will hit the stairs, pick up Rodriguez and clear the pathway to the Heliport in the service building."
"Who is going with whom?" Bogart asked, already dizzy with the complicated plan.
"Team Bravo will be conformed by: Machuttes and Slonoskvo. Team Epsilon: Bogart and Dolph will be joined by Rodriguez."
"Then?" Slervansk asked.
"Elijah, you and Nikolai must cover team Bravo as they go to your position. When they arrive, Amerstraus will have to head to the Embassy and be picked up by Team Epsilon. Charlie, our pilot, will first pick up the hostages, and they will be left in the local FBI office. By then, you and team Bravo must form a defensive perimeter to allow safe extraction of team Epsilon and yourselves. You will then be flown here, to debriefing."
"That's a complicated plan" Machuttes remarked loudly. "I don't like it."
"You don't like anything that requires brains, Machuttes." Amerstraus joked.
"Shut up!" He shouted, rising from the chair, showing his intimating muscles. "What 'bout our weapons."
"Sean Rodriguez will be dropped with a Beretta M92FS pistol, Soliton Radar and his Optic fibre camera. The snipers will use different rifles. Amerstraus, who will need long range accuracy, will be given a L96 sniper rifle, calibre .300 Winchester. Slervansk, who will need a rifle small enough to carry around, will be given a G3/SG-1, calibre 7.62 x 51mm NATO"
"The assault shooters?" He went deeper.
"Kevlar suits, Tactical helmets, Ski-Masks, Urban Warfare BDU, Tactical Radios, Nomex gloves, Military boots, with Beretta M92F handguns, with Sure- Fire lanterns, and 5.56 x 45mm NATO G36K assault rifles, equipped with 1.5x scopes and laser sights."
"Now that's a good gun." Slonoskvo said to herself loudly.
"We'll take off in a few minutes. ..Gear up. Commander Snake will be in touch with all of you at all times."
---
The chopper was still under preparation for take-off. ECLIPSE crew was working on it, but that gave the team a couple of seconds to hang around the rooftops.
It was the first time in almost a week he had left that base. Nikolai Amerstraus had his .300 rifle hanging from his shoulder, and wearing the standard ECLIPSE uniform: Dark blue gear, except for the black vests, Nomex gloves, tactical boots, balaclava and helmets.
The sun was putting down: describing red lights surrounding the ECLIPSE building's rooftop, with a blinding golden light. It was a beautiful scene, but the thought of death blocked his mind: What if he was shot? He wished he was like his sniper partner, Slervansk, who had gone through military ops all his life. Amerstraus still kept his Beretta in his leg strap, just in case.
One of the technicians stood up, rising his hands and waving. Charlie's chopper was ready to go. Nikolai shuddered, and walked into the chopper.
---
"Shit." Than was the only word in James's mind. He was trapped. Just on his knees, while a man with a large gun kept shouting in a language he didn't understand. Those guys were pissed, and seemed determined to cause a really big mess.
But what was he talking about? They already had.
"Fucking shit heads" He called him, without ever pronouncing the words. Those bastards, they thought they could. Steal his freedom and lock him up at gunpoint? Big mistake. The fucking idiots, they didn't know USA doesn't negotiate with terrorists. They would be killed. That was the difference between Cops and Counter-Terror Ops agents. Both soldiers and criminals, their lives received respect: They wouldn't be killed unless they had to die. But terrorists, they didn't. They could be shot, tortured, raped, beaten up, and the UN wouldn't give shit: Terrorists were the scum of the Earth.
And they would be killed. Maybe the Washington Cops, SWAT, the FBI, maybe the fucking Navy SEALs.
Or maybe none of them.
---
The trip between Fort Meade, Baltimore, and the Russian Embassy, Maryland, was extremely short. In short thirty minutes from take-off, Charlie was already calling the team's attention.
"Ok, scouts, you'll be the first: We'll drop you in the civilian building in front of the Embassy. Now get your Fast-Rope gloves on. It's going to be a quick drop."
"Alright." Amerstraus responded, in an uncharacteristic manner.
---
The helicopter stopped right over the building, and the darkness of night allowed it to deploy safely. Sean Rodriguez was the first man to drop. He got a hold of the Fast-Rope, closing his fingers safely, and jumping off, using his own weight to slide down to the rooftop. Before he hit the floor, Amerstraus got his and jumped, followed three seconds later by Slervansk. The mission was on!
Amerstraus landed, hitting the brick wall with his long legs.
"We're on the ground" He announced through the CODEC; as he saw Elijah landing.
"Roger. This is Snake. Proceed." The gruff voice behind the radio announced. All three cut off.
"So? What's next?" Elijah asked, loading his Sniper Rifle.
"I'll cover you from here." Nick explained, while pulling the Bolt of his .300 Winchester, and walking towards the edge. Elijah and Sean nodded, as they ran to the stairs.
Nick went into prone positions, while preparing the tripod and setting it against the edge of the rooftop. The tripod's use was to stabilize the rifle, making the shake un-existent. But it was uncommon to see ECLIPSE snipers using them. Both had their own means of stabilization.
It was popular among FOX-HOUND snipers to take tranquilizers (Such as Diazepam, Pentazamin or sometimes Ritalin) to knock out involuntary shaking. However, neither Nick nor Elijah liked using drugs while sniping. Yeah, it made them more accurate, but also sloppier, dumber, less alert.
FOX-HOUND snipers (Like Sniper Wolf) were appreciated by how long they could hold waiting for a target. ECLIPSE snipers were the opposite: They had to be excellent athletes, aim and shoot in a second, and be ready to run to the next vantage point. That was why Tranquilizers were tricky to use.
Nick had tried using Ritalin, but he had problems when he had to stand up and flee. Elijah did not even think about using them. Both of them had tried, for example, rubber butts for their rifles, Nick's favourite method, but Elijah considered it to augment the recoil. The Kurd used Chewing gum to relief himself of stress.
However, the Romanian had installed his rubber butt on his L96, which made it incredibly stable. It was easy to aim, unusually easy. He may never been in a counter terrorist mission, but he had shot men with a Sniper Rifle before. Ironic, since the most experienced Slervansk had never killed anyone with a sniper rifle that he was aware of. Of course, the fighting between Iraqi forces and Kurdish rebels in northern Iraq was so bloody and messy he wouldn't even remember. In other specialities. That was a different story. He wondered if the Iraqi army had any nickname for him.
He had everything set, and located his finger in front of the trigger. He was ready to shoot, only if had a target. That squared building seemed empty. Most lights were out. Both Slervansk and Rodriguez were really good agents, but. Would they handle it in a real life situation? His stomach was aching. "Damn it."
---
Elijah stopped behind the Embassy's gate, and took a peek. "No guards patrolling the perimeter" He told Rodriguez. The Mexican checked too. It was true: guards were no where to be found. Faithful to Snake's word, no cops were present.
"Ready to go?"
Sean gave a signal to Elijah. The sniper nodded, and then pulled the G3/SG- 1's bolt. "Locked and loaded, baby" the Kurd said, smirking.
"Good. Let's roll!"
The pair got inside, and ran towards the Embassy. They could not be stopped. They would not stop. Elijah kept his Rifle ready, while Sean was unarmed. Suddenly, the first one stopped, rising his hand and crouching, the second one soon followed.
"What's up?"
"This is as far as I go. I'll take the entry to the basement from there." The Mexican pointed to the door near them. "Don't worry, I'll pick the lock. I know how to do that."
"Alright, I'll go to the rooftop of the Service Building."
"Good luck"
"I won't need it."
Elijah kept running, while Sean crept towards the door. It was a distinctive red door in the white wall. A sort of metaphor during the Cold War: The entry to Communism in the heart of Capitalism.
He reached to the doorknob. Closed, as usual. He took out a couple of lock picks, and inserted them in that little hole. He kept playing around, drawing imaginary figures followed by mechanical noises, with the couple of picks. A couple of seconds of that, and the door released a sound. Open.
He opened the door slowly, checking every centimetre, and peeking. The dark corridor was a sad look, but better than three Russians with Assault Rifles. He went in, and closed the door behind him.
It was dark. He could see, but not in a very clear fashion. He took out something from his backpack: Goggles, with an odd lens, and straps. He put it on, and tightened the strap. Night Vision Goggles.
The sight was greenish, but it was definitively clearer than black. It had a very high resolution form being an NVG, ECLIPSE had the best of the best in terms of equipment, maybe to make up for the lack of experience.
Sean walked slowly, watching every step, because if he made a mistake, it was over. No guards in the basement meant several things. One, the bad guys were experienced:
The SOP (Standard Operational Procedure) for Urban Counter Terror Ops said that hitting the basement was the safest way to attack and the place were the hostages were most likely to be. It was obvious that leaving that place undefended was not a mistake, but rather a trap: That complex basement, with its own generator in case of power breakdown, allowing plenty of hiding spots for shooters and grenade launchers. They were expecting SWAT officers to go that way.
Then, why wasn't he dead? Maybe he hadn't reached the ambush point yet: Maybe those fucking Commies were going to allow the SWAT to walk around a bit before slaughtering them.
And he was right: He saw it. Maybe it was just a distortion of the NVG screen, but still. It was the tip. Coming out of behind a box. The tip of a rifle. That showed the terrorists had indeed read the SOP manual. That showed the terrorists were indeed rogue Counter Terrorist Operatives.
That showed Snake was right. He had to find another way around.
Looking for a safe pathway, he noticed the stairs: They were too small to lead to the lobby of the Embassy, so it had to be a sort of maintenance passage. He walked, always stepping with the back of his feet, so the sound he made was minimal.
He walked up, and entered a hallway. Every sense alert, Sean turned his AP Sensor on. Nothing was near. He looked up, and noticed it. A ventilation duct made of metal, passing cool air through the Embassy.
He made a small jump, then grabbed the metal grid and pulled it downwards. The grid fell, but Sean quickly grabbed it before it hit the floor and made an inconvenient sound. He got in, and checked his Soliton radar. The blueprints of the Embassy and the route he had to take were already in its memory. Now the only thing he had to do was follow the directions.
---
"Snake, Sean is in, and Elijah is already on his way to the service building." Otacon informed, while checking his PC's screen. They were still in Fort Meade, Baltimore, safe, away from the combat zone.
It made Snake feel guilty, being away from harm's way as a group (a group of his enemies' relatives, he reminded himself) of soldiers were in Clear and Present danger.
"Good. Was Charlie detected?"
"Nope. And if he was, then the terrorists aren't doing anything about it"
"So, Otacon, how does it feel like?"
"Well, I always had to baby-sit you, but now I have to watch after those boys. But don't worry. They certainly are good, otherwise."
"They would be dead?"
"Don't make me talk about it" Otacon shrugged, and moved his glasses up his nose. "I just."
"Listen, Otacon, it's gonna be OK. If they are a third as tough as their. "Politically incorrect" relatives, they'll survive."
"Snake, you already asked me. Now it's my turn. How does it feel like to lead a group of people connected to your enemies?"
"It's weird, to tell the truth. I guess I just feel like anyone might just stab me if I turn my attention away."
"I thought you thought Sharp was paranoid."
"Paranoia isn't exactly the worst illness to have nowadays, Otacon. There are things much worse." Snake explained causally. "Being over-confident, for one."
---
Elijah reached the service building. Another boring work of art of boring Communist architects, he told himself. His hand, covered by a Nomex glove reached the doorknob, and with an uneasy movement twisted it.
The door was open, to the sniper's surprise.
He opened it slowly, trying the make the least sound possible, and then removing his Beretta from his holster. He went in, hugged by the darkness cold fingers and turned the Sure-Fire lantern below the Beretta's cannon on.
The light showed cheap furniture, maybe to be used as a Warehouse, smartly located behind the Embassy itself, yet it was slightly taller than the Embassy, since it housed the Heliport. The Sergeant had already decided that his duty was to safeguard that heliport at all costs.
His Heckler & Koch G3/SG-1 rifle was softly strapped to his tensed back, as he held his Beretta up with both hands, in an "Icarus" position, checking every dark corner. Suddenly, his heart stopped.
"So, Yuri, how's everything in the heliport?" Elijah heard someone ask. It had Russian accent, and seemed unworried, considering they were risking their lives. Risking? The Kurd reconsidered. They were well on their way to lose them.
"All clear" Another voice, blurred by a cheap radio responded. "Any cops?"
"None yet. The basement team hasn't reported anything, and the Embassy isn't surrounded, as you'd expect."
"Maybe these Washington policemen are smarter than we thought."
"Yankees aren't smart, Yuri. They just act like they are so other nations follow them."
That comment drew a smile in Elijah's face. He didn't think it was true (He wasn't a racist, he didn't like to generalize) but the truth was that the American intellect was slightly overrated.
The Kurdish commando gritted his teeth, as he took a sneak peek at the talker. He had a greyish urban pattern uniform, a level II Kevlar vest, and a woollen Ski-mask. An AK-74 was hanging from his shoulder. There was a security camera right behind him, in a corner.
Elijah removed the safety of his Beretta, but he didn't want to get into a fight: The enemy had a radio, and the last thing he wanted was the hostages dying because of him. Instead, he touched his ear with his hand, hoping his CODEC worked.
"This is Snake." Eclipse Six replied, from the other side. "What's wrong?"
"The Service building is better guarded than we first thought. There's a security guard, in constant radio contact with someone."
"What do you want us to do?" Snake asked boringly.
"There's a security camera near him. Do you think Dr. Emmerich can hack into it and then upload what it records into my CODEC screen? I could use having a look at the bad guy without risking my neck."
Snake looked puzzled, and then he gave Otacon a look that described need of help.
"Sure, I can try. Just give me a couple of minutes. Maybe I can hack the Embassy's security program."
"OK, I can wait."
---
The feeling of defeat was invading Ambassador Sobrietsky, captured by some cheap terrorists. The worst thing was that the terrorists weren't those Islamic Fanatics, or Neo Nazi madmen he had heard so much about. Not even Chechnyan freedom fighters, which would have a real reason to attack Russian citizens.
They were Russian. According to what he had heard, they were fanatic communists. Maybe they'd kill him, since he was one of the many Russian exiles that pushed the Soviet Union to its destruction. Maybe they were after James, a known capitalist. Or maybe they just wanted to screw Moscow. Anyway, they were trigger happy, and had executed one of the Americans during their assault.
The odd thing was that no police were present. He was still wondering why the Russian Army effectives were helping. None of them went to help the American escort team, they had secured the rest of the Embassy, and let the former Alpha members (He noticed because of their way of acting) take the hostages.
They were ten Alpha members, at least two KGB operatives, and the whole 25 men Russian Army battalion. He looked up. One of the terrorists was coming.
"Tovarish Sobrietsky." One of them called. Unlike the rest, he wasn't armed with a Kalashnikov. He had the same uniform as the rest of the terrorists, with a Ski mask, and wearing a trench coat on top. Pretty weird costume.
"What do you want?" He asked, in English.
"Ambassador, you are our Trump Card. In case you die, a war between your country and this country will erupt. It's your responsibility to stop a nuclear war. So, I ask you to not fuck around and do exactly what you are told" The man said, and removed his mask as he got closer to Sobrietsky's round face.
He had thin face, and a white moustache. His eyes were piercing and they looked like being the ones of a Psychopath. Unknown to Sobrietsky was the fact that he was. And the weapon in his hand wasn't a Makarov, but an American made Colt Single Action Army.
'"Who. Who are you?" The Ambassador asked, his eyes stuck in his captor.
"I'm Shalashaska, but between you and me, you can call me Revolver Ocelot."
----
Author's note: Wow! Not that was a chapter! I thank the Russian Government website for providing me with the address of the Russian Embassy, World Guns .com for giving me the usual weapons information. Oh, and Tom Clancy and the whole Ubi Soft Canada team for making Splinter Cell, a game that inspired many scenes of this chapter.
Besides, I thank Holylance for his constant support, and obviously Shade Wolf and Blackraven8, the coolest guys (Well, Black is a girl) I have ever met online.
Suggestions are still taken! E-Mail me at will. Thanks, people!
.
2650 Wisconsin Avenue, Washington D.C., Russian embassy, United States of America, 100 Hours.
The strike had to be successful, was his first thought, as he inserted a fresh magazine into his CZ Skorpion Sub-machinegun. The car advanced through the night, silently, entering the Russian embassy's grounds. The guard, who had his AN-94 pointed towards heaven, saluted the car, and then gave a stop signal.
The driver shifted the direction of the car, and stopped next to the guard.
"Tovarish Colonel" the guard said, with a characteristic Russian accent. "I require your documentation."
"Sure, comrade" The driver said, and took out his documentation, old papers written in Russian. The guard took them and started reading them. That gave the driver's partner time to look at the Embassy. A boring square building, typical of Soviet design. It was illuminated by reflectors at ground level, giving it a weird brightness, the walls were white. That, combined to the reflectors, allowed it to be visible in the night. Light poured out of the windows, the embassy was fully functional. His thoughts were interrupted by the guard's voice.
"Hang on a second! This documentation expired in 1993!"
"I'm so sorry, comrade. I'll give you the new papers right away." He got his hand inside his pocket, but no paper came out this time: Rather a silenced Makarov PMM, calibre 9x 18mm, the Russian version of the German Walther PKK. The guard's eyes looked like plates, while the driver pulled the trigger.
The bullet hit right between the guard's right eye and the lower part of his nose. Point-blank range, the bullet opened its way into the guard's brain, turning his grey matter into a liquid, which was ejected from the back of his head, whole the bullet had left after crossing his head. The guard fell silent.
"There you go, comrade." He said, laughing, and then taking out a cell phone. "This is entry team. Guard eliminated. Proceed."
The passenger could hear the sound of an engine: Effectively, a truck entered the grounds, high speed and without any considerations to the signs. It stopped, and a man walked out of the truck: He was wearing dark cloths, hard to see in the night, but the Passenger didn't recognise him: After all, all facial features were hidden by a woollen balaclava. He had a Makarov in hand. He waked towards the back of his truck, and opened it.
The doors were opened, and between eight and twelve men jumped out: Wearing Urban Pattern Camouflage trousers and Kevlar vests over their uniforms. The last thing he noticed, though, was their weapons: Kalashnikov assault rifles. And all of them wearing the same black woollen balaclavas, some wearing a red beret, which had a symbol on it: The golden Hammer and Sickle, over a red background: The symbol of the Communist Party.
He looked for a final time to the ID badge of the driver. It read in Russian: "We are the sword and shield of the Party", and over it "Committee of State Security". Translated to Russian, those words form an abbreviation: KGB.
"Let's move it, Comrade" He said, as he opened the door and walked out.
---
Inside, the discussion was friendly. The group of Russians were really engaging in a conversation with their American counter-parts. Most of them were Capitalists, Russian exiles, who ran away from the Soviet dictatorship, and were now representing the modern Russia in front of its former enemy, the United States of America.
"So, Andrei, what's the biggest thing to change now that Russia is turning to the free market?" One of the Americans asked. Andrei Nikolayevich Sobrietsky was the new Russian ambassador, with that winner smile and short white hair, and with a slight overweigh (Must be the Vodka, the American said to himself)
"The people's mentality" Andrei explained. "In example, before 1995, the average Russian didn't know what a Credit Card was. People were used to accept what the state gave them, and never complain." He said, in excellent English.
"Are they starting to build banks?" The American asked, with a slight smile. He was a banker, and Russia was like a virgin territory for a Wall Street businessmen, like him. And some of the men surrounding them were. It seemed like an Embassy toast, yet it was just a meeting between the USA and Russia's best Diplomats.
"We already had banks, James. They belonged to the state, like everything in Russia back then. Just now they are open to the Citizens." He said, quite eloquently. "By the way, Mr. Stevens, when are you coming to the American Embassy in Moscow?"
"Not soon." James Stevens responded, actually with a sad look on his face. "I'm a really busy man, Andrei Nikolayevich."
"Come on, James. The economy here can't be going that badly."
"Well, it is. No one wants to but American products anymore."
"That was the one good thing about Communism: You didn't have to worry if people bought a product or not" Andrei joked, and he laughed a bit, to support it. James didn't respond. "And why is that, my friend?"
"Ever since the 2003 Gulf Conflict, the World has seen America like this huge evil empire. They think they can just fuck us by not buying American, and its working."
"Does this thing have anything to do with the events of the last year?"
"The Big Shell takeover?" James asked. "Don't even remind me" James was one of the Businessmen that had inverted huge sums of money into the building of the Big Shell. When those terrorists blew it up, he tried to get the Government to take his money back. They didn't, so he sued. And the Government won the trial. That was the beginning of James's crisis. "Well, I guess so. Those Philanthropy bastards. "
"Well, James, did you ever hear about The Patriots?"
"Why?"
"Heard the name. Who are they?"
"They are a group that secretly."
He stopped talking, and looked to his sides, taking some saliva down. He had a bad feeling. Some one may have heard them, and that froze every muscle. The doors suddenly opened up. One would think everyone would start screaming, yet the sight of men with Ski-Masks and AK-74 Rifles could only freeze him.
The group suddenly busted it: Firing rounds into the ceilings and walls. In a second, the air was filled with screaming; everyone was running, some jumped to the floor. One of the Americans, prey of desperation, with crazed eyes pulled out his .38 revolver and aimed it to the entering men. The second later, a 5.45mm burst went through his chest, piercing his lung, and pumping blood into his throat, which he ejected from his mouth. With his last breath, pulled the trigger of his .38 Special, sending his bullet flying off his gun, punching against a column and bouncing off the white walls, creating holes in the wall. Then, a second burst had opened its way through his head, punching his upper skull backwards, in a semi decapitation.
By that time, James and Andrei were taking cover in the floor, showing no opposition to the Terrorist forces. James looked forward: The terrorists advanced carefully, with their guns ready, covering each other, through the main area. He heard incoming footsteps.
Could it be? The US secretariat of State had hired security personnel to support the Russian Army battalion guarding the Embassy. And they were running downstairs, armed with 9mm Clock 18C Automatic Pistols, with their expensive tuxedos and headsets. They aimed with their 18C to the men in front.
The trail of bullets made their appearance: Ricocheting around the terrorists, a single bullet punching through their Kevlar and hitting him in his heart, with an instant kill, while the rest ducked for cover, slightly balancing their knees, raising their AK-74 and aiming to the heads. The group of masked men started spraying the area next to the stairs, making the group of security guards fall, choking on their own blood and covering their wounds with their hands.
"Area secured, Colonel!" One of the invaders assured, confident. His AK was aimed towards Andrei Sobrietsky. "We have the Ambassador, alive."
"Excellent. I'm calling the White House right away, Comrade" A voice behind his Radio announced. ---
---
"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is the situation" Eclipse Six, AKA Solid Snake told his men, who were sitting in black chairs, in a dark room, as if a constant night had fallen, in the dark blue of the walls. The tactical and strategic advisors were sitting behind the legend. Snake was wearing his usual work clothes, an officer uniform. The rest were wearing off-duty uniforms, with a wood pattern camouflage.
"Exactly two hundred hours ago, terrorists attacked and captured the Russian Embassy in Washington. Their demands: Two Billion Dollars, and a fully-loaded Metal Gear REX. They have ordered the Washington police department to stay away from the Embassy, and don't even think about surrounding it, since they have threatened to kill the hostages if they do." Solid Snake explained, feeling like he was filling Colonel Campbell's shoes. In a way, he was.
"Have they been identified?" Sergeant First Machuttes asked, showing a rather eerie calmness.
"Former KGB operatives backed with former Alpha team members and Russian Army effectives serving as security guards..." Both names gave the more experienced ECLIPSE members a shudder. The KGB, known from it's ruthlessness during the Cold War, and the Alpha Team, Russia's own Counter- Terror Ops team, a descendant from the Soviet Union's "Spetznaz".
"Why us?" Bogart asked. He didn't want to get into a battle with no reason, he just wanted to be sure everything was alright.
"Conflict of interests. The Russians would love sending their Spetznaz team to save the hostages, but the closest base of Spetzailnoye Nazraine (Special purpose troops) to the US is in Tbilisi, Georgia. Washington would like sending the boys of the FBI, but that would need some serious cop deployment, thing the terrorist don't want. We are the only international team (with both Russian and American members) prepared for this type of Improvised assault."
"What do we know about the terrorist's plan?" Sub commander Monroe asked, without showing much emotion. She never did.
"Unfortunately, nothing. It seems they plan to use a truck to remove their objective, the Russian Ambassador" A picture of Sobrietsky appeared in the screen. "We doubt they use the Metal Gear REX as a transport. Maybe they might launch from the Embassy's grounds. They are crazy enough. If we deliver that REX, ladies and Gentlemen, Washington, maybe the whole state of Maryland. The whole fucking east coast will be theirs!"
"What about their Equipment?" Elijah Slervansk asked. The Kurd was an excellent poker player. Not the game itself, but he was a good liar. And he knew how to keep calm when hell was coming.
"So far, Avtomatav Kalashnikov 1974 assault rifles, calibre 5.45mm. Czech Skorpion Sub-Machineguns, calibre 7.65mm Browning, and Makarov calibre 9 x 18mm Handguns are among their equipment. They are equipped with Satellite Radios, and Kevlar vests. "
"Do we know why are they attacking their own country's embassy?" Nadia Slonoskvo asked curiously.
"Err." Snake didn't know how to respond. "I'll pass you over to Doctor Hanson."
Hanson stood up, and in his odd sort of way he walked forward, cleared his voice, and began.
"Well, Nadia, they don't actually consider it their country. If you asked them, they are Soviets, not Russian. They think the new Democratic Russia deserves the same faith as the Tsarist Russia. Our best guess is that they want REX to pressure Moscow secretly, and then set their own Coup D' Etat."
"Excuse me, Doc" Bob Bogart interrupted. "That explains the KGB guys, but what the heck does this have to do with the Alpha fella's?"
"Robert, most of them have a Spetznaz background. They were employees of the Soviet Union, and that's the way they like it."
"How exactly is Washington going to deliver REX, in case they have to?"
"After the crash of that Stealth Cruiser against Manhattan, the government won't have it delivered in the streets. They might drop it in a low population area so the terrorist hijack it."
"What about our plan?" Nikolai Amerstraus asked.
"I'm sorry, Nick. I don't know anything about military affairs. I'll switch over to Mr. Jack Sears, our Tactical Advisor."
"Ok." The former rookie doubted, and then started. "We'll split. Our snipers and Private Rodriguez will be the first in the "Hot Zone". Corporal Amerstraus, you'll be placed in the building in front of the Embassy. You'll be the shooter. You must keep an eye in front area of the Embassy grounds. Sergeant Slervansk, you will be inserted in the entry. Your duty will be to sneak into the service building and take a Vantage point. From there off, you'll have to cover the back of the Embassy grounds."
"Why not an aerial insertion, like Nick?" The Kurd suggested.
"Because Satellite images show that the terrorists have an RPG7 SAM missile launcher, pointed to the back of the building. You must sneak in there at all costs. Private, you will go with Elijah to the entry: Then, you'll sneak into the building undetected, find the hostages, and take a picture of them with you optic fibre camera. Then, you'll send it to us by CODEC. "
"And then?"
"All three of you will call the security's attention while the rest of the team bursts in and rescues the hostages."
"Insertion method?" Sean Rodriguez dared to ask.
"A Blackhawk chopper. The three scouts will be dropped in the building in front of the Embassy. Then, Sergeant Slervansk will eliminate the RPG crew with his Sniper Rifle. Then, the rest will Fast-Rope descend to the embassy's rooftop. Then, we will split in two parts. Bravo, under Sergeant Machuttes, will rappel until they reach the third floor's windows, and then enter. Their mission will be to hit the hostage zone and secure it. Team Epsilon, under Corporal Bogart, will hit the stairs, pick up Rodriguez and clear the pathway to the Heliport in the service building."
"Who is going with whom?" Bogart asked, already dizzy with the complicated plan.
"Team Bravo will be conformed by: Machuttes and Slonoskvo. Team Epsilon: Bogart and Dolph will be joined by Rodriguez."
"Then?" Slervansk asked.
"Elijah, you and Nikolai must cover team Bravo as they go to your position. When they arrive, Amerstraus will have to head to the Embassy and be picked up by Team Epsilon. Charlie, our pilot, will first pick up the hostages, and they will be left in the local FBI office. By then, you and team Bravo must form a defensive perimeter to allow safe extraction of team Epsilon and yourselves. You will then be flown here, to debriefing."
"That's a complicated plan" Machuttes remarked loudly. "I don't like it."
"You don't like anything that requires brains, Machuttes." Amerstraus joked.
"Shut up!" He shouted, rising from the chair, showing his intimating muscles. "What 'bout our weapons."
"Sean Rodriguez will be dropped with a Beretta M92FS pistol, Soliton Radar and his Optic fibre camera. The snipers will use different rifles. Amerstraus, who will need long range accuracy, will be given a L96 sniper rifle, calibre .300 Winchester. Slervansk, who will need a rifle small enough to carry around, will be given a G3/SG-1, calibre 7.62 x 51mm NATO"
"The assault shooters?" He went deeper.
"Kevlar suits, Tactical helmets, Ski-Masks, Urban Warfare BDU, Tactical Radios, Nomex gloves, Military boots, with Beretta M92F handguns, with Sure- Fire lanterns, and 5.56 x 45mm NATO G36K assault rifles, equipped with 1.5x scopes and laser sights."
"Now that's a good gun." Slonoskvo said to herself loudly.
"We'll take off in a few minutes. ..Gear up. Commander Snake will be in touch with all of you at all times."
---
The chopper was still under preparation for take-off. ECLIPSE crew was working on it, but that gave the team a couple of seconds to hang around the rooftops.
It was the first time in almost a week he had left that base. Nikolai Amerstraus had his .300 rifle hanging from his shoulder, and wearing the standard ECLIPSE uniform: Dark blue gear, except for the black vests, Nomex gloves, tactical boots, balaclava and helmets.
The sun was putting down: describing red lights surrounding the ECLIPSE building's rooftop, with a blinding golden light. It was a beautiful scene, but the thought of death blocked his mind: What if he was shot? He wished he was like his sniper partner, Slervansk, who had gone through military ops all his life. Amerstraus still kept his Beretta in his leg strap, just in case.
One of the technicians stood up, rising his hands and waving. Charlie's chopper was ready to go. Nikolai shuddered, and walked into the chopper.
---
"Shit." Than was the only word in James's mind. He was trapped. Just on his knees, while a man with a large gun kept shouting in a language he didn't understand. Those guys were pissed, and seemed determined to cause a really big mess.
But what was he talking about? They already had.
"Fucking shit heads" He called him, without ever pronouncing the words. Those bastards, they thought they could. Steal his freedom and lock him up at gunpoint? Big mistake. The fucking idiots, they didn't know USA doesn't negotiate with terrorists. They would be killed. That was the difference between Cops and Counter-Terror Ops agents. Both soldiers and criminals, their lives received respect: They wouldn't be killed unless they had to die. But terrorists, they didn't. They could be shot, tortured, raped, beaten up, and the UN wouldn't give shit: Terrorists were the scum of the Earth.
And they would be killed. Maybe the Washington Cops, SWAT, the FBI, maybe the fucking Navy SEALs.
Or maybe none of them.
---
The trip between Fort Meade, Baltimore, and the Russian Embassy, Maryland, was extremely short. In short thirty minutes from take-off, Charlie was already calling the team's attention.
"Ok, scouts, you'll be the first: We'll drop you in the civilian building in front of the Embassy. Now get your Fast-Rope gloves on. It's going to be a quick drop."
"Alright." Amerstraus responded, in an uncharacteristic manner.
---
The helicopter stopped right over the building, and the darkness of night allowed it to deploy safely. Sean Rodriguez was the first man to drop. He got a hold of the Fast-Rope, closing his fingers safely, and jumping off, using his own weight to slide down to the rooftop. Before he hit the floor, Amerstraus got his and jumped, followed three seconds later by Slervansk. The mission was on!
Amerstraus landed, hitting the brick wall with his long legs.
"We're on the ground" He announced through the CODEC; as he saw Elijah landing.
"Roger. This is Snake. Proceed." The gruff voice behind the radio announced. All three cut off.
"So? What's next?" Elijah asked, loading his Sniper Rifle.
"I'll cover you from here." Nick explained, while pulling the Bolt of his .300 Winchester, and walking towards the edge. Elijah and Sean nodded, as they ran to the stairs.
Nick went into prone positions, while preparing the tripod and setting it against the edge of the rooftop. The tripod's use was to stabilize the rifle, making the shake un-existent. But it was uncommon to see ECLIPSE snipers using them. Both had their own means of stabilization.
It was popular among FOX-HOUND snipers to take tranquilizers (Such as Diazepam, Pentazamin or sometimes Ritalin) to knock out involuntary shaking. However, neither Nick nor Elijah liked using drugs while sniping. Yeah, it made them more accurate, but also sloppier, dumber, less alert.
FOX-HOUND snipers (Like Sniper Wolf) were appreciated by how long they could hold waiting for a target. ECLIPSE snipers were the opposite: They had to be excellent athletes, aim and shoot in a second, and be ready to run to the next vantage point. That was why Tranquilizers were tricky to use.
Nick had tried using Ritalin, but he had problems when he had to stand up and flee. Elijah did not even think about using them. Both of them had tried, for example, rubber butts for their rifles, Nick's favourite method, but Elijah considered it to augment the recoil. The Kurd used Chewing gum to relief himself of stress.
However, the Romanian had installed his rubber butt on his L96, which made it incredibly stable. It was easy to aim, unusually easy. He may never been in a counter terrorist mission, but he had shot men with a Sniper Rifle before. Ironic, since the most experienced Slervansk had never killed anyone with a sniper rifle that he was aware of. Of course, the fighting between Iraqi forces and Kurdish rebels in northern Iraq was so bloody and messy he wouldn't even remember. In other specialities. That was a different story. He wondered if the Iraqi army had any nickname for him.
He had everything set, and located his finger in front of the trigger. He was ready to shoot, only if had a target. That squared building seemed empty. Most lights were out. Both Slervansk and Rodriguez were really good agents, but. Would they handle it in a real life situation? His stomach was aching. "Damn it."
---
Elijah stopped behind the Embassy's gate, and took a peek. "No guards patrolling the perimeter" He told Rodriguez. The Mexican checked too. It was true: guards were no where to be found. Faithful to Snake's word, no cops were present.
"Ready to go?"
Sean gave a signal to Elijah. The sniper nodded, and then pulled the G3/SG- 1's bolt. "Locked and loaded, baby" the Kurd said, smirking.
"Good. Let's roll!"
The pair got inside, and ran towards the Embassy. They could not be stopped. They would not stop. Elijah kept his Rifle ready, while Sean was unarmed. Suddenly, the first one stopped, rising his hand and crouching, the second one soon followed.
"What's up?"
"This is as far as I go. I'll take the entry to the basement from there." The Mexican pointed to the door near them. "Don't worry, I'll pick the lock. I know how to do that."
"Alright, I'll go to the rooftop of the Service Building."
"Good luck"
"I won't need it."
Elijah kept running, while Sean crept towards the door. It was a distinctive red door in the white wall. A sort of metaphor during the Cold War: The entry to Communism in the heart of Capitalism.
He reached to the doorknob. Closed, as usual. He took out a couple of lock picks, and inserted them in that little hole. He kept playing around, drawing imaginary figures followed by mechanical noises, with the couple of picks. A couple of seconds of that, and the door released a sound. Open.
He opened the door slowly, checking every centimetre, and peeking. The dark corridor was a sad look, but better than three Russians with Assault Rifles. He went in, and closed the door behind him.
It was dark. He could see, but not in a very clear fashion. He took out something from his backpack: Goggles, with an odd lens, and straps. He put it on, and tightened the strap. Night Vision Goggles.
The sight was greenish, but it was definitively clearer than black. It had a very high resolution form being an NVG, ECLIPSE had the best of the best in terms of equipment, maybe to make up for the lack of experience.
Sean walked slowly, watching every step, because if he made a mistake, it was over. No guards in the basement meant several things. One, the bad guys were experienced:
The SOP (Standard Operational Procedure) for Urban Counter Terror Ops said that hitting the basement was the safest way to attack and the place were the hostages were most likely to be. It was obvious that leaving that place undefended was not a mistake, but rather a trap: That complex basement, with its own generator in case of power breakdown, allowing plenty of hiding spots for shooters and grenade launchers. They were expecting SWAT officers to go that way.
Then, why wasn't he dead? Maybe he hadn't reached the ambush point yet: Maybe those fucking Commies were going to allow the SWAT to walk around a bit before slaughtering them.
And he was right: He saw it. Maybe it was just a distortion of the NVG screen, but still. It was the tip. Coming out of behind a box. The tip of a rifle. That showed the terrorists had indeed read the SOP manual. That showed the terrorists were indeed rogue Counter Terrorist Operatives.
That showed Snake was right. He had to find another way around.
Looking for a safe pathway, he noticed the stairs: They were too small to lead to the lobby of the Embassy, so it had to be a sort of maintenance passage. He walked, always stepping with the back of his feet, so the sound he made was minimal.
He walked up, and entered a hallway. Every sense alert, Sean turned his AP Sensor on. Nothing was near. He looked up, and noticed it. A ventilation duct made of metal, passing cool air through the Embassy.
He made a small jump, then grabbed the metal grid and pulled it downwards. The grid fell, but Sean quickly grabbed it before it hit the floor and made an inconvenient sound. He got in, and checked his Soliton radar. The blueprints of the Embassy and the route he had to take were already in its memory. Now the only thing he had to do was follow the directions.
---
"Snake, Sean is in, and Elijah is already on his way to the service building." Otacon informed, while checking his PC's screen. They were still in Fort Meade, Baltimore, safe, away from the combat zone.
It made Snake feel guilty, being away from harm's way as a group (a group of his enemies' relatives, he reminded himself) of soldiers were in Clear and Present danger.
"Good. Was Charlie detected?"
"Nope. And if he was, then the terrorists aren't doing anything about it"
"So, Otacon, how does it feel like?"
"Well, I always had to baby-sit you, but now I have to watch after those boys. But don't worry. They certainly are good, otherwise."
"They would be dead?"
"Don't make me talk about it" Otacon shrugged, and moved his glasses up his nose. "I just."
"Listen, Otacon, it's gonna be OK. If they are a third as tough as their. "Politically incorrect" relatives, they'll survive."
"Snake, you already asked me. Now it's my turn. How does it feel like to lead a group of people connected to your enemies?"
"It's weird, to tell the truth. I guess I just feel like anyone might just stab me if I turn my attention away."
"I thought you thought Sharp was paranoid."
"Paranoia isn't exactly the worst illness to have nowadays, Otacon. There are things much worse." Snake explained causally. "Being over-confident, for one."
---
Elijah reached the service building. Another boring work of art of boring Communist architects, he told himself. His hand, covered by a Nomex glove reached the doorknob, and with an uneasy movement twisted it.
The door was open, to the sniper's surprise.
He opened it slowly, trying the make the least sound possible, and then removing his Beretta from his holster. He went in, hugged by the darkness cold fingers and turned the Sure-Fire lantern below the Beretta's cannon on.
The light showed cheap furniture, maybe to be used as a Warehouse, smartly located behind the Embassy itself, yet it was slightly taller than the Embassy, since it housed the Heliport. The Sergeant had already decided that his duty was to safeguard that heliport at all costs.
His Heckler & Koch G3/SG-1 rifle was softly strapped to his tensed back, as he held his Beretta up with both hands, in an "Icarus" position, checking every dark corner. Suddenly, his heart stopped.
"So, Yuri, how's everything in the heliport?" Elijah heard someone ask. It had Russian accent, and seemed unworried, considering they were risking their lives. Risking? The Kurd reconsidered. They were well on their way to lose them.
"All clear" Another voice, blurred by a cheap radio responded. "Any cops?"
"None yet. The basement team hasn't reported anything, and the Embassy isn't surrounded, as you'd expect."
"Maybe these Washington policemen are smarter than we thought."
"Yankees aren't smart, Yuri. They just act like they are so other nations follow them."
That comment drew a smile in Elijah's face. He didn't think it was true (He wasn't a racist, he didn't like to generalize) but the truth was that the American intellect was slightly overrated.
The Kurdish commando gritted his teeth, as he took a sneak peek at the talker. He had a greyish urban pattern uniform, a level II Kevlar vest, and a woollen Ski-mask. An AK-74 was hanging from his shoulder. There was a security camera right behind him, in a corner.
Elijah removed the safety of his Beretta, but he didn't want to get into a fight: The enemy had a radio, and the last thing he wanted was the hostages dying because of him. Instead, he touched his ear with his hand, hoping his CODEC worked.
"This is Snake." Eclipse Six replied, from the other side. "What's wrong?"
"The Service building is better guarded than we first thought. There's a security guard, in constant radio contact with someone."
"What do you want us to do?" Snake asked boringly.
"There's a security camera near him. Do you think Dr. Emmerich can hack into it and then upload what it records into my CODEC screen? I could use having a look at the bad guy without risking my neck."
Snake looked puzzled, and then he gave Otacon a look that described need of help.
"Sure, I can try. Just give me a couple of minutes. Maybe I can hack the Embassy's security program."
"OK, I can wait."
---
The feeling of defeat was invading Ambassador Sobrietsky, captured by some cheap terrorists. The worst thing was that the terrorists weren't those Islamic Fanatics, or Neo Nazi madmen he had heard so much about. Not even Chechnyan freedom fighters, which would have a real reason to attack Russian citizens.
They were Russian. According to what he had heard, they were fanatic communists. Maybe they'd kill him, since he was one of the many Russian exiles that pushed the Soviet Union to its destruction. Maybe they were after James, a known capitalist. Or maybe they just wanted to screw Moscow. Anyway, they were trigger happy, and had executed one of the Americans during their assault.
The odd thing was that no police were present. He was still wondering why the Russian Army effectives were helping. None of them went to help the American escort team, they had secured the rest of the Embassy, and let the former Alpha members (He noticed because of their way of acting) take the hostages.
They were ten Alpha members, at least two KGB operatives, and the whole 25 men Russian Army battalion. He looked up. One of the terrorists was coming.
"Tovarish Sobrietsky." One of them called. Unlike the rest, he wasn't armed with a Kalashnikov. He had the same uniform as the rest of the terrorists, with a Ski mask, and wearing a trench coat on top. Pretty weird costume.
"What do you want?" He asked, in English.
"Ambassador, you are our Trump Card. In case you die, a war between your country and this country will erupt. It's your responsibility to stop a nuclear war. So, I ask you to not fuck around and do exactly what you are told" The man said, and removed his mask as he got closer to Sobrietsky's round face.
He had thin face, and a white moustache. His eyes were piercing and they looked like being the ones of a Psychopath. Unknown to Sobrietsky was the fact that he was. And the weapon in his hand wasn't a Makarov, but an American made Colt Single Action Army.
'"Who. Who are you?" The Ambassador asked, his eyes stuck in his captor.
"I'm Shalashaska, but between you and me, you can call me Revolver Ocelot."
----
Author's note: Wow! Not that was a chapter! I thank the Russian Government website for providing me with the address of the Russian Embassy, World Guns .com for giving me the usual weapons information. Oh, and Tom Clancy and the whole Ubi Soft Canada team for making Splinter Cell, a game that inspired many scenes of this chapter.
Besides, I thank Holylance for his constant support, and obviously Shade Wolf and Blackraven8, the coolest guys (Well, Black is a girl) I have ever met online.
Suggestions are still taken! E-Mail me at will. Thanks, people!
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