Author's note: Excuse me if this or any of this story's chapters seem untidily written. I'm yet not experienced in the use of the Fan-Fiction system, and in case something fails, just write it in the Reviews. Thanks.

Chapter 6: Confrontation.

Sergeant First Joshua Machuttes, of the antiterrorism unit ECLIPSE, walked forward, quietly, in the cold environment of the Russian Embassy. In wearing his tactical black BDU, he felt like a sitting duck, keeping his head low and his eyes stuck in the 1.5x scope attached to the G36K, the smaller version of the standard rifle of the Bundeswehr, (the German army) the Heckler & Koch G36. The "K" stood for "Kurtz" German for "Short".

Anyways, it was the best rifle they could get. It combined accuracy and firepower, and it was small enough to use in CQB situations, even tough he was still carrying his support M9, but wasn't expecting to use it. After all, he kept four magazines of the deadly FMJ type 5.56 x 45mm SS109, the official calibre of NATO assault weapons.

Behind him, Nadia Slonoskvo, that small, gentle lady, was also keeping her rifle raised, conveniently covering Machuttes's back. He was large, bad thing for an antiterrorist agent, since he stood as a large target, easy to hit. However, in Nadia's opinion, he was so resistant he should be able to handle one or two bullets, right?

The Russian checked her back. No, no one was following them. Behind them, stood a once fully alert terrorist, now a knocked out idiot that happened to pass though the same window as Joshua, an almost two meter tall monster. He had his head resting in the wall, but he had been disposed of weapons and radio, just in case.

Right then, the Kalashnikov was hanging of Joshua's back, a testament to his strength. She was already sweating by just having to hold her tactical BDU, four Flash-bangs (grenades that instead of being loaded with explosives, like the usual Fragmentation grenade, were loaded with magnesium powder, to create a blinding flash that could turn someone blind and deaf for a few seven seconds, enough to send them to hell) and her G36K, yet he could carry all that, plus a demolition pack, and an AK-74, so he probably deserved the nickname of "Mule".

In any way, she doubted he would need it, but maybe it could prove useful, she didn't know. That was why she was a private and Joshua was a Sergeant. Joshua could order around any member of ECLIPSE, except Elijah Slervansk, who could give orders to practically anyone except Snake and the Sub- Commander Monroe.

And by the way, why wasn't she there? She had been in the exercise, but maybe she couldn't be there, and stuff. Anyway, her lack of appearance had demoralized a few team members. Nadia, with all her fragile looks, was a strong woman; she had, after all, survived a year in Lubyanka, the KGB Command Centre, being tortured to see if she could release some sort of Mental power, because someone (likely that odd uncle of hers) was one of the few, and probably the most powerful, user of that sort of paranormal action.

That experience had left her marked; all those shocks, those things strapped to her head . . . She tried to deny it, but the reason she had been there, in that white bed, strapped and connected to some sort of brain reading machine, was the same that she was with that ski mask and aiming that rifle. Because of her uncle. Whoever he was.

-- -- --

"Elijah?" The thin-faced Romanian asked through his CODEC.

"Yeah?" The Iraqi asked, almost mumbling.

"There's not much action here, maybe I should report with the rest." He explained, while looking through his high-quality 5x scope, attached to his L96.

"Roger. I'll stay and cover the rooftops. Not like there's much to cover, anyways." Slervansk said, tired, with his curious blue eyes staring forward.

"Good" Nick said, confidently. "Listen, Elijah, do you think I can go downstairs in this hotel and no one will notice me, in this military fatigues?"

"C'mon, Nick. You are in front of the Russian Embassy, Just say some random words in Russian, and they'll take the hint"

"Right." Nick, said, before standing up and retracting the tripod below the L96's cannon, and run towards the stairway. It would be a fast way down, but truth was Nick was in no mood to kill terrorists at short range. Well, if he didn't have to.

The Kurd blinked tiredly. How did he come to this point? From being born in a small village less than twenty miles from Halabja, Iraq, to be dropped in a heliport with a sniper rifle awaiting for some idiotic communist to show up so he could blast his head off. Turns of destiny, he thought. Fucking turns of destiny.

How did it all start? It all started November 14th, 1980, in the Roman calendar. A Kurdish child was born in a small Kurdish community, 13 miles off Halabja, the Kurdish capital in centre Iraq. He was named Elijah Mahmoud Slervansk. He was an Iraqi, but he was a Kurd of the Aryan variety, due to his blue eyes, blond hair and general Western-like facial features.

If there was a sentence that marked him for the rest of his life, it was something his father told him when one of his sisters was born.

"Take care of her" that sister in particular would be key in Slervansk's involvement with the antiterrorism team ECLIPSE.

He was the eldest of five brothers and two sisters, (one born every year) Son of a hunter, he was the one that was taught (by his father) how to properly use a rifle.

He was taught with a German made K98 Mauser, a WWII era rifle, but extremely accurate. Ammunition was scarce and expensive, so every shot counted. After being praised by family and friends for his excellent shooting skills, he then passed on his knowledge to his siblings. Honestly, they sucked, except for one of his younger sisters. She, like him, was a natural shot.

Life was tough, having to fight off Sunni Iraqis every once in a while, food was scarce and they were extremely poor. But it only got worse. In 1988, the Kurds rebelled in Iraq, in coordination with the Iraq-Iran war. Saddam Hussein, by the time Iraqi dictator, was unable to fight off the Kurds with conventional means, since his army was fighting off the Iranians. The solution? A massive payload of Chemical and Biological agents, fired at the Kurdish centre in Halabja, including 5 Soviet VX-type nerve agent warheads.

The total dead count in the Halabja was 5,000, more than in the WTC attacks in New York, but they didn't get the worse deal; the small villages around Halabja didn't count with medical supplies, so the dead count in those rural communities sky-rocketed. In the particular village in which Elijah Mahmoud Slervansk was born, the population count was reduced to two in less than a few minutes.

The survivors happened to be Elijah and that Small sister.

They survived, somehow, to the VX, and were lost in the desert. But hunting wolves to live in the desert wouldn't do the trick forever.

They were saved. Saved by combat. The two siblings were suddenly caught in a firefight between a squad of Iraqi soldiers, and a platoon of Turkey's Special Air Service (The Turkish special forces, stuck in combat with the Kurdish insurgents), currently scouting the area for survivors of the attack. It was between bullets and mortar shells, both commanders agreed to cease fire, and save the kids. It was weird, two small armies stopping due to two children, somehow in the desert.

They decided that, to keep it under wraps, the girl should go with the Iraqis, and that the boy would go with the Turks. She never saw him again. But he did.

He was taken to Istanbul, where he was raised with combined elements of the western and Islamic cultures, combination so typical of that city, in the joint of Europe and Asia. He grew up in a merchant family, half Kurds-half Armenians, until he was 18 and moved to Tel'Aviv, Israel, to get College education.

He studied languages and history. He wasn't top of his class, but did well. Of course, the classes coming to an end, he would have to find a job . . .

But the job came to him; after getting his degree, a bus, filled with hostages and a deeply disturbed Palestinian, exploded, killing several people. Elijah happened to be at the scene, yet he risked his life to save a woman. To his surprise, the woman was not Israeli; she was an American, the wife of the American Ambassador in Israel.

He had been stabbed all over the back with shrapnel, but he was going to make it.

His background didn't take long to appear in the CIA's residence director in Israel's desk. By the time, the war on Iraq was close, and the CIA needed some spooks among the Iraqi Kurds to maintain discipline.

For Langley, he was perfect; Survivor of the Halabja Massacre, (he would be pretty pissed at Saddam Hussein) excellent shooter (He would work in combat), studied Languages and History in Tel'Aviv (he could mix in the crowd) . . . he was perfect for the job.

"Slervansk? Do you read me?" Snake broke Elijah's deep line of though, his short autobiography.

"I hear you. What's up, boss?"

"Both teams are in. We'll keep you in the back, to be sure, but you can start relaxing. "

"Great, boss" the sharpshooter took his sight out of his scope for the first time in the hour. "Anything else?"

Snake's face was blank, as if he was in a deep state of meditation, analyzing the situation, maybe facing his past, ignoring the man on the other side of the CODEC. "Nothing . . ."

"Sir?"

"Really, it's nothing. How's it going over there, Master Sergeant?"

"All clear. I'm not expecting much more to come, either."

"Good." Snake cut off.

Elijah was now puzzled. What was the goal of Snake's call? He probably wanted to see how things were going, not really a crime, nothing he could blame him for.

The ECLIPSE sniper closed his right eye and drove the left into the scope. All clear, he had been right.

"Freeze!" The small hairs in the back of the Iraqi's neck suddenly froze, the feeling of cold steel pressed into his backbone. The voice, sporting a Russian accent and a violent tone, was loud enough to make Elijah Slervansk to stop aiming and turn around.

His enemy, with the same uniform as the RPG crew, held his pistol with one hand, this time at the sniper's face. Elijah left his rifle there, and stood up to face his attacker. He now remembered, there was a guard in the rooftop.

"You must be Yuri." The Kurd deducted, not gesticulating much, but still keeping his cool.

"You were the one who killed Dmitri, you American prick!"

Elijah quickly grabbed his Beretta, but it only gave his enemy the chance to remove the safety of the Makarov pointed at his face.

"Drop the gun."

"As you wish." He complied, ht nine millimetres hitting the floor softly.

"You aren't an American . . . What are you doing here."

"My job"

"So am I" Yuri responded, staring at Slervansk's focused blue eyes. "Tell me, why to die for a foreign country?"

"I'm not fighting for the United States"

"Then what are you fighting for?"

"To fix a mistake, and pay a debt." The Middle Eastern admitted.

"So are we." The Russian said, blankly. After all, this young man (probably Armenian or Kurdish) wasn't so different than he was, right? After all, it seemed as the two men didn't have any real reason to be enemies, right?

Thinking was a mistake. The second the terrorist decided that he and Slervansk, should the circumstances be different, could be friends, the ECLIPSE sniper quickly grabbed for his handgun and kicked the Tango's left leg, bending it and forcing him to fall, while dropping the Makarov to the floor.

He hit the floor violently, and quickly woke up from his dreams of peace, and Elijah quickly aimed his Beretta to the enemy's head, as he kicked the Makarov away.

"So, the sides have turned." Elijah didn't seem satisfied. He was doing a job. A dirty, oppressive, horrible job that still had to be done.

"You traitorous dog . . ." He reached for his radio, but it was no use. 33 minutes away from Satellite Uplink, the Iraqi smirked. "Kill me, if you are man enough."

"I don't kill for sport." Now he was quoting HER. Not that he did it on purpose. In his opinion, the FOX-HOUND operative Sniper Wolf was his antithesis. The Ying to his Yang.

"Coward . . ." The Russian spitted in disgust.

"Think as you like." The Kurd wasn't affected by the insult. "The point is, I have the gun now. Tell me who are you working for, and I'll let you go. If you don't, then I'll just stay here until all your friends are fertilizer, capiche?"

"I'll never tell you anything!" "I won't ask this again. Who are you working for?"

"You want to know, swine?" Yuri seemed grimly confident now, his brown eyes flaming in hatred towards his opponent, in contrast to Elijah's expressionless blue eyes. Suddenly, he pulled his knife out his sheath, and stabbed it viciously at the ECLIPSE agent's thigh, but luckily for the antiterrorist agent, the terrorist didn't extend his arm, making a superficial cut, piercing the skin and veins, yet not touching the muscle, failing to hamper the sniper's movement, but enough pain to drop him down.

The Russian jumped up wards and grabbed his Makarov. He couldn't help but smiled when he turned around at an amazing speed to put and end to the sharpshooter's life, but as he drove his eyes to the blond-haired killer, he noticed that Slervansk himself was pointing a gun at him, from the floor.

The Kurd pulled the trigger twice, the first nine-millimetre bullet piercing the Kevlar, and going through the skin, muscle, bone, heart, bone, muscle and skin, piercing him perfectly. The second, aimed higher due to the recoil, impacted his in the lower throat, splitting his neck in two.

The Russian fell to his knees, and then dropped silent into the floor of the rooftop. Elijah checked the wound in his thigh. It wasn't bad, he could walk, maybe run, not sprint, due to the pain, since his muscles were untouched. Still, with great effort, he pulled himself upwards, and checked Yuri's body.

Useless, he was dead. The Iraqi didn't smile; he even had to shake his head to shake off the feeling that he was a ruthless killer Just like HER. It was wrong to kill someone. But he was defending his own life; he was defending his friends, and the nation that employed him. The conversation before still bothered him. Was he loyal to America?

He reached into his pocket, and grabbed some painkillers. Due to the size of the pill, he felt like he couldn't swallow it, so he pushed them down his digestive system with some water from his plastic bottle, strapped to his backpack. To think that SHE used to be addicted to pills of that same size gave him the creeps.

But he remembered that despite his mission, he wasn't his sister, and he certainly didn't think like her. She was insane; he shook his head in disapproval for her actions. Well, back to work. The painkillers would probably ease the pain, but not help aiming, like Diazepam or Pentazamin, and even not hamper his moving skills. Miracles of pharmaceutical technology, he still posed a threat to the enemy, even wounded.

He then bandaged the wound, from his sniper nest. Really tight, so he could keep fighting. After all those treatments, he felt like he never had been stabbed.

-- -- --

"Command, this is Epsilon leader, I'm at the first floor." Robert Bogart said, the slightly overweight team leader said, barely opening the stairway's door and looking through the G36's scope. He was a bit large, yeah, but that didn't mean he didn't know how to fight. He was fierce, and knew what he was doing.

"Roger. This is Eclipse Six. Listen, Epsilon, your next objective is to reach the dining room. We expect an important group of hostages to be there." Snake explained, coolly and precisely, to the team.

"Let's go!" The team leader opened the door fully, and ran to the hall, followed by John Dolph, who checked the team's 6 O'clock, that is, their back.

John was a bit over-excited after his gunfight in the stairs. He had been in combat twice in his life, one among the 1st Marine Division fighting through Southern Iraq. He achieved the rank of Lieutenant (out of his own effort, he would say), and joined because his father, Scott Dolph, who was a Major at the time, recommended him. After the war was over, his father was promoted to Commandant, that is, chief of the Marine Corps, and he had to take care of his family.

After the death of his father in 2007, (in an incident that was heavily discussed in the news) he was called in for duty, this time to be called to the Balkans, as a Green Beret, in order to join the Romanian Army near the former Yugoslavia border, in an attempt to fight off the Serbian insurgents. Due to the undercover nature of his Mission, his smaller sister (Helena, by the time married with Colonel Jackson, of the Navy SEAL antiterrorism training squad Dead Cell) was told that John had been killed in a helicopter crash in the Marine base in Quantico, near the FBI academy. The usual CIA fairy-tale.

During his time there, his squad was sent to rescue a group of Romanian soldiers, who had been ambushed by Serbs a few days earlier and got lost in the forest. After a two day-LRRP (Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol), they found him. The only survivor had been the platoon sniper, who happened to be Nikolai Machuttes, who was a Lieutenant at the time.

The return (through a dense forest) had been the most intense 48 hours in John's life; Nick and the Green Berets fought through the forest, fighting off the Serbian irregulars. Due to their "Irregular" condition, the Serbs did not wear uniforms and were constantly ambushing and booby-trapping the US Special Forces detachment. He clearly remembered, when John's team had been barraged with gunfire, and most of them were lying on the ground, he could still hear gunfire coming from his foxhole.

It was Machuttes, who was firing his SVD Dragunov (A high-quality Russian semiautomatic sniper rifle) franticly at a group of advancing Serbs. The American was amazed by the Romanian's attitude and skills; he then tapped him in the shoulder. When the thin-faced, scared guy turned around, John couldn't help but smile at him, and give him a word of comfort.

"Hey, I would let you cover me anytime."

Those days were long gone. John was a sort of dishonour to the family; After all, his father (and recently his sister) was in the Marine Corps, while he served in the army. He was then transferred to Germany, staying in the old Cold-War era bases. With time, he was informed of all the disasters his family was suffering in the USA; his brother-in-law was sent into jail and committed suicide, his sister suffered a miscarriage, and his mother died of Depression.

He felt like had to go back home, and support his sister, yet he remembered that he was officially dead. He remained there, until his own sister died, during the Big Shell incident. What John didn't know was that she was one of the terrorists.

A few days later, a guy in a suit took him in a VC-20B (the military version of the Gulfstream III) to Fort Meade, thus being the first member of ECLIPSE in being recruited. He then discovered that Nikolai Amerstraus, that Romanian sniper, was in ECLIPSE's list. He provided the necessary intelligence for his extraction and he became a member of ECLIPSE himself.

Since then, they became friends and brothers at arms. Right now, he was a support marksman, but John respected Nikolai and let him be his own way. He held his G36 up, and followed Bogart. This mission should be interesting . . .

"What are you doing?" Bogart turned to see his partner. He was a attaching a cylindrical shaped device to the lower area of the barrel of his G36.

"This, my dear Bobby, is an AG36 40mm grenade launcher. The German counterpart to the American M203." He responded, while finishing the attachment process.

"Excuse me, but isn't that like, too extreme?"

"Nothing is too extreme against these bitches."

"Dude! Look! You were shot!" Bogart's eyes dropped to John's stomach, where the Kevlar had been broken and it was hard to see.

"Yeah, it stings a little bit, but I think the Kevlar stopped the round. If it wasn't for the ceramic reinforcements, I'd be playing the harp now. "

"How can ceramics stop a bullet? If I drop a plate it breaks!"

"The Kevlar is used to keep the ceramic rupture from expanding. The ceramic cracks alright, but it's contained."

"Oh."

-- -- --

"This is all wrong . . ." Snake though aloud, near Hal Emmerich, still trying to hack into the Embassy's security system, not just individual security cameras. Eclipse Six never considered Otacon a nerd; he didn't use the computer like on (the stereotype only typed in the keyboard, while Otacon used the Mouse often).

The mission was going well so far; No wounded, no dead, he felt like he didn't have to worry. But he did. It was much easier to be the grunt, to not take decisions, to trust your Commander. But now he was the commander, the face on the other side of the CODEC. The responsibility was large, only beaten in size by the insecurity any moment of calm caused. Was Campbell feeling like this in Zanzibar and Shadow Moses? If any of them died . . . It would be his failure.

But, just like in Shadow Moses, all was fucked up. Why were Vereyanka and Vassov, two SVR agents (The KGB's International operations department, formerly known as "3rd Directory"), working with Ocelot? What was their motive, their purpose? He reached for his phone and made a call.

"William Sharp." The CSA picked up, quickly.

"Will? This is Snake. Where is Monroe?"

"She's here with me and Dr. Hanson, in the NSA headquarters. Why?"

"I need you guys to do some Intel analysis." Snake said, diplomatically. "Dr. Emmerich here will send you a transcript of an enemy conversation one of my boys picked up." He signalled Otacon to do so. "I want you to find out more about the speakers, and figure out what they'll do next."

"Good. Hanson can do that."

"OK, call you later"

-- -- --

He had reached the street. His .300 Winchester was hanging off his back, and he held his pistol (a Beretta M9) with his Nomex-clad left hand, while kneeling. That should not be so hard; the front park seemed clear from the building in front of it, but he knew he shouldn't get cocky.

Nikolai ran (in a compact manner, without showing off and doing the least movement possible) to the entrance. The metal door was open (the terrorists didn't close it... Worse for them). Following what his training said, he shifted the weight of his body to the left side, so he started falling and could see the interior of the security cabin.

Inside, stood a guard. He seemed asleep, sitting in his chair, wearing his helmet low, in a cheap desk, like taking a nap at work. However, that would be from the outside. In a closer inspection, (Nick walked slowly, "stalking" like his partner would say) and removed the helmet.

The eyeball was crushed into the skull, opening the way to the bullet. The other was still open, blocked by the helmet. Nick stopped. Why didn't the wound bleed? He reached for it . . . It was disgusting, reaching into the open skull . . . But it was rewarding; the terrorists had put a piece of cotton inside what used to be a brain, so it would absorb the blood and keep it from bleeding, thus without causing suspicion among the pedestrians.

He heard something; The Embassy door suddenly shut open, event he caught with the corner of his eye. A group of men rushed outside; grey-white pattern uniforms, Kalashnikov Rifles, ski masks . . . Not Russian Army regulars. Didn't move or hold their weapons as such. Probably those ex Spetz Naz.

Why did they go outside? Maybe because they didn't yet know they were being invaded, thus trying to establish new defensive perimeters. Charming. The Romanian had been there before. At that distance (not much more than 25 feet) the Sniper Rifle would be useless. The handgun would be too noisy, the second he killed one, the others would demolish his skull with gunfire.

Remember, Nikolai. Why are you here? Because you are a member of ECLIPSE. Why are you a member of ECLIPSE? Because of my cousin. What was your cousin's specialty?

Then it hit him. His knife.

He took it out of its sheath. He looked at it deeply. He couldn't have guessed he would use it. It was long, made of sparkling metal, with an impressively sharp side. Was it in him? Stabbing? Slashing? Gutting? Please . . .

But again, that was his only choice, and damn he would use it.

OK . . . First step, recon. One enemy was near him, in the left flank (1). Two were in the middle, near the KGB car (2 and 3). And one last, in the right flank (4). He would have to kill 1, and possibly 2 and 3. Four could be avoided, but it was a risk he did not desire to face voluntarily.

He walked out the cabin, staying crouched, hidden in the dark. Guard n. 1, or simply 1, was walking towards him, but he couldn't see him. The morons didn't have NVGs... Well, he didn't either.

He hid near a set of bushes. He wondered if the Embassy's gardener was among the hostages. The terrorist stopped less than 10 feet off the bushes, and Nick held the knife strongly. He "stalked" his way towards the back of 1.

What part of the body would he have to stab first? The throat, probably, so the bastard wouldn't be able to scream and ask for reinforcements. Or the lung, which stood a larger target, and had the same effect.

1 was still looking at the Embassy, instead of patrolling, thing that could have kept him alive. Vamp's cousin leaped behind him, grabbing his throat violently, keeping him from screaming, and then stabbed with all his strength the chest of the Russian. It was tougher than what movies showed, and it took a hell lot more of strength.

1 still tried to shout, so Nick knew he had to cut his air supply and fast. His knife was still lodged in his opposition's lung, and the Romanian suddenly, yet viciously twisted the knife, opening the lung and releasing the Tango's air supply, killing him instantly.

The struggle ended, Nick dropped the body. Dead. Nick didn't wipe the knife (The tangos wouldn't care if they got AIDS if they were being stabbed), but didn't lick it, like that DEAD CELL freak probably could have. He then switched to his next target, 2.

He crawled towards the black car in which the KGB operatives had arrived. Behind it, two Alpha troopers were standing, slightly less alert than the last one. He hid behind the dark car, while listening to the enemy.

"So, what's the deal with this General Ivan guy?" 3 asked, his AK hanging from its strap, held by 3's hand.

"I heard he is a good friend of Captain Steyanovich. I heard he was a KGB spook, too."

"Really?"

Nikolai hid behind the back of the car, while the two terrorists were distracted, talking. He jumped behind him, and slit his throat open, spraying blood. His partner, shocked, pulled the AK 's bolt and raised it, aiming at the Romanian's face. Nick then bended his elbow and threw the knife. That landed right in the Russian's throat, killing him instantly. The other one, still alive, made an exaggerated intent to breathe, and the burst of air going through his severed larynx was enough to bust it open and killing him.

Three out, one to go.

He crawled towards a bush, staring at the remaining Russian guard. He was checking something . . . It was the sniper's body. The chest had one tiny hole, at the height of the heart, and then a second nastier one in the head, a few inches from the ear. A Dragunov (the rifle he had used in his time with the Romanian army) lay next to the enemy sharpshooter. The other Russian looked at the body. Logic told enemy reinforcements were on their way, but Snake had informed him of the enemy's current situation.

There was no need to kill this one, though. Crawled out, stood up and "stalked" his way towards the main door, a large, old, wooden door, sort of odd, since the communist designers tried to stay away from the Tsarist Russia's designs. It was closed, but unlocked. Plain luck, maybe? He walked in, to the belly of the beast.

-- -- --

Private Sean Rodriguez was now on the run; he wasn't discovered, but did he want to stay? Hell no. He was so desperate he was doing the most idiotic thing an Infiltrator (that is, a spy without a disguise) could do.

However, the terrorists were in chaos, and his Beretta M92FS with a high quality silencer was ready to fire, resting in his left hand. Fifteen rounds in the magazine, and one already in the chamber. Besides, he had two additional magazines and a scout knife.

He was still in the third floor; After all, he spent most the time since eavesdropping Ocelot trying to get out of the service passage, which was quite a stunt.

A corner. What lay beyond it was a mystery. He reached that point, and he shrugged. Maybe someone was expecting him, and would shoot him as he walked right into their sights. But he couldn't just stay there . . . He made up his mind; it was now or never.

When the first hundred muscles set in position to drag Sean's body, the Scout almost had a heart attack, and after muffled sounds, a sort or Rocket flew past the corner and hit the wall. The figure was hard to see and surprisingly it didn't detonate, just bashed itself into the wall. But it wasn't a rocket. It was a body.

A Russian soldier, his body filled with holes, and it gave Sean courage to see what threw him.

"Thank god!"

Joshua Machuttes enormous body stood before him, the large soldier had a suppressed G36K with Laser sight, gun that was large enough to make Sylvester Stallone shiver to death, and a balaclava (not much more than a military issue Ski Mask). He couldn't see his face, but it was obvious, with his large body and confident stance.

"Sean! I though you had to rendezvous with Bobby and John. " The Sergeant said, extending his hand to hand shake the Mexican. The scout didn't budge.

"Didn't find them, big guy."

"Where are the hostages, Sean?" Just then, a small (not much more than 1,55 meters) woman (wearing the same black BDU than Joshua) walked in, behind the muscular Inuit. Nadia Slonoskvo walked a bit more tensely that Joshua, she wasn't used to the combat high.

"I'll show the way . . ."

"Good," Joshua interrupted. "You sure you don't want a larger gun?" He said, taking a pitiful look at the nine millimetres in Sean's hand. Josh despised low calibre weapons. He liked feeling the power on his hands, and besides, why to kill a man using two 9mm bullets when he could blow him off with a single .45?

"If I only had your fists, Josh . . ." Sean said, relaxing himself, ignoring for a second that his life was on the line. "Show me that . . ."

Joshua pulled the Kalashnikov tied to his backpack, and gave it to the Latin soldier. Sean looked deeply at the gun, while Josh gave him some additional magazines. It was strange; supposedly, ECLIPSE always would use its own equipment. But shit, the AK-74 was an effective piece and why should not he use it?

"OK, let's move it . . ."

-- -- --

"Commander?" It was Sub-Commander Katya Monroe, in her usual dark tone, not saying much.

"Yeah, what's up?"

"My team has figured out why the SVR is present at the Embassy."

"Ok, spit it out already!"

"Connections, Commander. To run an operation like this, it would be necessary to have someone taking care of the logistics. Weapons, transport personnel, even informants. The backbone of the assault force was members of the former Soviet Military, but these men have no connections here to establish themselves in American soil."

"Didn't Ocelot say they were negotiating?"

"That also confused us, but we got around it; for what the Washington PD sent us, there wasn't a constant conversation between the terrorists and the authorities, but quick messages through E-Mail. Still, I guess they just sent a message."

"So you are saying that Vassov and Vereyanka are here to establish logistics and outside support?"

"That's right. Dr. Hanson also suggested that this operation is too large for only being a single strike, and besides, their demands are too much for what they threat."

"What are you suggesting?"

"That this may be only just one smaller part of a larger operation."

"Shit."

"I know. Why would they bother bringing all that equipment to the US for a single strike? Why do they consider Sobrietsky so important that he's worth REX? I think this is just the tip of the Iceberg. Besides, I have the feeling the Russian Regulars are about to be betrayed."

"Say that again?"

"Sir, Ocelot has brought Assault Rifles, Kevlar vests, Russian Mafia members and god knows what else into the country, somehow. This operation seems thoroughly planned. Shalashaska is a member of FOX-HOUND, remember? How can a man of his tactical genius overlook the fact that the satellite would be out of range at some point?"

"Which means?"

"Which means that he was expecting it to happen. According to the guard position our team has reported, Arbatov's men are set in the limits of the Embassy, while Steyanovich's troops are in the middle. In case of radio silence, the Army Regulars are sitting ducks to an organized assault."

"Why would Ocelot want to get rid of the Army Regulars?"

"I don't know." She admitted. "But let's face it; Ocelot is, believe it or not, a PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) sufferer. He acts like he is in combat anytime. Do you think he has the ability to trust anyone? "

"I know I don't trust him." Snake said, hissing. "Thanks, Katya"

"You are welcome, Commander"

"May I ask for something else?"

"Yes?"

"I want a background on all the four names mentioned, Vereyanka, Vassov, Steyanovich and Arbatov."

"Will do, sir."

"Thanks, Katya." The finished the communication.

-- -- --

"OK, people, this is the plan." Joshua said, staring into the revealed eyes of the two agents following him. At the same time, he stared at the door that led to the Ambassador's apartment. Their faces seemed expectant, visible since their Ski masks were pulled up, covering their hair and upper forehead, but they would have to put them on completely when they got into combat. "Nadia, give your flash bangs to Sean. Sean, I'll open the door a bit. If I don't get spotted, I want you to chuck two flash grenades inside. "

"And then?" Sean was sceptical. Joshua wasn't a genius tactician, and this was no time to risk anything.

"We bust in and use those seven seconds to send those mother fuckers to hell, without letting them fry the hostages."

"And what if you get spotted?" Nadia asked, while handing the two Stun Grenades to Sean.

"We'll get into some serious fire fight."

The team got in position, while they pulled their balaclavas downwards to cover their faces. Nadia and Joshua set at the sides of the door, their G36K pointed at it. Sean set himself behind it, and raised Nadia flash bangs, one in each hand, waiting for the word.

Joshua opened the door microscopically. Through the small area he could see through, he got what he wanted; Three Alpha team members patrolling it. A bunch of people in tuxedos, who were the hostages. Blindfolded and tied to the floor, in order to stop a rebellion. He was unnoticed. He then turned to Sean, and nodded.

Sean pulled both pins simultaneously and threw one after the other. They landed on the wooden floor making a shy noise, but...

""What was that?" One of the terrorists turned around, and noticed two cylindrical shaped metal devices in the floor. They didn't look like grenades, so he signalled his partners to go and take a look. And then, they detonated.

The thunder of light pierced their eyes, making a blinding flash and a powerful noise, flooding their senses and overwhelming them. They were too confused; they didn't know what sort of shit was going on.

ECLIPSE busted in, firing shots. The hostages began screaming. They were blindfolded, so they weren't victim of the Stun Grenades. But it was heart stopping to hear the explosion, and the door being busted open, not to mention gunfire.

One of the Russians opened his irritated eyes, making a huge effort just to see Joshua Machuttes shooting a nine-round-burst at his head, turning it into a deformed mass that fell with the rest of the body. The other one heard the mess and started firing the Kalashnikov senselessly. Nadia quickly ducked to evade a burst.

"We can't let them kill the hostages!" She shouted.

"Fucking shoot him, then!" She head a distorted voice say. It was Sean just entering the room.

Still kneeling behind the desk, she aligned the confused former Soviet soldier to the laser sight mounted on her G36K, aimed at his heart, and delivered a final shot, that went through the Kevlar and blowing his rib cage open, killing him.

The last one had regained consciousness and aimed an AN-94 at Joshua's head, who was still searching for the third tango. He aimed at the huge head covered by the balaclava, an easy target.

Joshua raised his eyes, and saw the man ready to finish him off. His heart stopped. It was over. The barrel of the gun was like the mouth of a dragon, now peaceful, but soon fire would emerge, finishing him. In times like those, time seemed to slow down, after the certain realisation that he wouldn't leave the place, except within a plastic bag.

The Russian's finger seemed to tense. Joshua, still frozen, was ready to go back to mother nature, like his tribe would have called it. But then again, he left the tribe to join the "modern" world. It was over.

He heard gunshots. In his slow-motion state of mind, he was sure the bullets were on their way to end his time in this world. Only the bullets weren't fired at him. Suddenly, the head of the terrorist pointing at him suddenly got nailed, and the combination of blood and brains was ejected like a reddish spray, being released upwards. Suddenly, a hell of bullets hit his attacker, demolishing his head and body, which twitched like if he was suffering an epileptic seizure, only dots of red appeared all over him. Half a second later, (yet to Joshua it seemed a couple of minutes) he fell silent. Time regained its normal flow, as Josh turned to see his saviour.

"Sean! Shit! I fucking owe you one!" he said, looking at the advancing soldier and the energized hostages, pathetically trying to escape, unable to do so.

"Yeah, I know" the Latin said, smiling, lowering the half-clipped AK, that had saved Joshua's life. "You'll need to pay that back, eventually" The confident atmosphere was destroyed. A bullet flew threw the air and hit a couple of inches from Sean's head. A pistol bullet, according to the noise, and the bullet impacting the wall, and the ECLIPSE commandos ducked behind cover, and again scaring the shit out of the hostages, screaming through the duct tape.

The team turned to see the shooter. A group of five men stormed from the Ambassador's room; four of them were soldiers, with tactical camouflage, balaclavas and Assault Rifles trained at the three operatives. The fifth man, the shooter, in the middle, wore an overcoat, a camouflage underneath, and had an old Revolver in his hand, smoking. Nadia recognised him in seconds- the man she had killed in VR:

Revolver Ocelot.

"Freeze!" He shouted, in that Russian accented voice. Some more men entered, as the four shooters closed in ECLIPSE. Among them, were two KGB officers, and the commander of the Alpha team, Captain Steyanovich, and the commander of the Regulars, Major Arbatov.

"Shalshaska, what should we do?" Steyanovich asked Ocelot. The former FOX- HOUND operator assessed his options. Suddenly, Joshua started shooting his G36K at the tangos, killing one of the Alpha soldiers, as the rest ducked for cover.

The Alpha troopers jumped out of cover and fired back, destroying the wall and wounding the hostages, with pieces of material flying off, making a constant thunder, that seemed to last for ever

"Hold you fire!" Ocelot then shouted, "I said, hold you fire!" The soldiers stopped, but still kept their sights on the cover of the ECLIPSE Bravo team. "I want to negotiate with you!" He shouted.

The look in the antiterrorists' faces was surprise. Why would Ocelot want to speak with them?

"What do you want?" Joshua, the officer of superior rank, asked.

"First, drop your radios, then slide them in my direction..."

They complied, and threw the small black boxes (only the snipers were issued CODECs) to the terrorists. One of the KGB Colonels picked up one, and Ocelot grabbed the other one. The rest were still trying to keep the ECLIPSE Assault Shooter behind their cover.

Ocelot stared at the black box, and pressed the red button.

"Hello? Who am I speaking with?" Ocelot asked, the rough voice being a torment through the channel.

"Ocelot?"

"Solid Snake . . ."

-- -- --

Author's note: I hope you enjoyed this chap. I'm sorry I took so long, it's just that my PC was upgraded, and well... In any case, I also apologize for the orthographical mistakes. I don't know if they exist, but . . .

Thanks:

-Simon Wolf-Gough (Who has Beta-Read this chapter and helped me all the way through)

-AgentFisher (Who asked me if he could be a Beta reader, too bad I couldn't contact him)

-site #1 (who gave me information on the massacre of Kurds on Halabja, that helped big time on the creation of Elijah's bio)

-site #2 (Weapons information)

-The History Channel (Info on the KGB and the whole Ceramic protection deal)

-Thomas L. Clancy (my favourite author, who inspired me into doing this)

-And the rest, who I can't remember right now, but you know who you are.