Chapter 9- Identity Crisis
Snake woke up, groggy, the back of his neck still hurting. He tried to get up, but discovered that he was bound to a surface, what could only be a torture bed, by thick ropes.
"Glad you're finally awake, Snake," said a voice. Snake looked around, trying to find the where the voice came from. His vision was too groggy to make out anything in the room, but he felt the torture bed being tilted, until it came to a perfect ninety-degree angle. When Snake's vision at last cleared up, he found that he was in the same room with the man who had knocked him out. Snake didn't recognize him, however, as he was attacked from behind. The man turned around, and Snake got a good look at his large assault rifle. A flashback then kicked in inside Snake's head. It was recent; right after the mystery man waylaid him. He was just losing consciousness, and looked up at his abductor. He got a glimpse of the large gun as it was being pointed at the sentry. It was the same gun he was looking at the now.
It's him, Snake thought. He turned around, staring Snake straight in the eyes and vice versa. He pressed a button on his helmet and his visor went up; he wanted to make sure Snake could see the look in his eyes. Snake recognized his face; it reminded him of someone, but he couldn't pinpoint whom.
"Imagine this, Snake," he said. "A shadow organization consisting of twelve people who control a country. These people have so much power, that they control every aspect of the nation. The Military's Tactical Network, political proposals, funding, the flow of information, the jobs that certain people get, even who becomes president. The control the all government activity, and have influence worldwide.
"But, I'm sure you know all about this, Snake. I know that you're aware of the twelve men known as the Patriots. And I'm sure you know the Patriots' golden rule: anything they don't like, they get rid of... permanently. Including you, Snake. You shouldn't have been such a nuisance. Nothing but a proverbial thorn in the Patriot's side. Nothing but trouble for us has come from you, Snake. We try to kill you, but you survive, time and time again, no matter what we do." His voice was becoming louder as he said this, and he was pacing around the room. He came closer to Snake, face-to- face, nose-to- nose with the legend.
"But that will end immediately. For now, we do battle." He then took out his large assault rifle and shot the ropes that bound Snake to the torture bed, releasing him. Snake fell to the floor on one knee, his palms hitting the tile to support him. He brought his head up to find that his opponent was gone. Snake stood and placed his hand on his Beretta, wondering why he wasn't stripped of his gear and weapons. Nevertheless, he got ready to hunt down his prey, when suddenly he felt an intense pain in the back of his knee. He started a sudden, unexpected descent toward the ground, but was able to use his momentum to his advantage, executing a forward roll that landed him on the opposite side of the room. He got up on one knee, turned around to face his opponent, his Beretta pointed at him.
"I expected more than that from a guy who works for the Patriots," said Snake. "Is that the best you can do?"
"Don't worry, Snake. There's plenty more where that came from!"
"And there's plenty more where these come from, too!" Snake said as he unloaded a clip from his Beretta at his opponent. He did a back flip to dodge the bullets, and the bullets passed under his back. He lands behind the torture bed, and pressed up against it. He heard and felt the bullets pinging and panging off of the metal. Snake wouldn't usually have shot at someone behind sufficient cover, but he wanted revenge for his capture. And revenge was a dish best served ice cold. All of the bullets missed, and while Snake was preoccupied with his rage, his opponent threw a grenade over the top of his temporary shield. It landed next to Snake and detonated on impact, but Snake managed to dodge it. But, very much to Snake's dismay, it turned out to be a smoke grenade. Snake tried to find his way around the room, thick with smoke. He saw a dim gray outline and swung at it, a right cross followed by a left. Both were ducked under, and Snake attempted a roundhouse kick that was also blocked. A stream of bullets then hit his abdomen, sending him down on one knee. Snake then got two knees to his stomach, and a hard punch to his jaw, knocking him on the floor. He pointed the barrel of his assault rifle at Snake's head, as he lay semi-conscious on the floor.
"Well, well Snake. Is this what you expected from someone who works for the Patriots?"
Snake let out a groan of pain, barely able to speak. "Who-what are you?"
"I am a Snake. Or should I say, I am the Snake. I am a replica of Big Boss, as are you, Snake, shaped completely in his image, with the same genes as you and your brothers. But Les Enfants Terribles was not my birthplace. No, Snake, I was, you could say, trained. by the Patriots! I am the first step in a line of genetic warriors! I am the Immortal Snake! And with you dead, I'll be one step closer to being."
"You-you're nothing but a genetic freak, just another clone of a legendary soldier."
"Just like you, Snake. Though I'm no clone, unlike you. You're nothing but an experiment gone horribly wrong."
Snake spit out blood, choking, gagging on it.
"Just-" He gagged, unable to get the words out. "Just-kill me, you bastard."
Immortal then picked Snake up and threw him against the wall. Snake's back banged against the wall, and a sickening thud was heard. He fell to the ground and blood began to come from his mouth. Immortal then backed up against the opposite wall.
"Your wish is my command, Snake! " His finger was a split second from the trigger, from hurling a stream of bullets toward Snake's head. Suddenly, several throwing stars were launched in Immortal's direction, missing his head and face by mere millimeters. Immortal pointed his F2000 around the room, trying to find out where the projectiles came from.
"Come on, whoever you are! I didn't come here to play hide-and-seek!" he yelled to no one. A ninja suddenly landed across the room from him, the same one Snake had encountered earlier. He was face-to-face with the Immortal. He gave Immoral a cold, hatred-filled stare underneath the helmet. The ninja threw three throwing stars at Immortal, one at his arm, one at his leg, and one at his head. Immortal jumped up, crouched in mid- air, lowering his head, and the star flew over his head. He then lifted up his right arm and his left leg, still in the air, and both stars flew past him, harmlessly hitting the wall behind him. He landed on the ground, and pointed his F2000 in front of him, but the ninja was gone.
The ninja unsheathed his sword, gleaming under the light. He held it with one hand and pointed the sharp end at Immortal, who responded by pointing the barrel his gun at the ninja's helmeted head. Suddenly, his grip on his gun weakened, causing it to drop to the floor. He grabbed his chest and screamed to heaven. Clawing at his chest, Immortal had and still felt a sudden sharp stab of pain in his heart region.
"Ahhhhhhh!!!!!!!" He screamed, his hands moving frantically over the left side of his chest. The pain was steadily growing in his chest, getting stronger and stronger with every second passing.
Immortal stopped grabbing at his chest, and the whole room seemed to fill with his frantic heartbeat. He staggered, trying his hardest to fight it, to beat whatever was steadily killing him. He couldn't contain the agony, and dropped to one knee. His legs ceased function, and Immortal fell on his back, unmoving.
The ninja had no idea what had just happened, since he wasn't a medical expert. He paid it no further attention, and put his focus on Snake. He extended his hand in a gesture to help Snake up. But Snake, on his principle of "Don't Trust Anybody", did not accept the help of the ninja. He stood and took out his gun.
"Who are you?" he said as he pointed his Colt 633 at the ninja. Snake gagged and coughed up blood, obviously in bad shape, barely able to stand. The ninja responded by... doing nothing. Nothing except dropping the hand that he had extended to help Snake to his feet.
"We've never met as acquaintances, but we know each other well as enemies. I'm here to help you, and to put an end to the Patriots."
"I hear that a lot," said Snake, dryly.
"No one can hide behind a mask their entire lives, Snake. You deserve to know my true identity." He slowly took his helmet off.
Meanwhile, in a small, nearby room, Revolver Ocelot watched the scene on a screen. He ejected a small disc and pocketed it.
"Oh, yes, they will be most pleased."
Snake woke up, groggy, the back of his neck still hurting. He tried to get up, but discovered that he was bound to a surface, what could only be a torture bed, by thick ropes.
"Glad you're finally awake, Snake," said a voice. Snake looked around, trying to find the where the voice came from. His vision was too groggy to make out anything in the room, but he felt the torture bed being tilted, until it came to a perfect ninety-degree angle. When Snake's vision at last cleared up, he found that he was in the same room with the man who had knocked him out. Snake didn't recognize him, however, as he was attacked from behind. The man turned around, and Snake got a good look at his large assault rifle. A flashback then kicked in inside Snake's head. It was recent; right after the mystery man waylaid him. He was just losing consciousness, and looked up at his abductor. He got a glimpse of the large gun as it was being pointed at the sentry. It was the same gun he was looking at the now.
It's him, Snake thought. He turned around, staring Snake straight in the eyes and vice versa. He pressed a button on his helmet and his visor went up; he wanted to make sure Snake could see the look in his eyes. Snake recognized his face; it reminded him of someone, but he couldn't pinpoint whom.
"Imagine this, Snake," he said. "A shadow organization consisting of twelve people who control a country. These people have so much power, that they control every aspect of the nation. The Military's Tactical Network, political proposals, funding, the flow of information, the jobs that certain people get, even who becomes president. The control the all government activity, and have influence worldwide.
"But, I'm sure you know all about this, Snake. I know that you're aware of the twelve men known as the Patriots. And I'm sure you know the Patriots' golden rule: anything they don't like, they get rid of... permanently. Including you, Snake. You shouldn't have been such a nuisance. Nothing but a proverbial thorn in the Patriot's side. Nothing but trouble for us has come from you, Snake. We try to kill you, but you survive, time and time again, no matter what we do." His voice was becoming louder as he said this, and he was pacing around the room. He came closer to Snake, face-to- face, nose-to- nose with the legend.
"But that will end immediately. For now, we do battle." He then took out his large assault rifle and shot the ropes that bound Snake to the torture bed, releasing him. Snake fell to the floor on one knee, his palms hitting the tile to support him. He brought his head up to find that his opponent was gone. Snake stood and placed his hand on his Beretta, wondering why he wasn't stripped of his gear and weapons. Nevertheless, he got ready to hunt down his prey, when suddenly he felt an intense pain in the back of his knee. He started a sudden, unexpected descent toward the ground, but was able to use his momentum to his advantage, executing a forward roll that landed him on the opposite side of the room. He got up on one knee, turned around to face his opponent, his Beretta pointed at him.
"I expected more than that from a guy who works for the Patriots," said Snake. "Is that the best you can do?"
"Don't worry, Snake. There's plenty more where that came from!"
"And there's plenty more where these come from, too!" Snake said as he unloaded a clip from his Beretta at his opponent. He did a back flip to dodge the bullets, and the bullets passed under his back. He lands behind the torture bed, and pressed up against it. He heard and felt the bullets pinging and panging off of the metal. Snake wouldn't usually have shot at someone behind sufficient cover, but he wanted revenge for his capture. And revenge was a dish best served ice cold. All of the bullets missed, and while Snake was preoccupied with his rage, his opponent threw a grenade over the top of his temporary shield. It landed next to Snake and detonated on impact, but Snake managed to dodge it. But, very much to Snake's dismay, it turned out to be a smoke grenade. Snake tried to find his way around the room, thick with smoke. He saw a dim gray outline and swung at it, a right cross followed by a left. Both were ducked under, and Snake attempted a roundhouse kick that was also blocked. A stream of bullets then hit his abdomen, sending him down on one knee. Snake then got two knees to his stomach, and a hard punch to his jaw, knocking him on the floor. He pointed the barrel of his assault rifle at Snake's head, as he lay semi-conscious on the floor.
"Well, well Snake. Is this what you expected from someone who works for the Patriots?"
Snake let out a groan of pain, barely able to speak. "Who-what are you?"
"I am a Snake. Or should I say, I am the Snake. I am a replica of Big Boss, as are you, Snake, shaped completely in his image, with the same genes as you and your brothers. But Les Enfants Terribles was not my birthplace. No, Snake, I was, you could say, trained. by the Patriots! I am the first step in a line of genetic warriors! I am the Immortal Snake! And with you dead, I'll be one step closer to being."
"You-you're nothing but a genetic freak, just another clone of a legendary soldier."
"Just like you, Snake. Though I'm no clone, unlike you. You're nothing but an experiment gone horribly wrong."
Snake spit out blood, choking, gagging on it.
"Just-" He gagged, unable to get the words out. "Just-kill me, you bastard."
Immortal then picked Snake up and threw him against the wall. Snake's back banged against the wall, and a sickening thud was heard. He fell to the ground and blood began to come from his mouth. Immortal then backed up against the opposite wall.
"Your wish is my command, Snake! " His finger was a split second from the trigger, from hurling a stream of bullets toward Snake's head. Suddenly, several throwing stars were launched in Immortal's direction, missing his head and face by mere millimeters. Immortal pointed his F2000 around the room, trying to find out where the projectiles came from.
"Come on, whoever you are! I didn't come here to play hide-and-seek!" he yelled to no one. A ninja suddenly landed across the room from him, the same one Snake had encountered earlier. He was face-to-face with the Immortal. He gave Immoral a cold, hatred-filled stare underneath the helmet. The ninja threw three throwing stars at Immortal, one at his arm, one at his leg, and one at his head. Immortal jumped up, crouched in mid- air, lowering his head, and the star flew over his head. He then lifted up his right arm and his left leg, still in the air, and both stars flew past him, harmlessly hitting the wall behind him. He landed on the ground, and pointed his F2000 in front of him, but the ninja was gone.
The ninja unsheathed his sword, gleaming under the light. He held it with one hand and pointed the sharp end at Immortal, who responded by pointing the barrel his gun at the ninja's helmeted head. Suddenly, his grip on his gun weakened, causing it to drop to the floor. He grabbed his chest and screamed to heaven. Clawing at his chest, Immortal had and still felt a sudden sharp stab of pain in his heart region.
"Ahhhhhhh!!!!!!!" He screamed, his hands moving frantically over the left side of his chest. The pain was steadily growing in his chest, getting stronger and stronger with every second passing.
Immortal stopped grabbing at his chest, and the whole room seemed to fill with his frantic heartbeat. He staggered, trying his hardest to fight it, to beat whatever was steadily killing him. He couldn't contain the agony, and dropped to one knee. His legs ceased function, and Immortal fell on his back, unmoving.
The ninja had no idea what had just happened, since he wasn't a medical expert. He paid it no further attention, and put his focus on Snake. He extended his hand in a gesture to help Snake up. But Snake, on his principle of "Don't Trust Anybody", did not accept the help of the ninja. He stood and took out his gun.
"Who are you?" he said as he pointed his Colt 633 at the ninja. Snake gagged and coughed up blood, obviously in bad shape, barely able to stand. The ninja responded by... doing nothing. Nothing except dropping the hand that he had extended to help Snake to his feet.
"We've never met as acquaintances, but we know each other well as enemies. I'm here to help you, and to put an end to the Patriots."
"I hear that a lot," said Snake, dryly.
"No one can hide behind a mask their entire lives, Snake. You deserve to know my true identity." He slowly took his helmet off.
Meanwhile, in a small, nearby room, Revolver Ocelot watched the scene on a screen. He ejected a small disc and pocketed it.
"Oh, yes, they will be most pleased."