Chapter 13- Questions and Answers
Snake looked at the destruction around him. Small but raging fires illuminated twisted metal heaps that used to be choppers. Bodies were strewn about; the area around them stained a deep crimson red. Snake looked at RAY, unmoving, ominous against the darkness of the night. The Metal Gear was in a crouch position, its head low to the ground; so low that Snake and Schneider could literally stare straight into the glowing metal plates that were the RAY's "eyes". Schneider's hand still held the Desert Eagle that he had apparently used to kill RAY's pilot.
Snake looked down at the body of the mystery soldier. He could see blood and brain tissue around his head, indicating a severe headshot. It wasn't a pretty sight, but Snake ignored it as if it was nothing, his face showing no emotion whatsoever.
He looked up at Schneider, who was examining the Desert Eagle as if it were sacred. He dropped it to the ground, but his eyes remained locked onto the place where the gun was while he was holding it. It seemed as if he were in another world. The gun landed at his feet, and then he looked up at the sky, not showing any emotion on his face. Both of Schneider's hands formed tight fists. Snake then noticed something on Schneider's wrists. Metal shackles were attached to them, as well as both his ankles. A short chain dangled on each individual manacle. If there had been a single, long metal link connecting the two wrist shackles and the two ankle shackles, it had been crudely broken, leaving only the ends. But Snake didn't give it a second thought.
He circled the fallen soldier, with his Beretta pointed at him, the laser sight playing on his unmoving body. He was laying on his right side and part of his back, his left arm crossed over to his right side, facing away from Snake. Snake nudged him with the toe of his boot, as he was always trained to do in order to make sure that the enemy was dead, still holding the Beretta in his direction. He was forced over on his side, and, other than that, remained motionless. Snake got down on one knee and checked for a pulse with his right hand, his sidearm still in his left. None.
He stood back up and looked at Schneider, who appeared to be back to normal, but Snake could barely remember what normal was. His life hadn't been normal since the day he was born. Born with no purpose other than to be a human killing machine. Snake suddenly got a codec call. Otacon was on the other end.
"Snake, you there?" Otacon sounded worried.
"Otacon, what's wrong?" asked Snake, immediately after hearing the nervousness in Otacon's tone of voice.
"I just got this weird message on my computer. It's in some kind of weird code. I'm almost afraid that it'll be indecipherable."
"Can you trace where it came from?" asked Snake.
"No. I can't any hints of a trace. Whoever sent this was careful that no one would no who they were."
"It's not anonymous?"
"No. This mission is turning for the worse, Snake."
"Don't worry," said Snake. "By now, I'm used to things screwing up like this."
"Oh, well, good. Because I have something to tell you."
"More bad news, Otacon?" asked Snake, as if he didn't know.
"Afraid so. Someone is monitoring you, Snake. Watching your every move."
"Does that include the codec transmissions?"
"No, just your actions on the battlefield, which makes me worry. It's downright weird."
"Well, this just wouldn't be bad news unless you can't figure out who it is," said Snake, sarcastically.
"Of course. You hit the proverbial nail on the head."
"Ever find out Russia's motive for stealing RAY?"
"No. But listen Snake. I've found out that there is a local resistance group that is trying to stop whatever it is that they're doing. Try to get in touch with someone that is working for them."
"Will do," said Snake as the call was disconnected. Schneider then turned around to face Snake.
"Switch over to codec, Snake," he said as he tapped the inside of his ear.
"What's going on around here, Schneider?" asked Snake.
"It's them, Snake. They're behind this."
"Entirely?"
"No, not quite," started Schneider. "It all started after Liquid Snake stole the Metal Gear RAY prototype at the Big Shell cleanup facility incident. As you may know, he was on a quest to eliminate the Patriots."
"I can't blame him."
"He took control over the Russian private army that was formerly headed by Sergei Gurlukovich, then given to his heir, Olga Gurlukovich. was a dictator; he convinced Russia that with his help, he could eliminate the Patriots and rebuild communist Russia. They decided to accept his offer, and also agreed to keep metal gear here on this remote island. Liquid Snake assisted them in smuggling goods from the United States to this Russian island."
"Military goods, I assume," said Snake.
"Exactly. They, Liquid and the Russian army, were planning on taking RAY and upgrading it, enhancing its abilities. You should know that Revolver Ocelot had the specifications of Metal Gear, before selling them on the black market. And Liquid had. well, a rather easy time getting a hold of them as well. With those specs, it should be no problem for Liquid to be able to do what he intends, expanding its capabilities. He had the same theory as George Sears. Destroying the mindless masses that they control could stop them, he thought. That's one part of the story. Only the beginning."
"How do you know all this?" asked Snake.
"I should. I was--"
Suddenly, Schneider let out a scream of sheer agony. The codec call was immediately cut. Snake looked over at his ally, trying to figure out what was happening.
"My suit... they're... shutting off...!"
"They?" said Snake. He immediately knew whom he was talking about. "It can't be!"
Schneider then let out another ear splitting scream. Plasma bolts were released from his suit, appearing as thin sparks emanating from the metal. Schneider stumbled like a drunk, struggling to stay on his feet. Eventually, the struggle ended. He fell to the ground, either unconscious, or the other, higher possibility, dead. Snake knew that it was the latter. He looked at his ally, and anger and hatred filled his eyes.
"The Patriots..." he said in a low voice.
Snake looked at the destruction around him. Small but raging fires illuminated twisted metal heaps that used to be choppers. Bodies were strewn about; the area around them stained a deep crimson red. Snake looked at RAY, unmoving, ominous against the darkness of the night. The Metal Gear was in a crouch position, its head low to the ground; so low that Snake and Schneider could literally stare straight into the glowing metal plates that were the RAY's "eyes". Schneider's hand still held the Desert Eagle that he had apparently used to kill RAY's pilot.
Snake looked down at the body of the mystery soldier. He could see blood and brain tissue around his head, indicating a severe headshot. It wasn't a pretty sight, but Snake ignored it as if it was nothing, his face showing no emotion whatsoever.
He looked up at Schneider, who was examining the Desert Eagle as if it were sacred. He dropped it to the ground, but his eyes remained locked onto the place where the gun was while he was holding it. It seemed as if he were in another world. The gun landed at his feet, and then he looked up at the sky, not showing any emotion on his face. Both of Schneider's hands formed tight fists. Snake then noticed something on Schneider's wrists. Metal shackles were attached to them, as well as both his ankles. A short chain dangled on each individual manacle. If there had been a single, long metal link connecting the two wrist shackles and the two ankle shackles, it had been crudely broken, leaving only the ends. But Snake didn't give it a second thought.
He circled the fallen soldier, with his Beretta pointed at him, the laser sight playing on his unmoving body. He was laying on his right side and part of his back, his left arm crossed over to his right side, facing away from Snake. Snake nudged him with the toe of his boot, as he was always trained to do in order to make sure that the enemy was dead, still holding the Beretta in his direction. He was forced over on his side, and, other than that, remained motionless. Snake got down on one knee and checked for a pulse with his right hand, his sidearm still in his left. None.
He stood back up and looked at Schneider, who appeared to be back to normal, but Snake could barely remember what normal was. His life hadn't been normal since the day he was born. Born with no purpose other than to be a human killing machine. Snake suddenly got a codec call. Otacon was on the other end.
"Snake, you there?" Otacon sounded worried.
"Otacon, what's wrong?" asked Snake, immediately after hearing the nervousness in Otacon's tone of voice.
"I just got this weird message on my computer. It's in some kind of weird code. I'm almost afraid that it'll be indecipherable."
"Can you trace where it came from?" asked Snake.
"No. I can't any hints of a trace. Whoever sent this was careful that no one would no who they were."
"It's not anonymous?"
"No. This mission is turning for the worse, Snake."
"Don't worry," said Snake. "By now, I'm used to things screwing up like this."
"Oh, well, good. Because I have something to tell you."
"More bad news, Otacon?" asked Snake, as if he didn't know.
"Afraid so. Someone is monitoring you, Snake. Watching your every move."
"Does that include the codec transmissions?"
"No, just your actions on the battlefield, which makes me worry. It's downright weird."
"Well, this just wouldn't be bad news unless you can't figure out who it is," said Snake, sarcastically.
"Of course. You hit the proverbial nail on the head."
"Ever find out Russia's motive for stealing RAY?"
"No. But listen Snake. I've found out that there is a local resistance group that is trying to stop whatever it is that they're doing. Try to get in touch with someone that is working for them."
"Will do," said Snake as the call was disconnected. Schneider then turned around to face Snake.
"Switch over to codec, Snake," he said as he tapped the inside of his ear.
"What's going on around here, Schneider?" asked Snake.
"It's them, Snake. They're behind this."
"Entirely?"
"No, not quite," started Schneider. "It all started after Liquid Snake stole the Metal Gear RAY prototype at the Big Shell cleanup facility incident. As you may know, he was on a quest to eliminate the Patriots."
"I can't blame him."
"He took control over the Russian private army that was formerly headed by Sergei Gurlukovich, then given to his heir, Olga Gurlukovich. was a dictator; he convinced Russia that with his help, he could eliminate the Patriots and rebuild communist Russia. They decided to accept his offer, and also agreed to keep metal gear here on this remote island. Liquid Snake assisted them in smuggling goods from the United States to this Russian island."
"Military goods, I assume," said Snake.
"Exactly. They, Liquid and the Russian army, were planning on taking RAY and upgrading it, enhancing its abilities. You should know that Revolver Ocelot had the specifications of Metal Gear, before selling them on the black market. And Liquid had. well, a rather easy time getting a hold of them as well. With those specs, it should be no problem for Liquid to be able to do what he intends, expanding its capabilities. He had the same theory as George Sears. Destroying the mindless masses that they control could stop them, he thought. That's one part of the story. Only the beginning."
"How do you know all this?" asked Snake.
"I should. I was--"
Suddenly, Schneider let out a scream of sheer agony. The codec call was immediately cut. Snake looked over at his ally, trying to figure out what was happening.
"My suit... they're... shutting off...!"
"They?" said Snake. He immediately knew whom he was talking about. "It can't be!"
Schneider then let out another ear splitting scream. Plasma bolts were released from his suit, appearing as thin sparks emanating from the metal. Schneider stumbled like a drunk, struggling to stay on his feet. Eventually, the struggle ended. He fell to the ground, either unconscious, or the other, higher possibility, dead. Snake knew that it was the latter. He looked at his ally, and anger and hatred filled his eyes.
"The Patriots..." he said in a low voice.