Disclaimer: Konami owns the rights to Metal Gear and all of its corresponding characters. I'm just writing this until I get an idea for an original plot. I might be here for a while…

Snake warily approached the inert form that was Olga, who was leaning against the bolted down locker, his M9 thrust out before him. The rain continued to fall, soaking both of the warriors, but Olga didn't so much as flinch, despite the thin clothing she wore. Snake doubted anyone could fake sleeping in this weather, but still…

He reached a hand out to prod the woman into waking, to test if she was really asleep or just playing, but before his hand could come within an inch of her chilled skin, she flopped over onto her side and a small snore escaped her. She was definitely asleep. He holstered his M9, confident that there would be no surprises.

Snake squatted down beside her and picked up the gun beside her body. It was a light-equipped USP, a 9mm handgun with a flashlight mounted under the barrel. The slide was locked back, showing an empty breach. It was unloaded. A quick check on Olga showed she did not possess any extra clips. He unlocked the slide and stood up.

"Hmm…" Snake muttered, looking over the gun once more. If he could find some ammo –

His thoughts were scattered as a buzzing sound and a motion in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He looked around, but there was nothing, so he looked up and saw it.

"It" was a floating satellite-type craft. Its body was a flat circle with a fan inside to keep it off the ground. Four sticks on the body joined at a point, holding up a camera that looked suspiciously like a robotic head, swiveling back and forth, eyeing him with one ocular lens. Snake was suddenly reminded of a creature in one of Otacon's odd Japanese cartoons.

Snake was so surprised at seeing this floating robot that he didn't immediately recognize it. After a moment, it clicked in and he blurted the name out loud.

"Cypher?" he nearly yelled in his shock.

The Cypher eyed Snake with its camera head and Snake could only stare back. His newly acquired USP was out of ammunition and his M9 would not be able to shoot the remote-operated machine out of the air. He was at a loss for what to do, except to stare boldly into its lens. Whoever was watching him through that lens would have a good view of his face…

The Cypher suddenly shot up into the air with the whirring of insect wings and was soon lost in the night storm.

Snake shook his head, flinging droplets of water from his hair and bandanna. Not knowing what else to do – that made him uncomfortable – he called Otacon. He must have been expecting the call, because he was looking directly into the camera when he answered.

"Otacon," Snake said, "the ship appears to be under their control. Then men have Russian gear, but I haven't been able to find out anything else about their origin."

"I know who they are," Otacon said, his voice flat, unemotional. Snake squinted in concern. His friend sounded serious.

"You do?"

"We've ID'd the old man."

Get on with it, Snake thought irritably. I'm tired of standing in the rain. "Who is he?"

"Sergei Gurlukovich."

Snake's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Aside from Liquid Snake, that was one name he did not want to hear. Not now. "Gurlukovich? One of Ocelot's allies?"

Otacon nodded sadly. "Yeah…the GRU colonel. He's the one Ocelot was supposed to meet up with after Shadow Moses…"

Snake tried not to think about those times. The very name of the Alaskan island sent shivers down his back. There would be only one reason the colonel was here. "They're after Metal Gear…"

"Everything's changed," Otacon said, worry in his voice. "This is not going to be as simple as we thought."

Nothing's simple, Snake thought. "You could say that. I saw a surveillance remote just now. It looked like a Cypher."

Otacon seemed to think on that for a moment. "A Marine Cypher-T?" he asked at last.

Snake shook his head. "No, Army."

"First the Marines, then the Russians…now the Army?" Otacon asked incredulously.

Snake nodded. "You're right. This isn't going to be simple."

"Snake," Otacon said after another moment. His voice took on that unemotional tone once more and Snake immediately knew it was serious business about to be discussed. "There's something I need to tell you."

"What?"

"We didn't dig up this info – about the new Metal Gear – on our own, not like usual."

"How did you find out then?" Snake had a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach and that single uncomfortable feeling took precedence over all others. He forgot about the rain, the cold, and the blood running down his arm from the bullet Olga had fired at him.

"It was a tip," Otacon said. He took a deep breath. "An anonymous tip."

"Anonymous?" Snake asked, flabbergasted. "You've never trusted those before, why start now?" I thought you were smarter than that.

"I, ah, have a younger sister. A stepsister. We have different parents. I only knew her for two years."

Where's he going with this? "You've never mentioned her before. So…?"

"The sender of the tip was 'E.E.' "

" 'E.E.'?" Snake repeated. What's the deal? Get on with it!

"Her name is Emma, but I always called her E.E." Otacon seemed to be drifting out to his own little world of happy memories.

"Emma Emmerich?" Snake asked with a perfectly straight face.

"Yeah. It just caught my eye, you know?" Otacon seemed to be trying to ask for forgiveness. While he was Snake's friend, Snake wasn't sure he could forgive him. Anonymous tips were bad news, always were and probably always would be. If he had known beforehand…

I'd probably still be here, he thought. He knew he couldn't risk leaving a Metal Gear untouched, especially one made by the Marines. And now that the Russians were here, he knew for a fact that the Metal Gear existed. The only thing he could do now was to go forward – it was the only thing he would do.

"I figured it was a coincidence," Otacon was saying, "but I couldn't get it out of my mind. There's no one there who really knows about her."

Snake shook his head. There was nothing he could really say to help the situation. "When was the last time you saw her?" he asked instead.

"Over ten years ago," was the response.

"You think it's a trap?"

"I don't know." Otacon shrugged. "After I got the tip, I did break into the Pentagon system to get confirmation."

That was comforting. "Okay…" Snake murmured.

"Watch your back Snake," his friend warned. "Maybe I screwed up…"

Self-pity wasn't going to get Snake through this mission, especially not now. He decided to quickly change the subject. "I've got a light-equipped USP; I can take them on now. There's no ammo, but it takes 9mm rounds, just like the Marines' M9. I'll find those around here somewhere."

Otacon seemed to perk up a little. "Don't raise too much of a racket with that thing."

Snake smiled, glad to help his friend. "I hear you." He turned off the Codec with a quick tap on his neck.

~*~

Ring-ring. Ring-ring.

Snake slapped at the Codec activation switch as he might have slapped at a mosquito. He looked into the camera on his wrist and saw Otacon's smiling face looking back at him. Snake didn't feel like smiling at that moment.

"Snake," Otacon said in greeting, "you of course know the saying 'One for all, all for one.' "

"What is this all of a sudden?" Snake said in a hoarse whisper. He moved his head a fraction of an inch and was able to see around the corner of his little alcove.

"Oh, I figured you'd need a lot of motivation, so I can prepared. It's from 'The Three Musketeers' – the book, not the candy bar."

Snake rolled his eyes.

"Anyway," Otacon continued, "it means that if you go up against everyone yourself, they'll gang up on you too." He paused and looked at something offscreen. "I think. Since you're on your own on that ship, you need to take this to heart and avoid confrontations." His grin became broad and he beamed at Snake. "How was that? Just like the old days, huh?"

"Almost reminds me of Mei Ling," Snake said in his whispered tone. "But…are you sure you got it right?"

"Of course! And I'll teach you a lot more of these. You can count on it."

"Great…" Snake switched off the Codec once more. He was beginning to regret cheering up his friend.

Snake peeked out of his alcove once more, looking up the stairs. The engine room was a riot of noise, mostly the engines laboring to push the enormous tanker through the water, but there was the odd voice as well. From his hiding spot, he could see moving lights as well.

All because of one stupid guard, Snake thought, his hands sweaty inside of his gloves as they held the USP – now ready with ammo he had found. Of course, Snake had been somewhat reckless, climbing the nearby stairs without first doing some reconnaissance first. The guard had his back turned when Snake had climbed the stairs, but quickly turned around when Snake bumped into him.

From there, it turned to chaos.

The guard had radioed for backup and it arrived in the form of shock troops wielding Plexiglas shields and shotguns. Snake had shot one guard – the guard who he had bumped into -- before moving from hiding spot to hiding spot, finally ending up back at the stairs.

Snake sighed and popped another piece of gum in his mouth. The mint flavor did little to calm his nerves.

After what seemed like an eternity – in actuality, it was little more than a few minutes – the backup shock troops dissipated and the guard Snake had shot was replaced…after the body had been dragged away. A pool of blood remained however. The other guards – Snake could see them across the engine room, on catwalks – remained on high alert, much to his disgust. At least he was on the right side and wouldn't have to cross the paths of those men.

He waited a few more moments before stealthily climbing the stairs. The new guard had his back turned and Snake crept up behind him. In but a few moments, Snake had his arm around the guard's throat, his free hand on his chin and he quickly, silently, snapped his neck. He hid the body in the alcove he had previously inhabited.

The stairs led up to a catwalk and the catwalk led to an automatic door. Snake quickly ducked inside the door and saw another door in front of him, across a right-turning hallway. This door would not open, not that Snake wanted to go in there anyway. More than likely, this door led to the top of the ship again. He had taken enough time getting into the bowels of the ship to take a detour back up top. He moved down the hall.

The hall took a corner, leading to some type of maintenance room, as far as Snake could tell. Machines lined the middle of the room and lockers sat at the opposite end from where Snake stood. The lockers were decorated with two posters: one of a woman, the other of a man. Both were reaching out to each other and it appeared that they were holding hands. Beside the lockers, there was another hall. He took a step towards the hall when a harsh screeching stopped him. He leaned against the wall and peered around the corner.

The door that wouldn't open before did just that – opened. A Russian terrorist stepped out and pulled out his radio. Snake couldn't hear what he said, but he didn't care. The Russian put his radio away and turned towards Snake.

Snake ran to the lockers, opening one and getting inside at the same instant the terrorist turned the corner. Snake could see through the grill in the locker, which was at eye-level. He hoped it was too dark in the locker for the guard to see him. The guard drew closer and closer until he stood right in front of the locker.

Snake thought he was going to have a heart attack. His heart beat a million times a minute. It was a wonder the terrorist didn't hear it. Snake held his gun in both hands, ready to shoot through the locker if need be.

The terrorist turned and walked back to the hall, turned the corner and went out to the engine room. Snake breathed a sigh of relief. After a moment, he realized he had swallowed his gum.

I'm getting too old for this, he thought, leaving the locker and closing the door behind him. He moved to the hallway – he could see a bulkhead at the end of it – when his Codec beeped.

Better not be another proverb, he thought, activating his radio. Before he could make a witty remark, however, Otacon spoke.

"Snake, there's a set of infrared sensors in place," he said. "If you touch that, the explosives will detonate and that ship will be pulverized."

Snake examined the sides of the hall and saw three sets of infrared sensors on either side. Next to one of the sensors, there was a box labeled SEMTEX, an explosive much like C4. Snake remembered hearing Olga talking about the infrared sensors before their fight. This must have been where she was referring to.

"I'm not in the mood to go sleep with the fishes, but…" Snake said, looking at the sensors and their lethal explosives. He shook his head. "There are too many sensors. Looks like I'll have to find another way."

"No need to worry," Otacon reassured him. "There's a way through. Take a close look – do you see the thing with the blinking green lights next to the explosives?" Snake looked and, indeed, there was a small computer with a flashing green light right beside the SEMTEX. "That's the control unit for the sensors. Destroy that and the sensors stop functioning. You can't get close enough to touch it, so you'll have to shoot it out."

Snake nodded and reached for his M9, which he had placed in the back of his belt so he could holster the USP.

"But the M9's rounds won't work," Otacon continued and Snake froze. "The USP you picked up should do the trick. Use that gun." Otacon's face disappeared from the screen, to be replaced with the wire-frame radar screen. A digital clock sat above the radar and the hour was well past midnight. Snake was behind schedule.

Snake hated to have to use up his precious stores of ammo, but there was no choice. In three well-aimed shots, Snake took out the control units for the sensors. He walked to the bulkhead and turned the wheel easily. The door swung inward, revealing a service passage to the cargo holds. The passage was ill lit with only a few bare bulbs set in the ceiling as bugs circled them, occasionally bumping into them with a tink-tink sound.

The shadows were Snake's friends. They helped him when he was all alone, kept him safe from prying eyes and bullets. The only other thing that would help him so much on a mission was his best friend…the cardboard box. He smiled at the memories.

Back to the present. He moved into the hall and took two steps before speakers set in the wall blared in announcement.

"Verrazano Bridge checkpoint passed," the male voice emitting from the speakers announced to the ship. It was American, which made Snake believe that not everyone on board the ship had been murdered.

Well of course not, Snake thought. This ship would be on its way to Russia if all of the Marines were dead.

"All non-essential personnel report to the holds in ten minutes time for the scheduled briefing session with the Commandant. You are ordered to continue manning your posts until that time."

That's me, Snake thought, replacing the clip in his USP. He holstered the weapon and stealthily moved down the hallway. He thought he had spotted someone moving ahead and didn't want the entire ship to know where he was…like last time. His hand strayed to the M9 at his back.

There was only one guard ahead. One dart to use. He fell on his face and immediately started to snore. Snake stepped over him and proceeded down the hall.

He heard the muted, muffled sound of rock music before the next terrorist rounded the corner. The guard was so intent on his own little world that he was totally oblivious that Snake was pointing his M9 at his head. In fact, the guard started nodding his head in time with the music and using his AKS-74u as a guitar. Snake nearly doubled over laughing. He quickly shot the man before his loud guffaws could alert other guards.

The hall turned and Snake turned with it. Bulkheads lined one side of the wall, which was decorated with steam pipes and wires. As before, Snake heard the guard before seeing him. This time it was snoring that gave him away.

Snake cautiously approached and used a bulkhead frame for cover and then peeked around. Sure enough, there was a guard standing there, against the pipe-laden wall…standing and sleeping. Every so often he would perk up and mutter to himself, but within moments he was asleep again. Snake couldn't risk it. He shot this man as well. His sleep was untroubled now and his snoring seemed more content.

Snake stepped around the sleeping guard and up to a closed bulkhead. The wheel turned and the door swung inward. In moments, he was in another hall.

There was no one ahead as far as he could see, but he continued to move cautiously. He looked at the M9 in his hands and quickly exchanged it for the USP. He had a gut feeling that he would need it in the minutes to come and as a soldier, he always listened to his gut. It had saved him on too many occasions to count.

There were crates ahead, next to an alcove, within which there was a closed bulkhead. Creaking from the alcove made Snake snap up his gun and point it ahead of him. More creaking, like the turning of a rusty wheel – the wheel on a bulkhead, perhaps – made him crouch on one knee, his aim steady ahead of him.

This was no good, he thought. He was a sitting duck here. He dove behind the crate at the same instant the bulkhead opened and three enemy soldiers rushed in. One took point and swept the area while a second secured the area by the door. The third covered the rear, making sure there were no followers. The one on point emerged into the hall and looked up and down its shadowy length.

Snake couldn't see him, but the second soldier pulled a radio from his belt and spoke into it.

"Colonel," he said, his voice accented like all the other soldiers, "we've sealed the stern hatch."

"All right," was the reply. Snake recognized that voice as the one Olga was talking to. So, that was Gurlukovich.

"The lift is also under our control," the soldier said.

"We're on the foredeck, about to descend into the holds."

"Sir, the Marine commander has started his speech already."

Snake looked at the clock over his radar. Indeed, twelve minutes had passed since the announcement had been made.

Time flies when you're having fun, Snake thought with a grimace. Getting past these guards would not be fun…or easy.

"We will complete the preparations before the end of the speech," Gurlukovich said.

"All communications to the holds have been severed," the guard said. "No one is aware of our presence."

"Let no one down into the holds until we are out."

"Yes sir," the soldier said. "We will secure your exit, with our lives if necessary."

"There is one more thing…" The Colonel had a slightly embarrassed tone to his voice.

The soldier looked at the one guard who had been covering their rear. "Yes sir?" he said.

"My daughter…keep her safe."

The two soldiers nodded to each other. "Yes sir." He turned off his radio.

Snake leaned against the crate he was hiding behind and tried to come up with a plan to get around these soldiers. He could think of nothing. He accidentally let out a sigh of frustration and immediately regretted it.

"Who goes there?" one of the guards shouted.

Snake wouldn't let them get the upper hand – he couldn't. He poked his head over the crate and began firing with his USP, scattering the soldiers, and confining them to alcoves on either side of the hall. Just as he ducked his head behind the crate again, one of the soldiers fired with his AKS-74u, putting bullets into the steel crate.

Snake crouched and pivoted around the side of the crate, firing wildly, his gun's flashlight and muzzle flash lighting up the area all around him, exposing the terrorists. One of his bullets smacked into a pipe and steam exploded outward, covering a guard in white-hot vapor. The man screamed, spouting Russian curses and ran into the hall to escape the fury of the steam. Another one of Snake's bullets caught him in his head and he toppled forward, dead. Snake ducked behind cover again.

He removed the empty clip from his gun and slammed a new one into place, chambering a round into the breach. Just as he was about to pivot out again, a grenade landed beside him.

Barely thinking, Snake grabbed the grenade and whipped it back at the terrorists. The small round grenade – about the size of a tennis ball – exploded in mid-air and Snake watched as one of the terrorists flew backwards, his head rebounding on the floor hard.

Other terrorists must have heard the commotion, because three more uniformed guards filed out of the alcove with the bulkhead, their guns thrust out before them, ready to shoot at anything that moved. They obviously had no idea of Snake's location, as they made to pass the crate and continue down the hall. Snake knew they wouldn't miss him if they passed, so he stood in front of them, his flashlight blinding the leading terrorist.

He shot the first one in the head, throwing him back in a spray of blood. The second took two rounds in the chest before falling with a gurgling scream. Snake grabbed the third one, spun him around and used him as a human shield.

The last terrorist pivoted out of a small alcove, his assault rifle held out before him. He froze when he saw Snake using one of his comrades as a shield. Snake held his gun in one hand, steadied it on the terrorist's shoulder, while his other arm was wrapped firmly around the man's neck. The two men stared at each other a long moment in a standoff.

We will protect you, with our lives if necessary. Had this been the soldier on the radio? Snake wondered.

Maybe. The terrorist moved first, firing a three-round burst into his comrade's chest. Snake fired once, hitting the Russian in the head. The man in his arms died in moments and Snake dropped him.

Wary of more terrorists, Snake reloaded his gun and cautiously headed for the bulkhead. No one waited beside it. He holstered his pistol and turned the wheel, opening the door.

~*~

The terrorist had a splitting headache.

He remembered the flash of the grenade exploding in midair, the eardrum-splitting boom, and the fall to the floor, but he could not remember what happened afterwards. He sat up and shook his head, regretting the action immediately. Loose boulders seemed to roll around in the confines of his skull and smack into every part of his brain, crushing everything they touched. He suppressed a groan.

The creaking of a wheel brought him back to reality. His stood up – too quickly; he felt nauseous – and cocked his rifle. Slowly – he didn't trust himself to move any faster then an old man's shuffle – he stepped towards the alcove and peeked inside.

It was him. The man who had tossed the grenade, who had killed his friends, who had somehow sneaked through their defenses and gotten into the very bowels of their operation! It would be so easy to just shoot him in the back and get it over with, but…

The terrorist had a fascination with poetic justice.

He waited until the man in the tight gray suit walked through the door and closed it behind him. The terrorist stumbled over to the bulkhead – the floor was very uneven; maybe the tanker was pitching in the storm – and turned the wheel, locking the door tight.

He sighed and closed his eyes, trying to rid himself of his nausea, when he heard a footstep behind him. He quickly turned and nearly threw up in the process, but was able to hold his gun somewhat steady. He pointed it at a figure cloaked in darkness and the steam from the broken pipes.

"Who goes there?" he said in a surprisingly strong voice.

The figure stepped into the light and revealed himself as an older man with long gray hair tied back in a ponytail. He wore a long, flowing trenchcoat over the uniform of the Russian terrorists. A revolver was holstered at the front of his belt, its chestnut handle resting against his stomach. It took a moment for the disoriented terrorist to recognize him.

"Oh, Shalashaska," the man muttered, lowering his gun. "Why are you here?" he asked. He gestured to the locked door behind him with his chin and regretted it as the world spun. "We thought you were with the colonel."

In a blur of motion, the man named Shalashaka drew his revolver and pointed it inches from the terrorist's face. The soldier could only widen his eyes in surprise and exclaim, "What the -- ?" before Shalashaska pulled the trigger.

The guard slumped to his side, dead in a pool of his own blood.

Shalashaska stepped over the guard's body and turned the bulkhead's wheel, sealing the door and making it impossible to open from the other side. When he finished, he looked down at the dead terrorist at his feet.

"The colonel will be joining you soon…comrade."

With a flourish of his cloak, he left the alcove and strode into the hallway.