Disclaimer: Konami owns Metal Gear and all of its corresponding characters. I am simply putting its magnificent story into words. A/N: I'm confused. One reader tells me to take liberties with the story and another tells me to be totally accurate. What's a guy to do? Snake spit out his gum on the steel floor and approached the balcony railing overlooking the cargo holds. He had finally arrived and he was far behind his intended schedule. He couldn't afford any more mistakes, lest he fall even more behind...or be killed.
He looked down on a huge room that held a large screen on one end and a projector on another. A dark-skinned man dressed in army fatigues was speaking on the screen and fifty armed Marines, standing in neat, disciplined rows watched him.
His Codec rang. With a slight sigh, he answered it.
"Snake, are you in yet?" Otacon asked, apprehension written all over his face. "Have you made it to the holds?"
"It's taking longer than I expected," Snake replied. "We've already passed the Verrazano Bridge."
"All right, we'll use another recovery point."
"They may be planning to change course."
Otacon's eyes widened in surprise. Clearly, he was not expecting that. "What?"
"The exits to the deck are all sealed," Snake explained.
"What are they planning?" Otacon asked more to himself than to Snake.
"If they get Metal Gear," Snake said slowly, almost hesitantly, "we're going right off the fringe." He looked down at the men below him, inspecting them with a careful eye. "The men here are definitely Marines," he told Otacon.
"If the deck is sealed off, they have no way of knowing the ship's been taken over," Otacon said.
"I'm not interested in fighting these guys. The weapons won't do me much good here."
"Can you see Metal Gear?" Otacon asked suddenly. Snake shook his head.
"No," he said. "I'll have to go around to the bow. They have some serious defenses here. I doubt recent arrivals want to blast their way through Marines either."
"…Wonder where they're headed," Otacon mused.
"I don't know," Snake said, leaning back away from the railing. "Not the beach that's for sure."
Otacon nodded, obviously too nervous about the news to laugh. "Okay, Snake. Let's go over this one more time: Use the camera to get photographic evidence of the Metal Gear prototype. Now, do your thing and take pictures that speak louder than the government's plausible denials." Otacon looked off-camera for a moment and Snake heard the clicking of keyboard keys. "We need four shots: Metal Gear from the front, front-right, front-left and a close-up of the Marine Corps marking."
"Marking?" Snake asked, confused.
Otacon nodded. "There should be a 'MARINES' insignia on the body of Metal Gear." He smiled almost wolfishly. "Just let someone try explaining away a clear shot of that."
Snake couldn't help but smile in return. "All right."
Otacon's face suddenly turned serious. "There's actually one little thing…"
Not again, Snake thought with an inward groan. "Just spit it out. I'm used to things going wrong."
"It looks like someone's monitoring our transmission," Otacon said in a rush.
Snake arched an inquisitive eyebrow. "Who?" Otacon protected their transmissions with a painstaking amount of effort, so whoever had gotten past his security measures must have deserved to listen to their conversations. Whoever it was, he must have been a real pro, a hacker to rival even Otacon.
"I don't have a clue," Otacon said. Snake could tell that this confession caused Otacon deep discomfort. "All they're doing is watching. It would creep me out less if they tried to interfere with our communications."
"Could it have something to do with that Cypher I saw?" Snake asked.
Otacon shrugged. "Maybe. I've switched the encryption protocol for our burst transmission for now. What I want to do is use a different method for sending those photos, just in case."
"Instead of using the Codec?"
"Exactly. There's a workstation in the southeast corner of the block where Metal Gear is being housed. I've made arrangements so you can send pictures from the machine."
Snake managed not to flinch. More computers. " 'Arrangements' ?" he asked.
"I hitched a ride on Link 16 into the U.S. military's proprietary network. Managed to get into that workstation and overwrote a part of the system software so I could remote-install a little app I wrote…"
Snake had no idea what his friend just said. He was not fluent in Techno-Babble. "Why bother with anything that complicated…?"
Otacon shook his head sadly. He knew Snake didn't understand computers. "No, it's pretty simple, really," he said, sounding all the world like a teacher speaking to a slow student. "Look, all you have to do is hook up the camera and hit the Enter button. The app will automatically launch and download the image data from the camera, split the files and encrypt them individually. The data packets then masquerade as –"
Snake nearly cried out in frustration. More Techno-Babble! It made him feel inferior and he did not like that one bit. "Okay, okay," he said, interrupting Otacon. He wanted to rub his temples or at least smoke a cigarette. "So all I have to do is hook up the camera and hit Enter once I have the pictures, right?"
Otacon looked crestfallen. "Well, sure, if you want to put it that way." He moved to shut down his end of the Codec but stopped. "And one more thing," he said. "The Commandant's already begun his speech, but you need to get the pictures before he's done talking. Otherwise they'll spot you, okay?"
"How much time do I have?" Snake glanced at the clock over the radar screen.
"I hacked into his personal files and took a look at the text of that speech," Otacon replied. He glanced at something off-camera momentarily. "I'd say you have seven minutes – longer if he throws in a joke or two."
"A seven-minute time limit, huh?" He felt he could deal with that. An easy task for one with his skills.
"Remember Snake: Just the photos, okay?"
"With these kinds of odds, I won't be making any sudden moves," Snake said. "But that doesn't mean we can just let Metal Gear be hijacked."
"Okay, okay, but first, the photos…"
Snake rolled his eyes heavenward. "All right. We'll deal with the rest when we get there."
Otacon nodded, relieved. He smiled tentatively. "Stay low," he warned and signed off. Snake noticed his clock had been replaced with a seven-minute timer that was counting down by the second.
Time to finish this, Snake thought, moving towards the ladder that would take him down to the hold.
~*~
Snake glanced at the timer on his wrist. Over four minutes remained and he was just about to enter the third and final hold. Getting past the first two holds had been easy, as he had found a vent shaft in the first one. The second hold had two projection screens and Snake was able to sneak past when the screens switched back and forth and the Marines' gazes went with them. The door to the third hold opened automatically and he cautiously stepped through, his eyes everywhere, his hand on the butt of his holstered USP.
Twenty or so Marines stood in orderly rows, as they had in the previous holds, watching a stage on which the Commandant Scott Dolph stood giving out his speech. Two cameramen on raised platforms – both next to the hold's two doors – recorded the speech and gave a live feed to the previous two holds. Behind the Commandant, a huge metal monster loomed, squatting on four bulky limbs that tapered down to points. A jointed, metal-plated tail was connected at the machine's back. Its "head" – a triangular, almost dinosaur-skull-like cockpit – was nestled between the front two limbs, looking over the Marines and straight at Snake. He stifled a gasp, his eyes widening. That was it. That was –
"Metal Gear…" Snake whispered aloud in awe. His Codec beeped in his ear and broke him out of his reverie. He quickly returned to his senses and slapped the activation switch on his neck.
"Okay, we're finally there," Otacon said, foregoing any greetings.
"So this is the new Metal Gear," Snake stated. His eyes kept straying to the walking tank's head. It stared at him hatefully as if it knew why he was here.
"Yep," Otacon replied. "And we're going to show the whole world its baby pictures. Get the prototype on camera. We need four images: one from the front-right, the front-left, the front and a close-up of the MARINES marking. Once you have the photos, use the workstation in the southeast end of the area and transmit them over to me. Send me something I can use!"
Snake tried not to growl in frustration. He hated having instructions repeated to him and Otacon knew it. He was going to give a few choice words to his friend when he got out of here.
Snake pulled his camera out of a pouch on his belt and checked to make sure it was ready. Besides the photo of Gurlukovich on it, it was empty and had plenty of room to save a few pictures, even if he did take a few bad ones. He checked his timer again: over three minutes remained. More than enough time to take four simple pictures.
Snake decided to start with the front shot. He crept behind the Marines and stood between the two cameras and raised his camera to his eye. It auto-focussed on the Metal Gear's hateful features and Snake couldn't help but notice how tiny Dolph looked under the looming shadow of the beast-like tank. He quickly snapped the picture before one of the Marines turned and noticed a strange man standing behind him. Not only would that be embarrassing, Snake thought, stalking around to the front-left of the tank, it would be downright deadly.
The taking of the front-left and front-right pictures went smoothly and Snake nearly went to the console in the corner of the hold when he remembered he needed a fourth picture – the corps marking. If he downloaded these photos without the marking, Otacon would take him to task, a funny thought considering Snake's overwhelming physical strength and endurance compared to Otacon's. Still, Snake didn't need a tongue-lashing so he took a step towards the Metal Gear before he stopped.
Where was the marking? Otacon had said it was on the body but had not given an exact location. It could have been on top of the thing for all he knew and he definitely did not want to even attempt going up there with twenty armed Marines intent on the Commandant.
The Commandant droned on about how superior Metal Gear RAY was to the army's REX – Snake shuddered at that – and Snake pondered where he might find the marking. Time was running short. He would just have to sneak around until he found it.
A single guard kept watch beside the stage in front of the Metal Gear, but he might as well have stayed at home. Like the Russian Snake had seen in the halls on his way to the holds, this guard couldn't stay awake to save his life – which is what it might amount to in a few minutes, Snake thought. He drew his M9 and leveled it at the sleepy Marine's temple. In but a moment he was soundly asleep on the steel floor. Snake stepped over him and began looking at the body of Metal Gear.
There it was! A MARINE logo was painted in crisp white letters on the body, just like Otacon said. In a moment, Snake snapped the picture. It was nearly impossible to screw that one up, even if he had been holding the camera upside down.
With the last picture and two-and-a-half minutes remaining, Snake made his way to the console. The computer looked ancient even to Snake's eyes, but it had the proper plugs for his camera's wire. When he had everything set up, he tapped the Enter button.
The green screen quickly began to move with white-lettering appearing as if of its own accord. Snake could read it, but he couldn't understand it and that made him very uncomfortable. He watched in growing anticipation as the word "username" appeared – quickly followed by the name Scott, which Otacon typed in – and then "password."
Snake was in a near state of panic as Otacon typed in one password, which was rejected, then another and another. What if they found him? Snake thought. What if he was being traced right now and was discovered? It was for this reason that Snake always left the room when Otacon was hacking into another computer.
With one last try, Otacon managed to crack the system and a new screen appeared – a black screen with the word SPRITE v2.21 on it. An upload screen replaced that, with a black bar that filled with orange as the computer read the camera's information. After that was done, a funny little cartoon Otacon appeared on the screen, complete with round glasses and white lab coat. Its head was oversized and smiling dumbly. Snake chuckled softly. Leave it to Otacon to take the time and add something silly to his programs.
"So, any Codec moments from you, Snake?" Otacon asked over the Codec. Snake chuckled again.
Otacon checked over each of the pictures as they were transferred and found nothing wrong, much to Snake's relief. He didn't think he had the time to take new pictures anyway. In a matter of moments, the Commandant's speech was about to wrap up.
Snake removed the camera and wire from the console, placed them in his pouch, at the same instant Scott Dolph finished his speech. Snake listened to the last lines.
"…We the Marines will lead the charge into a new world order with RAY," he was saying. "That is all. Dismissed."
The Marines stood at attention and saluted the Commandant simultaneously. Snake crouched behind a steel crate beside the console and watched them, waiting for them to file out so he could escape the ship. That was easier said than done, he knew.
The Marines stood stock-still for a few moments, frozen in their salute, until the sound of hands clapping broke their discipline and they looked at each other, confused. Snake knew what they were thinking; no one was supposed to clap, so who was breaking the rules? Snake was wondering the same thing.
Slowly, an older man in a trench coat emerged from behind one of the back limbs of Metal Gear. His hair was long and gray, tied back in a neat ponytail. Under his brown coat, he wore the uniform of the Russian terrorists. Snake could not see him from where he hid. All he could hear was the sound of clapping and footsteps on steel grid.
"Excellent speech, my friend," the man drawled.
That voice, Snake thought.
"Who the -- ?" Dolph began. He turned to regard the newcomer with more curiosity than anger.
"The gift of the silver tongue," the man continued. "They say it's the mark of a good officer." He pointed an accusing finger at the Commandant. "And of a liar. Americans are too in love with the sound of their own voice to speak the truth."
Dolph didn't seem fazed in the least. "Identify yourself," he barked.
Several Marines rushed forward and crouched down in front of their leader, M4 assault rifles, which had previously been slung over their shoulders, now pointed at the stranger, cocked and ready. Several others stood and pointed 9mm pistols. Their aim would be true at this close range and any one shot would instantly kill the man. Scott Dolph didn't wish this to happen…not yet, anyway.
"I am Shalashaska," the intruder announced in a loud voice. "Also called Revolver – "
He stepped forward and Snake could see him clearly. His eyes widened in shock and recognition.
" – Ocelot," Snake muttered and the intruder said at the same time.
Memories flooded over Snake, horrible memories he had not wanted to ever think about again. He remembered this man's face clearly, pointing a Colt Single Action Army revolver at his face as he emerged from behind a pillar holding up an injured old man. Wires were the only things between the two at that time, deep within the bowels of Shadow Moses. There had been an intense firefight, a twisted game of Ring Around the Rosie that only ended with one of the players falling down.
Snake shuddered and forced himself to think about the present. He had to concentrate to survive. But…to see Ocelot here…that was almost too much. Snake leaned heavily against the cold steel crate.
"What do you want?" Dolph demanded of Ocelot.
Ocelot looked around him, at the limbs of Metal Gear, and nodded satisfactorily. "This machine will be quite useful," he said.
"What are you planning to do – steal this thing?" Dolph asked incredulously.
"Steal?" Ocelot retorted. "No, no, I'm taking it back!"
Snake deftly moved from one crate to another, keeping behind cover. From his new vantage point, he could see behind the Commandant…and he could see a gloved hand reach for his unprotected shoulder.
As if from nowhere, an elderly man with a gleaming Makarov pistol in his hand appeared. He jammed the pistol against Dolph's temple and drew the Commandant towards him. Wisely, Dolph made no move to fight. The Marines spun around and pointed their weapons at the most recent intruder.
"Gurlukovich," Snake muttered sourly.
"Nobody move!" Ocelot barked at the Marines. "Understood?"
Ocelot walked forward and stepped onto the platform Dolph had delivered his speech from. The Marines in the hold – as well as those in the other holds, watching the action televised from the cameras – muttered to themselves, unsure of what to do exactly. With their leader taken hostage, they were at a loss.
Ocelot reached behind him and under his coat and produced a remote device. Snake instantly recognized it as a detonation device. He got a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. Ocelot displayed the device proudly before the Marines.
"This ship now carries enough SEMTEX on its key structural points to blow it out of the water," he announced. "At the touch of this button." His gloved thumb hovered over the red button on he remote. The Marines noticed this and crept back as if that small movement would place them farther from the imminent explosion. Ocelot smiled.
"That's right," he said, nodding. "No one has to die needlessly."
Russian terrorists rappelled from the ceiling and landed beside the Metal Gear. Others came in on foot from doors Snake hadn't noticed before. Six terrorists formed a ring around Ocelot, their guns trained on the Marines.
"We're almost at the target," Ocelot said loudly. "Get a move on!"
Terrorists began to unfasten the taut metal cables securing Metal Gear to the hold's floor. They did it with trained ease and Snake guessed they had practiced this situation long before the actual event. If he hadn't been stuck among them, Snake would have admired their dedication…and if they weren't bloodthirsty terrorists. As they worked, the Commandant and Gurlukovich spoke.
"What do you intend to do with RAY – sell it on the streets?" Dolph asked.
"I was raised in Snezhinsk," Gurlukovich said, "formerly know as Chelyabinsk-70, the nuclear research outpost."
"What are you talking about?" Dolph demanded. He didn't look like he had the patience to stand and be used as a hostage.
"After the Cold War ended, my home was bought out by the Americans."
What's the point? Snake thought as Dolph said, "Is there a point to this sad story?"
Gurlukovich jammed the pistol's barrel into the Commandant's forehead, growling in savage fury and frustration. "Not that you would understand!" he said in a low, threatening tone. "Lands, friends, dignity…all were sold to the highest bidder – the United States of America!" He nodded at the looming Metal Gear in front of them. "Even the technology that gave birth to these weapons is Russian!"
Dolph seemed to think on that for a moment and Snake could see the wheels turning in his head. After a long moment the Commandant said: "What do you intend to do?"
Gurlukovich leaned in close to whisper in Dolph's ear. Through some trick of the walls and the echoes they produced, Snake was able to hear him clearly.
"Russia will rise again," he said. "And RAY is the key." Dolph's eyes widened in surprise.
Ocelot must have heard him as well, for he said, "I regret to inform you that I have no intention of selling Metal Gear. As I said, I came to take it back."
Ocelot took a few steps away from the terrorist colonel and his hostage. He walked past a Russian soldier, who watched him with a new curiosity. Something was afoot, he thought. Ocelot turned around and looked Gurlukovich straight in the eye.
"Yes, returned," he said. "To the Patriots!"
The Commandant's eyes widened even more, to the size of dinner plates. He instantly recognized the name. "The La-li-lu-le-lo!" he gasped. "How's that…possible?"
Snake felt confused. Patriots? La-li…whatever? He thought he knew every mercenary group and terrorist function in North America – even a few overseas. He had never heard of anyone called the Patriots. He stored this new information away for later use.
Gurlukovich looked scared for the first time since he had entered the holds. He drew the Commandant closer. "Ocelot, you…Have you sold us out?" he yelled.
Ocelot chuckled as if Gurlukovich had just told the punch line of a joke. Maybe to him, it was a kind of joke. "I was never in your employ, Gurlukovich."
"Are you still in league with Solidus?" Gurlukovich asked.
Solidus. Snake knew that name. He had done some research after the Shadow Moses incident with Otacon's help. Is he here? Snake wondered.
"No hard feelings, Colonel," Ocelot said. "Mother Russia can rot for all I care."
Gurlukovich looked deeply hurt. He shook his head sadly. "Since when, Ocelot? When did you turn?"
"I'm glad you noticed, comrade," Ocelot said. His accent slipped for a moment, revealing more Russian than a Western movie drawl. "I abandoned her during a Cold War."
Gurlukovich growled an almost inhuman sound. He seemed to have forgotten that he held the Commandant, who looked slightly nervous now. He knew something and whatever it was, it was enough to break his discipline as a fearless commander.
"Metal Gear only has room for one!" Ocelot announced to the gathering of Russians and Marines. They muttered amongst themselves, unsure of what to do. Both groups' leaders were dazed and confused. "Gurlukovich," Ocelot continued, "you and your daughter will die here!"
Obviously, that was the straw that broke the camel's back. Gurlukovich howled in rage and screamed "Damn you!" before shoving the Commandant in front of him. He aimed his pistol at the back of Ocelot's head. At the same instant, Ocelot removed his trench coat and threw it in the air.
"Die you dog!" Gurlukovich screamed in his rage.
Ocelot moved liked greased lightning and drew the revolver at the front of his belt. The Commandant stumbled towards him, off-balance, and got behind the still airborne coat.
Two shots rang out, echoing crazily in the confines of the hold. Ocelot's bullet blew through his coat and into Gurlukovich's chest, below the heart, as Gurlukovich fired. His bullet blasted through Ocelot's coat as well and entered the Commandant's back. The Commandant yelled out in pain and stumbled to his knees, dead before he hit the ground. Gurlukovich wasn't so lucky; he fell to his knees and onto his back, screaming all the while. He was still alive, however.
"Sergei," Ocelot said. "Looks like you were long overdue for retirement." He dropped his smoking revolver to the floor with a clatter. This confused Snake; Ocelot loved his revolver like it was his son. Why would he fire it once and toss it like it was a useless hunk of metal?
"Traitorous dog," Gurlukovich gurgled. Blood was slowly filling up his punctured lung. He would not live much longer.
The Russian terrorists stared dumbly at their fallen leader for an instant then trained their aim on Ocelot. Before any of them could react, Ocelot drew a second revolver from the back of his belt and spun a quick circle. Six shots were fired and six Russians fell to the floor, dead. Ocelot twirled the revolver on his finger, tossed it in the air, caught it and holstered it in a crouch like he was performing for an audience. He stood up straight and held the detonator in his fist. The Marines – who watched the drama unfold, too shocked to do much of anything – snapped back to reality and leveled their aim on Ocelot.
"Show's over!" Ocelot announced. "If you wish to live, I suggest you run now! This ship is still in the Lower New York Harbor. You may yet make it if you swim for your lives!"
With that, he pressed the red button and explosions rocked the tanker, tipping it crazily. The Marines slipped off the platform and onto the hard steel floor. Water began flooding into the hold and, foot by foot, started to fill the huge space.
As if he didn't have a care in the world, Ocelot climbed a ladder that led to a catwalk to Metal Gear's cockpit. Below him, Marines opened fire from the M4 assault rifles, striking the railing, the walls, the catwalk, but not one bullet so much as grazed Ocelot. Snake's mouth opened in bewilderment. This was the marksmanship required to become a Marine?
Snake decided to take matters into his own hands. He waded through the now waist-deep water, pushing past Marines and climbed the steel stairs to the platform in front of Metal Gear. He drew his USP and went down on his knees, his aim pointed up at his enemy.
"OCELOT!" Snake yelled over the sound of rushing water, shouts of confusion and wrenching, creaking metal.
Ocelot must have heard him because he looked down and saw Snake. He didn't seem surprised, however. He looked about to say something when his arm twitched and he looked at it in shock. He let out a thin, wailing scream and grabbed his arm in pain. It bulged and ripped apart his glove and sleeve to his elbow. He stopped screaming and breathed heavily, his face masked by his now unbound hair. In a moment, he looked down at Snake and grinned.
"It's been a while, brother," he said, his voice taking on a British accent. He sounded eerily familiar, and not as the gun-slinging Russian he knew. He sounded like…
"Who are you?" Snake demanded.
"You know who I am."
Snake tried to deny it, tried to think of another conclusion but none would come forth. "Liquid?" he asked no one in particular.
Memories rushed over him again. He remembered his twin's face smiling at him, as he was strapped to a torture machine. He remembered him talking to Snake just before he hopped into Metal Gear REX in an attempt to kill him. He remembered Liquid aiming a FAMAS rifle at him while he was pinned under a Jeep.
He remembered the anguished scream as Liquid died.
"Not so young anymore, eh, Snake?" Liquid asked, breaking into Snake's thoughts. "You're drowning in time. I know what it's like, brother."
Snake's gaze flickered around him, but he didn't move his head so much as an inch. Liquid was right. The water was just below the platform now and gushing in with each passing moment. If he didn't escape soon, he would go down with the ship. He growled in frustration.
Liquid walked towards the Metal Gear cockpit for a few steps. He stopped and glanced down at Snake hatefully.
"No wonder Naomi passed you over for the FOXDIE program," he said. He bare fist clenched and unclenched. That arm twitched again. Liquid yelled in pain.
"Out!" Ocelot – at least, it sounded like Ocelot – said, his voice filled with pain. "Get out of my mind, Liquid!" He brought the arm up and bit deep into it. Snake watched, confused. In a moment, Ocelot/Liquid calmed.
"The price of physical prodigy," Liquid's voice said. He pointed down at Snake and said, "Few more years and you'll be another dead clone of the old man." He held up his bare arm and blood trickled down from where Ocelot had bitten it. "Our raw materials are vintage, brother! Big Boss was in his late fifties when they created his copies. But I – I live on through this arm!" He raised a triumphant fist.
"Liquid's arm?" Snake said, dumbfounded.
At that moment, an underwater explosion rocked the ship and Snake fell off the platform, into the black water.
~*~
Colonel Sergei Gurlukovich floated in the water on his back, looking at the hold's ceiling far above him. He could see the cockpit of Metal Gear and Ocelot walking towards it and he pursed his blood-flecked lips in hate.
Below him, the Commandant, Scott Dolph floated facedown.
How could I have been so stupid? he thought. That traitor…I'll get my revenge.
But he knew he would never live to see his vengeance, if it ever came to be. Ocelot's bullet was lodged in his body and it had punctured his lung. He had seen the effect of a collapsed lung in quite a few wars but he had never once thought it would happen to him.
Darkness began to creep into the edges of his vision. He blinked a few times to try and remove it, but it continued to creep over him. Soon he would be totally blind. His other senses began to shut down as well. He could only hear the slow beating of his weakening heart in his ears and could no longer feel the ice-cold water; he felt like he was floating high above, sailing through the clouds…
Darkness stole his vision, but he could still see images in his mind. The last thing he thought of before he drowned in his own blood was the face of his daughter. He didn't even hear himself say her name.
~*~
Liquid Snake felt extremely pleased with himself.
He hopped into the Metal Gear cockpit and activated the machine with a few keystrokes. In moments, the walking battle tank was online and ready to destroy anything in his path. He looked through the digital screen – windows would be a weak point in the design – and searched the bodies strewn in the water. He saw Marines, Russians…but no sign of Snake.
There he is, Liquid thought as he saw a figure emerge from the water and vault onto the platform. It was Snake all right, but he had lost his USP in the fall.
"You don't have what it takes after all!" Liquid yelled into Metal Gear's microphone. He heard his voice echoing in the hold's confines. Snake looked up at the tank and scowled.
Liquid grabbed a lever and yanked it upwards. Metal Gear instantly responded and practically leapt into the air, smashing into the hold's ceiling. He laughed uproariously.
"You're going down, Snake!" he yelled. "With this tanker!"
He watched as Snake turned to run down the platform – Nowhere to hide, brother, Liquid thought – and stepped on a foot pedal. The tank lurched forward and crashed into the platform. Snake flew through the air and crashed into the wall. He crumpled in a heap, unconscious. Liquid laughed again. Dolph had been right; this machine was far superior to REX!
A monitor displayed a readout of the damage Metal Gear was taking. None was displayed, and if there was, it was far too miniscule for the computer to read. There was, however, a warning displayed about an attack on Metal Gear's flank. Liquid manipulated the controls and turned the vehicle towards a group of Marines on the hold's upper balcony.
A few of the Marines were firing their pistols and machine guns at the tank but others were firing grenades from the launchers mounted under their M4's barrels. Liquid laughed at their pitiful attempts and moved a few levers. He watched the looks on the Marines' faces as Metal Gear brought up one leg and kicked in the balcony. A crater formed in the wall where the Marines previously stood. He must have hit a wire, for the electricity went out and the lamps over the balcony flickered off, one by one.
Liquid laughed once more and turned the machine, looking for more destruction.
~*~
Snake slowly awoke, his head splitting in a monstrous headache. Snake had never felt this bad, even after the few occasions Otacon had dragged him home from the bar. He opened his eyes and saw Metal Gear in front of him, splashing up water and smashing into the walls. The water was level with the catwalk Snake was sitting on. Time was running out.
Snake dragged himself to his feet, using the wall for support. He called up Otacon, keeping his eyes on the walking tank. He felt that if he looked away for one second, things would get a lot worse…if it was possible.
"Otacon," he said, "we have a problem."
RAY stuck its head in the water and Snake watched in wonder as it began to drink. It sucked up the water greedily, pulling dead bodies closer to it. When it was finished, it pulled its head out and seemed to stare at the wall imprisoning it.
Suddenly, its head split into four parts, revealing a metal box where the throat might be on a living being. The water it had sucked up shot out like a high-powered laser and split the wall vertically. Water gushed in – straight for Snake.
Snake turned to jump out of the way, but the water slammed into his back with the force of a sledgehammer and he flew forward. He landed in the water and blacked out.
He couldn't hear Otacon screaming his name over the Codec.
~*~
Metal Gear RAY cut through the water like a fish, its tail propelling it forward, its limbs moving it right and left, up and down. It had been designed for this and it was in its element.
The amphibious tank swam through the hull via the hole it had created and made its way to the surface among the bodies and debris from the ship. It burst through the surface and sailed into the air, landing on top of the tanker, which had been split into two parts. The ship was doomed to a watery grave.
Inside the cockpit, Ocelot looked at the digital projection to survey his surroundings. The rain had not abated and the night had grown deeper so that the only lights were from the shrouded cityscape and Metal Gears own headlights. He looked down at the water for a long moment until a gray-suited man emerged, soaked to the bone. Although he couldn't get a clear view of his face, Ocelot saw the bandanna around the figure's head and instantly recognized him.
Ocelot wore a Codec system similar to the one Snake was using, although he didn't have a monitor on his wrist. There was no need for it. Someone spoke to him over the Codec's receiver and he immediately answered.
"Yes, sir…proceeding as planned, sir," he said. He moved a few controls and Metal Gear shuddered. It then backflipped into the water with a huge splash that turned into a tidal wave. The wave moved inexorably towards the floundering Solid Snake and quickly washed him way.
"…Yes, at the location we discussed," Ocelot said into the Codec. He listened for a moment. "Yes. I have photographic evidence of Snake on the scene. The Cypher was most useful." He listened again for a few moments, then nodded. "I look forward to tomorrow's news flash. I would say the Marine Corps' plans are on indefinite hold." He paused, listening once more. "Yes, of course, Mr. President…"
Metal Gear swam away under the cover of the surging waves and the raging storm.
~*~
A small fishing boat struggled to break through the waves without capsizing. It reached the edge of the debris from the slowly sinking tanker and stopped there. As the tanker sank, it drew everything around it towards it, like a whirlpool. Debris of any size went towards that black hole…including the bodies of the dead and the living.
A man in a white lab coat stood on the deck of the fishing boat, his eyes trying to pierce the darkness and the curtain of stinging rain. In a few minutes, his body heat would be leached from him and he would catch a cold…or worse.
He leaned over the deck's railing and looked into the water, but there were only chunks of debris from the ship: a table, a broken chair, a scrap of metal and the uniformed body of a Marine.
"Snake!" the man yelled, his words ripped from his mouth and stolen by the gale-force winds as soon as he had spoken them. He could barely hear himself, how could anyone out there hear him? "SNAKE!" he screamed.
There was no answer.
A/N: That's the end of the tanker chapter. I was going to stop there, but if anyone wants me to continue and write the plant chapter as well, I just might consider it. If you want it, tell me in a review. Thank you for reading.