Disclaimer: See the foreword. I own nothing. Oh, but Lieutenant Matthew Reese belongs to RuneKnightPictures.
Author's Babble: Good freaking lord this one took a while. You know why? A combination of losing my computer for a while, writer's block, not having time, and laziness. I want to apologize for taking so long in cranking this one out, and you can bet that I'll get the next few chapters out in a much faster manner. That is, if my school allows me… It's nearing the end for me, and the teachers decided to throw all their crap at me all at once. Wonderful… Anyways, this chapter is not as good as previous chapters, since after a while I said "screw it" and typed out whatever was good. Bah. Read and review, that's all I ask of you now.
EDIT: I added an extra scene!
Metal Gear: Bloody Hands
Written by Tempest Dynasty
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Chapter 6b: Flashes
With a cheery ping, the elevator doors opened to the second basement floor. The compartment gained a few pounds as a long burst of automatic gunfire spat volumes of hot lead and brass into the small space. The four men shooting into the elevator were behind cover, expecting a grenade to bounce out of the ceiling. They did not expect to see a semi-transparent shape suddenly burst out from the elevator, moaning and screaming in unholy tones. The ghostly apparition shot forward, bearing the scars and wounds of its former life. It was distinctly male, wearing the NBC gear of the Genome Army and bearing multiple slash wounds upon his body. The most evident injuries were the single massive gash starting from his left shoulder and ending at his right hip, and his head hanging off by a sliver of flesh. It was a soldier from a while back, when Solid Snake first infiltrated the facility and discovered the Cyborg Ninja massacre. With another unearthly shriek, the ghost attacked.
The living soldiers were frozen in fear, despite all their training. They were used to fighting guerillas, enemy soldiers, and whatever conventional and unconventional warfare a country could throw at them, but against something supernatural like an angry spirit, they knew nothing. All the Genome soldiers could do was stare in shock and horror as it quickly floated towards them, banshee wails deafening.
One fell, the intangible ghost somehow tearing into the man as if the spirit was actually there. Gashes and wounds appeared all over the soldier, forming wherever the clawed hands of the apparition touched. Their rifles were ineffective against it, as bullets passed right through, and did nothing to move the ghost. Suddenly, two more white shapes burst forth from the walls, pouncing upon the remaining Special Forces members. Terrified screams and unholy wails echoed throughout the otherwise empty halls. Other than rotted corpses, a gas filled chamber, and gun-cameras, there were no other presences on the floor. Three men lay on the ground, limbs flailing wildly as the spirits mauled them, while the fourth looked on in shocked surprise, unable to do anything to help his teammates.
A balaclava covered head peeked out from the elevator compartment, hidden by the lip of the doors and button wall; on the other side was a larger man, unconscious but breathing normally. Maggie watched the carnage for several seconds before pulling out a grenade she had taken from the mercenary. It had been primed for a second already, and she threw it at the three-second count, giving the fuse only two more seconds before the weapon detonated. It bounced twice before rolling though the open door, not noticed by any of the four NGSF troopers.
The grenade exploded in a cloud of shrapnel and fire. Contrary to what many video games portrayed, fragmentation grenades did not kill with explosive force or fire. Instead, it is the bits and pieces of lethal metal shards that the grenade throws into the air that makes it so deadly—that is where fragmentation comes from. Heavily armored soldiers could survive a close encounter with a frag grenade because the thick layers of armor would catch the shrapnel, but most soldiers are protected with a flak jacket and a few layers of cloth, providing a minimal level of protection against most projectiles.
As metal fragments tore into the screaming soldiers and ripped their flesh to bits, the ghosts that were snacking on them no longer had victims to attack, and so turned to face the one that called them. Before they could even begin to fly towards the necromancer, she waved an arm into the air to draw an invisible rune, and shouted,
"Exorcise!"
With earth-rendering shrieks of anguish and terror, the summoned spirits dissipated into nothingness. Seeing that nothing else was present, she turned back into the elevator and pressed the B1 button; her ally lay still unconscious, only breathing slowly.
In her haste to get the martial artist out of the choking gas and into safety, she had slammed her hand on the B2 button, sending them on an unneeded trip to the computer labs. Maggie actually wanted the Commander's Hall level, so that she would access to some first-aid supplies on the floor. When the doors opened, they revealed an empty hallway; no one appeared on her radar, so she could safely assume it was clear. Hoisting the larger man in a fireman's carry, the FOX-HOUND commando dragged Garland's body into one of the smaller rooms in the office area. A thorough search of the rooms wielded nothing but the standard first-aid kits, some rations, and oddly enough, Nikita and Stinger ammunition.
Returning to the room Garland was in, she plopped down next to the mercenary.
"Damn it, Garland. Wake up already! Otherwise I'm leaving your ass right here!" she hissed at the sleeping man.
He could not reply, for obvious reasons.
Thompson sat there for ten minutes, munching on beef jerky pilfered off Durev's person, and jumped when her Codec suddenly began to blare.
"What the hell?" she whispered as she reached up to answer. "I thought it was jammed…"
Springing up on the green Codec screen was a man she and several FOX-HOUND members did not have good relations with.
"Thompson! Why haven't you called in for three hours?!" Lieutenant Reese barked at her.
"Sir! I couldn't! Communications was jammed!" she would not DARE mention she was captured, lest she anger the already volatile officer.
"Don't give me that, girl! You are late and that is that! Have you found your objectives?"
"Negative, sir. I have no—"
"Damn it, Thompson, it is imperative you find those bodies!" Reese's face was deep red with anger and frustration.
"Sir, I still don't understand why I need to find the corpses of old FOX-HOUND members."
"You don't need to understand! Your mind is incapable of understanding why we need those bodies! Now shut up and hurry with your mission! You have less than six hours remaining. Any more, and you'll be hearing from the Colonel as well as I!"
The transmission abruptly cut off, citing a sigh of relief from Maggie as she suddenly felt exhausted. Of course, whenever she or any of the "weird" FOX-HOUND members had to deal with the man, it often left them in anger, stressed, and oddly tired. It was not unknown how much the Special Forces members disliked the Lieutenant, as he often showed a general dislike of every member and soldier. Most of his anger was directed towards the "gifted" soldiers, that is, the men and women with unique skills and abilities such as Maggie Thompson. It was questionable as to why the guy was there, and how he got in, but no one could do a thing about him because of his rank, power, and connections.
She looked at Garland once more before settling into a more comfortable position. The FOX-HOUND operative could not afford to let the mercenary out of her sight, lest he prove to be detrimental to her mission.
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In that small room, next to the frustrated soldier, lay supine a man. Garbed in black, blue, and gray, the only flesh exposed was his head. Short black hair spiked forward fluttered lightly in the warm breeze from the vents. Slow deep breathes showed he was alive, yet sleeping. Faint twitches of his eyes meant he was in REM sleep, dreaming a little dream.
That dark, malevolent voice stilled echoed though the shadows of his mind, calming yet brimming with hidden strength.
That's right… we saved that girl, didn't we…
"Damn it girl, hold on! I must get you warm…!" A soaked Garland Durev cried as he tore though the icy cold air of the snowbound university. Within his arms was a drenched bundle of frozen red hair and pale alabaster skin, wrapped tightly in a thick black woolen topcoat. She was shivering heavily, meaning her core body temperature had dropped to dangerous level. No doubt frostbite had set in already, further compounding upon the hypothermia already ravaging the girl's frail child body. Her body temperature must be brought back to safe levels, otherwise the girl known as Asuka Langley Sohryu, would die.
Garland's eyes were still crimson as he ran back his college home.
To the older man, eternity passed before the door to his apartment was kicked open and hot water poured from his bathtub's faucet. As steaming water slowly filled the tub, Garland continued to treat the cold girl. Her water soaked clothing was detrimental to her health, and so were slashed off by the soldier's combat knife. Asuka was still shivering badly, as the pale blush skin of her nude body meant a heavy reduction in blood circulation.
"Damn it! Hurry up!" Durev cried at the faucet. The water seemed to trickle out slowly, torturing the apprehensive student. When the water levels reached a minimum depth, the badly shaking redhead was gently placed into the steaming water. Her shivers splashed the hot liquid around at first, but soon the rising depth changed the splashing into small waves.
The KSK soldier dared not move, fearing that the moment he left the room, Asuka's condition may worsen. So he kneeled there, still wearing his soaked turtleneck and khakis, waiting for the girl to show him that she was fine. He checked his watch, comparing the current time with the time when he left the building. Five minutes to chase her down, a minute to search the water… but… only thirty seconds to run back from the lake to home?! No, that's not right. On average it took Garland ten minutes to walk leisurely to the lake, five running.
His thoughts were broken as he saw a miniscule, barely noticeable twitch. Her eyes had moved. Some color had returned to her complexion, and her muscle spasms had slowed somewhat. Still, this would not be enough to treat hypothermia—he would need professional medical assistance. But then, her family would find out as medical payments show up at their home.
Garland's thoughts were conflicted. If he called the local hospital, Asuka would receive the medical treatment she needed, but would be open to retrieval by her family. But since she was greatly affected by a simple phone call from her father, it was obvious she did not want anything to do with her relatives, and he wanted to respect her feelings…
Wait, that's right! There were several medical students in the same apartment building as him, and several of them owed favors to Special Forces soldier; some of the students were very close to getting their degrees, and were practically legal doctors. He could pull in those favors they owed, and get Asuka somewhat-professional help. Making sure the water was hot enough, he jumped up from his kneel and bolted down to the lower floor, banging harshly upon one of the doors.
"Erik! Answer the door, quickly!" Garland shouted.
"Ja, ja, I'm coming!" came the muffled reply. The door opened to reveal a lean and tall man with short blond hair, gray-green eyes, and slim eyeglasses. The medical student glanced into Garland's eyes momentarily, and jumped back in surprise and shock, a gasp escaping his lips as he stumbled backwards.
"Erik? What's wrong? You look spooked," Durev blinked and looked worriedly at the older man.
He took several breaths before collecting himself and readjusting his glasses, "It's… it's nothing. For a moment there, I thought your irises were as red as blood, and you had this cold and evil look upon you. Anyways, what is it that you want?"
Garland ignored the statement about his eyes and look, "I'm calling in that favor you owe me. A good friend of mine is suffering from hypothermia, and we cannot go to the hospital for treatment."
"Eh? You want me to treat her, then? Forget it! What happens if I screw up? My future as a doctor is ruined!"
"Nothing will happen to you, I swear. I just want you to look her over and tell me what needs to be done. A diagnosis; I will handle the rest."
Erik sighed, unable to go back on his honor, "Alright, Durev, I'll do it."
Garland released a breath he didn't know he was holding, " Thank you so much."
"By the way, aren't you cold? Your clothes are saturated with water!"
"Eh?" he looked down on himself, taking into notice for the first time his wet clothing. "Now that you mention it, it is kind of chilly… but forget about me. My friend is in my bathtub right now—I've placed her in a bath of hot water."
"Excellent. You've done well. Leave the rest up to me."
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A year and a half passed since that dreadful day, and coming up rapidly was Garland's completion of studies, and subsequently a promotion. A board of senior KSK and Bundeswehr officers was reviewing his records, and a promotion to Hauptmann (captain) was in order. Afterwards, he would be shipped off to some base and continue his training along with other Special Forces units, and strengthen his command skills. Unfortunately, this also meant the separation from his good friend, Asuka.
"So, you're going to leave me?" she asked one weekend afternoon, as the two of them lounged lazily under the cool shade of an oak. The redhead was sitting up with her back against the hard bark while the older man was on his back, legs sprawled out and his hands under his head. The warm day made everyone rather lethargic, so relaxing under shade was common among the students.
"I'm not leaving forever, Asuka. I'm merely heading back to headquarters for training and work—remember that I am of active service," the soldier knew it was going to be one of those talks.
"I know… but you won't be here. I'll be lonely again."
"You can always find more friends, right? It'll be all right; I promise to visit!"
"You're leaving me, just like everyone I care about…" Tears were threatening to fall.
"Hey now, it's not like that. I'm not leaving because I do not care; it's my career I must return to," Damn, she looked close to tears, and Garland knew how much she hated crying. The young girl promised herself a long time ago that she would never cry again, yet events of the past year have brought her rather close to breaking that oath. "Look, I have already made plans for this, and I have a solution."
"What is it?"
"Here," he reached into his pocket and retrieved a rather high-tech cell phone. "There's no limit to the phone's range. The network covers every meter of this world, so it's 'local' every time you call. I bought one for myself—this model is for you."
The young girl took the gift gently, cradling the sleek and deceptively simplistic azure blue electronic as if it were a fragile flower.
"Blue, to match your eyes. Next week is graduation, and my assignment to a squad. We'll be working every day, training to hone our abilities. I won't be given much in terms of free time, but I will be available 24/7 through that phone. You need me, just call me anytime. Is that ok with you, Asuka?"
"I guess so…"
"Once I get my permanent quarters, I'll call to tell you my address, so we can send letters if you feel like it."
"But it won't be the same, without you here."
"There is not much I can change about that. I'm sorry. But I'll still be nearby and available on the phone if you need me."
"What about my training? I'm still a novice in the Art."
"…It's like a circle with no circumference. Learning never stops. Besides, Jeet Kune Do is more like a way of thinking, rather than a style of fighting. Heh, Bruce Lee did not even call JKD a style, but more like the search for ultimate spirituality and physique; don't think, just go with the flow. It's not about techniques or special attacks, but what you truly are. You are searching for the truth, your full self, and Jeet Kune Do merely helps in finding it."
"Yeah…"
"Hey, cheer up! I'll still be around, and we'll stay in contact," Garland opened his eyes and peered at the girl with gray-blue eyes, "Let's grab some lunch at that new place near the school canteen, my treat!"
Asuka, being one not to miss out on being with a friend or free food, simply smiled and nodded.
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A gentle breeze blew between two fighters, facing each other on top of an apartment building.
One was a tall man, dressed in a black tank top, forest camouflage BDU pants, and black combat boots.
The other was as short young girl, looking no older than seven. She wore baggy sweatpants, sneakers, and a loose t-shirt that fluttered in the wind.
The girl dashed forward suddenly, striking with quick punches in an attempt to penetrate the larger man's defenses. Her attacks were easily blocked and parried; simple and subtle movements of the man's arms deflected the blows completely.
"Come at me! Faster! Stronger! You will not be able to defeat an opponent with such slowness!" the older one chided. The girl said nothing in response, other than to gradually increase the speed of her strikes.
"Better! But still too slow!" A kick was pushed to the side as he pressed into the attack. Suddenly shifting from offense to defense, the girl clumsily put up a shaky block. It stopped an incoming punch, but did little to distribute the force, thus the girl was launched several feet backwards and onto her posterior. She had landed near a weapons rack, a simple stand for spears or quarterstaffs. The spears had a blunt painted tip for a spearhead; if a mark appeared on you, it meant the blade made contact.
The girl had some experience in using pole arms, having trained a bit with her sensei, but decided that a weapon would be more effective in this spar.
"A weapon, now? Don't rely on it too much—a weapon does not make the warrior," her master advised as he slid into a ready stance.
She charged, feinting a jab to the legs in order to use the spear as a pole vault. The vault shifted into a flying kick, the maneuver having added substantial velocity to her strike.
The girl's opponent ducked the kick and stepped into the space she formerly occupied, grabbing her spear as he moved. In a single fluid motion, he twisted around and threw the weapon, hurling it straight towards the landing girl.
Asuka turned around in time to see the weapon fly straight towards her, panicked, and threw her arms up in defense. She waited for the inevitable strike and pain, but it never came. Her eyes opened to see the spear inches away from her face, the weapon caught by her teacher's grip.
"Blocking will not always stop an attack. Cowering before one will only make it hurt more. Instead, avoid the attack or make it become your own," Garland instructed as he retracted the weapon and handed it to her. "Throw it at me. I'll show you what you can do. But you must be quick to react and move."
The redheaded German girl hefted the spear, took aim, and threw it with all her might. A long time ago she had learned not to hold back when training or sparring with her sensei, as it would not only detract from her development, but it will give a false message to Garland about her skill level.
Moments before the pole arm touched Garland, he turned his body to the side while leaning backwards slightly, moving only several inches away from his original position, but enough for the spear to miss him completely. As it zipped by, he reached out and grabbed the shaft, pulling it into his grasp.
"That looked so easy," Asuka muttered as she reviewed the simple dodge in her mind.
"Simple, quick, and minimal. It's easy to do, so as long as you train your speed and reaction time. Forget what averages or scientists say; your reaction time can improve, and soon it'll be instinct to avoid and counter," Garland lectured as he handed the spear back and picked up his own oaken quarterstaff. "We'll work on that over time, perhaps with heavier weights while running and some wall ball."
Despite the childlike idea of the game, Garland could throw a tennis ball nearly 90 miles an hour, making dodging or catching extremely difficult. It was a nice way to train instinctive evasion and reflexes while having fun at the same time, especially when more people joined in.
"Now, let's try some armed combat."
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"I didn't want this day to come," muttered a young girl with fiery hair and sapphire eyes. Her usual perky and energetic personality was replaced by a somber visage. Together with a small group of friends, she stood facing a much taller man in German military fatigues. Slung over his right shoulder was an olive drab rucksack stuffed to the brim with possessions and clothing, several suitcases sat in a small pull-trolley.
"You all know as much as I do how much I dreaded this day," he said with a sad smile, looking over the friends he made in college. Around him were other military graduates, bidding farewell to friends and family.
"You are a good friend, Garland, and we will all miss you," Erik said, grateful for the help and experience Durev gave him. He was the proud recipient of a medical degree, having graduated at the same time as the Special Forces soldier.
"Don't worry, bro, I'll watch over Asuka," piped up a younger girl. Elena was a third year student that had met the martial artist at a football meet (during which she saw Garland and Asuka outrun the team, again.), and since then stayed close in hopes of learning from the guy.
A high-pitched whistle pierced the air, signaling for all passengers for final boarding.
"Well guys, this is it. I'll see you around," he smiled sadly again and turned to go. Something grabbed him suddenly, forcing him to jerk to a stop. He sighed, "Asuka…"
"You promise to call?" her voice was muffled as she buried her face deeply into the folds of Garland's clothes.
"Of course, my dear. I will call you once I arrive at base, and you can call me anytime you wish," he said as he slowly stepped out of the younger girl's embrace.
Despite the modern times, trains were still a popular and speedy mode of transportation. Such a random thought passed through Garland's head as he settled into a seat. A pity he could not sit near the window—he wanted to see his friends one last time as he sped off.
And maybe I would see someone chasing the train to keep me in their sight… the former student thought bitterly. Once he stepped into the military world, there would always be a chance he would not return safely. It was a danger to all men of the armed forces, especially Special Ops. The view from the train window may be the final time his friends may see him, and he them…
She had sworn years ago that she would no longer cry. The child of Kyoko Zeppelin Sohyru had promised that she would never cry for any reason ever again. However as she watched the slowly accelerating train containing a close friend roll away, tears were fighting desperately to be released. Turning away so as to hide her face, she could not bear to see another person she loved leave her.
"Asuka, Asuka, look!" Erik's gentle voice prodded her to turn around. Her eyes widened, her face frozen between shock and happiness. Youthful exuberance soon took the place of sadness, and she began to wave frantically.
Slowly but surely, the train rolled away. Carriage after carriage moved by faster and faster as the train accelerated out. And in the final carriage, the caboose of the train, there stood Garland Durev, standing outside on the platform, waving goodbye. The wake of the train generated a strong wind, causing the loose flaps of Garland's coat to float in the wind. It made a dramatic exit, like the sad ending to a movie. But Garland was right, it would be the last time he would see his friends for a long time…
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"No… no no no no!" sobbed a hysterical college student, staggering away from the archway of the door. On the other side of the door stood a German military official, an officer of the Kommando Spezialkraefte. He was given the terrible responsibility of delivering one of the worst messages anyone could get:
Hauptmann Garland Durev was killed in action seven days ago.
With his head still bowed and shoulders straight, he closed the door for the girl. He was one of the original "Asuka" squad members, before his friend received a promotion and the squad was rearranged; delivering the message was just as hard on him as it was for the young girl. Only his training and professionalism prevented him from staggering in shock and gloom. Since Garland had no real family, it was debated as to who the message would be delivered to, but it was secretly agreed by several members that the dead soldier's college friends would be informed, as they were the closest family Garland had. The officer stepped away from the dorm room and continued his trek—he still had the unfortunate responsibility to tell the other friends…
Outside, the rain continued to pour down, as if the skies were crying along with the young girl.
Asuka had retreated into her bedroom, having thrown herself onto her bed in a fit of anger and sorrow. So far into her grief that she failed to hear her phone ring. Once, twice, three times, until the fourth ring activated the little answering machine Elena had bought her. A moment passed as the machine's recorded greeting met the call, and a few seconds passed with only heavy breathing being recorded into the message. Finally, a voice, haggard and exhausted sounding, reverberated from the speakers,
"I… am… not… dead!"
It was thought to be of coincidence, that such a message be delivered shortly after the death notice. Regardless, Asuka's attention shifted just in time to hear the end of the phrase. Slowly, as if doubting the validity of the call, she crept closer to the small recording device.
"I'm sorry, but I cannot exist in this world any longer. They believe I am dead, and I wish to keep it that way. Don't ask questions why, just understand on paper and in records, Garland Durev is dead. Do not worry for me, because I will never forsake you. I'm sorry, Asuka… Good bye."
She tore the phone from its cradle and screamed his name, "Garland! Garland! Wait! I'm here!"
But it was too late; he had hung up already. The only thing she heard was the dial tone. Asuka slumped to her knees, memories good and bad assaulting her frail mind once more.
He had left her, just like everyone else.
But he was alive, and he would come back someday…
That thought alone brought a smile to her face.
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He awoke with aching muscles, a raw throat, and a sore chest. Stifling a groan, he rolled to his side, trying to diminish the dull throbbing pain in his chest and head. Unexpectedly his head rolled into a rather soft and comfortable lap. Blue-gray eyes cracked open slightly to gaze upon a feminine face, brown hair framing the outline as a bright light overhead gave a halo-like appearance. He smiled sleepily, since whoever's lap he was laying in was rather cute, and she looked a lot like an angel from this angle…
As his vision cleared, the face became more distinct, blurriness fading away to show a frowning Maggie Thompson.
Garland's smile melted away, and his eyes snapped open in fear and shock. Rolling off her lap and on to his feet smoothly, he began to babble apologies,
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I didn't know it was you!" He repeated several times, as if to ward off any attacks that may come from her.
With a grim look and distained eyes, Maggie walked up to him, stared into his waiting eyes, and slapped him lightly on a cheek.
"Bad boy. Don't do it again," she chastised.
"Wha…?" was the mercenary's intelligent response.
"Have a nice nap? Who's Asucar, anyways?"
Garland winched at the unintentional butchering of the German girl's name.
"Asuka. She was someone I knew back in college days."
"Oooh, a girlfriend?"
"No… more like a younger sister."
"Ah, I see. Now that you're awake and all, shall we continue?"
"Lead the way, ma'am. You know the facility better than I do."
"Good boy," she said as she took point, heading towards the commander's room.
"What's the plan, anyways?"
"My plan is to go the same way as Solid Snake did when he passed through here: pass the communication towers to reach REX's cage."
"I see, and what will you do once you get down there?"
"None of your business, merc."
Damn. She's still angry about something…
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"They'll come through here, I'm sure," whispered a supine man gazing large telescopic sight
"Yeah, but why do we care? Why do we have to do this?" his partner asked as he spotted down range with a pair of powerful binoculars.
"Because, dumbass, that one guy has killed a whole bunch of us off. That girl is FOX-HOUND, and you can't expect anything good when it's them," the soldier did not move from his vigilance.
"Still, do we have to use this thing?"
The rifleman's response was to pull back the charging lever of the weapon he manned, loading a round into the monstrous rifle,
"The only sure-fire way to put them down for good. Nothing can survive sucking down one of these."
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A/N: Hey Rune, how was Reese? Did I picture him well in the very brief appearance he makes?