The bruised body of the FOXHOUND operative lay temporarily undisturbed on the dark earth. He tried to open his right eye, but it was swelled shut. Blood rushed up suddenly from his trachea and spilled unceremoniously over his blackened lips. Internal bleeding, Snake thought to himself. Don't go into shock. Let it look worse than it is...
Snake watched his former comrade... his former friend, kneel in the charred dirt a few feet away from where he now lay. He was reaching for something, but Snake in his battered state could not discern what through the cold night air. Then it hit him. Natasha.
Grey Fox rose from the ground with his love's limp body held tight against his powerful chest, their two bodies silhouetted picturesquely against the burning wreckage of the fallen Metal Gear D. Fuel dripped from the walking battle tank, and it took Snake far too long to realise that it would not take that great a time for flame and oil to meet. Fox had carried Natasha about sixty feet away by the time Snake managed to drag his beaten body from the ground, but he set off in pursuit of his enemy as fast as his injuries would allow, taking care not to step on any uncovered claymores. Something would have to give, sooner or later. Snake would be damned if he was going to.
The explosion lifted him violently from his feet and set him forcibly down on the scorched ground. Snake tried to roll with it but landed pitilessly on his left shoulder. His body tumbled down a small tuffet of ground like a broken rag doll. He tried in vain to pull his head up from the soil and lay beneath the moonlight, face down in dirt. Was this to be his end, after fighting for days through the insurmountable odds of Zanzibar's military, to die sucking filth in an abandoned mine field? Get up, you dumb fuck. Get your ass up.
Grey Fox lay his love down among detonated shards of plastic explosives and stroked her hair back with his bloodied hand. She tried to speak, but he hushed her quickly. Holding her in an embrace, he kissed her lovingly on the forehead and arose from his kneeling position. "I'll be right back," he told her.
As he tried to stand, her hand shot out quickly and grabbed his. "If you leave again, I can't wait for you this time." Her soft voice was almost lost in the tumultuous racket of overhead fighter jets, but Fox could hear her as clearly as he ever could.
"What do you..." He began his sentence too swiftly, as no sooner had the first word left his mouth than he laid eyes on the piece of serrated shrapnel protruding through her stomach. He kneeled down once more and put his hand behind her neck. With the other hand he touched the end of the shrapnel lodged in her stomach.
"No... Frank, I have to leave you now."
"No, you can't...I love you Natasha." A tear broke and ran down his eye like morning dew from a blade of grass. It rolled softly off his face and splashed gently on her frozen cheek.
"I love you too, and I always will do. Whether I am in this world..." she paused, and grimaced slightly. "...Or in the after life."
"But I have no one else on this earth, without you, I have no purpose in life. You are my oxygen and strength, my rose and elixir..." Fox spoke, all his emotions running down his face as water.
Natasha gripped his hand once more and whispered to him, "Kiss Me, Frank." He did as she told him, softly and gradually, her hand loosened its grip on his and she died peacefully. Fox held her hand to his lips and kissed it, crying uncontrollably.
Snake heaved himself up with his last ounce of strength and staggered forward, his breath wheezing rapidly, all he could inhale was the cold stale air. Keep going; you are almost there...
Two figures gradually came into the vision of Snake, the moon light reflecting off one's back, and the other bent back in its arms. Fox whispered something that Snake couldn't hear. Snake approached his fallen foe, hearing his gentle sobs, filled with regret. His lips moved, but the only sound that disturbed the minefield's cold silence was a harsh movement of stale air stuttering from Snake's throat. He was about to try to speak again, but Fox interrupted him.
"Why?"
His voice was like nothing Snake had heard before. Cold and empty, like the field in which they now stood. At that moment something inside of Grey Fox, something inside Frank "Hunter" Yeager died as peacefully as his fallen love. Snake felt a multitude of conflicting emotions welling up inside of him, and answered all his screaming voices in the only way he knew how. His hand, trembling in the soft wind, reached for his gun holster.
"Why did you have to bring her here?" Frank said, his voice cracking in his throat, his back still turned to Snake. Snake slowly pulled his USP from his side and pointed it at the back of his mentor's head.
"I thought you were my friend, Snake," Fox began again. "But you brought her here. It's... all your fault."
"Fox..." Snake managed to hoarse. "That's her blood on your hands. That piece of shrapnel is from the Metal Gear..." He was abruptly cut off from the former FOXHOUND operative's stunted sobs, growing louder in the quiet night. Snake couldn't see Natasha from where he was, but he knew she was dead. He moved still closer to Grey Fox, his gun cocked and trained on the man's head.
"You brought her here. I thought we were friends." Fox muttered softly into his lover's lifeless breast. Snake held the barrel of his gun ever closer. He knew he should pull the trigger, he could almost hear Campbell's voice screaming in his head about battlefield loyalty and duty to his country. But his finger didn't move, it was frozen like their war torn bodies in the icy breeze.
"Fox... Frank," Snake began, "it's over. Please, don't make me do this. Turn yourself in." Snake's muscles ached, and his left arm hung limp at his side. If another fight started, Snake didn't believe he could win. His finger tightened on the USP's cold steel trigger and hugged it close for security. He continued to advance, his footsteps gently crisping against the soft ground.
"You're as naïve as ever, Dave," Fox spoke with some of his old courage, but his voice still sounded strangely hollow. "They'll never let me live for this. You might as well pull your little trigger on that bastard you've got pointed at the back of my head."
Snake breathed in deeply, and felt two of his ribs rattled irregularly. This was the moment he had dreaded. The hardest thing he had ever had to do: squeeze the trigger and blow the enemy of the state from the face of this earth. The muscles in his finger pulled taunt and the unsuppressed gun barked, splitting the night air.
No bullet passed through Grey Fox's skull. He turned with demonic speed and forced Snake's functioning arm to his side as the bullet pierced the ground. They were face to face, for a second staring into each other's eyes. Fox head butted his former colleague and a kick to the solar plexus sent him doubling over. Shit, thought Snake. He wouldn't listen. Now one of them was going to die.
Fox brought his knee to connect sharply with Snake's nose bridge. The pain began with a sickening crack and stung its way through his entire face. A fist, too fast for Snake to duck, smashed against his jawbone. Brought to his knees, Snake attempted a punch with his right hand. Fox blocked it, almost waving it away, and returned with a stinging elbow to the top of his head. Snake felt his body fall limp and drop to the ground. He spat blood into the soil as Fox grabbed him by his dislocated shoulder and lifted him onto his feet once more. Snake was barely conscious, and felt the stabbing knuckles in his broken rib before he saw them. More blood erupted from between his lips as he was almost lifted from his feet by his muscular adversary, weakened and defenceless with one arm. The moonlight struck his eye as Fox flung him backwards, tumbling down a small hillside. Snake lay at the bottom, willing himself to get up. He managed to raise his head to see Fox throwing his head back, sending his long hair flying backwards in the wind. A roar, like a wolf's howl ripped from the soldier's throat. Snake struggled to one knee as Fox screamed himself hollow beside his lover's corpse. The eerie hunter's shout echoed through Snake's damaged ribcage as he brought his feet up to the ground. He knew that he couldn't take down Fox with one arm, but couldn't pull it from its dislocated state on his own. One chance, he thought, as Grey Fox ripped his tank top from both sides on top of the hill. Fox threw his tattered garments to the ground and skated bare chest down the ashen earth to his student's side.
Snake saw the kick coming, and instinctively ducked his friend's round housing back heel, sending Grey Fox spinning in front of him. With Fox's back turned to him, Snake knew of six working defence positions that his opponent could now utilise. Fox had used one of the already. The other two would disarm Snake with minimal contact. Another two would kill. It was the final one that Snake needed Fox to use. He took a gamble, and swung his dislocated arm at the back of Fox's head. Hunter saw it coming, caught it and swung Snake's body over his head arm first. Snake heard his shoulder snap, and then felt it. He screamed in agony as he hit the floor. He writhed in pain, but the gamble had paid off.
Fox staggered backwards, temporarily stunned by his former best friend's sudden onslaught. Both men were starting to let instincts take over, and Fox knew even in his soulless state that he couldn't afford that. Fox may have been the best fighter, the best soldier in the US Military's history (save one), but even he knew that Snake's instincts were second to none. He would have to finish this quickly, for Natasha's sake, one way or the other. He began to find himself longing for death.
Fox swung a finishing kick towards Snake's unprotected sternum. Snake sensed it, and brought his left arm up to block it. Snake's fist connected sharply with Fox's descending Achilles tendon. The attacker stumbled backwards, but kept his feet. All limbs now fully functioning, Snake nipped up from his prone position and turned to face his opponent. Fox ran forward, and swung a wild right at Snake's temple. Snake blocked it, and swung his right wrist smashing into Fox's hip. Frank Hunter felt his pelvis crack, and shouted in agony. His retaliating left was too fast for Snake to do anything about and slammed into his right cheekbone, sending him spiralling to the floor again. Snake rolled, narrowly avoiding a mine, and sprung to his feet. Fox limped forward, growling under his breath like a rabid animal. Snake parried the initial blow, and swung a kick between Fox's legs, causing the soldier to empty his lungs once again. Snake followed it up with a head butt of his own, which threw Grey Fox to the floor, bleeding from the forehead. A steady trickle of crimson ran down his nose from it. Fox rolled to his feet, aching all over.
Two men stood almost toe to toe, once the best of friends, once closer than brothers; now battling for survival. One fought for duty and honour; the other for love, and what he believed in.
At the foot of the hill on which Natasha Markova lay, they continued their battle. Snake kicked, Fox parried. Fox punched, Snake ducked. An uppercut by Snake found its mark, and Fox went with it, back-flipping to the ground. Snake approached again, and Fox pulled his legs out from under him before leaping onto his grounded foe. Almost in tune with the harmonious explosions that erupted from the dogfights above, Fox brought left and right fists raining down on Snake. Snake felt his nose break in two places, and the knowledge of a broken cheekbone entered his mind on a train of stabbing hurt. His head snapped back with what could have been the sixth or sixteenth punch, and a satisfied Grey Fox rose to his feet above his vanquished foe. Now he would finish it. One way or the other.
Fox climbed slowly back up the hill to where Natasha still lay. It was dark, and he crawled around for what seemed like an age feeling for Snake's USP. Finally, his hand fell upon its barrel, and he lifted it slowly from the ground. He remembered back at the barracks, where they would practise for days under the FOXHOUND banner, destroying targets and taking it in turns to pay for new ones. The USP felt as heavy and clumsy as it ever did. As he cocked it, the rain began to fall from above, cleansing bleeding wounds.
Drops of cold, refreshing water fell on Snake's bloodied face, reviving him slowly. He ignored the insincere cries of fatigue from his disciplined muscles and the hoarse cracking that sounded from his left side when he breathed, and moved gradually to his feet. The hill before him looked like a mountain, but he nonetheless began to climb it. He was there again, the old climbing wall at the academy, finding foot-holes faster than any man or beast could. It's always you or Fox, the instructor would tell him at the top. Maybe I'll shoot myself in the foot next time, Snake would always reply. They'd laugh for hours about it, and share a box of fags stolen from Big Boss's desk long into the night, looking up at the stars.
Snake reached the top and saw an armed Fox standing above him, beneath the stars. Snake was panting, his compressed lungs wheezing for air.
"You sound like a dog, boy," Fox said. "Is that how you want to die like one, on your stomach?" Fox cocked the USP and held it close to Snake's blackened head. "Or on your feet, like the man I used to know?" His strength seeping rapidly from his body, Snake managed a final push up from the floor. "That's it," Fox said. "On your feet, Soldier."
It was then that Snake lashed out for the final time, his right hand cutting through Fox's outstretched arm and bending it the wrong way. Fox shouted in pain, dropped the gun and withdrew. Snake stepped forward and met Fox's blind charge, unable to prevent his shoulder from smashing into Snake's gut. They fell from the hill again, tumbling like lovers held in each other's embrace. Snake extended his arm, desperately grasping at a handhold in the dark hillside He found one, and Fox; unable to hold on, concluded his descent.
The explosion threw Fox's broken body like a rag doll through the night air. Snake had seen the claymore, but hadn't been able to stop Fox's fall onto it. The man landed hard, still, and lay with a deathly calmness.
Something that had been extinguished in Frank Yeager's heart minutes before was once again rekindled as he lay on the ashes of his mentor's war.
"Snake," he eventually spoke as his friend finally approached. "I'm sorry... this was my fault. I never should have left her." His eyes clenched tight shut as he thought of her dying face.
"Hush, Fox," Snake said, kneeling beside his broken comrade. "She's up there now." They both turned and looked up at the stars above.
"Shame we don't have a pack of smokes," Fox chuckled. Snake allowed himself a brief smile. The muscles of Grey Fox's face pulled taunt, and he gasped as the pain shot through him.
"I need you to do something for me, Snake," he grimaced. Snake said nothing, and merely looked down at Fox's agonised expression. "Take my body and lay it next to hers. We couldn't live together, but at least let us die together."
"Fox," Snake said. "She wanted me to tell you. She left your daughter behind, in Canada. She's safe. A friend is looking after her, a nurse I think..." Snake halted as he saw Fox's acknowledging smile.
"My only regret is that I will never see her face," Fox wheezed. "Now let me die, brother."
He was close to passing out, but Snake managed to lift his friend's body and carry it back up the hill down which their conflict had ended. With great effort, he reached the top and lay Fox's body next to Natasha's. As the life ran from Grey Fox's body, he gripped his girlfriend's dead hand. Snake stood and turned away, never once shedding a tear over his best friend's fallen body. He staggered back towards the base, in search of his final target.
Co-written By Chicken Fox 2004