Sting of the Scorpion

Chapter Seven

New Beginnings

FOXHOUND HQ, 2015...

Colonel Campbell put down the latest update on Scorpion's mission and hung his head. This was the point of no return on Scorpion's part. Either he successfully killed Fidel Castro and escaped in time, or he died.

"Mei-Ling, did I make the right choice by sending Scorpion down?"

Mei-Ling looked up from her station and nodded her head. "You know it was the best choice. Would Drakken, Nagi, or one of the others be able to beat Sniper Wolf? I think you know the answer to that question"

She said this with some contempt. Most was reserved for Reese and Castro, some for Campbell, and the last bit for her. For going along with this. Watching Scorpion's battles from the sidelines, never truly understanding a person's mind while in combat. Was he truly a mindless killer, or was he simply doing the only thing he could do unconditionally.

Though he was killing men with families and homes, was he not protecting millions of lives from dying by chemical warfare, and an old bastard's hatred of democracy.

Fidel Castro was scared, Mei-Ling told herself. Is scared. He knows that when Scorpion reaches Level Five, everyone there will die. Castro, the soldiers, even the civilian scientists working to make a weapon that will kill in the blink of an eye.

"Still, no one deserves the kind of pain that he just went through."

Castro HQ, En Route to Level Five...

Scorpion sat with his back against the elevator, wiping away the last of the tears from his eyes.

"I have to be strong... I can't stop."

If Scorpion could turn the clock back and change the events of his life he wouldn't. He wouldn't have been able to deal with death in the way that does now. Though truly a monster in the eyes of all present standards, Wolf had been right. He was Death and nothing more.

Level Five, Missile Control Room...

"Sir, missile systems will reach optimum power in five minutes, after that, all we'll need is you put in your fingerprint, retina scan, and voice match password to launch," the technician said as Castro paced behind him, the cigar in his hand burning swiftly.

Fidel turned and grimaced. "Good... good... Lock in all coordinates. We are going to show the world their mistakes..."

He looked down a long list. Washington, London, Paris, Rome, and all the other capitals of the democratic world. Castro started to turn, and suddenly bent down and entered three new coordinates into the system. Tokyo-1, 2 and 3. Just for good measure.

Castro HQ, Level Five, Lobby...

Scorpion moved swiftly to a group of lockers, avoiding a new type of guard. He was wearing black military Kevlar with red bars. Five of those. Mostly representing Castro's elite guard.

Opened a locker and got in, switching on his CODEC as he went.

"Scorpion to Nagu, repeat, Scorpion to Nagu..."

"I'm sorry Masterson but our friend the Captain is taking off," a familiar voice answered over the headset.

Scorpion grimaced as he looked at the face of his nemesis. "Lt. Reese, why the hell is he taking off?"

Reese flashed his cigar stained smile. "To prepare for aerial bombardment, why else."

"Reese! My mission has not been completed yet. Castro could live if you do this!"

"I realize it, but you broke. I expected better out of a freak..."

Scorpion swore and threw the handset to the floor of the locker. Looking on the side he saw a .44 Special in a wide holster.

He pulled it free and looked it over from barrel to butt. Scorpion fished into one of his pouches and pulled free a spare scope. Attaching it, he opened the cylinder and found it loaded with wad-cutters. These were bullets designed to either kill with one shot or maim the opponent, no recoils with these babies. He reached into the overhead shelf and found a thick box of the bullets.

Scorpion gave a smile that would have driven the grin right off of Reese's face if he could see it. He kicked open the door and put a two bullets into the guards faceplate. Turning, he set the sights at a soldier grabbing a radio. Scorpion shot the radio, at the same time sending shrapnel into the guard's chest. He clutched it weakly and slumped forward.

He went forward and came to a small reception area. A secretary of about 26 stood and covered her face.

"Please, I don't want to..."

She didn't find any sympathy at the end of the barrel of the magnum. Her brains flew out of the back of her head.

Scorpion moved slowly, dumping the shells and reloading it. He moved toward the door of Castro's chambers/control room and knocked three times.

Masterson Apartment, Northwest, Washington...

The five members of Reese's new death squad kicked open the front door of Scorpion's apartment and filed in. The squad leader, a 45 something man with a tape recorder went to the telephone book and began recording.

"We have just entered Masterson's apartment. It so far seems neat and organized. Preliminary search is now beginning."

The squad moved, pistols at ready. Methodically they searched the kitchen, living room, and TV room.

They finally reached the last room, the master bedroom. The squad leader nodded and one of the men opened the door.

What they found would have surprised anyone to a certain degree. There was simply a bed, desk, and a dresser. The men looked through the drawers, finding jeans, T-Shirts, and sweatshirts.

The leader went to top of the dresser, and picked up the only two items on it. An old 1941 Zippo, and a locket. These items were the last remaining of effects of the late Commander Victor Masterson and his wife that were not in the evidence room at Quantico, investigation pending.

He put them back and raised the recorder to his lips. "We have been negative in finding what you were hoping to find." As he finished saying this, one of the men hit a switch, and the closet rumbled.

The interior of the room changed. The mattress rotated and the closet's interior did a 180.

"Holy shit," one of the men whispered.

Weapons decorated the room before them. On the bed was an assortments of knives any true collector would have soiled himself over. Barlow's, Bowies, lockblades, harpies, throwing knives, and shurikens for those with the knowledge in that area. Several kunai winked up at them.

The closet was devoted to firearms. Though of less variety than the knives, there still were enough guns and the correctly suited ammo to start WWIII. At least six versions of the standard military carbine, all customized, sat shining in their respective holders. Sniper rifles, from bolt-action to semi-automatic were dominant here. A true gunman's array of pistols was here, and the men agreed that this kid knew what he was doing. A single well-used pump-action shotgun rested at the top.

"Disregard last comment, we've hit the mother-load."

Castro HQ, Level Five, Control Room...

The doors opened before Scorpion, the amount of quiet discomforting after the last twelve hours of gunshots. His eyes adjusted to the bright lighting and widened.

Before him stood five squads worth of Genome soldiers. All had automatic weapons and with short swords thrown in here and there for good measure.

They all seemed to open fire at once, lead flying toward him at incomprehensible speed. He dove around the corner and inhaled deeply.

"About 25-30 men, all with weapons aimed at me. Shit, it's dim sometimes," he thought, pulling a loose grenade of his belt and a knife at the same time.

Using a technique learned from spending so much time in hostile situations, Scorpion cracked open the grenade and pulled out its explosive material. Now all this thing would do is make a hell of a scare.

He pulled the pin and threw it into the room. There was the usual second of calm before the herding to get out quickly.

Scorpion took this to his advantage and pulled free his rifle. Down to his last two clips he threw hoarding to the wind and turned into the room full of men with their backs turned and began opening fire, thumbing the switch that set the PSG1 from semi to full on automatic.

The first five seconds were filled with gunshots and bodies falling. After that, the men began to comprehend the situation. They fumbled for the rifles slung across their chests. In another two seconds they were nearly all armed and ready to open fire.

Scorpion emptied the clip and slung the rifle with one arm while freeing the revolver with the other. He began firing with the wadcutters. The soldiers had not anticipated his tactics and scrambled for cover.

He unsheathed Fate and one of the Bowie's and systematically began gutting the soldiers like fish, blood spraying from the stumps that were once their arms, legs, and heads. The last one alive began crawling toward the wall.

"Por favor..." he pleaded. "Yo tiene un familia."

Scorpion sent the knife straight into the man's jugular and pulled it out, letting the blood spray onto his foot. He looked up at the camera above him and pointed the knife at it.

He approached one of the other doors and used his card to open it.

Scientists looked up in surprise, still holding on to the vials of Trihexalon they were loading into the correct impots on the wall,looking him over. Nothing was said until the first one fell over dead. They screamed and covered their heads.

"LISTEN!!!" Scorpion yelled. "Those of you who can understand English, listen to me now."

A majority of the room nodded.

"You are all working on a plot to kill millions. I'm sure every one of you knows what this Trihexalon was designed for. There is only one punishment for what you have done." He entered the last clip into his PSG1 and pulled back the bolt. "Death."

Castro watched the video feed as the scientists were mowed down, the final deaths unseen as a gout of blood hit the camera lens.

Scorpion holstered the smoking rifle and went to the final door. This was it.

FOXHOUND HQ, Control Room...

Lieutenant Matthew Reese was just raising Captain Masaki on the CODEC when Colonel Campbell barged in with five armed guards.

"What's going on here Campbell?!" he spat.

The Colonel presented a folder. I just went over your head. The Department of Defense is ordering immediate command back to me. The Director signed it and had it notarized an hour ago."

Lt. Reese read the document quickly, his face going from anger to upright hatred. "This means nothing for your freaks Campbell." With that he stood up and got to his office as quickly as possible. Once the door was locked he picked up his CODEC and put in an undocumented signal.

"This is Reese. All will not go according to plan."

"Why so Lieutenant?" a thick voice answered.

"Campbell overflew my authority. He's back in command of this mission. Our hopes of killing them both are done."

"It is of little concern. Shalashaska has agreed to handle the situation should the need arise."

Castro HQ, Level Five, Mission Control...

The door could not stand the blast of the C4, and Scorpion walked in. There was no one in the room except for two. One was an old conniving genius. The other was a young man with one plan. Kill.

Fidel Castro rose, now in his late seventies, and lit a large cigar. "I must compliment you. You have done in a day what others have not been able to do in 50 years."

Scorpion pulled out Fate and began polishing it lightly with a cloth. "That's because they haven't had any idea what to do."

Castro let out a loud, braying laugh. "That is the most honest thing I've heard a man say in years. Allow me to digress. Where did you get that fine blade."

Scorpion raised it one handed to eye level. "It's a Hattori Hanzu."

"Impossible, Hanzu has not made blades in years."

"He did for me."

"Then you must truly be a great man with a blade."

"Let's see."

Castro reached into his jacket and whipped out his Glock 37, but by the time he did that Scorpion had crossed the room and was two feet in front of him. He blindly pulled the trigger, but the gun fell into two pieces in front of his eyes.

The old man did not even have time to scream as Scorpion drew the sword along the man's torso.

Fidel Castro fell to the ground holding his own intestine.

Scorpion crossed over to him and turned him over.

"Remember this face. Remember this fucking face. It's the face of Death."

Scorpion went to the controls and began inputting sequences. A large 5:00 flashed on the screen before he pressed enter. He went to the door and took one final look at this shell of a man. The door closed and he proceded to the elevator.

Castro started dragging himself along the floor to the computer. The screen showed the elevator was nearing Level Three before he pressed the emergency stop switch. If he was going to die, this young American bastard would die with him. He turned himself around and took a look at one of the paintings on the wall. The great Red Dragon looked down at the woman and Castro smiled.

Elevator...

Scorpion heard the gears grind to a halt and swore. The old bastard had a trick left up his sleeve. He jumped up, pulling the grate with him as he came down. He climbed up, surveying the 30-50 feet he had to climb in three minutes and counting.

He moved to the ladder and began climbing.

He reached the first level and began sprinting toward the open bay doors. He was at the end of his endurance. Scorpion estimated there was only fifty seconds left on the timer. He picked up a fallen CB radio form one of the guards from earlier and activated it.

"NAGU!!"

"I hear ya buddy. Campbell called me not twenty minutes ago to be airborne and ready for pickup." Nagu said.

"Well... PICK ME THE FUCK UP!"

The Black Hawk circled and landed, just as the first traces of fire began in the bowels of the base, destroying the Trihexalon.

Scorpion jumped on and yelled, "Punch it!" as the fire reched Level One.

Two Hours later...

Capt. Masaki watched as Scorpion slept soundly in the passenger seat as they met rain outside of Washington D.C.

Scorpion opened his eyes. "I'm ready for whatever is next.

The End.

- - -

This was it. If you want more of Scorpion's adventures read Metal Gear sotries by Shardclaw Kusanagi, DarkFusion, and Tempest Dynasty. Each of these writers put a hand into this production and would nto have been completed without them.

-Rune