Rather important little note: This fic is not a fic at all. It is a conglomeration of small drabbles, pieces of stories that do not belong in any fic. These were all challenges, where a phrase and the word count were given to me, and I wrote something in response to the challenge. I like some of them, so I'm posting them here, in this story thing. New drabbles go into new chapters. None of them go together. They're just here.
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Challenge #8
Phrase: "Someone stop my hands from shaking."
Word Count: 999
Rating: PG-13
Title: Noumenon
Author: Rydia Highwind
Disclaimer: Metal Gear Solid and Metal Gear Solid 2 and all characters refered to herein belong to Konami. I claim nothing, I'm simply borrowing.
Summary: Leaving Shadow Moses, Snake reflects on what Fox taught him.
Warning: Slight Fox/Snake implications. Lame title because I couldn't think of anything better.
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Everyone has their own stories, stretched out in a jagged path weaving in and out. Every path, every story has its own beginning, its own middle, and its own end. Sometimes stories overlap, and sometimes paths cross other paths and intertwine, and sometimes two paths are so inexplicably linked that they could not be separated despite anything anyone tried. Sometimes two paths construct the same story, and sometimes what seems to be one story is really many stories with different perspectives.
I guess that's what my story is. It has a lot of people in it, some stay for a long time, and some leave right away, before I even really know who they are or why they are there. But there is one story, one path that has always been a part of mine and somehow, even though that path has ended and that story has seen its finish, it'll always be a part of mine. I guess not all paths end, it's more like they merge with other paths and, even though the one carving out the path isn't around any longer, that path is still carried on in other paths. Or at least part of it is. His story is a part of my story and even though he's gone now, it always will be a part of my story.
Everything I am today, the way I think about things and the way I deal with things--everything I am has been colored by his influence over me. I suppose it was probably some sort of hero worship at first, because that's how things go when you're still a bit green and some legendary hero takes you under his wing. And that's what he was, really. I mean, he was the only member of FOXHOUND ever to receive the codename Fox. He was amazing. You had to see him in battle to really appreciate everything he was. Not only was he amazing with his fighting ability, but his tactical knowledge and his ability to read the enemy still blows me away. I read somewhere once that his IQ was over two hundred, and that honestly doesn't surprise me.
It was therefore really quite amazing when he told me that he was jealous of me. I guess it made sense--I mean, he was only a member of FOXHOUND despite his amazing talent. He didn't lead the group. And here I am, a direct copy of the man who founded it, the man who was said to be the greatest soldier in the world when he was alive. Of course he'd be jealous. If I had the abilities that my father did, well, /I'd/ be the one to take over FOXHOUND, not him. I don't know if he ever intended to do that. He died before Big Boss did, so he never got his chance, regardless.
I never did surpass him. I never even reached his level, I don't think. I don't quite know how I beat him on that day. I don't really believe in luck, I never have. If I had any luck, I wouldn't have been standing in the middle of that minefield fighting him hand to hand in the first place. So I guess it wasn't really luck that allowed me to beat him there in Zanzibar Land. I don't know what it was. He always had something that I lacked, higher purpose. A reason to be there. Me? I was just there because someone gave me a gun and told me to get my ass in there. And, like a good little soldier, I listened.
I haven't really changed much since then. I thought I had, spending six years hiding away in a little place where nobody knew who I was, and drowning any problems I still could feel with alcohol. I thought six years with no friends but a barn of fifty huskies would change me, but then they pulled me out of my retirement and stuck me here, and here I am, blindly following their orders again. I didn't question anything they told me and now I see just how much they were using me. It was just like he told me--we're not tools of the government or anyone else.
Well, he wasn't. He had always fought for a higher level, something I didn't have, and I didn't even know what that was. Six years in Alaska gave me no insight, no...it wasn't until I got here and found out what had happened to him after I'd killed him that I really understood what he was talking about. He wasn't a tool of the government, and even after they'd brought him back to life with their drugs and machinery. He'd killed the doctor, destroyed the lab, and run away...to find me. No, he was never a tool of the government or anyone else. He was always his own man.
It was me who was the pawn. I never had what it took to be anything more than a soldier. Always taking orders, always doing what I was told--he never had to worry about me taking over command for Big Boss. He knew me better than anyone else, he should have known that. I don't know what he saw; maybe he just looked at me for who I might have been, and that's why he came looking for me here. He thought I could kill him again, thought I could put an end to his suffering. Oh hell, Frank, I'm just as human as anyone else. I have a heart, you know. And you were the only one who could remind me of that.
Someone stop my hands from shaking. It's not the cold Alaskan air making me shiver. I don't really know what to do with myself now, sitting on this snowmobile and heading for nowhere. I guess all that is really left is to live for what you told me, and maybe someday I'll make you proud.
--
Challenge #8
Phrase: "Someone stop my hands from shaking."
Word Count: 999
Rating: PG-13
Title: Noumenon
Author: Rydia Highwind
Disclaimer: Metal Gear Solid and Metal Gear Solid 2 and all characters refered to herein belong to Konami. I claim nothing, I'm simply borrowing.
Summary: Leaving Shadow Moses, Snake reflects on what Fox taught him.
Warning: Slight Fox/Snake implications. Lame title because I couldn't think of anything better.
--
Everyone has their own stories, stretched out in a jagged path weaving in and out. Every path, every story has its own beginning, its own middle, and its own end. Sometimes stories overlap, and sometimes paths cross other paths and intertwine, and sometimes two paths are so inexplicably linked that they could not be separated despite anything anyone tried. Sometimes two paths construct the same story, and sometimes what seems to be one story is really many stories with different perspectives.
I guess that's what my story is. It has a lot of people in it, some stay for a long time, and some leave right away, before I even really know who they are or why they are there. But there is one story, one path that has always been a part of mine and somehow, even though that path has ended and that story has seen its finish, it'll always be a part of mine. I guess not all paths end, it's more like they merge with other paths and, even though the one carving out the path isn't around any longer, that path is still carried on in other paths. Or at least part of it is. His story is a part of my story and even though he's gone now, it always will be a part of my story.
Everything I am today, the way I think about things and the way I deal with things--everything I am has been colored by his influence over me. I suppose it was probably some sort of hero worship at first, because that's how things go when you're still a bit green and some legendary hero takes you under his wing. And that's what he was, really. I mean, he was the only member of FOXHOUND ever to receive the codename Fox. He was amazing. You had to see him in battle to really appreciate everything he was. Not only was he amazing with his fighting ability, but his tactical knowledge and his ability to read the enemy still blows me away. I read somewhere once that his IQ was over two hundred, and that honestly doesn't surprise me.
It was therefore really quite amazing when he told me that he was jealous of me. I guess it made sense--I mean, he was only a member of FOXHOUND despite his amazing talent. He didn't lead the group. And here I am, a direct copy of the man who founded it, the man who was said to be the greatest soldier in the world when he was alive. Of course he'd be jealous. If I had the abilities that my father did, well, /I'd/ be the one to take over FOXHOUND, not him. I don't know if he ever intended to do that. He died before Big Boss did, so he never got his chance, regardless.
I never did surpass him. I never even reached his level, I don't think. I don't quite know how I beat him on that day. I don't really believe in luck, I never have. If I had any luck, I wouldn't have been standing in the middle of that minefield fighting him hand to hand in the first place. So I guess it wasn't really luck that allowed me to beat him there in Zanzibar Land. I don't know what it was. He always had something that I lacked, higher purpose. A reason to be there. Me? I was just there because someone gave me a gun and told me to get my ass in there. And, like a good little soldier, I listened.
I haven't really changed much since then. I thought I had, spending six years hiding away in a little place where nobody knew who I was, and drowning any problems I still could feel with alcohol. I thought six years with no friends but a barn of fifty huskies would change me, but then they pulled me out of my retirement and stuck me here, and here I am, blindly following their orders again. I didn't question anything they told me and now I see just how much they were using me. It was just like he told me--we're not tools of the government or anyone else.
Well, he wasn't. He had always fought for a higher level, something I didn't have, and I didn't even know what that was. Six years in Alaska gave me no insight, no...it wasn't until I got here and found out what had happened to him after I'd killed him that I really understood what he was talking about. He wasn't a tool of the government, and even after they'd brought him back to life with their drugs and machinery. He'd killed the doctor, destroyed the lab, and run away...to find me. No, he was never a tool of the government or anyone else. He was always his own man.
It was me who was the pawn. I never had what it took to be anything more than a soldier. Always taking orders, always doing what I was told--he never had to worry about me taking over command for Big Boss. He knew me better than anyone else, he should have known that. I don't know what he saw; maybe he just looked at me for who I might have been, and that's why he came looking for me here. He thought I could kill him again, thought I could put an end to his suffering. Oh hell, Frank, I'm just as human as anyone else. I have a heart, you know. And you were the only one who could remind me of that.
Someone stop my hands from shaking. It's not the cold Alaskan air making me shiver. I don't really know what to do with myself now, sitting on this snowmobile and heading for nowhere. I guess all that is really left is to live for what you told me, and maybe someday I'll make you proud.