Chapter Ten

After five and a half hours, Snake had not even come close to regaining his full strength. However, he had no choice but to act, as his captors' footsteps were almost upon him. His mind ready, his body weakened, the captive soldier awaited his moment.

The usual red light above the cell entrance lit, and after a few seconds of heavy creaking the silver door opened and white light from the outside corridor again came flooding into Snake's confinement, split only by the figures of two armed guards. He hoped that the security camera above the door wasn't being monitored.

"On your feet," one of the guards said in a young but gruff and commanding voice. Snake lay still.

"I said get on your fucking feet, you sunvabitch."

Yet Snake neglected to move, and lay facing them, eyes wide open. It was the second guards' turn to speak.

"Listen, you sack of rodent shit, either you get up off your ass or we'll stomp you a new one. You got it? I'm not going to count to three. Hell, I'm not even going to count to one. You will get the fuck up right now or you're dead meat."

"Dead meat." A term Snake had heard before, no more threatening now than the first time he'd heard it. He would have smiled to himself if it didn't contradict his plans.

"That's it," decided the first. "Let's sing Sleeping Bitch here a lullaby."

As soon as they began to advance, Snake rolled his eyes back into his head. He heard their footsteps end abruptly. In his mind, he tossed over and over his dreams that made him awake screaming in the night and felt his muscles tense tightly.

"What's..." the second escort began, gazing in stunned silence as he watched his charge begin to shake and foam violently at the mouth. Snake struggled to keep control of his mind as his body slipped into post-traumatic shock, but he was teetering on a knife-edge.

"What's he doing?" The words finally emerged from the guard's mouth.

"It kinda looks like an epileptic shock... but he can't be epileptic. It hasta be a trick."

"Hey, he could be choking on his tongue," the second realised aloud suddenly, now becoming very worried. "And Ling wants him alive. Our heads will roll if he dies."

"...I'll turn him over onto his side, and then we'll radio help. You stay by the door just in case."

Snake could almost sense their panic as they approached. He fought with loss of consciousness, but he knew it was a losing battle as long as he was stationary. The footsteps on the metal floor grew louder and louder as he willed himself to focus on them. After what seemed like an eternity, the gloved hand of his captor touched his shoulder, attempting to roll him back onto his side.

Snake struck quickly, crossing the steel chains that manacled his hands together across the neck of the guard, and pulled hard. The man's neck held, and Snake twisted his own shackled wrists, forcing the soldier onto his back so that he was now completely covering Snake's naked body. He heard the other man by the door clock his rifle, exactly what Snake had counted on.

"Let him go!" the guard stuttered, desperately trying to regain his composure.

"Not a chance," Snake grunted. The man raised his rifle to Snake's head height.

"Freeze!" the FoxHound veteran commanded. "Lower your rifle, and toss the radio." The guard fumbled in his back pocket for his only method of contacting his peers.

"Slowly," Snake specified. The radio clattered to the floor as Snake counted in his head how long it would take the patrolling guard to return. He had twenty-two paces left.

"Now, hands over your head." Nineteen paces. The guard didn't move. Snake tightened his grip on his prisoner and let the raw choke fall from the man's throat. "Now!"

The guard's arms began to rise. Suddenly, Snake heard the man he was slowly throttling attempt to speak.

"Shoot...shoot," he tried to say. Fourteen paces left. Snake pulled the chains tighter and slowly began to stand himself and his captive up. The guard at the door dropped his arms and resumed his aim.

"I said freeze! Reach for the ceiling or this chicken shit dies!"

The man did as he was told at a snails pace. Snake almost lost count at ten.

"Pleeeesss..." the soldier in his grip choked. "I... famileee..."

"Shut up!" Snake held the manacles tighter still. "You do exactly as I say and you both might live through this. What's your name?" he asked the guard by the doorway. Seven seconds.

"What?"

"I asked your name, you little bastard," Snake hissed harshly.

"Private Jones, US Army."

"Your first name." Four paces, and the patrolling guard would be there.

"B- Barry," came the reply.

"Barry. Close the door. Quickly."

Barry did as he was told, and the metal lock snapped to with a second to go before the patrol guard rounded the nearest corner in the corridor.

"Good," Snake said. "And you are...?" he whispered in his prisoner's ear. A scratchy cough was his reply. Snake turned to Barry inquisitively.

"That's Neil."

"Neil. Neil and Barry," Snake retorted. "And you know my name."

"Well, Neil and Barry," Snake continued. "We have a situation here. I'm stuck in here with no clothes, no weapons, and presumably miles from home, plus there are two of you and one of me. But you're going to help me out." Barry had stopped trembling, and Snake could feel the life ebbing quietly from Neil, but remained calm. He strived to block out the pain of the electricity burns.

"Firstly, we're going to even the odds. Neil, shoot Barry." A tremor ran through both guards' bodies. Barry began to shake again. Snake loosened his grip a little.

"Neil," Snake repeated, "shoot Barry and you're neck is safe. I'll just tie you up and leave you here. But otherwise..." the hold was tightened on Neil's throat again, suppressing a cough. "... Your family loses a father."

With an immense effort, Neil slowly trained his gun on his partner. Tears of pain were streaming down his face. The other man's face was one of total fear. Snake, when in battle, no longer felt remorse.

Suddenly, a burst of gunfire erupted from Barry's rifle. Hot metal tore through Neil's chest, spraying blood out in front of Snake. The naked commando dove sideways and rolled underneath his bed, and prayed it wasn't bolted to the floor. Shots ricocheted off the walls and floors as Barry fired blindly. With a superhuman effort considering his injuries, Snake heaved his bed from the ground and charged forward with it in his grasp. Bullets ripped through the mattress, but the adrenaline rushing through Snake's veins almost completely prevented him from feeling one tear through his trapezium. Snake didn't stop until he felt his improvised battering ram smash his enemy's body into the metal door ahead. Skull crunched into steel, and the firing stopped.

Exhausted, Snake stepped back and let the bed clatter to the floor (there was no longer any point in stealth, the gunfire would've already alerted the patrolling guard) and watched the limp form of Barry slump uselessly onto it. He hoped that the two privates were new enough not to have their weapons electronically signed, a method of preventing the enemy from using their own firepower against them, but he wasn't counting on it. It was more than fortunate that the guards carried a key to his shackles, Snake thought.

He pieced together what he knew so far. He was being held captive in an extremely high-tech military facility, guarded by US Soldiers. This meant that the Patriots were involved, an expected but not entirely resented fact. His torture was being conducted, he presumed from the soldiers' talking, by a man named Ling, who was trying to force him to deny his name. Snake looked up towards the bleeping security camera and spoke:

"My name is Solid Snake," he said. "And I'm coming for you."

A plan formulating in his mind, he reached for the unconscious guard's M25.


The cougar had been tracking its prey for hours, racing across the roasting desert sand, spurred on only by the slightest scent of meat caught on the faintest of winds. Her stomach empty for days, the once-mighty feline had no choice but to continue its near-hopeless search for food or face starvation.

The smell began to grow stronger. The cougar sensed that this was no rotting carrion; perhaps the leftovers of a jackal kill. This was fresh, living prey, and decent enough in size to sustain the cougar for days. Her bloodlust made her go ever faster and helped her to block the hunger that had begun to enclose its stomach. It would take a worthy animal to stop her now, teetering on an all-or-nothing edge and determined not to fall. When she came to a halt, panting but not exhausted even in the midday sun, she did so with no sight of her prey. The smell was as pungent as ever, but there was no animal to be seen. Soulless, the cougar could not despair. Determined, she would not anyway. She would patrol her surroundings until she found her meal or until her life succumbed to starvation, whichever came first.

Suddenly, the lightest of sounds halted the mountain lion. It turned, and looked upon what it had sensed. It was an animal of a similar size to itself, standing erect, and furless but for the long blonde hair that fell from its head. Unbeknownst to the cougar, it was a man, one of the most dangerous living or dead. No fear could be sensed in him. He was Liquid Snake.

Desperate out of hunger, the cougar leapt at its foe, bringing into action a life-or-death struggle between two deadly creatures. The lion attacked with unrivalled ferocity, swiping through the air with its murderous claws and baring her huge canines. However, before her assault could even begin to damage the man before her, she was knocked sharply to the ground by a lightning fast fist. Her skull caved to her attacker's boot, and died to the smell of dirtied leather. For a while her body lay undisturbed, the victor standing over her, before a harsh voice chilled the hot atmosphere.

"Another of your out-of-body experiences?"

Liquid turned to the descending figure of a bearded man, arms outstretched to slow his fall. He landed gracefully crouched in the hot sand, and rose gradually to his feet.

"I know what I felt." Liquid replied in his usual arrogant British swagger, ignoring the perspiration collecting on his own face.

"Indeed?" The man began to walk slowly towards his comrade-in-arms. Despite the intense heat, he did not sweat. His skin was a pale grey, and his teeth, which rivalled the cougars in sharpness, protruded slightly from his mouth and dented his bottom lip.

"Mock all you want, vampire," said Liquid. "My brother's presence in my head, however it came to be, is no laughing matter. He could know all I know."

"I take it, then, that he will at least find a more expensive brand of cigarette." The vampire raised his head and watched two vultures circle overhead, the roaring sun casting their shadows on the body of the dead cougar. "Unfortunate. I can smell those foul sticks he smokes now a mile away."

"Your newfound sense of humour... unnerves me, Vamp. He could know of our alliance, our plans, my resurrection... yet there you stand, untouched by it all."

Vamp smiled. "Even if he does know, there is little he can do to stop us."

"Overconfidence, Vamp, is a weakness. If he knows of the LoB programme, then he knows my true role, and his." Liquid agreed that, with Vamp and RAY, he was near unstoppable as far as his genetic brother was concerned. However, Area 51 and its protection were an unknown quantity.

"You worry too much, Liquid," Vamp retorted. "If Snake faces me, he will die."

A smile spread over Liquid's face, matching Vamp's. "I didn't say it was Snake that read my mind." Liquid took pleasure in watching the usually stoic Vamp look on enquiringly.

"There are others from the Legacy of Blood programme that survived?" Vamp finally asked. "I thought it was just Solidus and you Enfant Terribles.

"It is possible, but as far as I know, none were blessed with psionic abilities." Liquid watched the sands roll over each other on the desert surface. "If only Ocelot's body could have told me more."

Vamp drew his long machete knife from its holster in his combat belt and resumed his walk towards the dead cougar. Liquid surrendered it with a step to the side and began his journey back to the Metal Gear Ray.

"You are sure you will not eat?" Vamp asked as a parting comment. "I have withstood pain before, but I confess that this heat in nigh unbearable. We need to keep up our strength."

"The brainwashing I underwent in the Gulf protects me from all extremes," Liquid replied. "Enjoy your drink."


Doctor Dawson stood rigid, like a soldier in line, as Ling spoke.

"This is Alyssia Markova," he said, introducing a young girl to his right. "I am placing her under your tutelage."

Dawson gazed at his new charge. She couldn't have been older than twelve, but she was beautiful. Her hair was a silvery-blonde, and fell as far as her shoulders. Her eyes were grey, and stared blankly in front of her. The doctor was a little disappointed that she had only begun to develop breasts.

"She only speaks a little English," Ling spoke again. "So you two should get along fine. You are to help her keep the newest patient alive, and to show her the full extent of your knowledge."

Dawson nodded, and waved patronisingly at her. "Hello," he mouthed, but no response, from eyes or mouth, was forthcoming.

"She can't hear you," Ling chuckled at what he perceived to be Dawson's stupidity. "Until I have my resident psychics release her, she is under my control."

Ah, yes. More of Ling's child workers.

"Any further questions, Dawson?"

Dawson shook his head. Ling raised his hand to an unseen party behind him, and Alyssia began to walk towards the door, still in a trance like state. Dawson, surprised, followed her out of the door.

"And Dawson?" Ling called, causing the man to stop in his tracks. "Mess this up, and it's your final chapter." Dawson nodded enthusiastically, and, scared he'd lose the advancing child, hurried after her. A few moments of silence passed after he had gone.

"You can reveal yourselves now," the Chinaman broke the silence. He turned around, and instantly four people stood before him as though they'd been there all along. He looked at the two teenagers in the middle and enquired. "Is our boy on schedule?"

"He has escaped from his cell," the girls replied in harmony. They were twins, dressed from head to toe in white. One would guess their age at sixteen, but in reality there were no known records to prove or disprove it. "And he is on his way here."

"Excellent," Ling said. "What of the others?"

"We sense two hostile thoughts moving from the North East. A second team is moving slower, but with a greater number." Again, they spoke at exactly the same time, almost with one voice. "It is too early to confirm it, but we sense our abuser is among them."

"The prodigal son returns," Ling smiled to himself. "He amazed us all when he turned your own power against you.

"Shark, Miasma," Ling addressed the final two people on either side of the twins. "You get ready. You are this facility's only credible defence against enemies as formidable as Vamp or VII."

Miasma was a woman of about six feet in height. She had long wispy hair, dark purple in colour, and her eyes were a misty brown and piercing. She was a woman of a very attractive build; hardly muscular like the man she stood beside, but nonetheless shapely.

Shark, however, was a different species of soldier entirely. He was huge, at least six and a half feet in height, and had shoulders like steel girders. His muscles could be compared justly to twisted metal, and he wore a skin-tight, rubbery bodysuit with an army trench coat over the top. His hair was a classic marine shortcut, and his demented smile revealed a row of sharp filed teeth.

"So, are you giving up on the brainwashing, or what?" Shark asked in his deep, malicious voice.

"It was a misguided errand," Ling answered, unimpressed with his underling's insolence. "If we could have got him to believe he was no one, he would have been under the Patriot's control once more, and the LoB programme would be redeemed." Ling sighed, before continuing. "But his will is too strong. Indeed, I would expect no less from the son of Big Boss.

"But he will fulfil his purpose. Now, go to your posts. I expect our friends very soon. Faith and Charity will mentally mask you from all eyes until the time is right." Shark grinned again, and began to leave. Miasma smiled too, but left a different way. As soon as they were gone, Ling spoke again.

"Are they gone?"

"We sense no thoughts in the surrounding area."

"It best be so. Is the Presence monitoring us?"

"We sense that their focus is elsewhere."

"Excellent. And the Deus Ex Machina?"

"The structure of the new Metal Gear is complete. All that remains is the combat data."

"Perfect," Ling said. "This Metal Gear model goes far beyond terran technology, and with the combat instincts of Big Boss it will be unbeatable. The Patriots think that we have built them a brilliant host, but it is we that it will make invincible."

"The final test will certify that." Faith and Charity, the two twins, continued to speak as one. Their minds were almost always linked, less like sisters and more like an amoebic, telepathic collective. Incredibly powerful when together, even the most advanced psionic blocks were useless against their combined might. Only Ling's mind remained an enigma to them, yet he was the man they were believed to trust the most.

"Indeed," Ling replied. "When the plan comes to fruition."

"What of Shark and Miasma?"

"They will serve their purpose. Once they have separated the wheat from the chaff, there is no longer any need for them to be kept alive."

"And your "daughter"?"

There was a short silence as Ling took his glasses from his face and cleaned them.

"She is the only hope I have of removing this stupid chip," Ling placed his hand on his temple, and as ever felt the small copper object just under his skin and hair. "The Patriots tricked me when they consigned me to this body. Although, it's not without its advantages."

"With the mental inhibitor gone," Charity and Faith spoke again in their eerie cohesion. "You will regain your previous powers?"

"They are not gone, only denied to me. When my "daughter" removes this circuit board, I will regain my power, and none will stand before us."

Ling looked up, marvelling at his two psychic students. He was the only one who saw them in their true forms, yet to him they were still beautiful. What he had with them was the closest he'd ever have to trust and friendship. He had too long been the Patriot's puppet, but soon he would rule with his Janus on either side.

There was a buzz from his desk.

"Ah, yes," Ling said. "My one o'clock, as it were." Ling went to his desk and sat at his chair. "You can stay and observe if you want," he told the Janus Collective. "But don't let him see you."

He pressed the button on his intercom in reply. After a few seconds, a green light could be seen. The door to his office opened slowly, and a tall man, advanced in years, entered, dressed in military uniform.

"Welcome, Colonel Campbell."


Author's note: Thanks again to all reviewers. This may or may not be my last update for a while. Check my xanga ) for more information.