Well, no input at all, but I guess last chapter was short and maybe vague and lame…Anyway, I'll keep on chugging on, reviews or not, I like writing for Metal Gear Solid stuff, it's pretty fun, me being a big fan of the series and all.
Well, anyway, let's start the show.
Disclaimer: I don't own Metal Gear or its characters. Konami does, and they rock. Who else could create someone as kickass as Revolver Ocelot!
Unknown Location
Solidus Snake stood in the darkened bunker, smiling as he viewed the row upon row of submachine guns and katanas.
The security code had still recognized his finger print and allowed him access as Big Boss, something which mystified him.
Either the Patriots have made a big misstep, or I'm simply playing into their hands again.
He shook his head as he made his way down the dark halls, finally stopping in front of a huge glass box, housing a full suit of the familiar mechanical suit he had grown to love, tentacles sprouting out of the back of the thin armor.
He smiled as he gripped a P90 and fired into the glass, shattering it.
It did not matter whose hands he was playing into, all that mattered was he would show them that they had gambled foolishly, allowing the true Big Boss to live on for vengeance.
Unknown Location
The obelisks stood solemnly in the darkness, in the dark, nondescript chambers. The space itself was so dark that it could've stretched on infinitely, there were no visible walls.
Only darkness, and then a group of tall gray obelisks, each emblazoned with a glowing writing upon them reading, "Sound Only".
Then, a gruff male voice pervading the silence, and echoing in the darkness.
"Adam has finally broken the communication silence."
Another voice emanated from another of the obelisks, a smooth accented tongue.
"Yes…it appears he is ready to establish contact."
"Through the empathy of Michael, he was pervaded."
"Indeed, it was wise of us to procure that arm for him."
"He will serve in this final plan, and then we will allow him to do what he wishes."
"As long as the final scenario is enacted, all else is irrelevant."
"The Legacy must be recovered…the act must be established."
Suddenly in the middle of the darkness, between the solemn obelisks, there shimmered an image, a blue, ethereal image that was most obviously some sort of hologram or projection, as it seemed to shudder and shake every few seconds, breaking the human form.
It was a tall, aged man, with flowing hair and a gruff, tired face. His face was mottled with scars and wrinkles, but his eyes were venomously lively, and he stared at the obelisks, a drab coat around him, the spurs at the end of his boots twinkling slightly.
He spoke with a dry, venomous voice, laced with an odd accent.
"I have come, as you wished."
"Yes, you have. Your conduct of the last few months has been pleasing indeed; the mass media has swallowed it up."
"Yes, as well as the indictment of Philanthropy as the hijackers of the lone Metal Gear, that alone was worth it all."
"Indeed, they cannot stop us. We have a mission for you, Adam, a final role in the farce, a redone scenario of Shadow Moses, once again. You must retrieve the Legacy."
Ocelot's eyes widened.
"Hmmm?"
"Volgin's share as well as the other half is located on the island of Lihin off the southernmost coast of China, in the South China Sea."
Ocelot smirked.
"There's a catch, isn't there? Why is it there? How heavily guarded?"
The voices continued to echo in response, emotionless.
"The island is secure, unbeknownst to the Chinese Philosophers. They are not aware of the cease of communication on the island."
"Indeed, you will assist Pyesetz in their capture and retrieval of the targets."
Ocelot nodded slowly, his dead eyes twinkling.
New York City, New York
Solid Snake nodded to himself as he stared at the woman, her face still beautiful although obviously marred with dry tears.
His hair was already gray from the advanced aging that came with being a clone, and his face seemed tired from having chased Ocelot all across the country, only to have to lose him mysteriously on the Pacific coast, and then hear from Otacon that Philanthropy is the center of a media frenzy once again.
He spoke, his voice the same as usual, except more gruff and tired.
"Tell me, Rosemary…What do you know?"
The young woman shook her head, her belly already visibly bulging from the grotestque throes of pregnancy, her body shaking.
"I-I was only a data analyst…an informant…I was never told any locations or anything else, I was only given orders…that's all. But they know Raiden's nanomachines contain the information…I know they do."
Snake nodded.
"It was either a group trying to stop anyone from retrieving the information by silencing Raiden, or some sort of group bent on finding the identities and locations of the Patriots. Ocelot may have something to do with this…I'm sure of it…"
Rose turned away, silent, her back to Snake as he turned around; his bandanna flowing slowly in the wind like some sand snake.
But she finally spoke as he began to walk away, never turning; her voice calm.
"Get…Get him back, will you?"
Snake nodded, turning his head to see her retreating form enter her apartment, his boots making an odd noise as he made his way down the stairs.
"I'll get him back. Count on it."
Snake continued strolling down the stairs, peering around the empty apartment complex, then kneeling down next to a stairwell and touching his head, communicating through his Codec.
"Otacon?"
The familiar voice of Dr. Hal Emmerich wafted in, his voice grimly serious.
"Snake? Is that you? I've found data concerning the situation, I think."
"Otacon? What is it?"
"A video feed in of a private airport in Southern California, a chartered jet carrying what I think might've been Raiden, I've tracked down his nanomachines, I think."
"Where was it headed?"
"A small island named Lihin in the South China Sea. Supposedly it's been taken control of by the JRA and another splinter organization. I've heard rumors that they've gathered the data behind the Arsenal Gear as well as major components of it, including the hydrogen weapon. They're supposedly constructing an more advanced weapon with the data they've collected."
"What? The Japanese Red Army? But they're supposed to have been disbanded decades ago? What do they want with Raiden and the Patriots?"
Otacon sighed.
"I don't know Snake, it doesn't make sense. There's obviously something more going on here, it's not just some simple terrorist action. You need to get down there."
Solid Snake seemed to grumble.
"This is obviously a trap, another reload of the Shadow Moses scenario; you know the Patriots have a deep hand in this…"
Otacon's voice seemed grave and tired.
"Yes…I realize that Snake…but we have no other choice. There'll be a transport helicopter waiting for you in an airfield in Saratoga. We have no other choice; you must stop whatever factions behind this, and rescue Raiden."
Snake sighed and broke the connection.
He'd always been getting dragged into things like this, and like an aging Big Boss, he was slowly but surely growing tired of it.
Such was the life of one of the "sons" of the greatest warrior of the Cold War, such was the life of a product of Les Enfants Terribles
The island of Lihin, South China Sea
Unknown Location
Nox stood sighing as the JRA soldiers strolled past him, patrolling the dense jungle surrounding the compound.
He was a tall, lanky Russian with pale skin and red eyes, evident of an albino.
He stared at their tan uniforms, toting AK-47s and sighed.
Involving Pyesetz with such a crude terrorist organization as the JRA had not been his original intention.
But you can't ignore orders from up top, can you? Especially from that high up…
He had his own reasons for this.
The Pyesetz had been established from the remnants of the KGB and defectors of the Genome army as well as other organizations including the Spetsnaz.
There were only a number of elite members, the number hadn't changed for ages, and he could see one of his fellow members, Hanzo Eagle, slowly approaching him with a bored look on his face.
Eagle was a relatively tall, skinny man of Japanese origin, dressed in a gray jacket with green combat jeans. At his side were his precious katana and wakizashi.
Nox sighed at the look on Hanzo's face as he approached.
He knew it, the bastard was bored. He was always bored when he wasn't busy slicing open bodies.
Nox remembered when he'd received the gruff man, blood covered all over his body, after slaughtering his village outside Osaka.
He'd been there on an NSA job, long story that was frankly irrelevant, but they'd gotten along quite charmingly.
Hanzo was perhaps the greatest swordsman alive, and he was indeed dependable and loyal, as long as he was kept excited and in battle.
That of course, was the problem.
His superiors had told him to stay delicate and quiet for the time being until their prey arrived, to work with the JRA for as long as possible and at least try to be civil. And Nox for the most part was fine with that. The only problem was the other members of Pyesetz.
Beside him was the safeguard the superiors had given him, which slightly annoyed and fascinated him.
A young man clad completely in black, long black pants, a black trenchcoat, dark black glasses shading his eyes, and even a thick black goatee and long ebony hair. He couldn't have been older than 19.
He stared forward numbly and silently as he strolled next to Nox, the contact from the people "up top", the messenger, the one that would guarantee the ordeal would go through correctly without betrayal.
At the teenager's hip was what seemed to be some sort of black pole that might have been useful as a club of sorts if it wasn't so long, and strapped onto his back was a black Panzerfaust, an odd weapon to Nox.
He had been told to call the young man only "Brittle Snake", an odd designation he found slightly amusing since it seemed depreciatory.
Hanzo finally reached the pair, his eyes flitting hatefully towards Snake's and then going back seriously towards the leader of Pyesetz.
Nox simply nodded, putting a milky white hand on Hanzo's shoulder.
"I understand Hanzo, I understand your frustration, and Viper's frustration, as well as the rest of the gang. But for now, we must sit tight before the grand finale! It will be worth the wait, trust me, but for now, we must remain placid."
A young, nervous looking JRA recruit suddenly stepped in front of Nox, staring nervously at the group and then saluting.
"Um…Mister…Nox, sir. Grand Comrade Wako would like to have a world with you."
Nox sighed at the stuttering, nervous recruit and then nodded, smiling reassuringly and sending the young Asian man running along.
He turned to Hanzo and nodded, the swordsman sighing and walking off back into the dense jungle, and then he turned to Brittle Snake, speaking quietly to the young man.
"I must now converse with that lout Wako, will you accompany me?"
Nox knew in truth that this was all foolishness. The JRA had no sway in this matter; they were simply the cannon fodder and supplies. The Arsenal Gear would never truly be in their hands, it was simply a farce, as always.
The young man in black shook his head silently, having not spoken a single word since his arrival ("Hello.").
Nox sighed as the young man strolled off, the Panzerfaust bouncing on his back, and turned away, clenching his fists.
My motives are my own, and they come first, before Them, before my comrades, before this crock Red Army…But that one…He could be a threat…I don't understand his motives or his reasons, they simply sent him here…as if to watch over me, to baby-sit me even?
Nox scoffed as he entered the JRA compound, the soldiers saluting him.
I shall reveal to the world my power, I cannot allow this to continue…It is maddening that I submit to those lower than me, the human race itself…I will have it…I will have Solid Snake. He will be my salvation, right after I kill him.
Well, hope you enjoyed this chapter…May have been weird, confusing, lame, or too short, but things will get cleared up and be more interesting chapter by chapter, so don't worry too much, just be patient.
Heh, well, see you next chapter, I guess. Later.