------------------------------------------------------------
In the Debris
CHAPTER 2
"Spread your wings and fly!"
------------------------------------------------------------

"What a piece of junk."

"It certainly was a waste of money wasn't it?"

Volgin snorted contemptuously. "I should have realized how idiotic Sokolov's idea was." The electric man slammed his fist into the mutilated metal of what used to be the Shagohod. "A bipedal tank was the better choice." Laughing, Volgin added, "It's too bad that fool Granin is dead now. Metal Gear . . . the revolutionary mobile nuclear attack system. A bipedal tank. . . ."

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it now."

Yevgeny Borisovitch Volgin turned to his lover, reaching out and cupping his chin with his right hand. "That's right, Ivan."

Raikov smiled, bringing his fingers up and caressing Volgin's arm. "What do you propose we do, Yevgeny?"

Volgin took his eyes off Raikov for a moment and looked around the area. In the distance, he spotted the ruins of Groznyj Grad. To his immediate left was the fresh path leading from his and Raikov's hideaway on the mountainside. On his right, the deep canyon that came between the edge of Groznyj Grad and where he had fought with Snake and EVA. They had no means of transportation. It was either back up the mountainside to their cabin, where they could travel for a few days through the woods going down the other side of the mountain, carefully climb down the canyon wall and follow the river until they reached civilization, or they could travel through the woods off to the west until they came upon a small lake where there was bound to be a boat of some kind.

Yevgeny frowned. "Let's return to the cabin for a little while, Ivan. We'll think of a plan there."

"Would said plan happen to involve a one 'Naked Snake'?"

A malicious grin forming on his face, Volgin turned away from Raikov to stare off into the distance. "Snake? Of course. He is very important to our plans. First we have to figure out a way to get out of here however."

"Of course, Yevgeny."

------------------------------------

"Just hold them off for a little longer!"

"Where the fuck are the reinforcements?"

Lance Corporal Fang lifted the scope of her Dragunov SVD sniper rifle up to her right eye. Adjusting the magnification, she sighted in on the nearest rebel soldier. She took in a slow, easy breath, squeezing the trigger with the ball of her pointer finger as she let out half her breath. A patch of crimson appeared on the rebel's chest as he fell to the ground.

"Shit!" screamed another rebel. "Snipers! Fucking snipers!" Four more rebels fell to the ground as Fang's fellow snipers picked them off.

"Fang, how's it going on your end?" a male voice said in the female Lance Corporal's ear via her codec.

Fang swept the area with her scope, looking for rebels. "Nothing out of the ordinary, sir."

"Good. Return to base immediately."

"Yes, sir." Fang grabbed the strap of her SVD and swung the gun onto her back, carefully maneuvering down from the branch and getting a good grip on the ivy covered tree.

Back on the ground, she looked around the area once more. Cautiously, she approached the still bodies of the rebels she and the other snipers had shot down. Standing above the first body, she observed it carefully. There had been increasing trouble in the region with rebels; something, no, someone was stirring them up, telling them to rebel against the Chinese military force there.

The rebels had fought with guns today . . .

The Chinese military had raided all of the local villages and confiscated every gun they found, even going so far as to destroy villages in case they missed any weapons. The rebels were poor and there was no way they could afford to purchase more weapons.

But here they were. Armed and dangerous(not to mention dead).

Fang leaned down, picking up the assault rifle in the rebels hands. She turned it over a few times, examining with intense scrutiny, the design extremely familiar. She cocked her head to the side, looking at it from a different angle before pulling the stock up to her shoulder and holding it as any soldier would. She looked down the barrel and closed her left eye, focusing on the site at the end. Sighing, she held the rifle out in front of herself again.

The inscription on the barrel caught her eye.

She looked closer, scrutinizing what was written there. Then, she swore.

"Russians! Fucking Russians!"

Just one more reason Fang hated Russians.

------------------------------------

"How are the preparations going?"

"Fine, sir. All is going according to plan. We've supplied the Vietnamese with all the weapons they'll need to fight the Chinese. Once they've stirred up the Chinese, the plan will begin."

"Good. Are you sure that there's no way it can be traced back to us?"

"Yes. In an investigation, all fingers will point elsewhere. They'll never get a whiff of the fact that we organized it."

"Perfect. The blame will fall squarely on their shoulders, correct?"

"Of course, sir. I made absolutely sure of it."

"You do very good work, Isaak."

Isaak smiled. "Always, sir."

------------------------------------

"The Boss . . . and . . . The Sorrow . . . and I never . . ." Adamska trailed off. "Why?" he suddenly asked.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Why what?"

"Why did you tell me? When no one else did? To think . . . all that time I spent around The Boss and I never knew. Why didn't she say something?"

"She didn't know."

Adamska stepped forward, anger in his every movement. He grabbed Jack with an extraordinary burst of strength and shoved him up against the wall. "What do you mean she didn't know? How could she not even know her own son?" he screamed as a rabid, animalistic emotion could be seen in his eyes.

"She gave birth to you on the beaches of Normandy, just like you were told. June sixth, 1944. The Philosopher's took you away from her and she never learned your fate."

Adamska growled. "Why didn't she try to find me then?" his grip on Jack's shoulders tightened.

"How am I supposed to know?"

His rage peaking, Adamska picked Jack up and threw him roughly to the floor before converging on him, punches colliding with anywhere and everywhere on Jack's body. "Why? Why did you have to tell me this?"

Jack winced. Not at the punches but at the outburst. If he had known Ocelot would respond in this way, he wouldn't have said anything.

"All my life, I never knew my mother or father. And now . . . now, when they're both dead, I finally learn that I did know them." Adamska choked back tears as he threw another punch. "And not only did I know them, I despised them."

"What?" Jack caught both of Adamska's fists in his palms. "What do you mean?"

"The Cobra Unit. I hated them. All of them."

"Why?"

"Because they were trying to take away my prey."

"Your prey?"

"You, John. If they had killed you, I would never have got another chance to fight you."

Jack laughed. "Did you really believe they would kill me? I'd think someone who wanted to fight me so much would have a little faith in my abilities." He tightened his grip over Adamska's hands as Adamska struggled to free them.

He was beginning to calm down, Jack could see, but there was still that animalistic rage to be found in his eyes.

He really was like a cat . . . an ocelot. "An ocelot never lets his prey escape."

"The question still remains, John."

"Which one?" Jack bit down on his lip as the toe of Adamska's left boot pressed against his groin.

"Why did you tell me?"

"You have the right to know who your parents are. Everyone does."

Adamska stared at Jack for a moment before standing. Jack let go of his hands and sat up.

"You going to be — "

"Of course I am. Goodbye, John."

"Call me Jack."

Adamska picked up his bag from where he'd dropped it on the floor near the door and left.

Jack sighed. A guttural groan emanated from him as he assessed the damage Adamska had done to him. "Damn kid," he muttered, shaking his head.

------------------------------------------------------------
END CHAPTER 2

"Spread your wings and fly!"
------------------------------------------------------------

Author's Notes:
-Pay close attention to the names I choose for original characters.

-Ocelot has quite the temper, eh? But that's okay . . . he's just a confused little boy at heart and we all still love him anyway.

-If anyone guesses who Isaak was talking to, well, I will be extremely surprised and amazed at your prowess.

-Shorter than the last chapter, but you can't expect them all to be long. I didn't want to reveal too much of the story in this chapter.

-Remember, I love reviews.

Next chapter: Too pure for us Cobras.