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In the Debris
CHAPTER 3
"Too pure for us Cobras."
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"It's been too long, my old friend."

"It has. You look ill, Yevgeny. Catch something?"

Volgin snorted. "Only a lightning bolt."

"Always with your humor. Is there something you needed?"

"I wouldn't have called you up if there wasn't." Volgin glanced over his shoulder at Raikov who was idly twirling his long, blond hair around his index finger. Lowering his voice, Volgin continued. "A favor, Isaak. Money that belongs to me has recently fallen into the hands of one of your associate's associates."

Isaak smiled knowingly. "The Philosopher's Legacy. Do not worry; I will retrieve what Krushchev has gotten a hold of and hidden here in the Soviet Union."

"I do have a question for you, Isaak. The disc I gave The Boss was a fake. If she were to have handed it over to anyone, they would have found nothing. Only through a little investigating in recent withdrawals of the bank accounts the money had been kept in did I learn that it was no longer in my possession. . . . How could Krushchev have gotten a hold of the money?"

"From what I have learned," Isaak began, leaning back in his chair, "The Boss gave the fake to Tatyana who handed it over to the Chinese. Of the real disc, someone acquired it and half of the money was transferred to the United States. The other half remains here, under Krushchev's control."

"Is there any possible way for you to retrieve the half that the Americans have gained access to?"

"It's possible, but may take me awhile before I can find a way to do it. My contacts here in the Motherland are far greater than those in America."

Volgin nodded. "Keep me posted."

"Take care, Yevgeny, Ivan," Isaak smiled at the two before standing and heading for the door of Volgin and Raikov's temporary home in Northern Tselinoyarsk. They had decided to remain at the cabin for the time being, having fished out a phone and gotten it to work. Soon after, Volgin had begun making the necessary calls to the necessary people in order to investigate whether or not the Philosopher's Legacy still remained in his possession..

Raikov snuck up behind Volgin, wrapping his arms around his lovers neck. "What's next, Yevgeny?"

"There's a certain CIA agent I need to locate. . . ."

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Isaak smiled. He picked up a white chess piece, tied a small label to it and placed it on a chessboard. He grinned at his handiwork, at the non conventional game of chess he was playing.

Isaak commanded the white chess pieces and played the black pieces as if he were the opposing player. The white queen was labeled, aptly, Isaak, with the white king, Isaak's Legacy, beside it. Continuing down the line, the rooks were labeled "American Philosophers" and "Soviet Philosophers." "Volgin" and "Raikov," the two newest pieces to be placed on the board, were the knights. One castle had been labeled "Chinese Philosophers" while the other merely said, "Isaak's Cunning." The most abundant pieces of all, the pawns, were labeled Krushchev, Brezhnev, CIA, CIA Director, GRU, and KGB, with the GRU and KGB getting two pawns a piece.

On the side of the board that the black pieces called home, Isaak had carefully labeled each and every piece. The queen was the CIA Director; the king, the American Philosophers; the rooks, Krushchev and Brezhnev(it humored Isaak that the American Philosophers truly believed the two Russian men were squarely in their pocket); the knights, Ocelot and Isaak(how foolish those Americans were, to believe that he was on their side, rather than his own); the castles, the GRU and KGB(Far from a defensive force toward to the United States, Isaak had mused); and the pawns, the president of the United States(Oblivious to everything, the idiot), the American populace with six pawns and the last piece to have been placed upon the black side, Jack, of the newly formed FOX unit.

Isaak picked up Jack's pawn, his grin widening. "This will be quite fun, you know," he said, placing the piece back down on the board, "I've always loved chess."

He pushed Jack's pawn forward one space.

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"Great to see you again, Jack," Major Zero stuck out his hand to Jack as the sullen FOX operative entered the room. Jack's hands remained at his sides as he stood before the Major.

"Still a little bitter, I see," Zero murmured, averting his eyes from Jack's cold stare. "We were all under orders, Jack. It can't be helped of what you had to do. Truly, I'm sorry."

Jack walked to the table in the middle of the room and picked up the mission dossier.

Zero padded to the opposite side of the table. "As you can see, FOX's first official mission will be sending you deep into hostile North Vietnam territory."

Jack turned to the second page of the dossier. "Why North Vietnam? Haven't the Chinese warned America and the Soviet Union that North Vietnam is under their control?"

Zero nodded. "Yes, but according to our reliable sources in the Soviet Union, someone is supplying the North Vietnamese and South Vietnamese with weapons. The South Vietnamese are rebelling against the Chinese who have crossed the DMZ and the North Vietnamese are attacking the South in response."

"And we think that whoever is supplying the weapons is ultimately attempting to instigate a war between China, North Vietnam and South Vietnam? Something along the lines of craftily steering North and South Vietnam's attention to China, rather than having the two countries continue to fight with one another?"

"It seems so. Setting up China, as such. How did you guess?"

"It seems like something the Soviets would do."

"Ah, yes. Very Soviet-like, indeed."

"Back on topic, Major. . . . The war would become less of a war between North and South Vietnam and more of a ruse to start a war between the Vietnam's and China."

"Interesting, isn't it?"

"To what advantage, though?"

Zero smiled. "Page five, Jack."

"Mission objectives. . . . Successfully infiltrate hostile territory. Find out who is supplying rebellion force with weapons. Locate Soviet spy south of extraction point, codename: YITZHAK. Escort to extraction point and bring back to the United States. . . . This 'Yitzhak' . . . is he our 'reliable' source in the Soviet Union?"

"He just happens to be."

"That still doesn't explain what advantage whoever within the Soviet government wishes to gain from instigating such a war."

"That's just something you'll have to find out, now isn't it, Jack? Our current speculations are that if North and South Vietnam go to war with China, the Soviet Union will ally with the two countries and they will attempt to overtake China together."

"A return to imperialism. The Soviet Union and Vietnam will split China's land after the war and it won't be long before the Soviet Union goes after Vietnam. Other countries will become involved and another world war will break out."

"Exactly."

Jack flipped to the last page, it detailing the specifications of the mission. "Sneaking mission. Don't alert anyone to my presence . . . keep it discreet. Contact via Codec . . . pretty standard stuff, huh?" he continued down the page, noting the pictures and descriptions of the area he would be infiltrating. "Back to the jungle?"

"Yes, unfortunately enough."

"For me."

Zero stifled a cough. "For you, yes. I can understand how the jungle may not be your preferred environment to work in but we are . . ."

". . . under orders, I know. Who's going to be on my support team?"

"Para-Medic and Sigint are both accompanying me as radio support. Along with them, Yitzhak will be keeping in touch soon after you land."

Jack flipped through the dossier again. "Land?" he questioned unenthusiastically.

"Another HALO jump is planned to insert you."

Snorting, Jack grunted, "Why don't we just slap 'Virtuous Mission' on top of the dossier and call it a night? Any chance I'll be running into a nuclear scientist being hunted by the GRU and guarded by the KGB? Any spies named 'ADAM' or 'EVA' for me to meet at a run-down research facility? Electrically-charged supermen? A fucking impenetrable fortress guarding a new nuclear weapon? A phantom Cobra Unit? The largest conspiracy to ever come out of fucking Washington in which the objective was to kill one of the government's most loyal soldiers, all to recover a fucking legacy that an electrically-charged fucking madman legally inherited from a man who illegally obtained it?" Jack threw the dossier to the table, glaring at the Major.

"Jack, I—"

"Don't even start, Major." Jack turned around and headed for the door.

"Oh-four hundred tomorrow, Jack. Be ready," said Zero as Jack left the room. The Major wiped sweat from his forehead. Jack's bitterness seemed to be worsening as the days progressed and FOX's first official mission wasn't helping.

It is strange, thought the Major, of how similar the Virtuous and Snake Eater missions are to this one . . . HALO jump, jungle, rendezvous with Soviet spy and who knows how many other similarities Jack, or, should I say, "Naked Snake", will uncover as the mission progresses.

"The largest conspiracy to ever come out of fucking Washington in which the objective was to kill one of the government's most loyal soldiers, all to recover a fucking legacy that an electrically-charged fucking madman legally inherited from a man who illegally obtained it." What was he talking about? The Boss had defected to the Soviet Union and Jack had killed her . . . what did Jack know that he, the Major, did not?

Major Zero sighed and picked up the dossier. No use worrying about it now; not on the eve of FOX's first mission as an official, clandestine CIA unit.

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Jack lay back on the bed in his private quarters at the newly established "FOX Headquarters" stationed outside of Langley. His bag sat nearby, half-packed, with the "Moss" camouflage hanging out of it. An M1911A1 .45 caliber handgun equipped with a suppressor was haphazardly placed atop the camouflage. Five more hours. Five more hours to finish packing and catch a little sleep.

He was being sent on this mission with less than he'd had at the start of the Virtuous and Snake Eater missions. His M1911A1, a Mk22, stun grenades and his combat knife comprised his entire arsenal. Jack lifted the Single Action Army Revolver into the air and stared at it in the light before smiling. He'd be sneaking that little gem along as well. In addition, he was going to be equipped with binoculars, a camera, and the fake death pill. Anything else he may need was procure on-site.

The camouflage he was to bring had been handpicked by Sigint. The best camouflage to blend in with the geography of northern Vietnam, he'd said. Jack sat up and swung his feet off the side of the bed. He reached down and continued to arrange the gear in his pack, so as to make it the most space efficient.

There was a knock at the door. "Jack," Para-Medic's voice rang out.

Jack continued packing. "What is it?" he growled while disassembling his revolver.

"Can I come in?"

He lifted his pack up, testing its weight. "Why?"

Para-Medic sighed, irritation arising within her over Jack's tone. "For your check-up, Jack."

"It's open."

The door silently swung in and Para-Medic stepped over the threshold. "All of your medical supplies packed? We wouldn't want you getting hurt with no way to treat the injury."

Big Boss didn't reply. He slowly stood and turned to face the brunette. Para-Medic made her way around the bed and examined Jack's exposed chest, the injuries from almost two weeks ago nearly healed.

"Take off your pants."

Smirking, Jack slowly undid his belt. "What? Going to strip search me for contraband?"

Para-Medic laughed and shook her head. She ran her fingers over fresh bandages wrapped around Jack's right thigh. He stiffened in pain, inwardly groaning.

"It's still swollen. . . . Jack — "

"I'm fine, Para-Medic."

A skeptical look crossed Para-Medic's face, but passed almost as soon as it had come. "If you say so, Jack." She stood and smiled. "All done. You're good to go."

"Thanks," he muttered, pulling his pants back up as Para-Medic left the room.

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"We'll be reaching the drop point in ten minutes. Put your mask on," commanded the co-pilot of the plane.

Snake grabbed the mask on the seat beside him and slipped it on.

"Depressurization complete. Checking oxygen supply. Opening rear hatch. External temperature minus . . ." the co-pilot continued the final check of the equipment and the drop conditions while Jack stood.

"One minute to drop off. Move to the rear."

Jack slowly walked to the rear of the plane where the hatch was hanging open, showing the fresh morning light of the sky.

"Ten seconds to drop off. Standby. . . . Status okay, all green. Prepare for drop off. . . . Countdown, five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one."

In synchronization with the co-pilot's countdown to one, Naked Snake jumped from the rear hatch and began plummeting to the ground.

"Snake, I've just received a new mission objective from the CIA."

Snake recalled Ocelot's warning as the Major talked. "The FOX unit is under CIA control. You are at the CIA's disposal, just as I am. If I know the Director, he will use you and everyone else within FOX to help track down the Legacy."

"Originally, we were going to advise you to steer clear of the base hidden south of your drop point, opting for you to head for the one to the north of the extraction point, but now it seems the CIA would rather you infiltrate the highly guarded base hidden somewhere in the woods near where you will be landing. Investigate and infiltrate the base, Snake and find information on your primary objective."

"Find out who is supplying the rebellion force with weapons?"

"Exactly." Zero signed off and Snake checked his altitude on an altimeter strapped to his suit. He reached back, grasped the cord to open the parachute and pulled it.

---

Snake looked around. He spotted what he was searching for immediately: a tree nearby with a hole large enough to hide his parachute and discarded free-fall suit. Carefully folding the parachute and the suit, he stuffed them inside the tree.

"Major," Snake said, pressing the send button on his codec, "I've successfully infiltrated the enemy territory."

"Is the drop point secure?"

Snake peaked around the tree he had hidden the parachute and free-fall suit in. Seeing no immediate threats, he bent down and pulled out his binoculars, scanning the area. "Nothing," he said after a moment. "It's all . . . wait."

He focused the binoculars on some movement, one hundred yards to the northwest of his position. "Looks like . . . two, no, three enemy soldiers heading this way." Snake quickly returned the binoculars to his pack and slipped around to the other side of the tree, where bushes obscured him from view.

As the soldiers approached, Snake picked up snatches of their conversation, which seemed to be spoken in a strange mixture of Vietnamese and Russian, as if one or two of them were fluent in either language, but picking up the other. Snake spoke fluent Russian. Vietnamese, on the other hand, was not a language he had studied too far into. A problematic situation; any important information that the three soldiers had to say and that was spoken in any Vietnamese Snake did not recognize would be lost to him.

The soldiers passed the tree.

"Comrade, don't let the others fool you. As long as the Chinese continue to," here, the obviously Russian soldier stopped and considered his next words carefully, about to switch from Russian to Vietnamese. Spoken in Vietnamese, Snake understood the word "threat" and used what he knew of the situation to fill in the blanks. ". . . the Soviet Union will not . . ." the Russian spoke a few more words in Vietnamese before one of the other soldiers began speaking in slow, broken Russian.

"Your Vietnamese . . . it improving."

The Russian laughed and responded in the country's native tongue. Apparently, his speech was nearly flawless as the two Vietnamese soldiers nodded their heads in approval and congratulated him in Russian.

The three soldiers continued through the woods, walking along a beaten path that twisted and curved around the trees. The conversation faded out as Snake waited until he could no longer see the soldiers walking through the forest. He pressed a finger to his codec once they were gone.

"Major, two Vietnamese and a Russian soldier just passed my location. Where do you think they're headed?"

"The military base is to your south, Snake. To your north is a steep cliff and near there is your extraction point."

Snake stood and quietly slipped through the woods, indiscreetly following the soldiers. "They're headed toward the base. I'm going to follow them and see if I can get one of them alone, preferably the Russian, so we can have a little chat."

"Good luck, Snake."

"Oh, and Major . . ." Snake pressed against a tree and peeked around the corner in a feeble attempt to see through the darkness of the forest.

"Yes, Snake?"

"The next time you send me to a foreign country, make sure I know the native language."

Zero laughed. "I apologize. The mission orders came so suddenly there wasn't much time to prep you." The Major signed off and Snake looked deeper into the forest.

Any sunlight to be seen at this time of the day was blocked out by the thick canopy formed by the trees. The darkness was stifling. Every little sound seemingly magnified in the bleak environment. The short breezes that periodically blew threw the trees spread open the canopies on occasion and a thin stream of sunlight would shine through, illuminating the ground beneath it. It was the perfect place to hide a rebel military base. Dark, quiet, discreet and out of the way. No wonder the South Vietnamese hadn't found it and taken it over by now.

With no night vision goggles, Snake would be relying on his hearing to locate the soldiers; it was much too dark to try and discern which movements belonged to them and which belonged to an animal. He took a quick look at the area he was heading into and considered which camouflage would blend in better before deciding what he was currently wearing would do for the moment. Removing his .45 from its holster, Snake stealthily moved forward, ducking behind trees and bushes as he went along and keeping in the darkest areas of the forest.

Snake traveled at a steady pace and remained a safe distance from the trail, keeping an eye out for the three soldiers. Within minutes he heard voices; five different voices, three of which he recognized as the soldiers he was tracking.

A Russian voice spoke in clearly accented Vietnamese. Quickly, another voice responded in agitated Russian.

"What is this, comrade?"

"Standard procedure, comrade," replied the first voice cooly. "Now please, allow me to continue."

The second voice snapped back. "I don't trust the look in your eyes. You're going to set me up, aren't you? Plant some contraband on me and have me executed for dishonorable conduct!"

Snake silently dropped to the ground and crawled forward until he spotted the source of the voices. Two Russian soldiers were blocking the path of the three soldiers Snake was following. A checkpoint, Snake deducted, watching as the two Russian guards patted down the three soldiers, searching for contraband, among other things. The first guard and the Russian soldier continued to bicker in their native tongue.

"Completely unnecessary, comrade. What reason do I have to sneak in items that have been banned at the base?"

"I would not know. I am not you and do not know your reasons for doing anything. For all I know, you could be secretly working for the South Vietnamese, against the Motherland and your Russian comrades."

"Privinchtye vas, kamrada. I would never defy the Motherland."

The guard stepped back from the soldier and laughed. "Of course not. Well, you're all clean. Continue on." The three soldiers left down the path without another word to the checkpoint guards.

Snake analyzed the situation carefully. He could continue to follow the three soldiers, bypassing the checkpoints by moving through the woods but that was much too easy. The simplicity of being able to maneuver around each checkpoint was suspicious. Snake frowned and peered into the forest canopy.

He spotted what he was looking for. Multiple traps were rigged just beyond the first checkpoint. The darkness prohibited him from spotting any traps other than the ones rigged into the trees. It would be too dangerous to continue traveling through the forest.

Something would have to give. He couldn't go any further unless he was able to isolate one of the checkpoint guards.

"Ah, I need to piss. Keep an eye out," came the voice of the first checkpoint guard.

The second guard laughed. "Watch out for traps. I don't feel like cutting you down again."

"I'm more worried about a pitfall. Death by metal stakes through the chest is not exactly . . . comforting."

"Understandably."

The first guard carefully moved from the trail and into the woods. Snake watched from the shadow of a tree as the guard walked a few meters past him. The unmistakable sound of urine falling to the ground gave Snake his cue. He stalked the few meters between them, removing his knife from its scabbard and silently stood, wrapping his arm around the guard's neck and placing the knife to his throat.

The guard let out a groan. "I couldn't have just set off a trap. No, instead, I get killed by a mysterious soldier from an unknown government."

Snake quietly laughed. "Keep it down, finish up and then we're going to have a little chat. That all right with you?"

"Of course, Mystery Man. Just, eh, don't kill me. Please. I'm just a checkpoint guard. Not worth your time, da?"

"Da, Mr. Checkpoint Guard." Snake slid his right arm farther around the guard's neck and removed his left. As the guard finished urinating, Snake confiscated all of the weapons on the guard within his reach.

"How many more checkpoints are there?"

"Two after this one."

"Only two?" Snake placed his left arm back into its former position and pressed the blade of his knife more firmly against the guard's neck.

"Da. Only two."

"Who is exempt from the checkpoint searches?"

"High ranking officers and anyone with a special pass."

"Special pass?"

"Given to certain people, usually those not within the army. Scientists, diplomats, lower ranking officers. You get the picture."

"Where can I get one?"

The guard gulped. "I have one, sir."

Snake smiled. "Good. What else can you tell me?"

"A GRU colonel passed through here earlier, on his way to the military base. We let him pass without any questions . . . his presence was very ominous."

"The GRU . . ." Snake murmured, committing the information to memory.

"Oh! Da, I almost forgot . . . there is a meeting tonight between the North Vietnamese officer in charge of the base and one or two Soviet generals. I'm not sure what it is about."

"That's okay. You've been very helpful."

"You . . . you won't kill me?"

"No. You're just going to take a little nap and when you wake up, you'll stay in this very spot until I come by again later."

"But, the animals—"

"Will not bother you. I'll make sure of it." Snake pulled the knife away and proceeded to cut off the guard's oxygen supply, just long enough to knock him out.

It was lucky, Snake mused a few minutes later after he had dressed himself in the guard's uniform and hidden the unconscious body, that he and the guard were very similar in body composition. Snake was also confident he could accurately imitate the Russian's speech and tone with ease. The biggest problem he faced was the fact that he knew virtually nothing about the Russian guard, other than the information printed on his dog tag.

"Konsolikov! What is taking you so long?"

Snake stiffened at the sound of the second Russian's voice and the rustling of underbrush as the guard headed into the woods. Quickly, Snake found a snare trap and purposely set it off, the rope whipping up and wrapping around his ankle, lifting him into the air. He swore loudly in Russian to attract the attention of the other guard.

"You idiot!" the guard approached Snake and fumbled around his belt, looking for his knife. "You're lucky I don't want to man the checkpoint alone or I'd leave you up there all night."

"My apologies, comrade. I thought I saw something." Snake anxiously awaited a suspicious outburst from the other guard, he having detected a flaw in Snake's speech.

None came. Snake propelled himself up as far as he could and latched onto his knees. The guard cut the rope and laughed as Snake landed hard on his back, groaning in pain.

"That will teach you, Konsolikov."

Snake looked up at the guard. A thin ray of light shone through the thick canopy and illuminated the guard's name patch.

"It will never happen again, Yekevsky."

"That's what you said the last time." Yekevsky held out his hand and Snake grabbed it, the Russian guard pulling him up. Snake followed Yekevsky back to the trail, careful to step in the same places Yekevsky did, to avoid any traps lurking about. Yekevsky leaned against a tree on the other side of the trail and sighed. Snake observed the Russian quietly while leaning against his own tree. He had to think of something that would allow him to head to the base without causing suspicion . . .

Knocking out Yekevsky was always an option, but Snake didn't know how long he'd be here. Yekevsky could wake up before he was through with his business at the base and blow his cover. He would need another lucky break or a foolproof idea . . .

Snake and Yekevsky's radio's crackled to life. "All units, I repeat, all units return to the base immediately," came the voice of an officer, first in Russian, then in Vietnamese. Yekevsky shrugged and headed down the trail, Snake tailing along behind him.

"What do you think this is all about, Konosolikov?" Yekevsky questioned, turning his head to look at Snake.

Snake gave a half-hearted shrug. "I wouldn't know, comrade."

"I guess we will find out, won't we?"

Snake nodded and the two continued on.

---

The base was nothing short of impressive. High concrete walls surrounded by triple sets of barbed wire and electric fencing, it covered at least a quarter mile of the surrounding area. Vines grew up the sides of the base and the dense surrounding of trees kept it from ones view until the sprawling base was right in front of your eyes. The thick canopy blocked out all sunlight and prevented the base from being spotted by any planes happening to fly over the area.

A multitude of guards stood before the entrance, checking the ID's and passes of each soldier and checkpoint guard passing through, to ensure that no one snuck in who wasn't supposed to be there. It was a surprisingly simple task for Snake to enter the impenetrable fortress. He pulled out the pass that the real Konsolikov had told him about, showed it to the guard blocking his path and was allowed entrance.

Scores of buildings lined the inside of the base. Near the right front were the officer's quarters and command rooms. Near the right rear were the soldiers and guards barracks. On the left side were store houses stocked with supplies ranging from food to ammunition, as well as a research lab where Russian and Vietnamese scientists were diligently working on prototype weapons to use against the enemy forces. A large mess hall had been erected in the middle of the base and behind it were parked all kinds of military vehicles that looked as if they hadn't been used in quite a long time.

Yekevsky slapped Snake good-heartedly on the back. "Nothing to worry about, Konsolikov. The Major says there were reports of South Vietnamese in the area, so he issued an order for everyone to return to the base . . . we can't afford to lose anymore men. This facility is too important, you know."

Pulling off the black balaclava covering his head, Yekevsky nodded to the mess hall. "Some food, comrade?"

Panic began to bubble within Snake. Don't panic. You panic, you'll make mistakes, he thought to himself, a plan already taking shape in his mind. If he went to the mess hall to eat, he'd have to take off his balaclava. If he took off his balaclava, the noticeable differences between himself and Konsolikov would become obvious. Luck had been on his side thus far, as he and Konsolikov shared the same eye color. Even luckier still Snake had been to discover that Konsolikov's right eye was damaged, just as Snake's own. All it took was for Snake to remove his eye patch and he and Konsolikov were nearly identical in that particular area of the face. However, beyond that, nothing was the same. Snake's hair was a light brown, growing a little long while Konsolikov's was as black as the night sky and shaved.

"My apologies. I have business to attend to elsewhere." As Snake made his way to the barracks, Yekevksy shouted after him.

"I hope those books you read are edible! You spend much too long reading them!"

Snake disappeared behind a building and pulled off his balaclava. It was stifling beneath it and sweat had drenched his hair, perspiration forming rivulets across his face. How these soldiers could stand to wear such warm, insulated battle dress uniforms in the middle of the hot and humid Vietnamese wilderness, Snake didn't know.

Exhaling, Snake considered his options. Of his four mission objectives, he'd completed two of them: infiltrate hostile North Vietnam territory and infiltrate the army base south of the drop point. All that remained to be done was to find out exactly who within the Soviet Union was supplying the Vietnamese with weapons and to escort Yitzhak to the extraction point.

"You must be Snake."

Snake whirled to his left, pulling his knife from its scabbard and dropping into a CQC stance.

A figure stepped forward. "Please, please. Don't be alarmed. I am Yitzhak."

Snake eyed Yitzhak curiously. He was tall, just barely taller than Snake, and clad in dark camouflage. His hair was pitch black, long bangs messily lying atop his forehead while the rest of his hair had been shaved to a peach fuzz. Gray eyes stared into Snake's blue-green ones.

"Weren't you supposed to contact me after I landed?"

"I apologize. I could not get away to contact you in private."

"You still going to help me, then?"

A smile played at Yitzhak's lips. "If you require it."

Snake returned his knife to its proper place and stood. "I do."

"Come with me. We must avoid prying ears and eyes."

Snake obediently followed Yitzhak to a small building set off from the rest. "We may talk in here," Yitzhak said, nodding at the building. The two entered quickly and quietly, Yitzhak locking the door was they were both inside.

A weathered table and two chairs sat in the middle of the one-roomed building. Each man took a chair, sitting across from one another at the table-that-had-seen-better-days.

"There is an important meeting tonight . . . between the North Vietnamese general of this base, a Soviet general from the base to the north and a GRU colonel sent by Brezhnev. I am not sure what the meeting will entail . . . but the fruits we may learn from it will make your precious CIA very happy."

"How long have you been stationed here?"

"A few weeks."

"Do you know who is supplying the Vietnamese with weapons, then?"

"A higher-up within the GRU. That is all I know."

Snake frowned. "This meeting . . . what are the names of the men attending?"

"General Dao Ling, of this base; General Aleksei Koyechev, of the base to the north; and Colonel Yevgeny Volgin, of whom Brezhnev sent."

It took Snake exactly ten seconds to register the impossible words that Yitzhak had spoken. "Yevgeny Volgin? But . . . that's not . . . possible. He died."

"Apparently not, but perhaps it is not the same man. How would you describe the Yevgeny Volgin that you knew?"

"Electrified."

Yitzhak paled. "Unless there are two Yevgeny Volgin's in the world and each is harboring ten million volts within their bodies, I'm afraid it is the same man."

"How could he still be alive? He was fried! I saw it with my very eyes! Er, eye. . . ."

"Speaking of your eye . . . is it . . . always like that?"

Snake laughed and removed his eyepatch from the pocket he had placed it in for safekeeping after taking it off. He slipped it on and Yitzhak breathed a sigh of relief.

"I thank you. It was beginning to disturb me."

"My apologies, Yitzhak."

"Back to our ponderous problem. Colonel Volgin was definitely . . . fried, for lack of a better word. He is quite burnt, charred in a few places, even. Something supernatural must have happened that day for him to have survived."

"Maybe the electricity in his body jump started his heart after he was struck by the lightning bolt. Kind of like a life-saving mechanism."

"It's plausible. For now, we should not worry about the complexities of how he is still alive. Instead, we should be going over my plan of how we will eavesdrop on the meeting."

"You know, Yitzhak," said Snake, leaning back in his chair, "I'm really starting to like you. You're the kind of guy I can get along with."

Yitzhak chuckled. "Please. Do not flatter me . . . on forth and on with, I say. There are many things we have yet to do and the explanation of my plan is only one of them."

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END CHAPTER 3
"Too pure for us Cobras."
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Author's Notes:
-Lots of research went into this chapter. Mostly about the Vietnam War and the geography of Vietnam.

-A bitter Snake is better than a battered Snake in butter.

. . . er, pretend you didn't hear that. Or maybe try saying that five times fast.

Yes, Snake is still very bitter with the rest of the FOX unit and that's to be expected.

-Para-Medic and Sigint will make a larger appearance next chapter.

-IT"S A VERY LONG CHAPTER. Longest yet. I was hoping for twenty pages, but I drew the line at sixteen because it was a good place to stop.

-The title of this chapter, "Too pure for us Cobras", is one of those titles that has just about nothing to do with what's within the chapter. Next chapter's title may or may not be relevant, so don't count on the name of the chapter as a good indication as to what's in store.

-Isaak's character is so convoluted and mysterious it's not even funny.

-While writing this, I got myself confused trying to keep sense of the plot line and what all the Soviet Union is planning. Just goes to show that things are going to get even stranger and more complicated as time goes on. (Though there really hasn't been anything all too strange as of yet. A little complicated at some points, in my opinion and especially if you're writing and are getting lost in all of the information.)

-Two words: SOVIET HOMOELECTROSEX.

. . . okay, so there hasn't been any of that(implied, but nothing actually depicted) and probably never will be, but it's still fun to say.

-If anyone knows where I can find a free online translator that will translate English text into romanized Russian, please let me know.

-Just as some extra little information, this chapter is over six thousand words long. Isn't that just nifty? Six thousand words and sixteen pages(seventeen if you count these author's notes).

-Every time you don't review, God kills a fluffy, adorable kitten.

Next chapter: "Who's afraid of a little thunder?"