DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY TITLE IN THE METAL GEAR FRANCHISE IN WHOLE OR IN PART. ALL CHARACTERS, UNLESS OTHERWISE SPECIFIED, BELONG TO THEIR RESPECTIVE OWNERS. THIS FICTION IS IN NO WAY AFFILIATED WITH KONAMI OR ANYONE WITHIN KONAMI. THIS FICTION IS NOT FOR PROFIT OR PERSONAL GAIN, AND MAY NOT BE PUBLISHED IN ANY FORM. THIS IS A FICTION CREATED BY NOTHING MORE BY A SUPPORTER OF THE SERIES (A "FAN FICTION," IF YOU WILL) AND WAS CREATED SIMPLY TO PROMOTE THE METAL GEAR FRANCHISE.
Snake laid down and rested until he arrived at the headquarters...
Snake was tired. He actually caught himself dozing off in the Zezro 94. That is, until the loudspeaker blared a voice. "Heading into unit "Philanthropy, headquarters," the pilot notified. Snake got up and entered the changing room. He slipped out of his sneaking suit and detached all of his equipment. Snake then pulled some blue jeans up and shoved on a black t-shirt. He walked out of the changing room and awaited arrival in the landing area. Soon after, he found himself walking down the loading ramp and onto the ground. Snake walked into the "abandoned" building that served as Philanthropy's headquarters and was greeted by Otacon. "Hey, Hal." "Hey, Snake -- er, Dave," Otacon replied. Snake then yanked the codec module out of his ear and tossed it on the counter near Otacon. "Sorry to cut our social meeting short, but I've got to go to bed," Snake drew out. "You've been pretty tired lately. Why? Does it have to do with FoxDie?" "...I don't know." Snake hadn't thought of that. Maybe this was the calm before the storm. But right now, all Snake could think about was sleeping. "See you later, Otacon." "Alright. Sleep well, Snake! You'll need it!" Otacon returned when Snake pushed the door open to his bedroom. Snake fell on top of the bed and went fast asleep...
Leaves scatter all around, the wind being harsh. Lightning strikes in the distance. Wolves are heard. A man is standing in the middle of a jungle-like area, brandishing a MK-22 "Hush Puppy" tranquilizer gun. He walks through this cold night, unaware of his destiny. He hears a jingle, similar to that of combat boots. Instinctively, the man draws his MK-22 around to face the lone figure. All Snake could see was a Colt Single Action Army, being held by a shadowy arm. The MK-22-wielding soul heard a gun fire. The man, if indeed man he is, chuckles. Then, all is dark.
"Agh!" Snake screamed as he awakened. Snake heartbeat was rushing very quickly, his blood pressure rising. Soon after, Otacon rushes in.
"Snake! Are you all right? I thought someone wa going to kill you!" Otacon burst out in concern. "This dream, I..." Snake began. Never mind. It was just a dream. Nothing to worry about. "I'll bore you later. I'm going back to bed." Snake laid back and closed his eyes once more.
---
Snake awoke to the smell of fresh food cooking. Smells like eggs. Otacon's probably making breakfast for me. Snake straightened his slept-in clothes and walked out of the half-open door. Snake saw Otacon cheerfully making eggs on a Teflon skillet at the stove. Otacon noticed Snake and greeted him. "Good morning, Snake! Or should I say, 'Good evening?" Otacon taunted. Snake looked at the wall clock. It was twenty-five minutes past six o'clock. "Good evening would suffice." Snake returned to Otacon. Snake sat down at a stool next to the counter and drooped his head. "You look beat," Otacon mentioned. "Yeah," answered Snake. "Why did you wake up like that earlier?" asked a concerned Otacon. "Had a stupid dream. Anyway, you cooking bacon with that?" "Yeah. I'll put some on your plate."
Thirty minutes, and three bacon strips and two eggs later, Snake asked "So, what's our next mission?" "Oh, it's in California this time. California might be too much heat for an Alaska-boy like you though, huh?" Otacon teased. Snake elbowed Otacon in the arm playfully, but to Otacon it felt like a ton of bricks just smacked his arm. "Hey, ouch..." "So, California eh? What's the situation over there?" Otacon smiled. "There's a group of rogue soldiers who are starting to make their own Metal Gear project." "How far into development are they?" "Oh, they've got the basic design completed. It's about twenty-four-and-a-half feet tall, and features some tough armor. It's armed with a missile launcher as well as dual machine XM8-force machine guns." "Sounds like it has quite the BB guns on it." Snake sarcastically remarked. "Heat-seeking missiles." Otacon rephrased. "And there's the cherry on top." "It's an air base, which means it is basically a flying base. Of course, it must dock for fuel. This is how we will intercept; we will deploy you at the insertion point near the docking point. You will sneak on-board and destroy Metal Gear. "Alright," Snake said, "Seems simple enough." "The missions in eight days. Be sure to rest up before then." And so Snake walked off, into the living room...