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 THIS FICTION IS NOT FOR PROFIT OR PERSONAL GAIN, AND MAY NOT BE PUBLISHED IN ANY FORM.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.
"...Locked." "I'm not sure, then, Snake. But you need to find a way out of there and find Metal Gear!" "Alright." Snake turned off the codec.
Just then, Snake saw a sentry walk in through a door outside of the cell. The sentry walked around the cell, and when he reached the door, he looked at Snake and said "So you're the one I'm supposed to be guarding..." Snake looked at the sentry. As usual, he looked like any other sentry he'd seen so far, same side that was against him. "My name's Jake. What's yours?" "Snake..." "Snake, huh...third best title...right next to 'Fox' and 'Big Boss...'" "Yeah." Snake thought back. He remembered fighting Gray Fox back in Zanzibar Land. "You have rightfully earned the code name 'Fox...'" In fact, Snake was of the title of "Big Boss" since he had defeated him. But Snake had decided to keep the code name "Snake." The sentry asked "What are you in here for?" "You don't know?" Snake asked back. "No...I was just sent here to make sure you don't escape." "Let's just say I'm fighting for freedom." The sentry looked around. "Freedom, huh..you here to destroy Metal Gear?" Snake didn't answer. "I suppose you don't have to answer...but that's probably what you're after." The sentry examined the cell and Snake inside of it. "You know, this isn't right...so..." The sentry pulled out a ring of keys, and found one of them, inserting it into the door's keyhole, and turning it. With a loud click, the door unlocked. He pushed open the door. Snake walked up and assumed a fighting stance. This was his chance. "Wait, wait!" The sentry threw aside his M4 assault carbine, raising his hands. "Dude, I just felt sorry for you, so...just get out of here. I'll explain to the command that you got out when I was using the bathroom, somehow..." Backing away, the sentry receded into the southeast corner of the outside room. Snake realized that the enemy already had discovered of his presence, so there was nothing to reveal if he did rat to his superiors that he got out...and that this Jake was surrendering to him. Snake still kept his guard up, however, and exited the room, still looking at Jake.
--
Zidel looked at the security monitor with disgust. "That damn idiot!" He shook his head. "I knew I shouldn't have sent him there, he's too soft-hearted!" Sighing, he picked up his sawed-off shotgun and exited the room. "That boy will pay for his careless actions..." Just as he left the room, some person, very skinny, was down the hall, fixated at Zidel. "So you're that Zidel?" Zidel looked at him with disgust, raising his shotgun. But just as Zidel took aim at the man, the bolts from a crossbow showered all around him. "Idiot." the man retorted. The man looked very frail, very weak, almost feeble, even. There wasn't much to say about his constitution, either; he was rather pale and veins coursed throughout his features. "I suppose you haven't heard of me. They call me the Falcon." Zidel shot him a hateful look, filled with contempt. "And why do they call you that? Because you can fly?" But even as Zidel said that, the man designated Falcon shot a peculiar device from behind his brown trench coat. They were something like he had never seen before, and one was on either side of him. They looked almost like..."Wings?" Zidel looked aghast. Surely he must be joking. Surely this was just a practical joke. If it was, though, it wasn't very funny. "Listen, crumple-boy, get out of my way or you'll feel my fist in your face." The Falcon looked back at him. "Oh, Zidel, Zidel...the outcome of battle depends not on things such as brute strength, or whoever has the better gun! Tell me; the bulkiest person in the world could snap you in two if he could get a hold of you. But when you have mastered speed, mastered dexterity, mastered grace...mastered the winds...no matter how weak you are, you will always emerge victorious. And tell me this; a single shred of rock that hits you can merely be shrugged off, correct? But when they surround you...grasp you...pull you in...they slice your body to shreds. Again, it's all about speed, and frequency of attack. So before you threaten me with hollow intimidation methods, think about your speed first! Until you have mastered the winds, don't bother me!" Apparently, this shouting had tired the Falcon, because he was panting already. He pulled out a hypodermic syringe and injected himself with some red, glucose-like liquid, presumably blood. In fact, it looked like he could tire easily, like it wouldn't take much to make him slow down. But then, why was he speaking to Zidel about speed, grace, and frequency? Hm...master of the winds, eh? Maybe he could fly... "I'm here to help you. 'They' sent me, of course." "Oh yeah...? Then who are the Patriots?" "La-li-lu-le-lo." Falcon responded. "Hm...so maybe you are for real. Tell me, why did they send you?" The Falcon shook his head. "Why wouldn't they send 'The Fallen' to help? We're their special forces unit, after all." Zidel scratched his chin. "The Fallen...fuckin' idiots. Last time I checked, you had some fuckin' 'pyromaniac' helping you, which I still believe is bullshit, by the way. Even if he could shoot fire, the only thing you can rely on in the end is a trusty shotgun." The Falcon looked at Zidel with with a moment's contempt, but thought better of it. "The Dragon is more able than you think." "Oh yeah? Then why isn't he here now? Why did I get you? In fact, why were you even accepted into the Fallen?" "Still a sore loser because of failing your test, Zidel? You're more feeble than Gunsmith..." Zidel growled. "Don't you dare fuckin' compare me with that gun freak! The only thing he had going for him was knowledge of guns, and last time I checked, knowledge of guns don't save your life." The Falcon actually cracked a smile. Zidel spoke up again. "And where is that fuck now? He back fightin' the good war with his country again?" "No, actually he's affiliated with mercenary work." Zidel shook his head again. "You watch, he'll probably end up standing on the sidelines and watching somebody else fight." "You never can tell," replied Falcon. "Now, onto the help I'm supposed to provide you with..." "Save it. I've got to take care of a 'passionate soul...'" And with that, Zidel walked to the left, veering away from the Falcon.
--
Snake was running down the green, dirty, grimy hallway. Dust and slime were coated everywhere on the walls, leading up all the way to the end of the hall, which lead into a vast corridor. At the end of the corridor was a large pitcher-glass window, overlooking the view of the desert outside. Wanting to escape quickly as to not attract any attention to himself, he rushed down the opposite end of the hallway, away from the rather large window. He found another corridor that was similar to Snake's a little further down. This must be where Meryl was being impriosned. Running down the hallway, Snake went to the large door and looked through the glass in the center of it. Inside it was a room that had a completely sealed-off barrier around it, with a presumably locked industrial steel door. Meryl may be in there...Snake opened the door and rushed in, finding a sentry who likewise found him. Snake then rushed overt to slam his face into the ground o incapacitate him, rummaging through his pockets, and finallyfinding a set of keys. Snake went through the keys and unlocked the door, seeing that it was completely pitch black in here, and finding Meryl's unconscious form lying on a bed. "Meryl!" Snake ran over and shook her awake. "S-Snake..." "Meryl..." Snake emraced her, and then nervously backed away. "Uh...time to go." "Alright..." Meryl then found all of her belongings and strapped them to her body. "Let;s go!" she said readily. "All right. Stay close behind," Snake told her. And with that, the two traversed through the base, to meet their target: Metal Gear.