The intense rain, dense fog, swift winds, and darkness of night caused drivers on the George Washington Bridge to slow their journey into one of the largest cities in the world. As the cars passed, their headlights illuminated a lone man walking intently on the sidewalk of the bridge, his heavy boots creating large splashes of water with each step. The large drops of rain on the man's dark poncho shimmered with each passing car. The heavy rain's only affect on the man was annoyance; the cigarette in the right corner of his mouth threatened to go out at any moment. The hood of the poncho didn't help to keep the rain off either the cigarette or the man's face. What it did do, however, was cast a dark shadow onto his face. The man eventually finished his cigarette, disposing of it by throwing the butt off the bridge into the rough waters of the Hudson River below.
After a deep breath, the man started to jog down the sidewalk of the bridge. The jog developed into a sprint. There was a loud electric crash of sound as his poncho was swept off by the wind. The poncho's hood could no longer hide the man's face, but there wasn't a face to cover anymore. In place of where the man was, only a light green-tinted outline of the man's form could be perceived, light refracting around his body. The effect was nothing short of invisibility.
After reaching the middle of the bridge, the green form leaped off of the side of the bridge, his arms reaching out. Below him was a passing oil tanker on the river, heading out to sea. He quickly reached for a small device at his right hip and thumbed the control on it. His descent slowed greatly; the bungee cord he was attached to was becoming taut. Too taut; he wasn't going to have enough bungee cord to make it down to the deck of the enormous ship. The man fiddled with the same device again, this time turning the small dial the opposite direction. The new length of rope would allow for landing, but it wasn't going to be pretty--his trajectory had already been altered. Instead of landing on the aft deck, the man swung in and made hard contact just above the bridge portholes with his feet. His knees bent, and he pushed hard against the metal, sending him backwards away from the bridge. The man unhooked the bungee cord from his belt and performed a backflip, closing in on the deck below. He finally hit the ground, his legs bending at the knees and his hands on the ground to help break the long fall. Upon contact with the ground, a blast of light and a long bang of static sliced through the air, playing against the lightning and the continual drone of rain striking against miscellaneous objects. The man's invisibility was gone. He began to look up, his initial infiltration complete.
However, another man sitting in a helicopter, staring through a pair of binoculars in his right hand, and spinning a Single Action Army in his left, was watching the landing. He was dressed in military BDUs, a black armband on his left arm, and a bandolier of bullets around his right shoulder. His old white hair in a long ponytail, and his white waxed moustache were both groomed meticulously.
"Our boy is right on schedule." The helicopter went to circle the oil tanker. "He'll know soon enough." The old man holstered his SAA.
The man on the ship arose from one knee much like a newly-knighted soldier in the middle ages would. The man's greenish skin-tight sneaking suit showed off his physical prowess. The suit was in a state of disrepair, being two years old, but still functional. Three weapon magazine pouches were on the belt, along with other various pouches. Four magazine pouches hung from the two straps on his chest to accommodate the reserve ammunition for his pistol, which resided in its holster on his thigh. His face looked rugged, accented with some stubble of facial hair, and showed years of experience. A long blue bandana was tied around his forehead, the frayed ends dangling rippling in the harsh wind. A brown mullet ran down to the base of his neck.
As if becoming aware of his own presence, he ran for the nearest piece of cover and crouched down. He tapped his neck behind his right ear twice and began to use his codec communications tool. A connection was established, and the brown haired man began to speak.
"This is Snake. Do you hear me, Otacon?"
"Loud and clear, Snake," came a voice into Snake's ear. The voice was assertive, but nervous.
"Kept you waiting, huh? I'm at the 'sneak point'".
"Everything going okay?"
"The stealth camo's busted. Landing impact," Snake said, referring to the invisibility and burst of light and noise at the landing.
"We must have overused it. Sorry, but you're going to have to deal with it. You're not in the military anymore," Otacon replied, apologetically.
"Right. I didn't plan on relying on this gadget anyway."
"The private sector's not so bad, is it? Privacy guaranteed…"
"I'm happy as long as no one gives me anmore unwanted gifts.," Snake said, talking about FOXDIE, a genetically engineered virus that seeks out its targets by their DNA. Once activated, the virus disrupts the target's heart functions and causes what looks like in all respects, a heart attack.
"You mean that thing with Naomi "
"And I can't say I miss the chattering nanny."
"Mei Ling's not so bad. That reminds me: I have to get in touch with her again about that new Natik flashware."
"Diverting toys from the U.S. Army Soldier Systems Center again? Give her a message from me: someone will find out, sooner or later. She's better off assuming it's sooner and quit while she's safe."
"Too true." Okay, Snake, let's go to work. You know how the technical specs of Metal Gear were sold on the black market after Shadow Moses?"
"All Ocelot's doing…"
"Exactly. And now every state, group, and dotcom has its own version of Metal Gear."
"Not exactly a classified weapon for today's nuclear powers."
"This new one seems to have been designed to wipe the floor with all the other models. The only consistent description is that it's an amphibious, anti-Metal Gear vehicle."
"That explains why this one is under Marine Corps. jurisdiction."
"The mission objective is to make visual confirmation of the new Metal Gear being transported by that tanker and bring back photographic evidence," explained Otacon, "But I want you first to go up to the top level of the infrastructure, to the bridge. We need to find out where the tanker is headed."
"A little reconnaissance, huh?"
"There's too much we don't know about this new prototype. Capabilities, deployment method – we don't even know how close it is to completion. If we know where the testing arena is, I can start to draw some reasonable conclusions."
"Alright. I'll head to the bridge ASAP."
"Try to avoid confrontations. Our goal is to collect evidence on Metal Gear development and expose it to the world. It would be best if you could get out of there without alerting anyone."
"Don't worry. I know the drill – we aren't terrorists.."
"Very good. Don't you forget that you're part of 'Philanthropy' now – an anti-Metal Gear organization and officially recognized by the UN."
"Recognized, but still fringe, Otacon."
"Alright. Let's look at your gear. Your weapon is a tranquilizer gun converted from a Beretta M92F."
"M9…"
"It's a little hard to work with, because you'll have to reload after each shot since the slide locks."
"Better than scavenging at the mission site. Good suppressor too."
"The chemical stun will take effect in a few seconds and last for hours. You can take down an elephant with that thing. Check out the laser sighting, too. The lengths of the anesthetic round will vary on what part of the body is hit. We're talking tens of seconds between hitting the limbs, chest, or head As for the equipment….Hey, Snake! Cigarettes? What's wrong with you!"
"It's kind of a lucky charm."
"You haven't read the Surgeon General's Warning, have you? Here's the digital camera. Works almost the same way as your old one."
Snake takes the digital camera and surveys the surrounding area with it. He spots several maintenance workers garbed in rain gear patrolling the deck.
"They don't look armed…" Snake remarks as he zooms in on their hands and pockets. All he finds are industrial-strength flashlights.
"Hey, Earth to Snake. These are nice, upstanding Marines, not terrorists. Don't get caught; you're in stealth mode here."
"Sure. And if it comes to that, a little beauty sleep never hurt anyone." Snake pans the camera all around, spotting three sentries. "By the way, Otacon, are you sure of this evidence?"
"Absolutely. Hacked it out of the Pentagon's classified files myself."
"No traces?"
"Oh, please. I'm too good for that."
"But this might be a trap. Remember, we've got a price on our heads."
"You're
just being paranoid."
"I hope so. Those men – you wouldn't
think they were anything but civilians from here."
"With all the ships passing in the river and in the harbor, putting uniformed Marines on the deck would be a bad idea. People can get a clear view from riverside, too."
"The waterline's too high. According to the navigational plans, this ship should have discharged its cargo upriver."
"It's in there. No doubt about it."
"The military trains you to watch for threats from the stern on a boat. That's SOP for counter-terror ops, too. Security should be tighter."
"You worry too much."
"Where's the target?"
"Satellite surveillance is a major international pastime these days. I'd say the Metal Gear is in the cargo holds, safely below the deck. Do you see the entrance to the holds?"
"Looks like there are a few entryways into the crew quarters," Snake said as he looked for hatches with his camera. Just then, a helicopter flew overhead. "A chopper? Wha--!" Snake saw movement from his digital camera.
He zoomed in on a Marine, walking toward him. Behind the Marine was a BDU-clad figure with a helmet and night-vision goggles on, sneaking up on the unarmed Marine. The Marine spun around, and the unknown person slashed at the Marine in his stomach, then again at his neck to deliver the killing blow. The Marine fell over, dropping his yellow flashlight, dead. Snake saw more movement to his left, and zoomed in. Another Marine was being stalked by a person wearing the same military uniform as the previous killer. The soldier dealt a powerful kick to the back of the Marine's right knee. The Marine lost his balance and dropped to one knee. The commando grabbed the Marine's face from behind him, pulled his head back, and then slit his throat. More movement. Another soldier ran up behind a Marine, covered his mouth with his left hand, then slit his throat with his right. The four commandos threw the bodies overboard, then joined together to form a squad. The leader gave various hand signals and swept the area for any other Marines.
"Looks like we're not the only ones after Metal Gear tonight," Snake said to Otacon over the codec.
"Is that a chopper I just heard?"
"Affirmative. Probably another cavalry. What's their game? Hijack?"
"They're probably targeting the ship's controls."
"Otacon, how many men do you need to take over a tanker of this size?"
"The ship is run by a computer, so…I'd say about eighteen people."
Snake looked at one of the soldiers through his camera and noted his weapon.
"AKS-74u?" Snake continued to observe with his camera, and spoted an older man, who was wearing a fur coat and was giving orders to the soldiers. He grabbed a radio from a passing soldier, shouted into it, then quickly gave it back to the owner. "Russians?"
"You sure?" Otacon asked.
"No Marine barber touched that head of hair." Snake pressed the shutter on the camera. "I'm transmitting a photo. Let's get an ID on him ASAP."
"I'm on it." Just then, the humming of two choppers started up again.
"Looks like the tanker's theirs now." Snake looked up, trying to catch a glimpse of the helicopters. The fog and clouds hid their bodies, but not their noise. "KA-60…Kasatka."
"Kasatka? Kamov chopper, right? 'Killer Whale'…"
"We need to get a fix on who they are."
"Judging by their transport, aren't they some kind of military commandos?"
"Not necessarily. It could be the KA-62, the civil model."
"Look, Snake, all we need in the photographic evidence of Metal Gear. As long as we have it, we can put the whole thing online and blow the whole thing wide open. So, no pyrotechnics, okay?"
"Alright. I'll do my best."
"This isn't like Shadow Moses. Reach me if anything happens. My frequency is 142.12."
"How can I check in and save my progress?"
"I'll do it. There's a frequency put aside for it – 140.96.Sorry, no Mei Ling this time. Call me if you want to save."
"Got it."
"I'll be waiting just past the Verrazano Bridge. You need to be off that ship by then."
"I'll be in touch." With the farewell statement to Otacon, Snake started out on his way to the bridge.