The next time Snake was conscious, he opened his eyes to darkness. His head was a little fuzzy too, so he couldn't get much of a grasp on his surroundings, but he could deduce a few things. Rope was binding various parts of his body; his wrists, ankles, and abdomen were all wrapped up. He could also tell he was directly upright, with his back to some sort of platform. His train of thought was cut off by a spear of light piercing the shadows around him. It looked to be a door swinging open, with a figure standing in the doorway. Snake could tell it was Revolver Ocelot's silhouette even in the darkness; Ocelot's eyes, more than anything else, stood out like headlights.

"Ocelot!" Snake said, struggling against the ropes. His platform jostled a bit, but the ropes themselves held firm.

"Took you long enough," Ocelot replied, his tone of voice floaty and superficial. "I probably shouldn't have aimed for a vital region of your body, but I wanted to make sure you'd stay 'calm' while we transported you."

"Where's Metal Gear RAY!? What happened to the Discovery!? Where are we!?"

"You don't seem very concerned about the fact that you nearly just died. One shot and you were nearly a goner."

Nearly died? Come to think of it, Snake recalled a jolt of pain having shot through him. Sure enough, as his mental fog cleared, he remembered the exchange he'd had with Ocelot on the Discovery.

"Wait a minute...didn't you say you were Liquid?"

"Hmm? Oh, right. No, I assure you that your fellow clone did in fact die during his insurrection against the U.S. Government. My outburst back on the Discovery was part of a ploy on my part to fool the Patriots."

"The Patriots?"

"The la-li-lu-le-lo, if you will. A secret organization that's been covertly controlling the United States since the 90s. I've been affiliated with the Patriots since it was founded in 1970, but as it exists today, it's barely even a shell of its old self. A system of proxies all run by AIs, fueling the war economy to justify its own existence. Every choice, every action that led us to where we are right now was plotted out by the Patriots - both meticulously and yet at the same time arbitrarily. They had sent me to the Discovery with the dual purpose of obtaining Metal Gear RAY and framing you for the whole ordeal. In the midst of this, I was planning to undergo psychotherapy in order to transplant Liquid's personality onto my own as part of a plan to destroy the Patriots from the inside. But I've had to modify my plans in light of some...new information."

Ocelot retrieved a chip sized remote from his pocket and aimed it into the room. Light shot out from behind Snake's head, projecting onto the wall before him. The image displayed was that of a cracked stone tablet, itself covered in imagery of a man made of pure gold.

"Who is that?" Snake asked.

"What would be the more appropriate question." Ocelot finally fully stepped into the room, closing the door to the light outside. "This is no man. It's a power. A force that is to the Patriots as the Patriots are to mere men like us. The reason why I've changed my plans is because against this new force, the Patriots are powerless; they've already died before they've even realized it."

"What!? What type of power is this!?"

"The Stargazer, Snake. Imagine this: Let's say you wanted something, anything you could come up with. From the tangibles like gold or new cars, to the intangibles like knowledge or world peace. Now what if you said you wanted that something, and before you could even finish speaking, that something already came into existence. That is the power of the Stargazer. The power to rewrite reality itself. No AIs or private military companies needed."

"What makes you so sure this is real? Where did you even find out about this?"

"From the Villainoct, a group of extraterrestrials. More than that, actually - they're from entirely different universes. Timelines that exist parallel to our own. They came to this world in their search for the Stargazer, and I have joined them. And now, Snake, I'd like to offer you to join me."

"What!? Why!?"

"For the sake of the universe."

Ocelot's tone suddenly went dry, slapping Snake across the face with its newfound weight.

"You're right to be suspicious," Ocelot continued, "I am as well. But my caution is of a much different nature. In fact, I think the situation is even worse than I've described. There's a game being played right underneath our noses as we speak. I've got no idea what that game is, but there's no way we're winning it. Not unless we figure out what's going on. For that, I need espionage and subterfuge - areas in which I must admit you stand unrivaled. If we work together, we can unravel whatever thread runs beneath the skein of this story."

Snake mulled over everything he'd heard, trying his best to absorb this otherworldly knowledge with his mortal human mind. How could he consider such a proposition if he wasn't even sure he was convinced it was real?

"Why should I believe anything you're saying?" Snake finally answered.

"Why else would you be here? I could have just left you for dead on the Discovery. In fact, it was kind of a hassle to patch you up. I told the others I was bringing you here for interrogation, insisting you had information on some mirror they're trying to find. But they won't stay fooled for long. And if you don't cooperate by the time they find out the truth, they'll unleash the full force of their anger, their violence, and their unforgiving brutality the likes of which you've never seen-"

"Holy Dick van Dyke on a trike! Snake's awake, yo!"

At the sound of the stranger's voice, the room's ceiling lights were switched on. What was once a dark shadowy dungeon was revealed to be a plain bit of office space, surrounded by eggshell stucco walls and reeking with the regretful scent of poor life choices. Even the platform Snake was strung to turned out to be a simple wooden desk propped up on its side. A plump little octopus sat dripping in the doorway, staring wide-eyed at Snake.

"...Can I help you, Octavio?" Ocelot groaned.

"Dude, Snake, it's an honor to meet you!" Octavio completely ignored Ocelot, waddling up to Snake like a child running after the ice cream truck. "This is so tight! I'd have you sign my bigass robot, but I'm kind of on enemy territory so I'm tryna stay on the down-low. Ooh, ooh, can you say the thing!? Y'know, 'kept you waiting, huh?'. I loved you in MGS4, Snake, that game has, like, my favorite video game ending of all time. I mean, I know that it hasn't happened yet chronologically for you, but when it happens, it's gonna be sick as fuck-"

"Octavio," Ocelot demanded, "if you've got nothing of value to tell me, you can get the hell out of here!"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I needed to tell you about something that happened to that Metal Gear RAY you had me move through the Canyon."

"RAY?" Snake asked, "I thought you said you didn't go through with the Patriots' plan to hijack RAY."

"Well I didn't do it for the Patriots as originally intended, but why throw away a perfectly functional Metal Gear when it was right in my clutches?" Ocelot clarified before looking down upon Octavio, "Now then, what did you do to RAY?"

"Hey, I didn't do anything!" Octavio said, "In fact, I find it offensive that you just sorta assumed I did something wrong, and I kinda think you should apologize!"

Ocelot stared the octopus king down, not saying a word all the while.

"Alright, so here's what I did," Octavio continued, "The boys and I were airlifting that gigantic fucking thing through Octo Canyon, but we kept bumping it into shit and scratching it up. So, I figured that it'd be easier to avoid all of that if I just drove the thing myself."

"What!?" Ocelot exclaimed, "I told you that you need extensive VR training to pilot RAY!"

"I'd consider myself trained in VR. I've played VRChat a couple times. That's not the point. Regardless, I hopped in and made it a good five feet before I tripped on a rock and fell off the side of Suction-Cup Lookout. I had to jump out before it hit the water because Octarians can't swim, and I kinda don't know where it is. Other than at the bottom of the ocean."

Ocelot dropped his head into his gloved hands, unsure of what to say. Octavio admitted his blunder without even a shred of shame. What could Ocelot possibly add that would drive the point home?

"It looks like I'll be here longer than I expected. I need to step into the Gate for a moment to contact HQ. Watch Snake while I'm gone - keep both eyes open." Ocelot turned his eyes to Snake as he sauntered out of the room. "Think about what I told you, Snake."

And so, Snake and Octavio were left alone. Even with his arms restrained, Snake could tell he'd had equipment pickpocketed out of his stealth suit. He looked around to see if he could find the missing gear, but it was nowhere in sight - though he could see the outside world through a window to his left. Snake couldn't tell exactly where he was, but some sort of cityscape lay on the ground below. The view he had made it clear a fall from his location in the building would easily be lethal.

"Where are we?" Snake asked Octavio.

"Moray Towers." Octavio squished into the room, digging around underneath an unattended table. "I didn't really wanna be lingering so close to where the kids usually run around, but Ocelot insisted it was the best place to hide. Hiding in plain sight, I guess."

"Kids?"

"Yeah, Moray Towers is one of the stages where the kids have their turf wars."

"Turf wars? You mean there are child soldiers here?"

"Eh, I wouldn't call them soldiers necessarily. They're just having fun."

Even Snake, in all of his stoic edge, had to try to hold back a shudder. How twisted would someone have to be to consider war 'fun,' especially when children were involved?

"Well are we still in America?"

"It's funny you ask that actually, we-" Octavio pulled himself out from under the table to shoot a suspicious glance at Snake. "Waaaaaaaaaait a minute! You're not trying to get information out of me, are you?"

"Well...yeah. That's kind of the point of asking questions."

"Fine then. But if you get to ask me questions, it's only fair that I get to ask some too."

As Octavio rubbed his sinister little tentacles together, Snake braced himself for whatever the aquatic antagonist had in store. What would Octavio even ask? Snake didn't know anything about this 'Stargazer' if it even existed. Maybe it was just a ruse to distract Snake from Metal Gear RAY. Whatever questions were coming, Snake assured himself that he wouldn't break.

"Have you ever eaten a frog?" Octavio asked.

"...What?"

"I was just asking because Naked Snake ate tree frogs in MGS3 and I wanted to know if it was a Snake thing or just a him thing."

"...No, I have not eaten a tree frog."

"Hmm, okay. Let's see, second question, second question, uh...Oh! What do you wear normally? Like, when you're not in the stealth suit?"

"Uh...shirt...pants? I guess."

"Interesting. And for a final question…" Octavio dove back under the table and pulled out a busted up saucer looking machine. The majority of its body was a grey metal doughnut, with a hole in the center wider than Octavio himself. "Can you sign this?"

"A Sikorsky Cypher?" Snake recalled seeing one of those hovering around on the Discovery.

"Yeah, when we came to pick up RAY, we took some of the weapons on deck, and I salvaged this Cypher! It got kinda fucked up in the explosion, but it's basically as good as new."

"I can't really sign it with my hands restrained," Snake protested. Octavio pulled an Expo marker out from under his helmet.

"You've got a mouth."

Octavio squirmed his way up Snake's table and stuck the marker's back end into Snake's mouth. Snake humored Octavio and tried to sign the Cypher. Ultimately, the signature ended up as an unintelligible scribble, but Octavio seemed satisfied nonetheless.

"Alright, that's three questions for me. Your turn now."

So Octavio wouldn't be as much of a threat, but Ocelot would have to come back eventually. Sure, maybe Ocelot was being honest about all of the Stargazer talk. But after seeing what happened to the last man Ocelot betrayed on the Discovery, Snake didn't feel confident waiting around to find out. Perhaps Octavio's incompetence was a bad thing after all; Snake's escape rested solely in his hands. Or tentacles. His only chance was to turn Octavio's ineptitude back into his favor.

"Let's see," Snake pondered out loud, "...I had a pack of cigarettes back on the Discovery. Can you get me one?"

"Cigarettes!? But those are bad for you, Snake!" Octavio retrieved a fatass doobie from his helmet. "You can have this though."

"That'll work." Snake opened his mouth, allowing Octavio to put the joint in. "Second question; can I get a light?"

"But of course!" Octavio took out a lighter and lit the joint for Snake.

"Final question; can you get me a drink of water?"

"Hmm...Hey now, are you just trying to get me out of the room so you can pull some spy shenanigans?"

Shit. Caught red-handed.

"Uh...no?"

"Oh okay cool." Octavio then hopped off of the table and squiggled out of the room. Snake waited a few seconds more to ensure some distance between him and the octopus before he put his plan into action. First, he used his tongue to fold the joint back into his mouth. The heat of the joint started to sting the roof of his mouth, but he managed to keep it held in place between his teeth and his lower lip. Snake then began to rock himself back and forth against his restraints. The table behind him shifted and budged with every rock he made, until it creaked forward just enough to fall over entirely. Snake turned his head to the side just before he crashed into the ground, but it didn't help much against the weight of the table. He had no time to regain his bearings, however; Octavio surely heard the table's thud against the floor. He swiveled around to roll the table onto its side and spat out the joint. Gravity carried the joint down to his left hand, which he used to press its lit end against the ropes around his wrist. The fibers of the rope snapped to pieces one by one, though not nearly quickly enough.

"Snake, are you okay?" Octavio asked, squirming back into the room. "I just heard some loud shit, did anything happen?"

Snake looked up at Octavio from his place on the floor. Octavio's gaze seemed to be genuinely curious.

"...No."

"Hmm...Are you sure? Something seems different."

Octavio observed the scene for a moment, rubbing his slimy forehead.

"Oh wait, I see! You dropped your weed." Octavio pulled the joint from Snake's hand and held it up to his lips. "Here you go."

"Thanks."

With all the strength he could muster, Snake hurled his left hand forward at Octavio. The rope around his wrist had been singed just enough to break at the sudden burst of force. Snake grabbed Octavio by one of his tentacles, swung him into the air, and chucked the poor mollusc into the window, shattering the glass and sending Octavio tumbling towards the city below. Snake raced to undo the other bonds around his body. Now freed from the table, Snake wasted no time in getting to fixing up the Cypher. Octavio may have been a bit generous in describing the state of the drone, but with some wires reconnected and some hatches forced back into place, the Cypher could certainly be brought back to a usable state given some time and hard work. Snake instead settled for mashing buttons on the Cypher until it gave any sort of response. Eventually, it let out a shrill cry as its central rotor started to spin. Without a moment's hesitation, Snake hoisted the Cypher over his head and leapt out of the window, allowing the drone to carry him into the air just as he had planned.

Almost.

The Sikorsky Cypher is an impressive piece of technology, no doubt. Even the Cypher, however, has its limits. This includes a weight limit of 50 pounds. Solid Snake, weighing a touch more than your average seven year old, found his descent less halted and more so...delayed. Regardless, Snake used the extra time he'd bought to aim his hurtling body towards the softest looking rooftop and braced for impact. Snake landed on both feet, diffusing the impact pressure with a landing roll. Even still, Snake could feel the force of the brutal concrete permeate straight through the core of his body. A few glass shards embedded into his skin didn't help much. After he finished his landing maneuver, all that he had the strength left to do was to flop onto his back. He could feel a pool of his own blood soaking through the stealth suit.

"Ugh...Otacon?" Snake said into his Codec, "...Otacon?...Damnit."

Did they take Otacon as well? Ocelot made no mention of him, but that didn't rule out the possibility. The Patriots Ocelot referred to were also a possibility, as were Gurlukovich's men. However, it could also have been as simple as a malfunction in the Codec. As Snake rubbed his bloodied back, he decided he'd head to the ground and try contacting Otacon from there before jumping to any conclusions. After slipping in and out of consciousness a few times.

And yet the next time he looked at his palm, he noticed that it wasn't actually his blood coating it. In fact, the liquid wasn't even red, instead a lively cornflower blue. Sure, some people say deoxygenated blood is blue. However, some people are also really fucking stupid. No, the substance beneath him certainly wasn't blood, and as he shot to his feet, he saw the true culprit; a misshapen greasy little hominid, standing just a foot or two beside him. This creature, only rising just above Snake's hip, gazed up at Snake with eyes surrounded by black rings. The creature was dripping with the viscous blue fluid, which matched the color of its...hair? It wasn't exactly hair atop the head of this creature, but rather a bundle of tentacles tied into a top knot. In fact, nothing about this creature was exactly as it seemed. The hair on its head wasn't actually hair. The words on its shirt weren't written in any real language. Even the gun in its hand looked completely foreign. The weapon's body was a neon purple, and more of that fluid sloshed around in a glass tanker on the top of its barrel.

Suddenly, the creature's inquisitive gaze sharpened, and it aimed its gun at Snake. Reflexively, Snake knocked the gun out of his way with one hand and gripped the back of the creature's head with the other. He then drove his knee into the creature's face, causing it to drop its weapon as it reeled back. With a quick footstep or two, Snake locked the creature into a chokehold. It squirmed and chirped in some alien language, but it wasn't going anywhere.

And then it was gone. Vanished. Reduced to nothing. Snake looked down and saw his arms empty, save for more of the fluid coating his forearms.

"What!?" Snake cried. A wet popping noise from behind drew his attention. The creature had reappeared, and had just thrown a triangular device at Snake's feet. Snake kicked the device over the side of the rooftop just before it exploded, but before Snake could retaliate, the creature once again melted into thin air. If he was going to take out this thing, it would have to be in one hit. Snake reached down and armed himself with the creature's gun. It didn't look ideal, but it would have to do.

The creature appeared again, leaping out from Snake's right. Snake aimed the gun and pulled the trigger, only to watch as nothing came out. His second chance wasted, Snake jumped to the side to dodge another bomb coming his way. It was in the air that Snake finally got a good view of the area around him. His rooftop was connected to a dozen or so others by a ramshackle network of ramps, all propped up on bare metal framing. Snake bit the bullet and rolled down one of those ramps, again just missing the bomb's explosion. Damnit, how was he supposed to fight someone who could disappear at will? When Snake made it to the rooftop at the bottom of the ramp, he shot his gaze back and forth, ready to be jumped at any moment. And yet, the creature didn't show. In fact, when Snake looked back up the ramp, he could see the creature right where he'd left it. The creature could clearly see Snake from its vantage point, but aside from spraying some of its fluid onto the ramp, it didn't do much of anything.

Snake yanked out one of the glass shards in his flesh. It hurt like hell, but Snake would make sure it hurt the creature more. He just had to figure out this thing's pattern. After all, everyone has a strategy on the battlefield. Just then, when the last inch of the ramp was met with the blue liquid, the creature melted away yet again. So it needs the fluid to teleport? Or what if it wasn't teleporting at all? Snake looked closer at the fluid on the cement, and discovered its secret; a trail of bubbles was rising to the surface, starting where the creature was standing and approaching Snake's location. That was why it appeared to be "melting" away - it was melting into that fluid! It waited until the fluid reached Snake so that it could zip down and ambush, and zip down it did. The creature was exponentially faster below the fluid's surface, already reaching Snake's feet a second or two after it had made the dive. But after realizing the creature's secret, Snake was more than prepared to counterattack. He stepped to the side just before the bubble trail reached him and waited for the creature to pop back over the surface. Sure enough, the creature leapt out with another bomb in hand, but before it could act, Snake speared it with the glass straight through its temple. It was a clean strike - the shard moved almost too easily through the creature's gelatinous head. The creature stumbled around for a moment, whimpering some more of its alien words as it looked up at Snake, before it collapsed onto the ground.

Snake kneeled down to catch his breath. He may have been successful just now, but in his current state, he couldn't take many more encounters. It would be just his luck, then, that a whistle would send, drawing his attention to the center of the ramp network. Seven more of those creatures were gathering in the center of this skyward arena, circling a duo of two chubby tuxedo cats. The cats waved around colored flags, to the joy of some of those creatures and the dismay of the others. Curiously, all of the creatures that were upset had "hair" with the same blue color of Snake's opponent. The happy creatures, meanwhile, were colored a shade of lime green. In fact, Snake realized that those two colors dominated the battlefield - blue and green fluid was splattered everywhere on the towers. What exactly had Snake wandered into? Is this the turf war Octavio had mentioned?

Snake's thoughts were cut off by a violent ringing buzz. Snake instinctively reached up to his ear, but his Codec was silent. Turning around, he realized that the dead creature behind him was the one ringing - or more specifically, a glassy phone with an arrow-shaped case in its pocket. Snake looked back over to the center, where sure enough, one of the other blue creatures was operating a similar device. Its two other companions were looking around in confusion. Finally, it clicked in Snake's head; soon enough, they'd all come looking for their missing companion. Again, just his luck. Snake forced himself back up to his feet. He had to hide, and fast. But where? As complex as the ramp network appeared, all of it was covered in the colorful fluid, meaning there was no spot with which the creatures weren't familiar. He'd have to dispose of the body on his hands. Would he just hurl it over the side? It could cover him for a little while, but it would definitely alert someone down below. He picked up the creature by its shoulders and started dragging it towards the edge, not seeing any better option. But it was when the corpse's "hair" tickled his chin that he realized a better way to hide; in plain sight. He dropped the corpse with a splat and yanked out the glass shard. Holding the shard's pointed edge to the corpse's hairline and holding his lunch down his gullet, Snake knew what he had to do.

To put a positive spin on the whole situation, it was quite impressive just how quickly Snake had managed to scalp that dead humanoid creature. His composure was pretty rock solid as well. He did begin to dry heave a bit as blue fluid and mucous covered bits of flesh began to spill out, but he told himself to pretend he was simply peeling an orange. The stench of rotten tuna quickly broke this illusion, but at the least, he should've gotten some points for trying. Once the scalp was fully removed from the rest of the body, Snake stuck it atop his own mullet, armed himself with the creature's gun, and stepped down towards the center of the battlefield. The other creatures all turned and observed their "friend."

"Woomy!" the other creatures cheered as they waved to their "friend" with smiles.

"Uh...woo...me?" Snake replied. With everything now in order, the seven other creatures blasted away, shooting into the sky as a burst of fluid. Snake could only watch as the creatures vanished into the clouds. With those things gone and the two fat felines now somehow sound asleep in the midst of this battlefield, Snake was left to his own devices. He looked around the towers, unsure of where to go next. There wasn't an obvious way down; even if there was, would he want to go down? Who knew what Ocelot or anyone else could have waiting for him on the ground floor. Beyond that, what should he do next? Get in touch with Otacon? Find RAY? Get back to America, if he wasn't there already? How he'd do any of those, he didn't know, so for now, he simply crouched down on the cement and contemplated.

His contemplation wasn't in silence, however. Not for long. The dead creature's phone, once again, started to ring from over where Snake had left it. Something about this call piqued his curiosity. Could it just be the other creatures calling again? That's what he assumed, but the phone just kept ringing and ringing and ringing. Surely, if those creatures were looking for their friend again, they would stop calling eventually and actually come back to look. His interest finally having been pushed over the edge, Snake ran back over to the phone and tried to answer the call. It took some messing around, but after making a few intuitive guesses, a familiar voice made its way through.

"Snake! Snake, can you hear me!?" The voice was none other than Otacon's, sounding just as anxious as ever.

"Otacon!?" Snake replied, "What happened!? Where are you!? What's going on!?"

"I'm still where I was back when the Discovery blew. Snake, don't turn off this phone! I can't reach you through the Codec where you are right now! At the most, I can only use it to pinpoint your location. I've been spending the past hour calling every phone in your immediate area. Thank goodness whoever owns this phone let you get in touch with me!"

"Yep, thank goodness," Snake said as he glanced back over at the dead scalpless creature, "What do you mean you can't reach me through the Codec where I am? Where exactly am I?"

"You're in Moray Towers. It's pretty close to Inkopolis, a bustling city center filled with Inklings."

"Inklings? Is that the name of those colorful tentacle creatures I keep seeing?"

"That's right. They're humanoids who evolved from squids. They use the ink that they naturally generate in their Turf Wars. It's the main attraction in Inkopolis."

"I think I just got caught up in one of these Turf Wars. Is it true that they use child soldiers?"

"Well, I wouldn't call them soldiers necessarily. They're just playing a game."

"This 'Octavio' guy said the same thing earlier. How can a war be a game?"

"Snake, Turf Wars aren't actual wars. They're just competitive tournaments played for fun. It's all a game."

"It's...it's a game? But they had weapons!"

"Their weapons just shoot the colored ink that they make. The objective of a Turf War is to cover the arena with more ink than the enemy team. It's not a war. Nobody dies. Most of them are children, after all."

"You mean...these squid things are...the kids?"

"You got it. Why do you ask?"

Snake once again stared down at the Inkling, the true horror of his actions finally sinking in.

"Good God, I'm a murderer…"

"Yes, Snake, we're all aware of your professional occupation. Now let's focus on getting you back home."

"Back home..." Snake echoed after pulling himself back together, "So where on the map is Inkopolis?"

"It likely exists where Japan used to. I've deduced that from the architectural styles the Inklings have inherited, as well as the red and white coloring of a R.O.B. toy I found in the Inkopolis Museum of History. It's actually a funny story, Snake, it goes back to the North American video game crash of 1983-"

"Wait, where Japan used to be?"

"Yes, Snake, that's what I'm trying to say! You've been transported 12,000 years into the future!"