Initializing Boot-up Sequence...
Initiate Neural-Network Interface...
Initializing Interface Test;
Sight... Success.
Sound... Success.
Touch... Success.
Taste... Success.
Smell... Success.
Interface Test: Success.
Retrieving Subject Profile...
Subject Id: CAB-152
Subject Name: Damian Mark Roberts
Gender: Male
Age: 15
Race: African American
Birthday: June 5th
Notable Health Issues: Liver Cancer, Insomnia, Family History of Mental Issues (Schizophrenia, on mother's side), possible addiction due to mother's drug use during pregnancy.
Details on Acquisition: Subject was harvested from Shoreview General Hospital in Brooklyn, NY on March 27th, for use in US. Test batch 01C. No surviving family, so notice of disappearance is highly unlikely, though family friend my cause trouble(Consider alternative methods of removal, elimination not viable, too high in police force for absence to go unnoticed). Retrieval was uneventful. Subject was injected with standard neuro-dampener, halting brain function and prepping for eventual surgery. Surgery was also uneventful. Subject was placed in standard virtual-reality harness with neural interface and placed with other 01C subjects, then transferred to HQ.
Additional notes: Despite their health issues, both mental and physical, Subject-152 has shown remarkable compatibility with VR integration, adapting to the sensations and even excelling in the Transitional programs. While he has not started the combat training simulations yet, it is believed he will make a remarkable soldier on the battlefield, given his exceptional ability to learn and improve on the fly.
Profile Retrieved...
New User ID Recognized...
CAB-152 Has Logged in.
Downloading SIM Cache...
01%...
12%...
26%...
34%...
58%...
69%...
88%...
100%...
Download Complete.
New Sims Have Been Added To The Training Menu; Operation: Intrude N313, Operation: Zanzibar, Operation: Shadow Moses, Operation: Big Shell, Operation: Snake Eater, Operation: Peace Walker, Operation: Phantom Pain, Operation EX: Wormhole, Operation EX: Ghost Babel, Operation EX: Acid, Operation EX: Acid 2, VR Mission Pack.
Selecting Hub Space From Directory...
(Bedroom) Has Been Selected...
Loading Virtual Avatar Into Hub Sp@3̵̷̬̯́͝#̵͓͒s̴͇̕g̷̜̉w̷͜͠u̴͉͠)̴̪̇2̸̸̧̱͆̕\̸̺̿!̸̺̊/̸̙́!̶̤̏\̶̠͝@̷̠̽(̴̰̀2̸̺̂0̵͖̓_̴͙̀_̷̞̋ -
-Suddenly and without warning, the brain is shunted out of the neural interface, the world around it coming into sharp focus. While it didn't know what was going on, it did know one thing very deeply: It was afraid.
It was in a room lit BA artificial lamps that were bolted to the walls and lined the edges of some kind of metal walkway that sat directly below it. Throughout the room, from what he could see, were marble-esque pillars with hexagonal shapes on the sides all up and down them. It moved its eyes across the room in a frantic manner, trying to fully grasp it's current situation. Just then, it realized that something was horribly wrong: it couldn't move. Or feel anything. It tried to look down to where it's body would be, but instead it fell on the object of his nightmares.
It was a large, very large man with deathly pale skin, bald head, massive black trench coat, and a pair of bladed weapons attached to his hips. The most terrifying thing though, was his eyes. The Grey, void-like eyes that conveyed a boundless insanity that few words can even describe. Just him looking at it was causing untold distress.
The man looked to his right and said, "You just don't see the bigger picture, do ya?", in a deep, gravely voice filled with equal parts condescension and sinister intent. The man then turned back the brain, eyeing it up and down before bringing a hand up and starting stroking the top of it's brain case in a faux-affectionate manner.
"Say you bring this whole place down...", he ponders to the person who the brain cannot see, a cybernetically enhanced swordsman named Raiden, before gripping the brain and pulling it out of it's chassis, tugging and ripping cables out of it as he pulled. He held the brain up to Raiden in hand, all the while it screamed and panicked in absolute terror. It tried to wail even louder, try to call for help, but it's miniscule voice-box could only afford a dull roar at most. "Waltz outta the rubble with all these precious brains…", he then shakes the brain in his hand for emphasis, eliciting even more cries from the poor thing., "Nothing changes.", he mocked, snide seeping into every word.
At that moment, all on the other hexagonal ports that covered the other pillars all shot out at once, revealing a brain in each. They all began to panic as well, turning the marble and metal walls of the room into a cacophonous echo chamber of shrieks. But to Sundowner, it might as well have been his own orchestra.
"All the guys in charge are long gone, Jack." Sundowner then raised his hands into the air and began to slowly spin in place, as if basking in the sight of it all, "And we've got offices 'round the world. We're just suppliers." He then came to a stop and folded his arms across his chest, staring down at Raiden with the most smug, self-satisfied smirk he'd ever seen. "We don't create the market for war."
"Then who does?", Raiden asks in barely contained outrage, "The Patriots are gone."
Sundowner laughs at the question, acting as if it was the dumbest thing he'd heard.
"Those guys just managed the war economy -- they didn't invent it.", he replies, walking back over to the empty chassis and places it back inside. He keeps talking while reattaching the wires. "Didja think every battle in history was all part of some big ol' conspiracy?" Just as he's about to connect the last wire, he abruptly stops and slams his fist into the pillar, cracking it under the force. "Bullshit!", He shouts out, a manic, battle-hungry expression taking over his face. "War is just part'a who we are! Why fight it?"
He looks down at the look that Raiden is giving him, and seeing that he doesn't share the same sentiment, melts into a sneer. "Anyway, none of this will matter in three hours. Demand for PMCs is about to skyrocket.", and then for a moment a genuine smile falls across his face. "Like the good ol' days after 9-11." Unfortunately, unknown to either of these men, something rather distressing was happening to the brain that had been so horribly mishandled. -
E̸r̵r̶o̴r̷ ̸
A̵n̵ ̴e̸r̸r̷o̵r̸ ̸h̷a̵s̶ ̴o̴c̸c̷u̸r̵r̴e̸d̷.̸ ̷
E̴m̶e̸r̸g̶e̵n̸c̶y̶ ̴S̴h̸u̵t̶d̵o̶w̷n̵ ̵H̸a̵s̸ ̸S̵t̸a̴r̵t̷e̵d̶.̵ ̵
P̷l̴e̷a̵s̷e̴ ̸s̵t̵a̶n̶d̷ ̵b̵y̷.̶ ̸
P̸l̷e̶a̵s̵e̷ ̴s̵t̵a̴n̷d̶ ̶b̶y̴.̵ ̴
P̶l̷e̵a̷s̸e̷ ̴s̵t̴a̷n̵d̴ ̴b̸y̶.̴ ̷
P̸l̸e̵a̶s̵e̴ ̶
P̵l̶e̷a̴s̴e̴ ̵
p̶l̵e̷a̶s̵e̶ ̵
p̶l̸e̵a̶s̷e̸ ̷
p̷l̴e̴a̴s̸e̴ ̶
p̸l̵e̵a̶s̴e̵ ̷
p̸l̴e̵a̶s̴e̷
This just something that's been at the back of my head for a little and I wanted to get it out.
Basically, it's an idea for a gamer fic set in the metal gear universe. As you read, this focuses on the idea that the metal gear games that we play are also games, or simulations, in their world as well, recreated from journals, notes, first hand accounts, even the memories taken directly from the person. And because of that, these simulations, nearly the same as the one's Raiden used, but obviously much more advanced and detailed, are being used to train the brains that Armstrong planned on turning into a cyborg army. But, because nothing in the metal gear universe can be easy, something goes wrong.
I'm not sure if I'm going to turn this into a full series, but I'd love to hear what you guys think.
Let me know if you like it or have notes on.
Also, side note, I wrote this in about 7 hours while sleep deprived. If it doesn't suck, I'll consider that a victory.
