Everything was blurred. Almost like a television when the reception was crappy. White noise replaced my hearing. I struggled to control my heart rate and keep from panicking. After a few minutes, my vision cleared some, and my hearing leveled out. I was in a hospital, judging by the beeping of a heart monitor somewhere to my left, and the tell-tale scent of disinfectant that had always made my nose burn.
A nurse came through my room with a cart. I couldn't see what was on it, as my eyes were still a bit hazy. She approached my bed, not paying any attention to me, and changed what I could only assume was my IV bag. She left for a moment before coming back with a fresh bouquet of flowers. The scent of White Star of Bethlehem caressed my nose on a gentle breeze provided by an open window.
I moved my head. It took much of my energy to do just that much, but it was enough to get the nurse to look at me. I groaned hoarsely and she came up close, staring dumbfoundedly into my eyes. I blinked lazily at her. She jumped back and ran out of the room, shouting in a language I did not understand; probably in Greek. A few minutes later, she returned with a balding man with glasses and a lab coat.
'Great. A Quack."I felt my eyebrow twitch involuntarily in irritation. I never liked doctors, hence the name "Quack". I liked hospitals even less. They're too sterile and they've an overwhelming scent of death and disinfectant. The ghosts don't help much either. They're fucking everywhere!
The doctor stopped next to me, a clipboard hi his hand. He said something, but I had no idea what he was saying.
"Με καταλαβαίνεις?"I stared at him blankly and he frowned and cleared his throat.
"Do you understand me now?"He asked. I tried to speak, but all I could manage was another groan. His brow furrowed.
"Nod if you can understand me."He instructed. I did so, though it made me even more tired. The doctor smiled.
"Very good. Nice of you to join us here in the land of the living, Mr. Black."The beeping of the heart monitor sped up as it recorded the only sign of my alarm. How did he..?
"Now, then."He continued, "Please try to relax. There is plenty of time. I need to tell you something. Please listen and try not to panic."
I narrowed my eyes at his shifty manner.
'Get on with it, then, you shifty bastard!'
"You have been is a coma for quite some time. Yes, yes, I know." He paused, "You'd like to know how long. Well, I am afraid it has been four and a half years."
My eyes widened, and I couldn't breathe. Four years? What happened to my men? Mother base? Kaz and Strangelove? I began to panic at the prospect of either of my friends being dead. They couldn't be dead! No! NONONONONO!
They can't!
They can't…
They…..
…
A week after waking up had me taking my first steps in over four years. It was an...interesting experience. Initially, I expected to fall flat on my face. I suppose I have that Quack to thank for that expectation to prove unnecessary. They maintained my muscle mass through massages and other such therapy, so I didn't have much in the way of atrophy. I still found it tiring to move, however, my limbs still somewhat stiff from my...extended nap. I didn't speak much during this time, and as such, my voice was still hoarse.
Resting in bed as the doctor prattled on about things I didn't particularly care about, I was startled when the nurse in the room was grabbed from behind and choked out by a fiber-wire. The doctor met the same fate, and as he struggled futilely, I was kicked off of my cot. A gun landed some feet in front of me and I crawled sluggishly to reach it. A pair of booted feet stopped at the edge of the undrawn privacy curtain.
"No, not yet. The patient in the bed saw my face."A female voice spoke into a codec, "Of course. Consider it done."
She drew a knife and stepped toward me. As my fingers brushed the gun, so did her feet. She stopped in her tracks and picked it up, cocking it. When she aimed it, I got a look at her face. She was Caucasian, but obviously had some Arabic blood in her. It was obvious in some of her features; namely her eyes.
The female assassin aimed the gun at me, and right as her finger started to squeeze the trigger, a figure jumped on her from behind.
A scuffle ensued, and the figure was soon thrown off. It was another patient. He threw things at her; bed pans, bowls, and even a bottle of alcohol. She got tired of it when the bottle broke over her and she threw her knife at him, nailing him in the shoulder. The other patient subdued, she approached me and wrapped her fingers around my neck, cutting off my air. Soon, dark spots invaded my vision until all I could see was darkness.
Then I heard a snick.
My air supply was restored, then next thing I see is the woman up in flames. She stumbled around the room, obviously in pain, then dropped to the floor near the window. After a second, she started to crawl back toward me, intent on finishing me off. The other patient threw a second bottle of alcohol at her, reigniting the flames. The assassin screeched, stumbled backwards, then fell out the window. I sighed in relief and laid my head on the cool floor, my head still spinning a bit.
"Okay, Snake, time to go!"Said a voice. It sounded vaguely familiar.
"W-what happened to the woman?"I asked hoarsely. He seemed hesitant to answer. Almost sheepish, really.
"The woman? I- we gave her a light. She took the short way down."He said finally.
"Who are you..?"I struggled to match a face to the bandages over his features, but I was drawing a blank.
"Who am I? Heh… You're talking to yourself. Been watching over you for a long time. You can call me Ishmael."He introduced, nodding.
"What the hell is going on?"
"Well, the good news? You're in the land of the living. Bad news? Whole world wants you dead."As he knelt down to help me up, and explosion rocked the hospital. Ishmael's eyes widened, then he started pulling me to my feet. I wobbled dizzily and my face almost met the floor again. A strong arm around my shoulder kept me upright.
"Stay on your feet, soldier. The whole place is gonna come down!"He said. I tried to straighten, but my head would not stop spinning. He seemed to sense this.
"Need a little pick-me-up?"He asked, holding a syringe in front of my face. I groaned in affirmative, holding my head with my free hand. He jabbed it into my shoulder. I hissed at the rough treatment.
"Nothing like a little Digoxyn to get you back on your feet."Ishmael commented, throwing the used needle away, "Alright. Let's get out of here."
For a while, I was half dragged. It was all a blur. Even when the drug finally kicked in, little registered.
Smoke.
Gunfire.
The screams of patients who knew little better, meeting a grisly end at the end of a gun.
Ishmael running ahead, giving me an opportunity to get by unnoticed.
Another explosion.
Fire.
A flaming phantom bearing an eerie resemblance to Colonel Volgin.
I wanted out.
The memories of the torture I underwent at the hands of Volgin had me clenching my eyes shut. I didn't want to die. Not by his hands.
There was the feeling of being picked up. A strong shoulder under my arm. We were running; Ishmael's voice in my ear. The sensation of being squeezed through a tube.
Then nothing.
Darkness.
My head throbbed as I came to. Everything ached, really. It was dark. Cold. Ishmael was nowhere to be seen. I could smell smoke in the distance. Helicopters hovered in the distance. I may have been hearing things, but It sounded almost as if a horse was getting closer.
I stood on shaky legs, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. I didn't get much farther than up a hill before a horse came to a stop in front of me. The rider looked familiar, but I couldn't place him. Thinking made my head hurt even more.
He dismounted his horse and placed a hand on my shoulder. His face was the epitome of confusion.
"How in the hell did you get out here so quickly?"He asked. I shook my head, then brought a hand to my temple, trying to stem the throb. He shrugged.
"Eh, whatever. You remember me, right?"I squinted at him for a moment, then chuckled drily.
"Nice to see you, Adamska."I greeted, grinning crookedly.
"Welcome back to the land of the living, Jack."He returned my grin, patting my shoulder.
"My friend, you are about a week too late to say that."I told him as he helped me up onto his horse.
"Yeah, whatever, brother. Let's just get the hell out of here."He said, swinging up in front of me. I had to grip his shoulders as he spurred the horse into motion.
"So what brings you to… wherever the hell we are?"I asked over the wind. He laughed.
"Funny you should ask about that..."He started, "A certain someone gave me a job to do. Two actually. The first was to get you away from here. The second was to rescue the man himself. You remember your partner, Kazuhira Miller? Your private army came under attack by Cipher. You were considered dead. Until today when they found you. And it's not just them. The whole world wants you dead. You'll have to join with Miller. Build up that private army of yours again. First you need to save Miller. He was abducted some time ago; taken to Afghanistan."Adamska explained.
"Afghanistan? Wha..?"
"What? Couldn't keep up with the world while you slept?"I snorted at his wisecrack, but said nothing. He went on to explain the happenings of the region. The Soviets had gone on to invade Afghanistan. Muslims didn't take too kindly to it and rebelled. Apparently, Kaz was helping train some of the rebels when he was snatched. The job hadn't meant anything to him; he'd only taken it on in the first place to keep me safe. I owe him so much…
I laid my forehead against Adamska's back as he continued talking. I was tired.
He woke me a little while later, introducing a whaling ship he'd bought.
"We have a week on this baby to whip you back into shape. I hope you're ready for hell."He smiled. I gulped. I didn't like that smile.
"Hell, huh? Well… we are outside of heaven."
"That's the spirit!"
Why do I always get stuck with the crazy ones? I swear, he's gotten even crazier in the last fourteen years.' I sighed in exasperation.
This was going to be a long trip.