Chapter 3 – Real Talk.
Big Boss blinked but wasn't surprised enough to drop his cigar. He looked around for something to talk about to bring down the tension in the room. Seeing as how they all had a highly justifiable deep-seeded hatred for him, this would be an incredibly difficult task to accomplish. But if anyone was up to the job, it was him.
"Why is it so cold in here?" Big Boss asked. "Is your heater broken?"
None of them dignified his question with a response.
"Are you guys trying to get me to leave by not saying anything?" Big Boss asked.
It was difficult to understand how Big Boss could look as good as he did. Burn scars should have been all over his face. Snake also found it perplexing that his right eye was still missing.
"Who do we have here? That looks like Roy Campbell," Big Boss said.
Campbell gave Big Boss a little wave.
"I thought you would have been dead by now," Big Boss said.
"I'm younger than you."
"Not anymore. Get it?"
Nobody laughed.
"That's a dead joke. A joke about being dead. You just don't get it because you're still alive. Anyway, who did you shoot? This fellow?"
Big Boss nudged Ocelot with his dress shoe. When that failed to produce a result, Big Boss grabbed Ocelot by his shoulder and flipped him over. Ocelot kept his eyes shut tight and appeared to be concentrating on something. Big Boss gasped in surprise and adjusted his eye patch to make sure that he was seeing correctly.
"Adam?" Big Boss asked. "Is it really you?"
Ocelot nodded, not bothering to open his eyes.
"Remember when you used to meow like a cat to call for backup?"
"I try not to."
Meryl tapped Snake on the shoulder since Big Boss' attention was off the guns aimed at him and pointed to Ocelot's right hand, which was twitching violently. Neither of them bothered to do anything about it. Snake was more concerned with the fact that Big Boss hadn't been expecting to see Ocelot. They both had separate agendas, but they shared the same goal. World domination.
Out of the corner of his eye, Snake saw Campbell point at a popcorn tin. Snake nodded and within seconds, Campbell and Naomi were finally enjoying themselves.
"Stop acting like this is the first time you've ever been shot," Big Boss said. "You're not even bleeding. Get off the floor."
Ocelot stood up and grabbed his right arm. He continued to keep his eyes closed. Sweat was beading on his forehead as he focused on remaining himself.
"Hey, look at me when I'm talking to you. I'm not any uglier than you are," Big Boss said.
"I can't hold it in any longer," Ocelot said.
Without warning, Ocelot collapsed face first on the floor and began shaking like a Lying Figure at a rave party. After a moment, he got back on his feet. Big Boss looked quite concerned with Ocelot's behavior.
"How on Earth could he have kept a secret like this from me?" Liquid asked through Ocelot.
"What happened to your voice?" Big Boss asked.
Ocelot reached for his revolver. His quick draw wasn't quite as elegant since his alternate personality was controlling his body. Big Boss disarmed him in seconds before Ocelot even had a chance to aim. Despite being as old as he was, Big Boss moved surprisingly fast and seemed to have an unusual amount of strength. He took a step away from Ocelot and pointed the revolver at him. With a great amount of revulsion, Snake realized that Big Boss was now armed.
"What's your problem?" Big Boss asked. "You're acting all kinds of stupid right now."
"I knew you wouldn't recognize me. It is I! Liquid Snake!"
"Who?"
"The clone you always thought of as inferior!"
"Oh, yeah. You. How did you get inside of Ocelot? Are you a ghost, or something?"
"It's a rather long story, but it goes something like this," Liquid said.
Liquid explained. And explained. And explained. He could really talk up a storm. Big Boss was fully briefed on the events that happened during the Shadow Moses Incident and the Big Shell Breakdown. He was then told everything that had transpired in Alaska. Liquid's rendition was a bit exaggerated and biased in his favor, particularly the bit about surviving the Hind D, but nobody bothered interrupting him. Snake and Meryl stood ready to shoot Big Boss throughout the entire lecture.
"And that's about it," Liquid finished.
"Wait," Big Boss said. "Why did Ocelot put Liquid's arm on himself in the first place?"
"How should I know? Maybe he's got a fetish for wearing other people's body parts," Liquid replied.
"Did he do it because he thought it would make him look less silly walking around impersonating Liquid Snake?"
"I am not an impersonation!"
"Ocelot, would you give it a rest?" Meryl asked. "Even Big Boss thinks your imaginary friend is pathetic."
"I am not imaginary! I am as real as I believe that I am!" Liquid shouted desperately.
"How loud do you have to yell until you actually manage to convince yourself of that?" Campbell asked.
"Adam, I can't believe you turned into such a flake," Big Boss said. "At first I thought that you managed to channel Liquid's spirit, which would make sense given who your father was, but it sounds like you did something not quite as awesome as that."
"That's what I am. I'm Liquid's spirit. Channeled." Liquid said. "The nanomachines just enhanced Ocelot's latent abilities."
"You're grasping at straws, but I guess I'll tolerate your problem for now. Tell me something. When I read In the Darkness of Shadow Moses, I seem to remember a bit about Liquid killing Master Miller. Is that true?"
Liquid nodded. Big Boss shot Ocelot's right hand. Liquid and Ocelot howled together in agony. Ocelot backed into the wall, trying to squeeze the pain out of his injured hand. Blood fell on his clothes, ruining them. His blood also destroyed Snake's carpet, but he wasn't very concerned with that.
"Sorry, Adam. Nothing personal," Big Boss said.
"Okay, this all rather fascinating, but let's get to the point," Meryl said. "Big Boss, what are you doing here?"
Big Boss slowly reached into his coat and pulled out a brown envelope that he tossed on the table next to the case of medicine Naomi had brought with her.
"That's an invitation."
"To what?" Snake demanded.
"To my bar," Big Boss said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "The Zanzi-Bar."
"I thought you would have called it Outer Heaven."
"No, that's my night club. Anyway, I know you are familiar with the Patriots. Before you try to stop whatever I might do in the future, I want you to sit down and think about it for a while. What would you have done if I'd told you about them during our first scuffle in the depths of Outer Heaven? I'm sure you would have thought I was trying to pull another one over you. But now that you know, you should realize that we share a common goal. Or rather, we did share one. You've gone soft."
Big Boss sniffled and sneezed. The bullet fired from the sniper rifle a safe distance away from Snake's home cut across Meryl's shoulder deep enough to leave a mark on her skin. It sailed past Big Boss' head. If he hadn't sneezed, his brain would have been all over the place. Big Boss grabbed his ear, dropped to the ground, and scrambled behind the couch. Naomi tipped over the popcorn container as she threw herself on the floor. Everybody else soon became acquainted with how well Snake could work a vacuum cleaner.
"Can anyone see any spare change?" Snake asked.
"Hold on, I'll have this taken care of in a minute," Big Boss said.
He took a silver iPhone out of his pocket and speed dialed a specific number.
"This is Big Boss. Confirmation code X-T-N-T-Z-V-E-E. Commence operation Blue Screen. Remember, no casualties."
He ended the call and began another.
"This is Big Boss. Confirmation code Y-Y-X-O-A-T-Y-A. We're pinned down by a sniper in here. What exactly are you doing? Take care of it and get me out of here."
Another bullet was fired. It tore through the couch and hit Big Boss in the chest. He cried out in surprise.
"Did somebody forget to put their body armor on this morning before breakfast?" Meryl asked.
"No," Big Boss groaned. "I've had it on since last night."
"That sniper had to have used an armor piercing round," Snake said. "He could not have been that stupid. Are you hurt?"
"He did use quite a destructive round," Big Boss replied. "Unfortunately for him, there is a very special type of body armor available that less than a thousand people have access to that stops any bullet and I just so happen to be wearing that right now."
"You owe us a new couch," Meryl said.
"You can bill the Patriots for it," Big Boss said. "This is despicable. I can't even have a decent conversation these days without someone shooting at me."
A mysterious individual with jet black hair and the whitest skin Snake had ever seen inexplicably rose up from the carpet behind Big Boss. No announcement had been given nor any hints of entry made. He simply appeared out of nothing. Judging from his appearance, he was of Asian descent. T-Shirts and shoes were not his style. His muscular build made it easier for other people to accept his disgust with shirts. He was only wearing a pair of baggy jeans. An old brown pouch was tied around a belt loop on his side. While most people were quite comfortable with blinking, this man seemed to think that it was a waste of time and kept his eyes open constantly. A noticeable azure tattoo was on his left wrist.
"Behold, I have made my entrance like a vengeful demon rising from the depths of hell! Yes! Yes, indeed! Harken onto me, for I am Shadow Raccoon, a warlock and an illusionist. Your senses never cease to deceive you, so why bother trusting them?"
"Where do you even find these people?" Meryl asked Big Boss.
"Shadow, let's get out of here," Big Boss said, ignoring Meryl. "They're starting without us and we need to be there."
"Relax, I have personally taken care of the sniper and his little squad of idiots already. Besides, we have plenty of time to get acquainted with our enemies."
He threw his arms up into the air as if rejoicing that gas prices had gone down by two dollars a gallon.
"Show your colors, my comrades! Intimidate our adversaries so they begin feeling apprehensive and have second thoughts about opposing our Commander!"
"This isn't the time for introductions." Big Boss insisted.
"Stand in sheer awe and glory at the inspiring sight of the most elite group of soldiers you will ever encounter!" Shadow Raccoon declared.
He reached into his pouch and pulled out a mixture of several different earthly substances that he freely displayed to Snake's buddies in the palm of his hand. Snake could have sworn he saw some type of mushroom and a spider web grounded up into the formula. The man closed his fist after his audience had enough time to examine what he was holding.
"May Blue Death be revealed!" Shadow Raccoon proclaimed. "An Sanct Lor!"
A bright flash of blue light emitted from the hand Shadow Raccoon held his reagents in and blinded everyone in the room. When Snake could open his eyes again, he saw that four other soldiers had suddenly appeared in the room with them. As usual, they were all a bunch of weirdo's that looked like they had walked off the set of a mediocre sentai show.
Shadow Raccoon stood in the middle of them as if he were their leader. The member on the far left was a blonde woman wearing a suit covered in the splitter camouflage pattern. It was hard to tell what made her unique, but Snake was sure he would be hearing about her special talent within the next two minutes. Special soldiers loved to brag about themselves. Like Shadow Raccoon, she too wore a band of color around her wrist that was permanently etched into her skin. It was powder blue. As if some sort of magic spotlight had been centered on her, she took a step forward to address everyone.
"My code name is Mary Sue, but I prefer to go by Anna," she explained.
"Of course you do," Snake said.
Snake noticed her irises were slanted, much like the eyes of a cat would be. Either she was wearing special contacts or cosmetic surgery had given people another unique way of permanently ruining their bodies.
"How badly did you fail the litmus test?" Meryl asked.
"I do not know what you are talking about. I have always had a knack when it comes to bonding with animals. From them I have learned how to stalk, track, and attack my prey. Such ferocity has left many of my enemies helpless against me. I have something to tell you, Solid Snake. It is unfortunate that we must meet like this as I have always been a fan of your work."
"Get in line," Snake ordered.
"So, what's your special skill? Do you howl at the moon when you're not using echo location to zero in on your prey?" Ocelot asked Anna.
"For a second there, I thought you had bled to death," Meryl said to Ocelot.
Anna merely showed Ocelot her hand. Each finger ended in a small claw.
"In battle, this is the last thing my opponent sees."
There was about a four second delay before everybody, including her own teammates, burst out in laughter at Anna. She stood proud in the face of their blatant disrespect against her relatively unique style of fighting.
"It's just one of those things that you have to see in action," Anna stated in her own defense.
"If you had a pimple on your face, would you tear your nose off trying to get at it?" Campbell asked.
"Let's move on with the introductions," Big Boss said.
The man to Anna's right was dressed in the exact same uniform the troops guarding the tank hanger had worn during Shadow Moses. He also wore a balaclava and had a couple of grenades strapped to his tactical harness. The man carried a FAMAS and had a Browning pistol inside of a holster on his hip. His wrist wasn't visible. The soldier cleared his throat before speaking.
"I survived the cold weather of Alaska and the icy attitudes of the Gurlukovich unit. Right now, I am Big Boss' personal assistant."
The soldier glowered with immense pride. Big Boss stole a beer out of Snake's fridge since this was taking so long.
"You forgot to tell them who you are," Anna said.
"Oh! Right. I'm Johnny Sasaki."
The naked butt of a man flashed across Snake's memory. Johnny was the man Meryl had overpowered and stripped.
"Are you not cool enough to have a codename yet?" Campbell asked.
"No, not yet. But maybe someday."
"How about Squirting Squid?" Snake asked.
"Why are you even still a soldier?" Meryl asked.
"Soldiering has always been what I was best at and that's what my father did before me. Big Boss kind of knows my dad and stuff. I'm also pretty good with computers. Big Boss isn't, but that's okay. By the way, may I use your restroom?"
"Don't even think about it! You'll be in there all day." Big Boss said. "Hold it until we get back to base."
"I'll try. No guarantees."
The chick standing next to Johnny couldn't have been two days past eighteen. Like Shadow, she was Asian. Aside from wearing far more makeup than was necessary, she was dressed in a tacky novelty T-Shirt that proclaimed her love for alcohol in Japanese. For her lower half she had decided to decorate herself with a pair of brown cargo pants. She carried a backpack with her and did not appear to be armed. In one hand she held a plushie of Sephiroth that was quite obviously the victim of numerous snuggles. The band around her wrist was midnight blue.
"Hooray, it's my turn!" she said enthusiastically. "I'm Chill Penguin and I incorporate my love for all things Japanese into my combat! You will come to know mindless obsession through me. Here, hold my plushie!"
She tossed the beaten doll over at Snake, who managed to catch it awkwardly. Sephiroth was pulling the skin of his right eye down in an insulting manner while sticking his tongue out at Snake. The toy abruptly exploded in a flurry of stuffing and embroidery.
"I bet you would have never imagined that a demolitions expert would be an otaku!" Chill Penguin declared.
"Hobbies are only a fraction of somebody's worth. Making explosive plushies crosses over into weeaboo territory," Snake said.
"Don't confuse me with them," Chill Penguin said. "I am fluent in Japanese, have duel-citizenship, and only the best possible taste in manga and anime."
"Really? The best possible taste?" Snake asked, to which Chill Penguin nodded enthusiastically.
"What is objectively the best anime ever made?"
"Evangelion!" Chill Penguin declared.
Meryl barked a laugh.
"If the plot holes in Evangelion were made into a filter, they would be able to distill water," Snake said. "I've got a friend who has based a portion of his career on that anime and even he would agree with me."
"You could say that about almost anything! Everything has plot holes."
"But an anime with less of them would be better, which would mean that you don't actually have the best possible taste in manga and anime."
Chill Penguin narrowed her eyes at him.
"Congratulations," Snake said.
"Yaoi! You're mean! I don't wanna talk to you anymore!"
The final member of Blue Death took a step forward to announce his presence. This oddball was dressed like an American soldier from World War II. He carried an M1 Garand in his hands and a M1911 at his side. His face was obscured by the helmet he wore. The whole package made him look like an illustration that had just walked out of a painting. The band of color he had permanently etched into his skin was prussian blue and the rifle he was carrying had a fairly nice scope attached to it, which could only mean one thing that made Snake roll his eyes in disgust.
"I'm Old Tech." he announced. "I refuse to fight with any weapon that wasn't used during the Second World War."
"I see you've equipped your rifle with a scope. You're a sniper, aren't you?" Snake asked.
"Good eye," Old Tech said. "Your reputation precedes you."
"It's not like that. I just can't seem to quit running into them," Snake grumbled.
"Are we done here?" Big Boss asked. "Is your ego satisfied, Shadow?"
Shadow nodded enthusiastically.
"Then let's be off. Weeb, you do the honors."
Chill Penguin groaned in disgust, pulled a plushie of Etna from her backpack, and threw it on the ground in front of everyone. The moment it hit the floor a bright burst of light and sound filled the room. A flash bang had obviously been stuffed into the doll. If there was a better use for a plushie, Snake couldn't think of it at the moment. It took a while for his vision to come back but when it did, Big Boss and his group of misfits were nowhere to be seen and Snake's carpet was covered in an earthly mixture of several roots and at least one mushroom.
Snake rushed out the front door just in time to see Big Boss and his crew making their getaway in a sky blue Volkswagen Bus. Meryl came running out a moment later with a PSG-1 in hand. She crouched and immediately took aim at the vehicles tires.
"Let him go," Snake said.
"You're going to throw away our chance to kill him now?" Meryl asked.
"He seemed different. A lot less insane."
With great effort, Meryl lowered the rifle and her head in despair.
"You actually want to hear what he has to say for himself?" she asked.
"I seem to remember that you were keen on that idea not too long ago. Maybe he has changed his mind. Those were essentially your words."
"You're right. I guess we had better go check that envelope."
Back inside, Ocelot had found Snake's primary first aid kit and was using it to treat his gunshot wound. Campbell had been given the shotgun Meryl had been using and was simply standing by with Naomi. Ocelot stood up when Snake began moving towards the envelope and reached for his revolver, which didn't turn out so well since Big Boss had taken with him.
"Be careful, Snake!" Ocelot yelled. "There's no telling what I might do if you take another step!"
Though his words were absurd, Ocelot sounded serious. Snake stopped for a moment in confusion and watched Ocelot walk over to his gun cabinet and take out a P-90.
"Don't shoot me with the M9! I don't think that my feelings could handle it!"
Ocelot managed to find a clip for the P-90 and loaded it. He then pointed the gun directly at Snake. Campbell, Meryl, and Snake had Ocelot down their sights instantly.
"If you want to see what's inside that envelope, you'll have to shoot me with your M9!" Ocelot yelled. "Of course, I definitely wouldn't want that! I would look like such an idiot if I let that happen!"
Before their Mexican standoff could go on for more than a minute, Ocelot's head snapped back and shook a few times. When the spasm was over, Ocelot adjusted his aim on Snake.
"You must have been that kid that ate glue and loved the smell of gasoline," Liquid said. "I do hope your time with that sofa was well spent."
Ocelot fired three rounds into Snake's sofa before Snake finally pulled the trigger and shot Ocelot in the arm with his M-9. Though it did get Ocelot to stop destroying his furniture, it wasn't enough to put him down.
"He'll need one more," Liquid said.
Snake shot him again an inch above the first syringe. Ocelot collapsed like a sack of wet bricks. Only then did it finally occur to Snake that Ocelot might have been using reverse psychology. The Patriots would not want him to find out what was in the folder. If they were currently watching, they would expect Ocelot to stop him. Assuming that was true, they could not be too terribly intelligent if Ocelot was confident enough to expect them to believe the ruse he had just pulled. He reconsidered his earlier assessment that Ocelot and Big Boss had separate agendas and recalled how Ocelot had once implied that he was protecting everyone. It was a nice thought, but Snake would never trust Ocelot under any circumstances.
He almost expected a bullet to destroy the envelope before he had a chance to pick it up.
"Get away from the windows," Snake said as he moved into his hallway.
His companions followed him. Snake reached into the envelope and pulled out a red scrapbook. The first page contained a younger picture of Big Boss. He had already lost his eye at the time the photo was taken and was wearing an eye patch to cover the wound. Big Boss was reaching out to the person holding the camera as if he did not want his picture taken. Solid Snake was struck by just how much they looked alike. It was unsettling, but at least he knew that he would age well.
The next page contained another picture. A red-headed woman, a blonde lady, a young man, a black gentleman, Big Boss, and an older individual with a distinctive scar on his face stood together for the photograph. Somebody had taken the time to leave a handwritten note beneath the photo.
The Patriots. From left to right : Para-Medic, Eva, Adam, Sigint, Big Boss, Zero.
"That's got to be Ocelot," Meryl said, pointing at Adam. "Look at how mad he looks in that picture. Ocelot always has that expression on his face. Big Boss even called him Adam. He's one of the original members!"
"Then why is he still a field agent?" Snake asked.
"Obviously because he wants to be," Meryl replied. "Or maybe because he has to be."
"I knew most of these people," Campbell said. "Why wasn't I ever asked to be a Patriot?"
"Because you can't keep a secret," Snake said.
A picture of a room full of men and women was on the next page.
The Philosophers, also known as the Wisemen's Committee. The original Patriots.
"These must be the people we learned about with the data Otacon retrieved from Arsenal Gear," Snake said.
A photograph of a single slide of microfilm was on the fourth page.
The Philosophers Legacy. One hundred billion dollars and a list of names. After securing the money, the Patriots were born.
"I guess they had a spy in their organization," Meryl said. "How shocking."
A document containing a lengthy report was on the next page. It had been written entirely by hand.
In response to your inquiries, I have uncovered the following information.
1. In 2003, the Department of Homeland Security began collecting blood samples from the American Red Cross. The DNA of each subject was analyzed and recorded. Similar organizations across the globe followed this example. Seeing as how you are already familiar with FOXDIE, I imagine you understand how terrible this is.
Various measures have been taken before to reduce the general population to mindless sheep. With the blood of half the world on file, the Patriots could easily release a strain of nanomachines that will ensure conformity. A recent test to see just how effective nanomachines could be at influencing people was performed in Alaska that produced positive results, but flaws in the design were discovered and the strain was sent in to be reworked.
2. Fifty billion dollars will eventually run out. To ensure that it does not, the Patriots have invested in war. The recent ongoing conflict in the Middle East has proved quite lucrative for them. Due to the fact that it would be impossible to keep playing around in the sand without instituting a draft in several countries where conscription is frowned upon, private military companies were created to keep the party going.
Exactly why remains unclear. With the ability to control everyone via nanomachines, it seems redundant to wage war. PMC's could be used to eliminate undesirables as I'm sure there is no way the Patriots have the blood of seven billion people on file. Perhaps this is being done to pervert your vision of a world where soldiers would always have a purpose. Perhaps it is being done in case the nanomachine plan doesn't pan out quite as well as they would like.
3. The AI's are serviced once a decade by the best technicians the world has to offer. Twelve people capable of speaking English are abducted from across the globe. They are promised a large amount of money to complete a simple task. How they are led to the location is not clear. Once the process is complete, everyone involved is disposed of. Leaving a computer to run by itself for ten years does not seem particularly intelligent. It is rumored that a small group of brainwashed slaves live in the same area the AI's are stationed who tend to their every need.
4. A new AI is in development to replace GW. Technology of this caliber is developed in secret at one of five separate locations. They are simply called Outposts. The new AI is being built in Outpost Three, which is the same place we found your body. The net is vast, but with an AI designed to be a Patriot, it might be possible to find the location of the other AI's. You will need to find yourself a pair of super nerds if you intend to use this device.
5. A miniature rail gun is in development at Outpost One. This railgun is the most powerful weapon available to a soldier on the ground at this point in time. Bullets fired from it are able to punch a gaping hole through any type of armor. A well-placed shot would take down a Metal Gear Ray.
6. There are several different types of Metal Gear's in development. Of particular interest is an aerial variant developed by an engineer who has already put out a successful model. I have submitted this design to your manufacturing facility. Your team of engineers has told me that no changes have to be made. They are awaiting your approval to begin building it.
Finally, I would like to add a piece of advice. Revolver Ocelot cannot be trusted. He is currently in the middle of an operation to eliminate Solid Snake and anyone he associates with on a regular basis. Ocelot invited them to a dinner party that ended prematurely before they could ingest the food that he had poisoned. He has not tried anything since that incident.
"That's not what happened," Meryl said.
"Not entirely, at any rate," Campbell said. "I woke up at three in the morning the next day sick to my stomach because of the duck."
"It did have a funny taste to it," Meryl said.
Snake said nothing. They didn't need to know the truth. Ocelot's nameless nemesis responsible for most of his misfortune had to have written the report. The rest of the scrapbook was blank. Snake tore out the pages containing information, found a cigarette lighter, and stepped outside while his friends waited nervously in the living room. He burned the pages while staring off into the blizzard.
He was in the middle of a great conundrum. What the Patriots had in mind was evil, but he was not certain if it was right to put any faith in Big Boss. The world had been getting along fine under the control of the Patriots and would continue to function smoothly once everyone was doped up on nanomachines. Though they were computers, they were better at maintaining order than people were.
The Philosophers and the Patriots had both encountered problems when people were in control of the organization. The hostile takeover of the original organization and the infighting of their successors were proof enough of how chaotic having all the power in the world could be. If Big Boss intended to take them out completely, some other secret club would fill their void. Should he decide to take their power for himself, it would only be a matter of time until some sort of drama occurred.
No choice was devoid of cons, but Snake was still certain that he didn't want to be a zombie. The thought of not having to think for himself and being part of a giant hive mind was intriguing, but it wasn't worth sacrificing his humanity for. His choice condemned the public to more suffering, but pain happened to be a part of being alive. Whatever Big Boss intended to do, it had to be better than what the Patriots had in mind.
It was a shame that a sniper had forced him to leave early. Snake had far too many unanswered questions floating around in his head. The only thing he was sure of was why Big Boss had taken the time to meet with him. Big Boss was trying to recruit him.