Chapter 8 – Saving Private Raiden.
The elevator chimed and opened, revealing a mercenary wearing a powered exoskeleton. The AA-12 the man was carrying looked quite menacing in his hands. Snake gave him a nod and kept walking.
"Hey," the man said. "Is that a M9?"
Out of everyone he could have run into, it had to the guard with a set of eagle eyes. The elevator door closed as Snake turned around to address the soldier.
"Yes. It's modified to shoot tranquilizer rounds. Anna gave it to me. She wants me to look for Solid Snake."
"That's stupid. If that dart hasn't been properly prepared, it will either kill him or do nothing. You would have been better off hunting for him with a taser or a shotgun loaded with rubber rounds."
"Solid Snake's weight and height were declassified a very long time ago. At the most, he probably only gained twenty pounds since the time those numbers were recorded," Snake said. "Also, there's nanomachines in the darts."
The guard was not impressed.
"What unit are you with?"
"The one that Anna told to go look for Solid Snake."
"And who might Anna be?"
Snake was beginning to consider brute force over charisma.
"Mary Sue? The blonde girl running around in the sports bra and digital camo. You can't miss her."
"Oh. The woman with the creepy fingernails."
"You could always call her and ask if you don't believe me," Snake said.
"Good idea."
The man took one hand off his shotgun to operate the radio strapped to his chest. A sudden jolt of immense pain seared through Snake's heart, sending waves of agony through every vein in his body. He could only manage to gasp in agony as the tightness in his chest wouldn't allow him to get enough air to scream. The guard watching him aimed his shotgun right at his head as he dropped his rifle and collapsed to the floor on his knees.
"We may have a situation in the basement," the guard said over his radio.
Snake needed a shot of Aglaophotis. Reaching for the needles inside his medical pouch was like trying to pick a coin out of a cube of Jell-O. His fingers wouldn't grip the zipper properly.
"You are speaking with the owner of this company," Big Boss said over the speaker on the radio. "I will identify myself with the correct code. Number five. S-X-K-V-K-A-S-A. Give me your name and rank."
Snake's right arm was in significantly more pain than his left. He gave up trying to get to the disposable needle with his right hand. The fingers on his left hand were much more cooperative.
"This is Corporal Cameron Bishop, sir."
"All units will disregard Cameron's statement regarding a possible situation in the basement and continue following orders given by Mary Sue."
Snake could barely hear what they were saying. The edges of his vision were starting to get a little dark. He jammed a needle of Aglaophotis into his jugular vein. This FOXDIE attack was far more brutal than the first one he had experienced. Relief was not immediate. The pain was an inch away from being so awful that it would be far better for him to give up than endure another attack even if it foiled a part of Big Boss' plan. They could always clone him again and implant all of his memories into that clone. Meryl wouldn't know the difference unless Campbell told her, which he probably would.
"With all due respect, there is a suspicious soldier down here who seems to be having a heart attack," Bishop stated.
"How unfortunate. Give him your radio and go guard the restrooms on the first floor of this facility."
"You don't want me to stay here with this man?"
"Would that happen to involve guarding the restrooms?"
Bishop was at a loss for words.
"If you do not acknowledge and follow this order in the next five seconds, I will have you removed from this operation."
"Affirmative, sir. I will do as I am told."
Snake forced himself to get on his knees. The pain was slowly dissipating, but it felt as though some real damage had been done during that last attack. Bishop walked over to him and put a hand on his balaclava. Snake snapped into action. He put his arms around Bishop's leg, locked his foot to the floor, applied the corner of his shoulder to Bishop's knee, leaned forward, and knocked him over. Bishop dropped the AA-12, which did not discharge a round. The pain from the FOXDIE attack reawakened. All he could do was force himself to push past it, increasing his physical resistance to the agony it left him in.
He managed to tear the helmet off Bishop's head before the man could overpower him and he belted him across the face with it as hard as he could, which knocked him out immediately. Snake fell over on his side, completely broken. He reached for his M9, applied the silencer, shot Bishop in the neck from his position on the floor, took the silencer off, pulled the dart out of Bishop's body, holstered his weapon, and stopped moving.
"I heard that," Big Boss said over the radio on Bishop's chest. "Take this radio. When you've got the boy, contact me at 150.48."
Much to his relief, Big Boss stopped talking right after that. Snake shut his eyes. He could hear warm air coming out of the nearby vents. After counting to a hundred and failing to see himself floating above his own corpse, Snake opened his eyes and crawled over to Bishop. An adrenaline booster was in his personal medical pack. There was a possibility that it would clash with Aglaophotis, but he wasn't going anywhere without it. He stuck the needle in his neck. Tears started coming out of his eyes. He swallowed a glass of his own spit and sniffled. His sneaking suit was starting to get uncomfortably hot. Adding adrenaline to his system had doubled the effect of Naomi's serum, which meant that he would probably need to visit the bathroom in less than an hour.
Using the wall for support, Snake got back on his feet. It amazed him that nobody had contacted him. Naomi and Campbell must have grown tired of stating the obvious. Snake took the radio off Bishop and clipped it to his harness. It crackled.
"This is Anna. Use of the elevator or stairwells is now prohibited. Violators will be severally punished. Carry on."
That took care of any potential assassins flooding the basement now that they had a good idea where he was. If the Patriots had already condemned him, that made joining Big Boss much easier. Sacrificing himself and killing Big Boss was also a tantalizing possibility. Snake had to keep telling himself that the fate of the world was on his back. Allow the cancer perverting society to fester, or cut it out and replace it with a new disease.
Leaving Bishop out in the open did not seem like a great idea. Snake stuffed him in the elevator, which did not take long since the cab had not left the basement. The cold hallways of the basement were decorated with the occasional plant and even more motivational posters. Labs were still electronically locked behind large doors with no windows facing outward. The door to the area Raiden was being held in looked no different from anything else. Snake had to trust Anna. His hacking keycard cracked the lock in one minute.
The cells were on the left side of the room and they were locked with regular keys. A heavy door kept the captives trapped inside. There were ten of them. Each door had a slot for food and a cover over the barred window allowing the prisoner a view of the room outside their cell. The guards sat out in the open to his right. Their station was unoccupied. A rack full of Benelli shotguns and tasers ensured that the captives would behave. The room felt like it had not been used in a long time. He found a key ring in a desk underneath a stack of adult magazines that were two years old.
Snake approached the cell Anna had marked. His radar indicated that a person was inside. A cover was over the tiny window. Snake opened it and peered through the bars. For a cell meant to hold people who were test subjects for interrogation techniques, the occupant had it pretty good. A bed and a toilet with a sink built into it were available to the unfortunate prisoner.
Raiden was not so lucky and had no way of enjoying these fantastic features since he had been stripped naked and strapped into a restraining chair. A burlap bag had been placed over the top of his head. Even without seeing his face, there was only one man he knew who had skin so soft that it looked like it belonged on a woman. If he knew another guy like that, he could tell the two men apart by the plethora of barcodes all over Raiden's body.
Snake opened the door without saying a word to test Raiden's resolve. A red container of truth gas was in the corner. It was full, so Raiden would not be as high as a kite. The back of the restraining chair had a hole for the occupant's hands to be tied behind their backs. Raiden's wrists were bound with plastic cuffs. Snake removed the potato sack from Raiden's head. Raiden gasped for air and launched into a coughing fit. For having nearly been asphyxiated, he didn't look so bad. There were a couple of scrapes and bruises on his face that he most likely had earned by getting slapped around a bit, but other than that, he was fine.
It was tempting to mess around with him now that he was so vulnerable, but Snake held himself back.
"How did you get caught?" Snake asked.
Raiden's eyes lit up.
"That voice on the edge of a choke. . .is that you, Sn. . ."
He caught himself before he spilled information related to the mission. It didn't really matter at this point, but Raiden could not have known that.
"It's me. Do you need me to prove it?"
Snake touched the barcode on Raiden's shoulder.
"We scanned this at the self-checkout station at the local grocery store six days prior to when this whole mess began and it popped up as a can of ravioli."
"Drones have great cameras, don't they?"
Snake took off his balaclava and looked at Raiden expectantly.
"You do look like somebody I know," Raiden said. "You could be his twin."
Snake attempted to contact Naomi to have her tell Raiden that it was really him, but there was no answer. He tried Campbell and got a similar result. A feeling of dread clutched his soul. It was possible that they had already been taken hostage. The Patriots were doing a good job of making his impending decision easier.
"Do you remember that story about the time that Campbell's nephew bought him a hat?" Raiden asked.
It had been told at two o' clock in the morning at an iHop, the perfect time for breakfast. Meryl, Raiden, Raven, Campbell, and Mantis had been present. Snake had ordered blueberry pancakes and a plate of eggs. Not one egg. Not two-an entire plate. However many they could fit on it. Campbell's nephew, a dermatologist by the name of Vincent, had always fancied seeing him in a specific type of hat he purchased for him at a flea market down in Brazil. The hat apparently would have cost around two hundred dollars in America due to the name sewn into the fabric and not the actual material it took to construct the hat itself. Vincent fought long and hard over the price because he believed the merchant was simply pumping him for American money.
After securing the hat, it was apparently stolen by a thief who wished to eBay it for its approximate value. Vincent eventually managed to get the hat back in pristine condition and give it to Campbell as a present. It was the most painfully boring story any of them had ever heard.
"So you do remember the blue bowler," Raiden said, noting the pained expression on Snake's face.
"I try not to. Do you trust me now?"
Raiden nodded.
"I'm here to rescue you."
"Why are you dressed like the enemy?"
"I bumped into Anna. She gave me this outfit because The Patriots have put a hit out on me and some of the mercenaries around here have decided to change sides. Big Boss is also in danger. I imagine this place is going to erupt the moment he gets that AI. How did you get caught?"
Raiden lowered his head.
"Big Boss got me with a dart two steps from the entrance I was heading for. I heard him laughing hysterically as I passed out. It was rather degrading."
"That's fine. It was Big Boss. There's no shame in what happened to you."
"Thanks, but it still hurts. You should go on without me. I can get out of this chair by myself."
"Did you by chance miss the part where I mentioned that this place is going to turn into a shooting gallery any second now? There's no way I'm going to leave you behind."
"Can I be completely honest with you?"
Snake nodded.
"I'm sure that you have figured this out already, but we are not currently working together. I know you're not going to kill Big Boss. I don't blame you, but if I see him, I'm going to try to kill him. I know what my odds are, but I don't care."
"I was planning on hearing his side of the story before I made my decision."
"If the Patriots finally want you dead, then I'm sure you'll find his grand scheme quite agreeable. I'd love to go with you guys, but I can't sacrifice Rose and my son. I can't be like you. How can you even consider throwing everyone to the wolves?"
"Easy. I'm not thinking about it right now. It might take a little while, but eventually I'll. . ."
Snake stopped. By talking about it, he had accelerated the process, but he couldn't stop now because Raiden needed to hear what he had to say.
"It'll hit me. I won't be able to sleep. I won't be able to shake it off. It won't leave me alone. I'll start drinking. I'll have had two bottles of Jack Daniels before I know it and there will be an empty carton of cigarettes on the table even though I don't remember having a smoke. If this fails to help, which it almost always does, I'll have to turn to my pills. I really hate those things. I'll take two more than I should, which is extremely dangerous since I'm on the maximum possible dosage of everything I have been prescribed. Even then, I might not be safe from the nightmares."
Raiden was visibly stunned.
"I had no idea you felt that way," Raiden said.
"Yeah. Well. Surprise. I'm human. I'm going to get you out of that chair. What you do after that is up to you."
Snake heard the door to the jail open and close. Raiden would have jumped out of his seat if he hadn't been tied to it. Snake gestured for Raiden to remain silent. Raiden shook his head and struggled against his restraints. Snake picked up the sack and placed it on Raiden's head. By the time he had put his balaclava back on, their guest was two steps away from the door.
Old Tech walked into the cell with them. He was still dressed as an American recruit from the second World War because he didn't want to confuse anybody. He carried his M1 Garand across one of his shoulders with his hand looped around the worn leather strap. Old Tech paused for a moment and looked at Snake.
"Orders from above. The boss has a few questions for the prisoner," Old Tech said.
That sounded suspicious. Snake watched him carefully as he set his M1 up against the wall and stood in front of Raiden. Old Tech tore the potato sack off Raiden's head. Raiden gasped for breath to try to convey that he hadn't just had a few minutes of fresh air, but Snake felt that his performance wasn't very convincing. Old Tech did not seem to notice. Snake was willing to let this continue at Raiden's expense up until the point that it got ugly. He'd buy him ice cream later to make up for it.
"We don't have a lot of time," Old Tech said. "I'm going to ask you some relatively simple questions and I would like relatively simple answers. If I feel that you are lying to me, I'm going to use some gas on you."
Old Tech pointed to the red container in the corner.
"You don't want that stuff in your body. Trust me. Here is the first question. Are you ready?"
Raiden didn't play along and refused to nod. Snake deducted a point from Raiden's score toward handling an interrogation, but Old Tech merely smirked and let Raiden's misbehavior go unpunished.
"Would you consider Revolver Ocelot a friend?"
Raiden was completely thrown off by the question.
"I guess. But he would be 'that friend'. You know the kind. Everybody's hanging out and he walks in and everybody just kind of gives each other a look, but nobody says anything."
"Did you ever feel threatened by him?"
"Not really."
"I know that you know who he works for. How loyal would you say he is to his employers?"
"I have no idea. Have you ever met the guy? He does his own thing."
Old Tech reached into his uniform. Snake tensed up, ready to throttle him if he pulled out something he intended to hurt Raiden with. A photograph was in his hands. Old Tech held it up to Raiden so that he could get a good look at it.
"Tell me what's going on in this picture," Old Tech said.
"Yikes. That's Vulcan Raven's birthday party."
"Could you please be more descriptive? Show, don't tell."
"What does that mean?"
"Describe this picture to me to the best of your ability."
"Well, that's from November fourth of this year and I'd say we're about two hours in because Ocelot is extremely drunk. This is the only time he had more than two drinks around us. He's up on the roof because Snake dared him to climb the house. It was pretty slick up there. His grip on the chimney is about to give out."
"Who are the people in the backyard?"
"That's just about everyone who was there. You can see me through the window. I'm in the kitchen getting some more Jim Jones Kool-Aid."
"Some what?"
"It's something Mantis made. It's Kool-Aid with four different types of alcohol in it. It was absolutely delicious."
"Who else is in this picture?"
"Well, we have Vulcan Raven by the grill, Psycho Mantis pointing and laughing at Ocelot, Meryl Silverburgh looking through her pants to find her cell phone, and Solid Snake moving the picnic table into position so Ocelot would fall on Raven's potato salad so that nobody would have to eat more of it."
Old Tech put the photo back in his uniform.
"Psycho Mantis and Vulcan Raven tried to kill Solid Snake. Is that correct?" Old Tech asked.
"There is a book about it."
"I know. Yet you're all at a birthday party together. You also saw movies together, got kicked out of Denny's at three in the morning, regularly played racquetball, and just generally lived like all of you were freshmen in college."
"Those were the days."
"Let me tell you a theory based on what you've told me. I want your opinion on it."
"Fine, whatever."
"For the past few months, Ocelot has been doing his own thing because that's just his style. It would appear that he is not following orders unless he was specifically told to goof off. Is that correct?"
Raiden shrugged.
"I'll try to be a bit more direct. Do you think that Ocelot would hurt Solid Snake?" Old Tech asked.
Snake wasn't enjoying where this conversation was going. Initially, it seemed like Old Tech was just asking about Ocelot because Big Boss was curious about him. The way he had worded his last few statements made Snake start to wonder if Old Tech was asking these questions for somebody else's benefit.
"I really don't know. Maybe?"
"You can't say for certain."
"Why don't you ask him yourself?"
Old Tech sighed heavily, obviously not getting the answer he was hoping to receive.
"Let's change the subject. Do you think Solid Snake is going to kill Big Boss?"
Raiden smirked. Snake tapped Old Tech on the shoulder. The show was over. Old Tech turned around to receive the butt of Snake's rifle directly in his face. He slumped to the ground like a sack of wet oatmeal. Snake undid Raiden's restraints and cut the twist-ties from his wrists. While helping Raiden to his feet, he inadvertently caught a good glimpse of his junk right before Raiden covered it with both of his hands. The metaphors Snake had heard didn't do it justice. He had to make one up himself on the spot. Raiden could have gone fishing for mermaids with that thing.
Snake took out his M9, attached his silencer to it, and handed it to Raiden.
"Take this. I'm going to ask Old Tech a few questions. Keep the gun pointed at him."
Raiden held the gun in one hand and his pride in the other. Snake placed Old Tech in the restraining chair, grabbed the canister of truth gas in the corner, and put the mask attached to the can on Old Tech's face just as he began regaining consciousness. There wasn't any time left for witty dialogue or snide banter. His inevitable confrontation with Big Boss would be full of that. Snake gave Old Tech a hit just as he gasped when he realized what was happening.
If Old Tech intended to struggle, the drugs sucked the energy right out of him. Snake shut the valve off and tossed the canister back into the corner it had been sleeping in. Old Tech looked rather relaxed despite being forced to sit in a rather uncomfortable position.
"Why were you so interested in asking Raiden questions about Ocelot?" Snake asked.
"That's a secret," Old Tech replied.
Snake backhanded him across the face. While he could appreciate the fact that Old Tech had restrained himself from physically abusing Raiden during his interrogation, Snake was not above roughing up captives if they weren't cooperative.
"Do you mind?" Old Tech asked. "You're harshing my buzz."
Snake grabbed the canister of truth gas and gave Old Tech another hit. He gave him what he believed was the maximum possible dosage. Old Tech now looked like he had just crawled out of bed.
"Why were you asking questions about Ocelot?"
"Can I have some more of that?" Old Tech asked.
His speech was slurred and he sounded substantially impaired. Any more gas would leave him completely inept. They would be lucky if he was still capable of giving them solid answers.
"If you answer my questions, I'll give you the whole can."
"You've got a deal. We're going to be here for a little while. Let me see your face."
Old Tech tried to reach for the top of Snake's head, but only succeeded in swatting at his cheek. It was best to humor him, so Snake took off his balaclava. Old Tech's eyes lit up in recognition and he grinned.
"You!" Old Tech declared cheerfully. "I've been looking for you. I'm going to kill you."
"You are?"
"Yeah, I'm gonna shoot you in the face!"
"I admire your confidence."
"I feel so much better. I can tell you everything because you're just going to be dead in a few hours. Get this. The Patriots no longer trust Ocelot. They believe that he is subverting them. He undermines all their orders and talks them into making undesirable decisions. They asked me to ask about him."
"So you work for them?"
"Yeah. I started six months ago. It's a pretty cool gig. I'm meant to be Ocelot's replacement. He doesn't even know I exist. Don't tell him."
"How were you recruited?"
"They must have been impressed by my service record. I was once a member of Unit X."
"Never heard of them."
"Of course you haven't! FOX-HOUND, Kommando's, Delta Force. They're all false flags. Unit X is the real deal. You could have been in our unit if Big Boss hadn't convinced you to join FOX-HOUND. That would have been something. Anyway, Unit X is under the direct supervision of The Patriots. I never really knew that until after I passed all of their little tests. It all started when I was suddenly ordered to take a paid vacation for six months. When I got home, there was a note waiting for me in my mailbox. It said that in two days something would be under a plant for me at the Capella Pedregal. I had to solve puzzles and do certain things to prove how well I could follow orders. I had a lot of fun. Here I am."
"So you work for the Patriots. You were less than five feet away from Big Boss. Why didn't you try to kill him?"
"They didn't tell me to. I would have, though."
"You would have killed Big Boss?" Snake asked. "I find that very hard to believe."
"No, my cover was air-tight! I was told to pretend that I was really into World War II so I could come across as one of those special soldiers he's so attracted to. A fake dossier was made and left out in the open. Like a fool, he took the bait and got into contact with me. Big Boss has a thing for World War II. A friend of his was in it, I believe."
"What are you really doing here?"
"I was getting to that. The Patriots contacted me and told me to start offering everybody a better deal if they killed you and Big Boss. They also asked me to check on that new AI they are sorely in need of. Nobody is in that room! I have no idea what's going on with that, but he doesn't seem to be too worried about it."
"If everybody wants me dead, why were you asking if I would really kill Big Boss?"
"Because that would make everything so much easier if you did. Then we would just need to focus on getting rid of the remaining clones he has wandering around."
"There's more than one?"
"I believe that was implied. I don't know how many of them are out there, so don't bother asking."
"Is Anna a member of your crew?"
"No. There's no way she would ever join the Patriots. Chill Penguin and Johnny Sasaki are also not in on the op because they are idiots. Shadow Raccoon was the only person I spoke with."
Snake gave Old Tech the canister, which he accepted eagerly.
"I have one final question," Snake said.
"Make it quick, I'm busy," Old Tech said as he attached the mask to his face.
"Do The Patriots really have Raiden's family?"
"Nah. They had trouble finding them, so they put together a CG image of them in the park to coerce him into possibly killing you. I was about to tell him that you had to be eliminated if he ever wanted to see his family again if he did not think that you were going to kill Big Boss."
Anybody who wasn't doped to their gills would know better than to tell a naked father that somebody lied to him about his family being in danger. Raiden reacted by slamming the butt of his M9 into Old Tech's groin as hard as he could. It was an appropriate response, but Old Tech was too high to feel anything. Raiden returned the M9 to Snake and left the room. Snake followed, locking the cell door behind him as Old Tech prepared to take another hit to stop wondering if one of his nuts had just been cracked open.
Raiden stood with his back to Snake. Shaking with fury, Raiden eventually decided enough tension had been built up to allow the release of a predictable lie.
"I would never agree to betray you," Raiden said.
It was a nice thought, but Snake didn't expect that it would get Raiden very far if somebody was pouring scalding water all over his back.
"Thanks, Julia."
Confusion made Raiden stop trying to act like a cool guy.
"What are you referencing?" Raiden asked.
"1984. You haven't read it, I take it?"
"It's in my backlog."
"Maybe we can get Big Boss to force Eric Carle to make an abridged version for you once he has taken over the world."
"Who?"
"Your illiteracy hurts almost as much as being shot. Forget about it."
The first locker Snake opened contained Raiden's sneaking suit and the rest of his equipment. His solid goggles were pointed right at Snake. If somebody hadn't turned them off, the Patriots were watching. Raiden began getting dressed. Once he activated the suit, he gasped in surprise as it tightened around his butt. Since he had not managed to put it on properly, the suit corrected itself with a sharp snap to the left of his rear that made him blush profusely in embarrassment and possibly something else that Snake didn't dwell on.
Snake's CODEC began beeping. Campbell was trying to talk to him. He accepted the transmission.
"So cute. This is just too precious," Campbell said.
"What are you talking about? Don't call me just to spout gibberish. I know you saw what happened earlier. Why did you ignore my call?"
"Because I was hoping you would die."
Snake froze.
"You're not Campbell."
"That's a rather astute observation for you."
"Who is this?"
"Think hard. I'll give you a hint. Necrotizing fasciitis is a decaying infection of the fascia. It is commonly referred to as the flesh eating disease and normally begins as a rash or bruise. People who have contracted the disease become incredibly ill during the first stage before decay is even present. Some studies indicate that it can be spread by exchanging bodily fluids and one account details how a man contracted it after being bitten by a carrier at a bar."
Shortly after Snake had been forced to stop being a shut-in, he'd heard Raiden's account of the Big Shell incident over a few bottles of whiskey. Raiden had been particularly descriptive of his encounter with the AI posing to be Campbell and Rose. When it had been damaged by Emma's virus, it started talking nonsense and reading Wikipedia articles to him.
"You're that stupid computer."
Raiden perked up at that comment. Snake held out a hand, stopping him from getting too excited.
"I would argue that I'm more than just a computer. I am the sole remaining operator of the Patriots. For the time being, you can call me Crazy Colonel Campbell."
Snake forwarded the call to Raiden.
"Yes, get him on the line, too. How are you, Jack?" Crazy Colonel Campbell asked.
"I hope they used cheap thermal paste and bad solder on your CPU," Raiden replied.
"I've got Artic Silver slathered all over me, a heat sink that would survive five minutes on the surface of the sun, the best solder in the world, and I'm also water cooled. Trust me, I'm not going to overheat."
"This statement is false!" Raiden exclaimed.
"You'd have better luck crashing a word processor with that sentence," Crazy Colonel Campbell said. "I like the cut of your jib. Just for that, I won't kill Rosemary or Jack junior. Instead, I'll turn them both into the technicians who service me."
"I'm going to turn you into the world's most advanced bidet."
"You don't possess the knowledge to do such a thing. I've seen what you search for on Google and what books you buy on Amazon, so I know what I'm talking about, unlike you."
"How long have you been on this line?" Snake asked before they started hurling vulgar insults at each other.
"Since you jumped out of that plane. Thanks for getting rid of Shadow Raccoon for me. Humans don't deserve to unlock enough of their potential to unleash magic."
"Did you call us just to taunt us?"
"Pretty much. This is the last chance I'll have to do that because I'm planning on both of you being very dead in the next half hour, so go scuttle off to Big Boss while you have a chance and see if he can save you."
"In my line of work, I've had my life threatened quite a bit. Is this really it? I'm really going to die this time?" Snake asked sarcastically.
"Definitely."
"Okay. I'll be very disappointed if I don't and you'll wind up looking rather silly."
"Shut up! If by some divine miracle you do manage to make it out of this one, FOXDIE should have you sorted in less than a week. I hate to cut our conversation short, but I'm going to devote all of my power to making sure you do die this time. I even made a party album just for this occasion. Have a listen."
Smooth jazz began playing over the CODEC. Snake ended the transmission and dialed Big Boss' frequency on the radio he had taken from Bishop while Raiden began looking more worried by the second at the mention of FOXDIE activating.
"I have rescued Raiden. Where are you?" Snake asked.
"Stop by the fifth lab in the basement," Big Boss replied.
Snake quickly stripped down to his sneaking suit since running around with Raiden would be a dead giveaway. He tossed the radio he had been given aside and pulled the face camo component of his suit over his head. As he turned to face Raiden, he noticed that Raiden had been staring at him longingly the entire time.
"You have had a FOXDIE attack, haven't you? That's why you look so ragged," Raiden said.
"I look so ragged because of sneaking mission withdrawal," Snake said.
"Stop lying. You're really going to die soon, aren't you?"
"I've had this conversation about fifty times already, so forgive me if I seem a little curt. Yes, I'm probably going to die if Naomi doesn't hurry about and do something about it, so make sure you tell me that you love me before it's too late."
"I do love you."
There was no hesitation. Raiden had spoken genuinely from his heart. He looked as if he were about to start crying. Snake suddenly felt awful for ignoring his phone calls when he knew that Raiden just wanted to hang out.
"Then I guess you had better come on over here and give me a quick man hug while you still have the chance," Snake said.
Raiden embraced Snake in a manner that ensured their genitals would not collide with each other. Snake gave Raiden a pat on his shoulder for good measure. Their manly hug lasted for thirty seconds, which was just as long as Snake could tolerate.
"Is there anything you would like me to take care of if you. . .you know."
"Yeah. Get somebody to look after my dogs and make sure Meryl doesn't write poetry about me or join the military again to cope with my untimely demise. I'd like to be cremated. Throw my ashes into an active volcano. You and Meryl can play paper-rock-scissors for my guns."
"Anything else?"
"I think that about covers it. You're on point."
"You really know how to ruin a moment, don't you?"
"You're welcome. Leave your goggles here. We don't need them following us."
Raiden nodded and tossed the goggles on the floor. He then took the lead and began heading for the fifth lab with Snake trailing right behind him.