Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Metal Gear character or the Metal Gear franchise. They belong to Hideo Kojima, Yoji Shinkawa, Kojima Productions and Konami studios.
.
Author Notes: Hello guys! Here's the second part of the first episode, The Survivors. I finished writing this about a month ago, and I've been busy editing it as well as writing future updates.
This chapter is a bit shorter, but it deals with character development and that's something I'm focusing on for this story. I hope you like it, and don't forget to leave a review!
.
Devil Boss
Metal Gear Solid - The Philanthropists
Episode 1: The Survivors, Part II
.
.
Otacon crossed the street swiftly and almost hugged himself to fight off the cold. His mind, though, was elsewhere. What a week he'd just had. His life had been turned upside down ever since Solid Snake decided to show up one late night and ask for help in destroying Metal Gear. At first, Otacon held really little hopes of their... endeavor to work, firstly because of themselves. Neither he nor Snake were particularly good with people, and Hal honestly didn't think they would last long. But, surprisingly, both he and Snake made quite a solid team, and they even got along properly too, respecting each other's space and cooperating to make things smoother. Otacon found himself wondering about that several times; he suspected that the reason he and Snake got along so well was that they were both outcasts. They both knew well what aspects of people confused and annoyed them, and they strived to better those aspects about themselves.
Not much talking was done in the apartment.
Once the decision to act had been made, Snake had been swift. He had quickly ditched the rags he'd been wearing, bought some new clothes with funds taken from one of his bank accounts, and started a rigorous training regimen to get himself back into fighting shape. Eating healthy food did him quite good, and he could feel his body growing stronger with each passing day. He wasn't so thin anymore, something he hadn't noticed until Otacon pointed it out one day.
Otacon himself could feel a change of heart. He wasn't so gloomy now; he didn't feel so depressed; he woke up with a smile a couple of times. The idea of finally doing something useful, of taking a stand for what he thought was right, was immensely rewarding. Setting himself to work for that end was refreshing, to the point that he didn't feel tired anymore - something that had become usual of him in past weeks, even when he got enough sleep - and always felt like doing more before calling it a day.
'Still, what a week,' the otaku mused, hurrying to cross a street before the light turned green again 'I wonder if I'm crazy for doing this...'
There was a cigarette in the sidewalk, just another small display of pollution in the city, a tiny thing that people were too busy or indifferent to care about. Otacon walked past it, recalling a brief - very brief - talk he had with Snake about the issue.
.
Snake lit up a cigarette and took several puffs.
"You still smoke?" Otacon asked, looking up from the screens. He had hoped the habit would have disappeared during his friend's time in the wild.
"Yes," Snake said simply, and became silent again.
While the talk itself had been brief indeed, they did have a long argument about indoor smoking a few hours later, when Otacon finally got tired of the smell of cigarettes. They settled for Snake smoking inside, but next to an open window.
.
He was close to his home now; the grey streets filled with puddles of water, the decaying houses, and the cars that passed swiftly by, as if not wanting to remain there longer than they had to; it all formed the picture of the neighborhood Otacon had chosen to live in. As he came within two blocks, Otacon pressed a hand to his right ear, turning on the codec and making a short call. Twice he let the device ring, and then he ended the call.
.
"Were you able to fix my codec?" Snake asked one morning, smoking next to an open window.
"Hmm, that was child's play," Hal said "But the thing is, we can't make it work like it used to. The codec relies on the nanomachines to work properly, so that the other end can tap into the frequency and listen and even see you talk. However, since the battery of your nanomachines has already died out..."
"The codec has no energy to draw on from."
"Exactly. But that doesn't mean I can't get it to work; it will be a little different from before, that's all. From now on, you'll have to carry a small battery with you, and plug it to the codec on your ear. But since you didn't keep the monitor that came with your Soliton Radar from Shadow Moses, we won't be able to see each other during your missions. And the signal might be a bit weaker at times... I'll have to calibrate it, once we get some field data.
"Got it. So in other words, I'll be using a more primitive version of my codec, after a fashion."
"Something like that," Otacon bit his lip, with a face that said 'sorry' "We can't afford some of the toys that come from working with the government."
But Snake smiled "No problem. I wasn't planning on relying too much on gadgets to begin with."
.
Otacon got an incoming call from frequency 141.80 when he was barely a block away from home. Twice it rang, and then it died out.
Snake insisted on keeping security codes whenever one of them went out.
.
"I really don't see the point of this, Snake..." Otacon sighed, rubbing his eyes before putting his glasses on again. It was three in the morning, and the geek only wanted to get some sleep after a whole day tracking accounts on the net on the hunt for Metal Gear.
"You don't see the point of taking safety measures?" Snake grunted, equally annoyed "Should someone follow us here, we'll be compromised. If we can't talk, a codec call should do the trick to let each other know there's trouble. One ring means that, two mean everything's okay. How much simpler can it get?"
"Why would anyone try to follow us? Why would anyone care to attack us?" Otacon retorted, irritated; simple as the idea was, his brain didn't feel like learning anything else for the day.
"Why? Could have to do with the fact that we're two survivors of an incident the government's trying to cover up as hard as they can. There's a reason Shadow Moses doesn't come up on the news."
"The government? They wouldn't hurt two civilians doing nothing illegal!"
"You think they aren't capable of it? You think it hasn't happened before? Don't be an idiot, Otacon. The big guys in the Pentagon aren't white knights; they'll want to cover their asses if they see a threat coming their way. Two Shadow Moses survivors teaming up? That's bad news for them."
"Still, it's not possible! If they wanted us dead, we would be. You may have gone underground, but I haven't been trying to hide, actually."
"If it's not the government, then someone else will do it." When Otacon tried to protest, Snake interrupted him "You think people seeking to build their Metal Gear won't find the guy who designed the damned things useful? Damn it, Otacon, you stubborn fool!" the former mercenary stood up and paced the room.
"Okay, okay, jeez," Otacon made placating gestures with his hands and rubbed his eyes again "What were the security codes again?"
.
As he made his way through the walkway, Otacon spotted a young man carrying a small laptop, precisely the same model he used. The otaku grinned to himself, approving of the young man's taste. But, just like everything in the past days, the thought reminded him of something he had talked about with Snake.
.
It was Snake that usually started the important conversations. Otacon was starting to get used to his direct approach; whenever something needed to be done, Snake was nothing if not pragmatic. So Hal wasn't very surprised when one afternoon he came back from a meeting with another client - unlike Snake, Otacon did keep a job - and got himself in the middle of yet another relevant talk.
"You're going to need a hell of a lot more processing power if you're going to be hacking protected sites from now on," Snake said suddenly, without any break from his bout of pushups.
Otacon kept preparing himself a sandwich without missing a beat. Snake's bluntness wasn't anything new to him anymore "I'm way ahead of you," he said "I have my eye on several computers and integrated systems that would do us a lot of good. But they're not exactly cheap..."
"We're going to have to invest some money," Snake said simply, still working out. It felt so weird to talk about investments with him.
"Yeah, and that's not the only problem," Otacon mumbled absently, biting his lip.
"What do you mean?" Snake's hearing was superb.
"Well, there is also the issue of how are we going to get you... you know, guns and stuff."
Snake grinned, shaking his head with amusement "I take it you never heard of SSCEN, in Natick, Massachusetts, right?"
"What? No," Otacon had no idea what his comrade was talking about.
"Never mind. I'm going to make a trip to Boston."
Snake gave Otacon what accounted for half the costs of the new computers he would be using from now on and then left by plane at night, heading for Greater Boston. He was back one day later, this time with a sneaking suit, a scope with nightvision capabilities, a combat knife, military rations, and a handgun.
Otacon asked no questions.
.
Otacon stopped at the door and knocked once, then three times quickly, and then two times, slowly. Snake opened the door, let Otacon pass, took a careful peek outside and closed the door again.
Otacon tried to ignore the smell of smoke and sat down in front of his laptop after hanging his coat. Wordlessly, Snake went back to cleaning his guns.
"Snake," Otacon asked suddenly, looking up from his after some time. His partner grunted to acknowledge him, although he kept reassembling his Beretta handgun after cleaning it up "There's something I've been meaning to ask you," Otacon went on, undeterred "Do you still have the Stealth Camo I gave you right after Shadow Moses?" Otacon and Snake had met shortly after the incident, right before Snake left for Alaska with Meryl, his comrade in arms and soon-to-be girlfriend.
Snake grunted again. Otacon took that as yes.
"I was thinking, that Stealth Camo would sure come in handy," Otacon said; that was completely true for him, considering that the device could render a person nearly invisible by deflecting light around the wearer's body. Snake grunted again, almost clicking his tongue this time, but Otacon wasn't very good at picking up hints "Is it still back at your place, in Alaska?"
"Yes."
"How about your Sneaking Suit, the one you used at Shadow Moses?" Otacon pressed further, oblivious to Snake's furrowed brow. The suit Snake had procured from Natick was good, but nothing in comparison with the state-of-the-art outfit he had worn during the terrorist incident months ago "The suit and the Stealth Camo would make things a lot easier for us, right?"
Snake stood up and left the house without a word.
Otacon sat still, puzzled. Only after half an hour of musing on it did he realize his questions may had been inadequate to ask, since Snake clearly didn't want to talk about anything related to his home in Alaska and whatever had happened there.
Luckily for him, when Snake came back that night, he acted completely normal and didn't seem to be particularly upset; his snide remarks about anything and everything were the same as always. Otacon was sometimes grateful neither of them were very adept at handling tricky conversations.
.
X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X The Survivors, Part II
X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X The Survivors, Part II
.
Snake was pleasantly surprised when one morning - the ninth morning since he showed up at Otacon's place - said geek greeted him with news that he believed he had found a Metal Gear.
"Really?" the former mercenary felt the urge to ask, since Otacon blurted the words as he raised his head from the desk he had used as pillow the past night. Snake wouldn't have been surprised if Otacon had dreamt about Metal Gear, something Snake himself often did.
"Yeah," Otacon said, rubbing his eyes and putting his glasses back on. Drowsy as he was, that spark of feverish enthusiasm, the same that shone during the constant all-nighters, was quick to appear in his eyes "I tried everything for the past week, but I couldn't pinpoint any bases where a REX might be and it was dangerous to try cracking the firewalls of the CIA, FSB and MI6; those guys know the black market's dealers, but they can't find any Gears, either. I thought that by hacking their satellites I could get some insight, but it didn't do much good, to be honest. I had to break the connection before they managed to trace me."
"So how'd you pull it off?"
"By following money," Otacon nodded proudly "Whoever bought REX sure paid a fortune to Ocelot. It was a mess, but I spotted all financial irregularities in Third World countries that fit into a certain criteria, and tried to trace the money from there. I got hundreds of dead ends, though; a lot of foul play is going on in Africa, Asia and Latin America as well."
"I don't understand. What kind of irregularities did you trace?"
"Buying the prints for a Metal Gear is extremely expensive, way beyond the budget of any country that isn't a superpower. So that was my starting point. We can safely assume all big powers have a Gear by now. So I searched for any and all financial operations, in rogue states, that were big enough to mean a REX blueprint could be involved."
"Now I see why you haven't been sleeping well as of late," Snake whistled and shook his head "Otacon, you found a needle in a haystack. Many multinational companies are involved in Third World countries, even war-torn ones. It was a one in a million shot to find a REX."
"Well, thing is, money is being paid through fake corporations, 'misplaced' government funds and so on," Otacon said, ignoring Snake's remark "Ever since Shadow Moses, REX variants have been popping up everywhere, and there's a whole underground market where the blueprints can be bought. I couldn't get the prints, but I did catch a trace of a huge financial transaction, which I followed and... Violá."
"Hmm... nice job."
The otaku smiled.
"In any case, I'm almost 100% sure that I found a REX variant. It's located in North Africa, close to Sudan, in a country named Bashtur."
"Some Private Military Companies have been working there, ever since Big Boss' fall in Outer Heaven," Snake noted "I remember the war they had with the Republic of Chad a few years ago."
"Many people died in that war, and Bashtur is still reeling from its after-effects. Their heavily militarized society is proof of that," Otacon pushed his glasses up as some pictures showed up on his screen, displaying severe-looking soldiers with AK-47s, tanks, and some child soldiers "Besides, their neighboring state of Darfur is going through a civil war and they're worried that the insurgents over there could cross the border."
"So they think that a Metal Gear will give them a safe haven."
"If they do get to finish REX, I'm sure the Darfur rebels won't come even close to their country. They would become a nuclear power and none of their neighbors would dare to push them. It would be a whole game change."
"Nuclear weapons usually mean that. But it surprises me that the US hasn't sanctioned them yet, or the UN. They've been keeping a strong monitoring policy after the Iraqui War, two years ago."
"The government is still busy with the cover up of the Shadow Moses involvement," Otacon explained sadly "Even though they managed to keep things under control for now, there are rumors going around. Liquid was smart... he triggered the uprising right before our government signed the START III Treaty with Russia and China. You only have to take a look at REX's blueprints to know that it's American-made. We've lost face in the eyes of the world, and our country can't pretend to be the world's police any longer."
"I'm surprised this hasn't reached the public's ears," Snake mused, blowing some smoke "So much for the 'age of information' we're supposed to be living in."
"You wouldn't believe the lengths they're going to in order to keep Shadow Moses secret," Otacon shook his head wearily "You were right a few days ago, Snake. The men in suits of the Pentagon are no white knights. I did some research... witnesses are dying due to accidents, left and right. Even Jim Houseman allegedly shot himself! And that's not it: people, innocent people who just happened to stumble on uncomfortable truths, just disappeared."
"A true country of liberty."
Otacon stood up and paced his living room, holding his chin with one hand "I wonder how much true freedom we are enticed to have..."
"Otacon," Snake raised an eyebrow "You've grown."
The geek pushed his glasses up "Let's do this."
"Tell me everything you know about this base."
.
X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X The Survivors, Part II
X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X The Survivors, Part II
.
The truck rumbled as it made its way into the wastelands, under the cover of the dark and a persistent rain. The road the truck was transiting was muddy and filled with treacherous puddles of water; its slippery surface was tricky and could easily send a vehicle sliding away from the way, into the uninviting bushes and boulders that lay at its sides. A non-skilled driver wouldn't have lasted on such a road for long.
Solid Snake squinted to see past the water-soaked windshield; the wipers weren't of much use on this damned weather. He gently swerved right to avoid a bump in the road, and shifted to a lower gear as the truck passed through a slippery batch of mud. The back of the truck was connected to the cockpit; he could see Otacon there, adjusting his computers as best as he could despite the less than ideal conditions. Snake tried to make the trip easy on the geek, but he could only do so much.
"How much longer 'til we get there, Otacon?" he asked, irritated, after a bump nearly sent him out the road "I haven't seen any traces of civilization for the past four hours."
"It shouldn't be much longer," Hal replied, taking a look at a map nearby "Just about another five miles, maybe six. It's not surprising they chose a secluded place to set up their base, given what they're building inside."
"I'm surprised they could get the necessary infrastructure to build a REX so far removed from any place," Snake commented "It must have cost a lot of money, that's for sure."
"How do you think I tracked them here?" Otacon winked cockily. His grin faded as a new thought crossed his mind "Do you think they've seen us already?"
"I don't think so," Snake shook his head "I'm keeping the lights low. Besides, I can't see crap beyond a hundred feet or so. Even with searchlights and binoculars they would have a tough time spotting us. And don't forget that this is a PMC truck. It could pass for one of their own."
Otacon nodded, his nerves not quite soothed. He and Snake had infiltrated Bashtur under fake IDs crafted with names Otacon had created in the net; Snake's expertise in forgery had given them the actual papers. According to their cover, Snake was a mercenary working for Ironclad, a PMC hired by the government to help fight against a group of insurgents armed by the neighboring state of Chad, and Otacon was an engineer and logistics expert for the Company. The fake IDs had been good enough to let the two men into a PMC compound, where Snake had managed to steal an M939 truck and drive off unseen. Otacon had erased all records of their presence in the PMC camp, but he wasn't entirely comfortable with the way things had gone so far. It would only take one person to notice the missing truck, and all the area would be on lockdown. And if he and Snake destroyed a Metal Gear, Otacon did not want the area to be locked down.
The minutes went on and suddenly the truck screeched to a halt. Looking forward, Snake called Otacon.
"What is it?" the otaku asked, unable to see anything past the rain.
"We're here," Snake said, pointing to a barely visible letter at the side of the road. It read 'Camp Sigma' with black letters over a white background.
"How far do you think the base is?" Otacon wrenched his hands together.
"A mile at most," Snake replied "The storm cloaks us, but we shouldn't stay on the road any longer." Before Otacon could stop him, Snake jumped out of the truck with his night-vision binoculars in hand. The otaku watched nervously as his partner scouted the area.
Snake returned, completely soaked but with a cheerful smile "There's a slope next to the road where I can hide the truck in," he said, starting the engine "it's hidden from the road, and there are some bushes there we could use to conceal the truck. Hang on tight, Otacon; it's going to get bumpy."
Otacon didn't need to hear it twice; he grabbed hold of the front seat with one hand, placed his laptop on his lap, and steadied his second computer with the other hand. The engine rumbled and the truck left the road, jumping with every bump and rock it hit. Otacon gasped as the truck started to slip down the slope, hearing the engine roaring futilely and the wheels sliding over the mud. But with a grunt and a well-timed steer, Snake managed to regain control and Otacon blew a sigh of relief as they reached steadier ground. Snake made a tight U-turn and then turned the engine off.
"Showtime," he said, passing above the seats into the back of the truck. Otacon made room as his comrade opened a crate with the gear he would be using for the mission.
Snake's sneaking suit was nothing like the one he had worn at Shadow Moses Island. It was a simple set of dark green pants, with a dark green shirt with the sleeves rolled up at the elbows. Beneath, he was wearing a black, tight long sleeved shirt to protect him from the cold. He had black, fingerless gloves to protect his hands, black knee-pads, and black boots. Now that the time to begin the mission had come, Snake put on a thick belt and clipped his binoculars, a small camera, and a small screen that worked as a primitive version of his old Soliton Radar. A shoulder strap served to carry three ammo clips for his handgun, and Snake strapped a holster to his thigh to sheath it comfortably.
Otacon watched in a haze as Snake made the final preparations. This was one of those moments where he couldn't help but wonder how he had come to this. The meeting with Snake in Chicago, the planning, the trip, even their trick at the PMC camp, it had all seemed... innocent in a way. Like a game, or a dream that he would wake up swiftly from. But now, seeing Snake already gearing up for the mission, everything became so much more real, so terrifyingly real, an act that could and would bring inescapable consequences in his life, a turning point from which he wouldn't be able to come back! He shuddered to think what would happen, should an enemy soldier found the truck with him inside.
"Hey, Snake..." Otacon said, hesitating.
"What?" the former mercenary replied without turning around, adjusting the silencer to his Beretta handgun.
"Hmmm, I... I was thinking..." Otacon heard himself say. Everything seemed almost hazy right now.
"What? What do you want?" Snake snapped at last.
"...Nothing."
"We'll keep touch through the codec, just as we did in Shadow Moses. I'll use the frequency 141.80, got it?"
"Yeah," Otacon nodded 'Just like in Shadow Moses,' Hal thought. Again, Solid Snake would go deep into hostile territory and all Otacon would be able to give was some advice. 'Powerless, again' Otacon thought sadly.
"The truck is well hidden," Snake was saying "Don't leave this place, and stay out of trouble. Don't try to be a hero; I've got enough on my plate as it is."
Otacon didn't know Snake well enough to realize that this was his way of saying 'be careful.' He nodded again "I'll stay here."
Snake hummed in response and holstered his gun. He was ready to leave. Turning around, he made his way out of the truck. The cold rain hit him with full force when he jumped outside.
"Snake!" Otacon called from inside. The spy turned around "Good luck," Hal wished.
Snake shook his head "There's no such thing as luck on the battlefield." He left with no other words, leaving Otacon to his thoughts.
.
X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X The Survivors, Part II
X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X The Survivors, Part II
.
Nastasha climbed the last steps to her floor, slightly out of breath. On paper, eight floors to climb didn't seem so much, but the analyst was a heavy smoker after all, and she didn't have the habit of working out often, if at all. But taking the elevator didn't seem like a good idea to her, after one particularly creepy jail guard - as she liked to call them - stared at her threateningly all the way down from her apartment to ground floor.
Should any of those bastards actually try anything, Nastasha always carried a good knife in her pockets. They might be able to kill her, but she wouldn't make it any easier for them.
She made her way through the corridor, searching for her keys. The neighbor from across the hall was standing at his door, looking at her. As soon as he realized he was being watched in turn, he went inside and closed the door. Nastasha could hear him talking with someone. Probably reporting she had returned.
She allowed herself a moment of daydreaming, of her kicking his door in and beating the crap out of him.
The door to Nastasha's apartment creaked a little when she opened it. The apartment was quiet and nothing seemed out of place. The lights were off, and it was hard to see in the dim light of seven o'clock. She turned the power on and hung her coat. Moving tiredly, Nastasha sat down in her couch and removed her shoes, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples.
Her suspicions had been confirmed. One of the men who she had caught following her last week turned out to be a police officer. She had been watching the nearest police station, and indeed the man evidently worked there. The worst part was, the man didn't make any attempt to conceal himself when he spotted Nastasha watching him. Clearly he felt untouchable.
But Nastasha allowed herself a moment of comfort; she had finished writing her book. The only thing left was to think of a title, but all the rest was complete. More than two hundred pages of recounting what had happened in Shadow Moses Island, when FOXHOUND took over the base and tried to start a war. More than two hundred pages of damning evidence against the US government, who had managed the crisis in a less-than-stellar way. The disgusting and frightening truth behind the Metal Gear project, and the sickening reveal of the Les Enfants Terribles program, carried out in the seventies. Nastasha had enough dirt to bury more than one corrupt politician.
Standing up, Nastasha headed to the desk by the window. Turning on her laptop, the woman opened a drawer and dispersed the many small items stored inside absently. Taking a careful look around, Nastasha lifted the bottom of the drawer, revealing a wooden board that acted as a fake cover.
There was nothing inside. Nastasha gasped.
The DVD wasn't there.
Nastasha had to take a moment to process that. Her DVD was missing. The one place where she kept a copy of her book, missing. She had recorded a DVD with the files, and saved them in that pendrive as well, knowing full well her laptop could be hacked any minute. She carried her pendrive with her at all times...
Those bastards had found her only copy of the book! And even if it was encrypted, they wouldn't take more than a couple of hours to crack it!
Panicking, Nastasha stood up. She was as good as dead now! When the government - or was it The Patriots!? - found out what she was up to, she would disappear in an instant, never to be found again. Her body would be thrown into the ocean, or buried in some desert... Taking a step back, the analyst placed a hand over her chest, hyperventilating.
She needed to get a hold of herself right now! Nastasha forced her body to calm down. She had not survived Chernobyl by letting fear get the best of her. All pretense forgotten, she ran to her bedroom and grabbed some clothes. A pair of jeans, white sneakers, a hoodie, leggings and a shirt. Nastasha quickly stuffed them in a bag, grabbed an overcoat and her wallet, and made her way to the front door. Time was running out! But as she was about to open the door, a thought crossed her mind. And Nastasha, cursing herself all the way, sat down in front of her laptop one last time, opened her email account and sent a message to the other Shadow Moses survivors whose addresses she had been able to obtain. To Hal Emmerich, Mei Ling and Meryl Silverburgh, she wrote:
You're being watched!
Jim Houseman didn't shoot himself! Naomi Hunter is missing!
The government is covering everything up. I'm next on their list.
Watch your backs.
N.R.
That was all she could think of on such short notice. Leaving both her laptop and cell phone behind, Nastasha made her way out of the apartment. She opened the door and found herself face to face with her neighbor.
She acted first, without stopping to think. Nastasha kicked him in the shin and stabbed with the knife, managing to graze the man's arm. He cried out, trying to hold on to her coat, but a swift punch to the throat was enough to put him down for the moment. Decided not to waste any time, Nastasha ran away, taking the auxiliary stairs down. She reached ground floor and left the building through a side entrance she had been careful to note beforehand. Finding herself in a small, dirty and wet alley, Nastasha disappeared in the city. The hunt was on. She could only wonder how long did she have.
.
.
.
Author Notes 2: As usual, I hope you liked this update. Finally Snake and Otacon get in motion; this is their first mission together, and as you may have seen, it does seem a little rushed for them to jump in on something so big, so fast. We'll deal with that later.
The Nastasha plotline is heading somewhere, I promise!
See you guys soon! I'll be updating next month. As always, leaving a review would be great.
