A/N: This chapter focuses on Miller's conversation with Ocelot, super spy, master and keeper of secrets, supreme manipulator and cunning strategist, and Kojima's in-game stand-in. This contains a LOT of spoilers from the series. I try as much as possible to conform to Metal Gear lore, inserting some of my own take on them. Like the games, this chapter is dialogue-heavy. My thanks to the guest reviewer for my first review.
Disclaimer: Metal Gear is owned by Konami but still belongs to Kojima in my mind. Everything else here belongs to their respective owners.
The thuds of Miller's cane and prosthetic foot, his Husky's paws with their claws tapping, and Ocelot's boots and spurs echoed on the floor as they walked to the table in the kitchen part of the house, while Johnny's scraping was heard below that. Miller practically spent a lifetime crippled, refusing even advanced prosthetic, preferring to bear the scars of his past, the badge of pain and honor he held what he and his comrades lost. With a remote he started the player again, selecting Bill Idol's Rebel Yell. They pulled out chairs and sat down. Miller had a good grace to have some drinks within easy reach. "Well, pick your poison, Ocelot, I don't know if you drink vodka or whiskey." The husky curled beside Miller's feet.
How cute, Ocelot thought. A touch of grim humor in a thoroughly mundane situation. "I don't know... What would you recommend?"
"Well, I've got a twelve-year old Scotch and some Finnish vodka. It's good as the premium Russian stuff," Miller answered.
"I'll have what you're taking," Ocelot replied. "Better be served by the host's choice."
"Better as a show of good faith," Miller said, almost seeming to read Ocelot's mind. One-handed, he poured the smoky alcoholic nectar of the gods into their glasses. He passed Ocelot's glass with a special pointer.
They both took sips from their glasses. "So what's FOXHOUND up to this time?"
"FOXHOUND is assigned to the the nuclear weapons storage facility in Shadow Moses island to beef up security, along with the Next-Generation Special Forces group, the guys who underwent the US Army's Force XXI concept, which included VR training."
"Shadow Moses... I heard of that name." Miller downed his drink and proceeded to pour in another. "I heard that the Pentagon had outsourced the facility's administration to Northmoor Nuclear Solutions, who built the facility in '02. Before that it was a link to both NORAD's net and a previously classified SOSUS network in along the Aleutian Islands during the Cold War. Next Generation Special Forces group being there makes sense as security but FOXHOUND's overkill."
"Exactly. The Pentagon still owns the island and they're there to protect the stored warheads as part of De-MIRVing began in STAR-II (Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty) back in 1993."
"FOXHOUND... Security..." Miller mused. "History's repeating itself... What are they up to? Some heist for nuclear material? Running security is perfect cover for one."
"Well, that's a good thought but not exactly what I have to say." Ocelot drank his and Miller poured him another. The truth is that storage facility is cover for for an R&D site, Northmoor is a dummy corporation owned by defense contractor ArmsTech."
"What are we getting at?" Miller asked, annoyed by Ocelot's little puzzles. Then it struck him. "Wait... you don't mean..."
"That's right," Ocelot answered what Miller was afraid to say out loud, "they're developing a new kind of weapon and FOXHOUND is planning to use it."
"What sort of weapon?" He was afraid of the answer.
"A Metal Gear."
Even with his glasses on, Ocelot can see Kaz's eyes widen in shock. "My God..."
"Yes, a new Metal Gear is being developed in Shadow Moses with the cooperation of DARPA."
"And FOXHOUND wants their grubby hands on it," Miller concluded. "What do they want with it?"
Ocelot sipped his drink, the liquid warming him inside. "They want one billion dollars and the body of Big Boss in 24 hours."
The mention of Big Boss caused Kaz to look up. "One billion dollars seems like a drop in the bucket, even if it puts a dent in the Pentagon's annual budget but what the hell would they want with Big Boss's charred husk? Isn't it buried in some unmarked pauper's grave?"
"Well, Big Boss's corpse isn't exactly buried as it was put into deep-freeze. Remember the NGSF? They got a little boost besides their VR training: they received genetic enhancements."
Miller's mouth went slack. He could not believe this! "Genetic enhancements?"
"Yup, genome soldiers." He put his glass down. "The research into Les Enfant Terrible and the Parasites program provided enough data for genetic enhancement, basically through the use of a viral vector to deliver the desired genetic qualities."
"Wait, they're creating super soldiers on par of Big Boss!" he exclaimed.
"Yup, the Pentagon is and with Big Boss's genetic Legos no less."
"But President George Sears based his foreign policy on nuclear disarmament and anti-eugenics. He promised in his campaign never to create an 'atmosphere of abuse on the Human Genome Project' in his speech at Ohio University. How about his speech to Holocaust survivors during the 60th anniversary of VE day declaring no man will cause turmoil with claims of genetic superiority?"
"Do you really think the US government would go with the policies of the great white father Sears?" the Spetsnaz cowboy asked rhetorically. "Or for that matter, would Sears keep his campaign promises?"
Miller understood. "Oh yeah, I forgot. He's a politician and he has a responsibility to keep the public happy, keep the military happy, and keeping the good ol' US of A on top of the food chain." Another bitter, cynical truth that had to be acknowledged.
"Well, he's more than that," Ocelot added for him. "He's the third son."
"What!?" How many of the little devils were there.
"Yes. George Sears goes by the name of Solidus Snake. And he's running the country but not on behest on the American people or the establishment. He's receiving orders from the Patriots."
"The Patriots?" Miller questioned, genuinely surprised. "I though that venture was finished when Big Boss and Zero split. Did he revived it?"
"You're not wrong," Ocelot answered, causing Miller a degree of incredulity. "But Zero never revived anything. Or for that matter, no word of his whereabouts either. But something assumed the mantle of the Patriots. We'll get back to that later. Let's focus on Shadow Moses first."
Ocelot waited for Miller to protest and demand to discuss the Patriots first. He did not. "Okay, Shadow Moses. What's else is going on?"
"FOXHOUND's got a nice line up of specialists, real heavy hitters like the former Cobra Unit and the guys gathered by both Big Bosses."
"There is only one Big Boss," Miller snapped harshly, "and that charlatan ordered Snake to kill him in 1995, the one true Boss. The other has gone to hell."
Ocelot had a rare moment of emotion, however subtle it was to Miller. The former executive officer of Diamond Dogs knew that Ocelot had a strong degree of admiration for the legend. He knew he was displeased with what Miller had said. Had he cracked a chink in the master spy's armor?
Ocelot cleared his throat, breaking up the silence. He chose not to jump Miller on that. "My apologies, Miller. That was hard on you. And I owe him, we owe him, a lot than the world gives him credit for. Heck, even I miss him. As I said, FOXHOUND's membership contained unique individuals with special abilities but you might be interested on Campbell's replacement leading FOXHOUND. His name's Liquid Snake."
"Liquid Snake?" Wait, there's another one? A second snake.
"But you might know him as White Mamba."
"Eli..." he whispered with a chill. "One of the 'sons.'"
"Yup, the kid from the Congo. He's alive with a vengeance."
"But I thought he died in that island on the lake back in '84," Miller protested. "How could he have survived the vocal cord parasites? Was it what inspired the genome soldier research?"
"Not exactly. Someone saved his life. His only companion in that island: Tretij Rebenok."
"The Third Child?" he translated the term. "The psychic whose power was harnessed by the rage of others like Skull Face and the Man on Fire."
"He removed the vocal cord parasites with just a wave of his psychic power and lifted him out of the island before the napalm strike."
"I don't think anybody would survived that but I can believe you on that. How did he after that?"
"Bounced around foster homes, good ones too, getting in trouble with the law. He joined the British Army in '89 and passed selection with flying colors to join the Special Air Service the next year, been with Machinegun Kid since then. His SAS squad participated in the SCUD hunts but it was cover for his insertion as sleeper agent in Iraq. He participated in the 1991 uprisings, when Saddam's secret police caught him and tortured him. He was disavowed but the Americans helped him out of that hole. Being the best at every military and related skill, they put him in charge of FOXHOUND."
"Impressive for his age, just like Solid in the Special Forces."
"So did Tretij Rebenok," he added. "He's part of FOXHOUND too as Psycho Mantis. He actually managed some good before that. Worked with the KGB until the fall of the Union, became a US citizen, worked as a profiler and interrogator of serial killers for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. He did his bit being good citizen until a particular nasty case in 2000 warped his mind. After that he sort of drifted, selling his skills for the highest bidder but he couldn't take it, seeing all the shit in people's minds."
"Probably ran back to Liquid since he's the only one person in the world who can help him cope with his psychic problems," Miller concluded at length.
"In a way, Liquid is the one person he can count on," Ocelot concurred. "Psychologically at least. Mantis, like back in his rather horrid youth, wears a gas mask to help him manage the psychic stream around him. Liquid promised him a means to unleash his psychic fury on the world."
"Jesus, they got possibly the best interrogator and psyops expert in the world. God help whoever goes against them." He was about to pour another when a thought him. "How about we dispense with the alcohol and go dry, or better yet, skip drinks altogether. At my state going to the bathroom to take a piss is lot like a hike up the woods." He also wanted to deny Ocelot any opportunity to poison him.
"Yeah, good idea, I'm fine at the moment," Ocelot agreed. "Also they saved Gray Fox from Zanzibar Land."
"But Gray Fox was supposed to be dead! He died in that minefield. God..." Gray Fox, another casualty in his quest for vengeance, another body laying in a heap, a statistic in the body count they all incurred.
Ocelot shook his head. "He was clinically dead, which is to say his body is beyond any state of restoration. The rest of him that was salvaged was put into a cyborg shell, courtesy of Dr Clarke, FOXHOUND's own in-house genius in genetics and cybernetics, with a little help from DARPA."
"Can't they let the poor guy rest?" Miller was disgusted by this news. "Jaeger's suffered enough. A child soldier from Mozambique, turned into an assassin by the CIA who's stowed him away in some sensory-deprivation tank when not in use. After he was free he pursues a life of war, heavily mutilated by FRELIMO troops, taking care of an orphaned Indian girl - he made orphaned when he killed her parents. We rescued him, set him up for life in Diamond Dogs to support her." He paused in recollection. "Then he meets the love of his in Calgary, Czech figure skater Gustava Heffner, tries to help her apply for asylum, denied by the State Department, a move that destroyed her life and made him harbor hate for politicians and bureaucrats. He once flipped the bird on Schultz during a bodyguard assignment when the State Department was negotiating some executive protection contracts in Africa." That prompted him to chuckle, recalling the look on Schultz's face and how he had to reprimand administratively, making him serve in Mother Base's large kitchen for the remainder of the tour.
The master spy chuckled too. He was there as well.
The chuckling stopped as they resumed his tale. "Then he leaves and joins up with FOXHOUND... Earned the man's eye for talent, highly decorated and earning the unit's highest commendation, the code name of Fox. He was an equal to the man himself and his identity was classified top-secret."
"Yeah, very ghoulish of them," Ocelot agreed darkly. "It's not enough they pressed him hard in life, they want him to fight on for them in death, just a killing machine they can use without a will of its own."
"How the hell did they turn Gray Fox into...," he tried to make out the words but no alternative to the ridiculous and disrespectful term avail, "'cyborg ninja?"
"That Soviet bionics engineer we rescued at Afghanistan?" Ocelot asked.
"Dr. Drago Pettrovich Madnar," answered Kaz. "I remember. He was responsible for Venom's bionic arm and he took over Huey's research when we booted him out. His work on Huey's Battle Gear lead to the TX-55 Metal Gear. He quit midway when he realized what Snake intended to do with it, forcing him to kidnap his daughter Yelena to coerce him into completing it."
"He also design the TX-11 cyberoid units, code-named Bloody Brad. Dr. Clark took his bionic and cyberoid research to create a cybernetic shell to support Gray Fox's broken body. Hell of a way propping up the dead like that."
"Bastards." Kaz looked at a bottle but decided against it. "Gray Fox is alive when he fights but it's because of his hellish youth. Prod him with a stick and you're liable to get bit."
"Let's say Clark prodded Fox a bit too much and got a bite of cold steel in return." It brought grin on Miller's face, a dark one that said serves her right.
"I recall that it was Clark who was behind the Les Enfant Terrible program. Why is a biologist interested in cybernetics?"
"Clark is first and foremost a doctor," Ocelot pointed out. "Healing people is her first calling since '64. I believe it had something to do with reviving Big Boss."
"Give him a shell like Gray Fox, it would also act as his prison," Kaz said with him no affection but shuddered at the implications.
"She also used his genes on American soldiers prior to the First Gulf War, just to see how the idea of 'soldier genes' would work in real-life combat conditions. The war's quick-stomping end deprived its test subjects any real conditions to gauge the reaction but its side effects were pronounced in the popularly-called 'Gulf War Syndrome.'"
Miller looked at Ocelot. "You're telling me the Pentagon used those soldiers as guinea pigs for their 'Franken-genes?' Jesus H. Christ!" He gripped his good hand, the only one, into a fist. "How many people had to suffer over the years for our collective hubris?"
"Until the other side gives up. When they deemed the price too high. But what we're fighting for is not hubris, it's clarity. Bringing down Cipher and making sure power doesn't remain in the hands of one man. That to act as a deterrent soldiers should ban together and be a law unto themselves, to be no longer tethered to the political interests of nation-states. You wanted that too."
Miller glared at him. "No, my vision was armed forces for hire as the coming thing in the world economy. We call the shots on which clients we chose, which contracts we fulfill. War should be in the hands of dedicated professionals, not scared 19-year-old kids with barely three months' training, or a peasant dragged out of his house and given some rusty rifle and told to attack, or a bunch of incompetent thugs whose idea of war is burning some village and taking those people to a mass grave."
"So it offends you that national armies and amateurs fuck up a battle?" Ocelot asked pointedly.
"Yeah..." he breathed. "It does. No grace, no competence, no foresight. My vision would have changed everything. Or so I told myself at the time. The private forces' sector we founded took a pretty crooked course over the years. Executive Outcomes, Sandline International, and Blackwater to name a few are poster boys of mercenaries as dogs of war. Big business for developed nations brought conflict in other parts of the world. Wherever national armies fought the private military contracts are on the heels profiting, rivaling arms dealers in rapacity and millions made. Where they can't fight, the PMCs do the dirty work. We are the very human face of the otherwise clinically-detached military-industrial complex. Eisenhower was right after all."
The next song to play was the Midge Ure cover of David Bowie's The Man Who Sold the World.
Ocelot stroked his chin a while. "Let me ask you something: where would those soldiers be once a war's over? Not all of them can return to civilian life. The hands that felt the rifle as they shoot it, strip it and cleaned will remember that feeling. They also remember the adrenaline rush of combat. The hardship and camaraderie. That's something they can't find in civilian life nor can civilians ever emphasize. And what of their victories or defeats? What did he really achieve? A reduction of the price of gas or a pound of bananas? The stocks of defense contractors climbing a few points? Achieving the objective of someone's foreign policy agenda? The places he go to war to are often even worse off than before. Peace is only a time for politicians to scheme and plan the next war, with little appreciation for their skills or sacrifice. Big Boss's Outer Heaven is the one place where they are valued, welcomed, and needed without being alienated afterwards. A nation for soldiers."
"Lunacy," Miller exclaimed.
"What Cipher proposed for humanity is a greater lunacy: the world kept on an electronic straitjacket for its own perceived good. But since people wouldn't just give up willingly or notice something's amiss in the air, they have to give it up voluntarily. To do that you manufacture a crisis. Anything involving Metal Gears is a good one."
Miller was silent as he contemplated the facts presented so far. "Cipher's really at it." Then he thought of the current Metal Gear threat. "How the hell did Armstech have access to Metal Gear technology?"
"Well, for starters, they had to start from scratch. The destruction of the first Outer Heaven took down all the data related to the TX-55. They had to turn to Granin's design to create Metal Gear D. The Metal Gear threats have inspired the Americans to consider building their own. It would be the third time America has tried their hand in such designs, after RAXA and ICBMG in 1970, and the Peace Walker program in 1974. ArmsTech, the people behind Reagan's Strategic Defense Initiative, next-generation stealth technology, and the rail gun programs, was in dire straits thanks to the Clinton's military cutbacks. With its failure to bid for designing the USAF's next top-of-the-pine fighter, the wolves of Wall Street were keen on buying up its stocks while rivals in the defense industry were eyeing hungrily for its assets. Kenneth Baker approached Donald Anderson-"
"SIGINT?"
"Yeah, that's him. He proposed of creating a Metal Gear. A lot money changed hands to between them to get the black project going, financed by funds freed up from the cancelled Arsenal Ship Project. The Pentagon, though initially outraged by this behind-the-scenes dealing, was let in due to its own downsizing problems. They provided the Shadow Moses facility to house the project its code name REX." Ocelot paused to collect his breath. He was also thinking about this one fact he was about to disclose. "And history repeats itself in more ways than one. The chief project engineer for REX? His name is Hal Emmerich."
Miller's eyes widened behind the glasses. "Hal... Huey's son?"
"Seems he wants to follow his old man's footsteps. He's even taken on the impression we gave him for need-to-know that it was a high-tech defensive countermeasure against ballistic missiles."
"Hal didn't know his dad wanted to stick him inside Sahelanthropus for a test drive?"
"I don't think anybody told, much less his dad. Poor kid had a bad break in the family. Huey committed suicide by drowning in the family pool, tried to drag his sister Emma with him. She survived but was shaken and both she and Hal fell out over it. Hal's a real genius like his dad. He dropped out of school but took advantage of the Internet to become a self-made scholar, enough to earn a PhD from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and a Bachelor's and Master's Degrees from Princeton University. He joined the Engineering Research Facility, though he was under investigation by the FBI. He was expelled after he was caught caught monitoring and hacking their central database. He not only helped revised the old design but also developed a miniature version of the stealth technology developed by ArmsTech, enough for a soldier to use on his person."
"He is something alright. We also developed stealth tech back in Diamond Dogs based on Huey's notes. That Vietnamese guy, Night Fright, used it back in Africa."
"I approved of it. A lot of tech was developed by our boys a long time ago."
"Yeah, a lot of good stuff went down when NATO blew the whole place up: the Wormhole Fulton, the E-Stun Decoy, the Hand of Jehuty, unmanned drones that are actually serviceable, Noctocyanin and Acceleramin. The patients held on them alone can make you a billionaire though that's not what you're after."
"I bet Hal's gonna be rolling in bucks from all the contract money from black project REX though he'll be much like his old man: the whole scientific community will give him a hip-hip hooray when it's out."
"Feeling a bit of deja vu?" Ocelot asked, his face lit by the dim light filtering through the window.
Miller realized what he meant. "Shit... Many time is this gonna replay like a some damned movie franchise from twenty years ago. Snake's been through enough of this shit!"
Ocelot nodded. "Unfortunately, this script's production will go on as scheduled and Solid Snake will be in the starring role no matter what. That's the way it is."
"Don't you people get it !?" Miller roared in anger, suddenly standing up and shakily steadying himself up. His dog got up, confused by his master's outburst. "He's now a fucking wreck and you're pulling him back in? Who the hell are you working for?" Even at his physical state, no one can doubt Miller was ready to pounce on him. Already he was drawing his pistol at Ocelot.
"I work for Liquid now," Ocelot admitted, not flinching from the sight of the gun. "I'm part of FOXHOUND."
"Why?" the hell master demanded, pulling the hammer back.
"Of all the people back in 1984, I'm the one he felt was not hostile. He turned to me for useful advice. My cover was being a former KGB agent and Spetsnaz operative who left Russia dissatisfied with the way my country was going, joining up in '99. I specialize in interrogation."
"I thought that was Rebenok's specialty," commented Miller icily, still standing up.
"Sometime it requires my finesse. Looking into someone's mind without an objective is like looking for gold nuggets on the Klondike."
"Yeah, considering how you got the Viscount to talk twenty-one years ago." He had to concede to that spy bastard's skill. Miller sat back down, withdrawing the pistol back in its holster, putting the safety on. The dog calmed down and lain on its belly on the floor.
"But he won't be alone. To get him back in the game, he needs someone he can trust, besides you of course."
"Roy. You're talking about Roy Campbell?" He knew Roy during his tenure in FOXHOUND, first as executive officer to Big Boss, then finally as its commander. Under him, FOXHOUND acted as a test bed for new military technology such as personal radar, the XM29 OICW, a portable interface with spy satellites that provided the user with real-time overhead intelligence.
"Yes. And because of one thing: his niece Meryl Silverburgh is part of the garrison at Shadow Moses."
Miller knew about little Meryl due to Campbell telling him about how she's doing. "How did she get into the program?"
"She wasn't. She's brought in to fill in the ranks after a few NGSF guys who bought in the harsh conditions. Also he's not actually his niece. She's actually his daughter, much like Sgt. Arthur Wilson in that old sitcom, Dad's Army, only he doesn't know it yet."
"This stinks... too much to be a fucking coincidence." Miller felt sick. This sort of manipulation had become depressingly commonplace: getting someone's cooperation by promising an "accident" to a loved one.
"Yeah, too much. I found out about just a few days ago and only because someone in the DIA got to that first, a Major Richard Ames."
"Someone is setting up a rigged poker game," Miller noted. "Snake's gonna be forced into a black bag job once a again."
"It's the only recourse: some of the people on that island are not meant to come back alive and Snake will have to take some of them out, even without his knowledge."
"I have to warn, Snake." Miller was about to stand up.
"That won't be necessary," Ocelot said, his hand raised urging the former hell-master to stand down.
"Why the hell it isn't?" he snapped. Miller owed Snake a measure of peace away from the outside world, away from the callous cruelty that seemed to govern it. He had saved the world twice at the cost of being through that meat-grinder.
"Because the whole thing is set and it's now in motion."
"Tell me who is behind this, Ocelot." He was about to go for his gun but he decided against. Its appearance alone would put some weight on their discussion. "Cipher? The Patriots?"
"Not Cipher or the Patriots," Ocelot replied. "Solidus."
"And what does Solidus, President Sears, or whatever gain from this?" The question was heavy and cold as the ice outside.
"Freedom." The answer was just as frosty and heavy as the question that elicited it. "Real freedom."
"And by 'freedom" what does that mean?"
"Still remember Dr. Kio Marv?" Ocelot answered a question with a question.
"He's the Czech biologist responsible for OILIX, an alternative to petroleum based on genetically-modified algae. He died in Zanzibar Land. His work never saw the light of day because of OPEC, Big Oil in America, and the powerful coal lobbies worldwide."
"That's partly true though there should have been supporters for OILIX among the scientific community. But we've never heard anything of OILIX since then. Somebody has suppressed knowledge of OILIX. They've done it a thousand times. They're shrouded in secrecy within the American defense community. The Patriots, and Solidus is now chafing in his leash."
"How does Shadow Moses help him achieve 'freedom for all?'" asked Miller pointedly.
"The plan is for me to set things in motion by convincing Liquid between drinks of beer. He was resentful of being robbed of his chance to challenge Big Boss and of his 'birth' and purpose as a clone. He wanted to become something more, more than Big Boss or his brother, Solid. I informed him that he was an inferior clone of Big Boss."
"Inferior? How is that so?"
"I told Liquid that he was created as a dumping ground for Big Boss's inferior genes, guinea pig to observe comparisons. He's not as you can remember back in Africa."
"Yeah, he was one strong, agile, and clever kid," Miller attested, recalling the mayhem Eli. "At twelve years old what he did was pretty impressive - enough to disturb me and Snake. And I still don't like his attitude."
"He doesn't like that name he was given to him, Eli. He feels that being created a soldier, having a name beside a code name is useless. Kinda like Boys from Brazil, of which the entire Les Enfant Terrible program was having preceded. It'snot enough you make a little Hitler. You have to mimic the circumstances on which he grew up in to have your new Fuhrer."
"Jesus, what have you bastards made of them? Damn it, Eli."
"He also planned most of the operation by himself though I had to be there to keep it grounded. Seize control of the entire sight, hold Baker and Sigint hostage, threaten a nuclear strike on the White House unless the billion dollars and Big Boss's remains are delivered to them. It's a crock. Washington is not going to fulfill those demands with the deadline and Liquid knew it. Instead, the purpose was to create international turmoil. The operation is to coincide with the beginning of the START III accords. A successful test run of REX's capabilities will expose to the world America's dirty secret. Russia will walk out of the accords, stung by American duplicity and international confidence on Washington's commitment to stopping nuclear proliferation takes a downward spiral and the inevitable shitstorm when the Genome soldiers are exposed is gonna take hurricane levels. In addition, a Russian Spetsnaz colonel is taking an interest in these developments. A friend of mine, Sergei Gurlukovich, has loaned Liquid a couple of Hind-D gunships. He wants REX. We're supposed to sell it to him after he sees a successful test launch."
"That's crazy. You're just gonna sell away your only leverage against a counterstrike by Washington?"
"That's the point of him creating chaos, create a chockful of shit and smoke they can disappear into. With REX in Russia - who wouldn't their hands on it? - Russia and America would at each other's throats once again while Liquid, FOXHOUND, and a thousand Genome soldiers run amok throughout the world."
"That's a recipe for disaster."
"It is but Liquid hoped to at least fulfill the demand for Big Boss's remains. The Genome soldiers? They're dying slowly."
"What!?"
"Liquid needs Big Boss's body in order to study his genes, find a way to reverse this malaise that's killing them inside at a steady pace. He believes the theorized Soldier Genes can salvage their situation. He's also spoiling for a fight with Solid. If he can't have his showdown with Big Boss, he'll have to settle for the next best thing, going after the man who stopped Metal Gears twice. And settled is an understatement: he's looking forward to it. I told him Solid possesses all the superior genes."
"You did what? You sonuvabitch-!"
"But in reality, Solid has all the scraps and leftovers - inferior genome coding. I actually felt proud of what he did in spite of those handicaps. Nothing is genetically preordained after all."
"And he's walking into another trap. Damn you, damn the president and damn the Patriots!"
"What are you gonna do, Miller!? Are you gonna try to shout the whole thing to the world? I don't think anyone's gonna hear this far out in your neck of the woods. Even if you do, would they believe you-"
"I'll do what I should have done an hour ago!" Miller growled angrily, rising up again and pulled out the gun.
Ocelot dove sideways like a ballet dancer, dodging the two shots fired. Miller turned around. Ocelot rolled to the floor, jumped back up and pounced on Miller, backhanding him, grabbing the gun, unloading it and removing the slide. Miller retaliated it by whacking the butt of his crutch against his stomach in one savage thrust. They both fell on the floor, Ocelot out of breath and Miller panting hard. The husky growled at Ocelot, angry for attacking Miller. Miller whistled it to calm down.
"Jesus... I'm getting too old for this shit," Miller muttered.
"You and me both, Miller..." Ocelot agreed. "You and me both..."
"You're still fit for an old man," the hell master noted.
"And not bad for a retired drill master," Ocelot conceded. "You're pretty good. At least I know where Snake got his skills from."
Miller put his hand on his face. "Jesus. What have we done?"
"If we wanna continue this conversation, I suggest keep on the alcohol," Ocelot suggested.
Miller nodded. "You're right. And I'm still serving it, agreed?"
"Agreed?" They picked themselves up. Ocelot tried to help Miller but he declined and got on his own with his crutch. Ocelot was about to ask about picking up the .45 but Miller said to let it go for the moment. They got back on their seats.
After the drinks were served they went back to business. Miller opened by noting about what just happened. "I've got two hole on my wall now. Fortunately, the .45 ACP has lousy penetration on thick logs so I don't have to worry about snow getting in but it won't do any good when someone comes over to visit." He took a gulp.
"Sorry about the wall. Just move some furniture in front of it. It'll be fine." Ocelot downed his drink
"Two holes in the wall is not something to lose sleep over. How the hell is Washington gonna dress up the upcoming mess?"
"You mean the Patriots," Ocelot corrected. "Solidus would like things messy if he wants to break free from his masters."
"Who are they?" Even now his stomach coiled, fearing where his question will take him.
A/N: If you noticed the name I gave to ArmsTech's dummy corp, it's a reference to the 1985 British TV series, Edge of Darkness. If Metal Gear Solid criticizes the proliferation of nuclear weapons, Edge of Darkness is a critique of the nuclear industry, especially in its aura of secrecy and lack of accountability. Like the games they were strongly influence by the politics during the time of its making, in this case, Thatcherite Britain, and combined real-world concerns with mythic and mystical elements like the GAIA hypothesis. And like Metal Gear, it has elements of a techno-thriller. It even has a character that shares a first name with Otacon's step-sister: Emma Craven. Today, both are highly-regarded by critics and are influential in their respective mediums. Because of their nuclear concerns, Metal Gear and Edge of Darkness are most certainly a match made in heaven.
I put two and two together with the Soviet bionics engineer and Drago Pettrovich Madnar because to me, the former looked like a much younger version of the scientist featured in the first game. Such a man like him can easily take over Huey's research and expand upon it. In the game, his daughter was named Ellen but I went for one of its derivations in Russian, Yelena as it would fit much better.
I dropped a minor reference to the movie Wolf of Wall Street by Martin Scorsese, starring Leonardo DiCaprio, set during the stock-market craze that was all the rage during the 80s. This harkens back to another movie from that era tackling the same subject matter, Wall Street by Oliver Stone and starring Michael Douglas and father-and-son team Martin and Charlie Sheen. Ocelot made a throwaway reference to that iconic movie that criticized the cavalier and cutthroat of investment marketing and materialistic ethos of the 80s, yet Gekko (Douglas) declaration of "greed is good" inspired many young stockbrokers to adopt his cavalier, all-or-nothing approach to business. Our favorite cowboy master-spy said that "the greed sector have found their new life's work" after stopping Sahelanthropus.
In Dad's Army, Sgt. Arthur Wilson is the uncle to one of soldiers in the platoon, Private Pike, when in reality he's the actual father, borne of an affair with Mrs. Pike, just like how Meryl was actually Campbell's daughter.
Thanks for reading and don't forget to drop a review. Will continue.