The farther down they went, the more guards they ran into. It was becoming annoying but understandable to Osprey. A base this large would need hundreds to fully guard it. Still, it was becoming a hazard as they moved forward. Bullets continued to fly at both sides, with rounds hitting the fire escape's rails and supports. And he could feel it shudder slightly every time it happened. It wasn't enough to cause a violent shake or have the thing start falling apart but the damn thing seemed like it could break at any moment.

With the endless void below them, Osprey could only pray it didn't happen. But on they went, occasionally ducking behind the slim cover the railings provided. The gunfire below them only drew closer as they moved. After reaching what had to be the seventh floor, Osprey had the squad stop for a moment. Looking around he didn't see any guards moving above them. However, he began to fear they may start flooding in at any moment.

"Dolphin, Roach, you two stay up here and keep the area secure," he ordered calmly.

"Got it," Dolphin replied, the soldier's eyes now watching over a nearby walkway.

"Tucan, you're with me."

Tucan calmly nodded in response, and the two quickly began moving down the stairs again. As they did so, gunfire echoed from the stairs above them. Seconds later a grenade went off and the gunfire ended. They kept moving forward, with Osprey being confident in the soldiers' capabilities. Below them, the gunfire seemed to slow down, with flashlights now becoming present in the dark.

While they walked, Osprey activated his codec. Command said they couldn't contact the Boss, but he wanted to make sure. Switching over to the correct channel, he tried to call.

"Boss, can you hear me?" he asked, receiving no response.

"Boss, this is Major Striker Osprey. Me and a squad of friendlies are above you. Please respond."

Still nothing. With a quiet grumble, he focused back on the path below. The flashlights below continued to get closer, and Osprey didn't want a friendly fire incident to occur. And in this darkness with the guards appearing from every corner, it was becoming more likely. What he needed was something to distinguish they were friendly, as the skull patch on his arm was barely visible and while he wasn't dressed as a clown, an adrenaline rush tended to ignore that fact.

He thought his Idroid might help, it did have a recognizable sound and most of the MSF had one. Yet that wouldn't be noticed until they were right next to each other. It was here he remembered something; they'd brought flares. Osprey turned over to Tucan, quickly having the soldier stop.

"Flare," he ordered, with Tucan complying quietly. He grabbed a flare from his bag and lit it. The flare glowed a bright red, illuminating the dark tunnel. The red hue displayed the rusted walls of the room. It brought the attention of the group below, with a flashlight being pointed up at them. Periodically it was turned off and on, giving out a code. He replied with his flashlight, quickly signaling that they were friendly.

With that dealt with, they descended further. Their flashlights continually sent back more signals the closer they got until finally, the two groups met. There was no epic fanfare, or loud cheers as Snake looked over at Osprey and Tucan. Only the still calm questions, as they came to a brief stop.

"Major," Snake greeted quietly, with Osprey soon noticing the trail of kids behind him.

"Boss," Osprey replied, the soldier carefully counting the kids present.

"I assume the chaos I've been hearing is your doing?" Snake inquired as they began moving up the stairs.

"It is sir." Osprey answered, "Commander Miller ordered us to paradrop in a few hours ago."

"Good, 'cause I've got a hundred-something kids here, and very little time," Snake told him, as another explosion shook the area around them.

"Orders then?" Osprey asked.

"We're heading top side to get them out of here. That's all that matters." Snake replied to Osprey's confusion.

"What about the enemy sir?"

"At the moment their leader is most likely hiding away somewhere in this labyrinth of a bunker." Snake explained, "And at best, we have a company of men with us, right?"

"Yes sir."

"Then we're going to be here for a few days searching. And the longer we stay the easier it becomes for the authorities to notice our presence." Snake continued with Osprey connecting the dots. It made sense, they were technically here illegally. By all logic, if the local authorities were to learn of their actions, then the hammer was going to come down hard.

"Once they make it top side, I want the men moving for Kazakhstan," Snake continued, "This blizzard isn't going to clear any time soon, so heading south is our best bet out of the country. If I had to guess, I'd say it's a three-day trip."

"Three days huh? Not sure if we brought enough equipment for this." Osprey muttered. Sure, they brought enough food and fuel for transport, but not nearly enough bullets. That's just the way it is though, so he kept walking forward. Behind him, Nagant ensured the rear was secure, as Tucan quickly moved to join her.

Oddly enough the ascent back up the stairs had been calm. When they reunited with Roach and Dolphin, no one had spotted any guards. There was no new gunfire, no doors opening, no noise except for the creaking fire escape. It was worrying. They were nearing the ladder back outside now, Roach and Dolphin taking point. The troops above had swarmed the area while Osprey was gone, and as such the surrounding location was effectively locked down.

Slowly they began helping the kids out of the bunker one by one. Continually they kept watch of the shadows, looking for any hint of movement. But there was nothing. Osprey looked over at Snake quietly, and his superior shared his suspicion. Once all the kids were out, all that was left was for him and his squad to climb out. Roach went first, quickly followed by Dolphin. Then Tucan left the entrance, with Nagant joining him once someone called for a sniper.

Then it was his turn. Quietly he walked over and began to climb the ladder, only slowing once he heard something behind him. Snake soon noticed as well, as both men looked out behind them. Something charged out of the dark, ramming into Snake, with both falling down the flight of stairs to the panic of Osprey.

Snake could feel the air rushing by his face, as he fell down the stairs he had just climbed. Every few seconds he would hit something as his body rag dolled against the fire escape. Every time it would slow his descent, not allowing the fall to kill him but hurting like hell. He finally came to a stop when he managed to grab one of the fire escape's railings. Breathing became painful, as he could feel every broken rib between breaths.

Something else was breathing next to him, and he noticed it quickly. Off to the side, he spotted the Showmaster lying against the stairs awkwardly. His neck was bent at a wrong angle, as were his arms and legs. In his hands was a long cane decorated with a gold top and pink diamond tip. It glistened even in the current darkness. Painfully, Snake began to pull himself up, managing to clamber onto the stairs. At the same time, the Showmaster slowly started to stand up.

His limbs popped back into place as he did so, as did his arms. Carefully he placed his cane in between his right arm and his chest, as his hands moved to his head. In one swift motion, he snapped his neck, readjusting his broken bones into their usual location.

"You just had to ruin everything, didn't you." the Showmaster began as the man turned to face Snake. Somehow his top hat remained on his head even after the fall, yet it barely covered the small hole in his head.

"Granted I should have expected someone of your reputation to do so. But you just couldn't play along."

"You can't seem to get it through your thick skull. This isn't a game." Snake stated angrily, his hand moving for his rifle. He cringed when he felt nothing but air beside him, realizing he lost it in the fall.

"Wrong! So incredibly wrong! What more is life, than a long game!?" the Showmaster countered, "A game to give yourself a goal, an opportunity to win! This right now, you win if you can kill me and rescue those kiddies, that is a game!"

The Showmaster spun around his cane, slowly walking over to Snake.

"You know, my first memory in life, was waking up in a dirty alley in Moscow." the Showmaster stated, the man scrapping his cane against the fire escape's railing. Its sharpened diamond created sparks as he went.

"No recollection of anything. No family, no friends, no name. The only possessions I had were this bright white suit, top hat, and cane."

The Showmaster continued to get closer, as Snake stood tall. His fists were raised waiting for the man to make a move.

"I had nothing of value. Not even a life to claim as mine, for I had an identity that didn't exist. With no knowledge as to anything I got up and walked out of that alleyway, not going anywhere. It didn't matter where, after all, I was nothing. I had no name, no identity."

He stopped walking then, standing across from Snake as the two stared each other down.

"The entire time my mind plagued me with one thought, who am I? Eventually, I found a large electronics store, displaying hundreds of TVs. Now I don't remember the name of the show that was playing, but I remember its premise. It was an extreme reality gameshow, marketing itself as the world's greatest."

He lifted his cane then, examining Snake through the pink diamond tip. Spinning it carefully, Snake could only wonder what the man was doing, why he hadn't attacked yet. He stood ready though, prepared to counter if needed.

"And you know, I was so bored. My only thoughts were of how I could do so much better. Then it struck me. I had no recollection of who I was. So, best to start fresh! In this big game of life, I would be the Showmaster, the creator of the greatest show the world has ever seen! AND I'LL BE DAMNED IF I LET YOU TAKE IT AWAY FROM ME !" the Showmaster shouted his eyes gaining a crazed glare. With impossible speed, he charged Snake, his cane thrust out like a spear.

Snake barely caught it, its tip pressing into his chest slightly. Despite the Showmaster's frail look, he was surprisingly strong, with the cane slowly inching forward. Quickly Snake swept the Showmaster's legs and threw the man over his shoulder. The Showmaster landed on the ground behind them, rolling briefly before he collided with the railing. In seconds he stood back up and charged Snake again.

Snake was ready this time, dodging left as the Showmaster thrust his cane forward. Snake then countered, throwing a punch at the man's skull. It struck the Showmaster easily, stunning him momentarily. At the same time, Snake threw a kick at his chest, only for the Showmaster to recover. He blocked the kick with his cane, now using it as a staff. Launching it forward he struck Snake in the head. He moved to do it again, only for Snake to block with his arm.

Quickly Snake grabbed the cane before the Showmaster could attack again. In seconds he pulled it and the Showmaster up close, and quickly grabbed the man's head. Before the Showmaster could react, Snake slammed his head onto the nearby railing. He did it again and again, before the Showmaster broke free from his grasp. Now free he thrust the head of his can up, upper cutting Snake in the jaw.

Effectively stunned the Showmaster then shoved the cane's tip forward. Snake barely dodged, side-stepping as the tip cut through his sneaking suit and flesh. Feeling blood begin to drip Snake blocked another strike from the Showmaster's cane, and then side-stepping around him. Now behind the Showmaster, Snake wrapped his arms around his neck. The Showmaster struggled as Snake did so, attempting to use his cane to free himself.

But Snake ignored it, attempting to choke the man out. Yet nothing happened. A solid minute passed as Snake choked him out. Then a second, and a third. Seeing it wasn't going to work, Snake went for the other option and snapped the Showmaster's neck. He suspected it wouldn't work, but with how this was going he would try anything. And he was right. The Showmaster continued to struggle, finally breaking free of Snake's grasp by stabbing himself through the neck.

The diamond tip of his cane ripped through his neck, while Snake narrowly missed his arms being impaled. They were sliced up horribly though, cutting down through muscle with the tops of his upper arms now bleeding heavily. They became hard to move, as he quickly backed away from the Showmaster. The man removed his cane from his neck, a now very present hole resting in its place. Only a few shreds of bone and flesh remained to hold up his head.

"You don't learn, do you?" the Showmaster taunted, somehow speaking with his torn-up neck, "Face it Big Boss! You can't fucking kill me!"

The Showmaster charged again, with Snake switching up tactics. He dodged, sidestepping the Showmaster again. Instead of grabbing him again, he shoved the man close to the ledge. He stumbled into it quickly turning back only for Snake to punch him in the face. The Showmaster fell over the ledge then, almost plummeting into the abyss, were it not for his cane. The cane's head popped open, with a small hook arriving at the top.

It latched onto the railing stopping his fall on the floor below Snake. With an annoying grace, he swung back onto the fire escape and walked over to the stairs. Slowly he walked back up, with Snake glaring at him all the while. No matter what he tried, the Showmaster had a counter. There was no winning this fight, not unless… Snake paused for a second, going over the insanity of his plan.

It was ludicrously stupid, but nothing else seemed to work. The Showmaster reached the floor Snake was on then, and in a desperate move, Snake charged him. He rammed into him, causing both himself and the Showmaster to fall off the fire escape. In the air he wrestled the Showmaster for control of the cane, managing to wrench it from the psychopath's hands. With it, his Snake held it out desperately, as the hook caught onto the railing.

The Showmaster tried to grab Snake, but his hands missed, only tearing away at the fabric of Snake's sneaking suit. He plummeted down into the void below, a desperate fury present on his face. The only noise heard was the Showmaster's furious yell before the room went silent. Snake only watched, taking a few solid moments to regain his breath. The same footsteps echoed around him as Snake looked over the rail. Osprey, out of breath, ran down the final flight of stairs reaching Snake's location.

"About time," Snake muttered, carefully trying to pull himself up.

"S-sorry Boss, j-just holy fuck there's a lot of stairs," Osprey replied, before quickly helping pull Snake up.

"Yeah well, the descent was the easy part," Snake commented, as the two slowly began moving up the stairs.

"I told you, it's not that bad- damn it!" Snake cursed as a medic tended to his torn-up arms. Against his will, his men had forced him to ride in one of the LATVs as they marched out to the Kazakhstan border. Once Osprey had reached Snake, the two had a very long climb up to the top. When they made it, they had one goal. Get the hell out of dodge. Every soldier booked it as soon as all the kids were loaded up.

Most were in the LATVs, like the pair of kids sitting next to Snake watching as the medic tended to him. However, they didn't have enough room for all of them, so some were wrapped up in whatever coats they could find and were carried by the soldiers.

"The more you struggle Boss the worse it gets," the medic commented as he did his best to stitch him up, "So stay fucking still or I'll stab you myself."

Snake reluctantly relented, instead focusing on the LATV's radio. At the moment nothing was going on. Only the occasional reports from recon drones, or the soldiers acting as rear guard. The Showmaster's men hadn't pursued them when they began to leave, but to be fair no one could understand why. The normal guards did it out of logic, as they were A. not paid enough to chase them down, and B. not in the mood to be blown apart like their compatriots.

However, as Snake now learned, the undead guards simply stood in place. They stood there, following the last order they had been given. To defend the base's entrances. Wordlessly Snake concluded those abominations could not be allowed to exist. Calmly Snake turned on his codec to call Miller. After a few seconds, the other end picked up.

"Snake, glad to see you made it out," Miller commented, with Nezu piping up after him.

"I assume the Showmaster has been dealt with?" he asked.

"I don't know," Snake replied, "I shot him in the head, snapped his neck, and he stabbed himself in the neck, yet he didn't die. Ended up shoving him into a deep pit, and I'm not sure if it killed him or not."

"Hmm, that is alarming," Nezu noted aloud.

"That's not even the half of it," Snake continued, "Nagant managed to find a lot of information on that base, and whoever was running it was trying to manipulate people's DNA to give them a second quirk."

The moment the words left Snake's mouth, Nezu went quiet. It was surprising, normally the rat would have been inquisitorial asking questions about what they had found. Instead, he sounded more worried.

"They were trying to give quirks?"

"That's what Nagant found. Even stranger she found audio logs documenting the experiments in Japanese, not Russian."

"And how long ago was this?"

"Best guess was around a century ago, and the project's test subjects have been there ever since."

"No one can learn of this." Nezu stated, "If the HPSC or any number of villain groups learn of this, then we could be facing an arms race in biological weapons. Regardless of if the tests are successful."

"Agreed," Snake began, "Kaz, the moment this blizzard clears I want an airstrike on the compound. None of it can be allowed to exist."

"I'll get right on it," Miller replied. At that moment the medic had finally finished bandaging him up. His arms still felt like shit, but they were usable. Snake had the driver stop then and hopped out. There he let another couple of kids take his spot in the LATV and began walking alongside it. The snowstorm around them still raged around them, with the winds making it hard to see. But they were moving forward, and that was all that mattered.

The Polish President paced around his office anxiously. He had spent hours going over paperwork to keep himself distracted, but he had completed everything. Now he was left with nothing but his thoughts. Memories still plagued him of his call with the MSF's second in command. How could this have happened? All that work, all that money to get his daughter back, only to discover his administration was colluding against him!

The very people he'd been working with for years, trusted colleagues and friends! And he didn't know who was with him, or against him. That didn't matter to him though. For all he knew his precious child could be dead. Every part of him begged for it not to be the case. Then, his phone began to ring. He didn't move. Part of him wanted to answer immediately, to hear that his daughter was ok. But, at the same time, it could be about her death. Reluctantly he answered.

"President Nowak?" the other end asked.

"Yes?" the President replied nervously, worried about what he would hear.

"This is Commander Miller of the MSF, we've got your daughter."

"Where!? Is she alright!?"

"She's alive but wounded. A couple of medics are treating her for third-degree burns on her legs, but she'll be fine. At the moment though she's being escorted out to the Kazakhstan border, where we should be able to extract her and the other kids out of the country."

"Where?" the President all but demanded. He was this close to seeing her again, to having his little girl safe. Warily Miller gave him the rendezvous coordinates before the call came to an end. Quickly the President stormed out of his office, finding his aide.

"Bazyli, get a helicopter ready! And call up the Hussars, I want them here in an hour!"

He couldn't be more grateful for the MSF's help, but at the same time, he didn't have a shred of patience left.

Soul stared at the tank ahead of him, with an unknown feeling in his chest. With the rise of drones and subsequently drone warfare, a lot of modern tanks have become very vulnerable. Now the MSF had been lucky so far, as none of the combatants they faced yet had a heavy reliance on drones. However, that wasn't to say this would always be the case. So, the MSF had two options, develop an upgrade package for their existing Abrams, or build a new tank from scratch.

They went with the first option as it was far cheaper and much easier. Now the upgrade package had yet to become fully adopted as it was still in development. It added reinforced armor to the top of the tank's turret, while also giving its pintle-mounted 7.62 machine gun a small radar system to detect and shoot down drones. The radar couldn't detect anything far away but could detect close threats. There were also other upgrades such as smaller armor improvements, engine adjustments, changes in optics, and adjustments in crew comfort.

Overall, they were small practical changes that made sense. So, Soul could only wonder what the fuck the other engineers had been smoking, when they put a railgun on an Abrams. Now, this railgun didn't have the usual separated two-prong look like the one on ZEKE or the handheld prototype. It was instead a very boxy rectangular shape, with curved angles on the corners, which seemed impractical.

It was a waste of time to shave off the barrel's corners, but he digressed. Inside the barrel, nothing much had changed. It was still a smoothbore 120mm cannon, with the interior luckily an empty cylinder and not a square. Why would Soul be thinking luckily? Because the treats had been swapped out for square tires. Honestly, what were they smoking? Now the barrel was designed with magnets on the top and bottom of the barrel, hence its boxy shape.

The Abram's engine had been swapped with an electric diesel one, and the entire tank had been painted a bright pink. It was ludicrously stupid. Yet there was a part of Soul's brain that said, I want one. He didn't say this though as he turned to look at the engineers responsible for the catastrophe in front of him.

"So, you mind explaining what happened?" Soul asked, to which the young engineers looked away embarrassed. They were brand new to the MSF, only having joined recently at ages nineteen and twenty.

"Well, uh, we may have had a small game night, and a few drinks may or may not have gotten involved." one engineer began.

"Do tell." Soul commented dryly.

"And uh, we kinda sorta started thinking up some shit." the first engineer finished.

"Should I be worried about the other shit you've been thinking up?" Soul asked.

"...no?"

"That sounded more like a question than an answer."

"...A soft serve yogurt machine with a built-in fifty cal." the second engineer relented, to the embarrassment of his friend.

"For crying out loud," Soul muttered as he brought his hand to his face. He turned away looking back at the abomination of a tank.

"Welp, start it up," he stated, before walking out to get the firing range ready.

"W-what?" the first engineer asked surprised.

"Start it up. You built the thing, may as well see it through." Soul replied, watching as the R&D platform's cranes moved several concrete blocks into place.

"I thought we were going to be reprimanded." the second engineer muttered.

"Trust me, you are." Soul told him, "However there are some things on this tank that could prove useful."

And he wasn't lying. While the railgun seemed impractical and something out of a sci-fi novel, it could be useful. It would be able to launch much weaker shells with the same amount of power as a regular one. It would dramatically increase ammo capacity and open up possibilities for better ammunition types. That said, they would need to test it first. The two engineers started up the tank though and set up a firing cord for the man gun. In little time the group stood behind a large ballistic shield, as the first engineer handed Soul the cord.

With everything in place, and the gun charged up, Soul pulled the chord. And subsequently watched as the shell punched through every concrete barrier before punching through the base's wall. It then kept flying for a moment, before falling into the ocean below.

"Well, next time we lower the power output," Soul noted.

"We may need to fix the barrel first," the second engineer muttered. Soul turned looking over at the tank's barrel, only to find a molten mess dripping down onto the tank's chassis.

"You know, this is the same problem we're having with the M1 handheld railgun." Soul commented, "If it's not the power it's the heat."