OPERATION INTRUDE N313
DAY FIVE – MIDNIGHT
SUPPLY STORAGE FACILITY ROOF
Snake shifted his backpack on his shoulders, along with the parachute pack hanging alongside it. He knew the R&D facility could easily be reached in four or five hours on foot, but that was assuming both perfect visibility and a lack of supplies on his part as well as a lack of opposition on Outer Heaven's, and he wanted to be prepared. Thankfully, with the Resistance seemingly having captured the entire logistics apparatus of Outer Heaven's headquarters, there was no shortage of supplies. Snake assumed that the trek to the other side of the fortress could take a minimum of a day, possibly even two days depending on the level of opposition, and thus he packed accordingly.
Along with the uniform, boots, Kevlar vest, and backpack, Snake was carrying his loaded Beretta sidearm and one of the experimental Outer Heaven assault rifle carbines (without the grenade launcher attachment, so as to save on weight). Crammed in his backpack were two spare magazines for each weapon, his radio and headphones, two MREs, a full canteen of water, three frag grenades, two smoke grenades, an AN/PVS-7 night vision device, a brick of C4 and two M19 anti-tank mines (with detonators for each), a map and compass, a pack of cigarettes, his FOXHOUND lighter, and a collapsible mine detector.
The T-10C parachute that Snake was using had a maximum weight allowance of 360 lbs. Snake himself weighed about 170 when he started the mission (he assumed some small weight loss during the few days he spent imprisoned), and he carefully weighed each of his items so that he wouldn't exceed the limit—with his supplies, he weighed a combined total of about 353 lbs., give or take a few, just barely coming under the limit.
So much of his gear was identical to hardware he'd seen in the Gulf War; Outer Heaven must have suppliers within the US military or its allies giving them weapons. Snake made a mental note to mention this to Big Boss when next he reported over the radio. The brass needed to hear about this and launch an investigation. The fact that Outer Heaven had access to western weaponry was a problem. He remembered when America pulled out of the Persian Gulf after Bush announced the cease-fire. So much equipment was left behind, along with the old Soviet equipment that Saddam's forces were already using. Wouldn't be surprised if that came back to haunt us later, he thought to himself. Snake was determined not to let the same thing happen here.
Fox put a hand on Snake's shoulder. "You ready for this, Snake? All loaded up?"
Snake approached the edge of the building and looked down below, thinking about how much closer the ground looked now that he had his parachute on.
The typical height of a three-story building is about 32 feet. Due to the high ceilings of the three floors, the Supply Storage Facility's main building reached closer to about forty-five, maybe even fifty. Publicly, nobody really knows what the minimum safe height is to open a military parachute below terminal velocity, but the lowest recommended height is approximately 400 feet. The lowest recorded height of a base jump was 95 feet, and that was without the jumper having all the shit that Snake was carrying.
Snake didn't know any of this—however, he still had the feeling that he was back in sixth grade, dropping eggs from ladders in science class. So many of those eggs busted open to splat on the ground. Snake gulped as he turned to Fox with a smirk, gripping his shoulder straps hard so his hands wouldn't tremble.
"Good to go," Snake said, hoping he sounded surer of himself than he felt.
If Gray Fox could see through the rookie FOXHOUNDer's bravado, he didn't show it. Instead, he just nodded and motioned to Kyle, who stood nearby. Kyle approached and handed Snake a photograph of a pretty red-haired woman with green eyes. Snake flipped the photo over and saw the name "Jennifer Nkosi" written in Kyle's sloppy handwriting.
"To help you identify her," Kyle explained. "She's Afrikaner but she does speak both Afrikaans and English. Outer Heaven knows this, so you can converse in whatever language you wish without worry of intelligence leaks."
Snake nodded and put the photo in his pocket. "Thanks," he said.
Snake extended his arm and shook both men's hands. "Good luck, Snake," Kyle said.
"Go get 'em, rookie," Fox smirked; his first genuine smile to Snake.
"Thanks, you two." Snake walked a good thirty paces away from the roof's edge. He took in and exhaled a long breath as he wrung out his hands to try and dissipate his nervousness. With a burst of speed, he sprinted forth and sprang up from the edge, screwing his eyes shut as he yanked on the parachute cord during the instant between when his momentum stopped in the air and gravity took over.
Miraculously, the parachute opened completely after he left the roof, but it was still a very short fall. The darkness was all-consuming, which made it hard to prepare for when the ground came speeding up to meet him, though he was already tensed up to brace himself. As soon as his boots struck the earth, he crumpled and threw his torso forward. He hoped as he started to roll that he could cushion his fall by adding some momentum to his forward motion rather than using his feet to brake for a sudden stop.
His legs still hurt like hell (hell, everything hurt), but when he finally tumbled to a complete stop, Snake was relieved to find that nothing was broken. He did probably add plenty of new bruises and abrasions to his body though, he noted sardonically as he climbed to his feet with a wince and drew his knife to cut the chute free from his body so he wouldn't get tangled in it, before dropping the pack it came from.
Snake quickly dropped his backpack and checked his supplies. Thankfully, nothing was broken there either; even the NODs were still intact. Snake breathed a quiet sigh of relief as he pulled the night vision device onto his head and pulled it over his eyes, pressing the button to check its function.
The world lit up in a fuzzy green filter, with the horizon fizzling out into a matte dark green/black at a little over 300 meters. He turned 180 degrees to face the building he'd just left, about 30 meters away. Snake pulled out his compass and map and looked at the spot he'd circled indicating the training area about nine- or ten-kilometers due east. He put the map back into his pack and looked down at his compass to get his bearings and point himself roughly in the general direction of the training area before pocketing his compass and picking up his rifle.
"Well," he breathed in and said with an exhale, "Here we go."
Snake started making the trek eastward into the darkness. Every now and then he'd double-check his compass to make sure he was still going in the right general direction—unfortunately, the land was so featureless in terms of landmarks both in his NVDs and in the natural darkness that occasionally he'd discover that the uneven terrain had caused him to take a wrong turn and he'd have to double back, following his footprints in the sand until he was back on the path again.
After about an hour of blind fumbling in the dark, Snake stopped to take a short break and tuned his radio to Diane's frequency.
"Come in, Diane. Do you read me?"
A man's voice answered on the other line. "Hello? Don't you know what time it is? Who is this?"
Snake dodged the question. "I'm trying to reach Diane. I was told this was her radio signal. Is that correct?"
"Yeah, yeah, this is Diane's radio. She's in the shower right now. Now tell me, who is this? What do you want with Diane?"
"I'm…a friend of a friend," Snake answered. "Look, when Diane gets back, can you please ask her to call me back on this radio frequency? Thanks."
Snake sat down on a rock. He pulled out an MRE and cut it open, poured some water on the magnesium heater card and reinserted it into the food box. Once the chemical reaction activated, he opened the bag and pulled out a plastic spork to start eating his meal. He popped a ravioli into his mouth and chewed. As far as military rations go, it wasn't bad; one of the better meals.
While he was scarfing down his meal, his radio crackled, a woman's voice gradually revealing itself. "Hello? Hello? This is Diane. I'm trying to reach the man who contacted me. Do you read?" The voice was full, smooth, and vibrant. Definitely the voice of a singer.
Snake put his spork back into the MRE bag and wiped the sauce from his lips and fingers before twisting the dial on his headset volume control to adjust the gain. "Hello, Diane," he said. "Call me Snake. A mutual friend of ours said that you might be able to help me."
"Snake? Never heard of you. Are you with the Resistance?"
"Not exactly," Snake answered. "I'm with a third party trying to get into Outer Heaven. I did some favors for the rebels, so they're helping me out in return." Snake took another bite, asking, "Who was that guy who answered the radio earlier? Another Resistance ally?"
"No. Yes. Kind of. His name's Steve—my brother. He knows about me helping the rebels, but that's about it. I'm staying at his place right now, in between trips to the base for live shows."
Snake couldn't help but laugh. "They've got you doing shows out here? I thought Outer Heaven hated your band for being too subversive."
"They hated Thin Wall," Diane clarified. "I've played with other groups in South Africa before, and it's left me with some fans. Some of those fans work for Outer Heaven. It opens a lot of doors the average civilian could never hope to get through, especially now that I'm no longer part of Thin Wall's lineup. But what about you? If you're not with the Resistance, then why are you here? Your accent sounds American. Are you CIA?"
"No," Snake shook his head. "Though the alphabet agencies do have an interest, I don't work for them. Honestly, the less you know about who I am and who I work for, the better. All you need to know is that we're on the same side."
"Really? And what makes you say that, Mr. Snake?"
"Because we both want the same thing: Outer Heaven taken out of the picture."
There was a moment of silence. "Alright," Diane relented. "So, what do you need from me?"
"Our mutual friend is on base as we speak. We worked together to capture a supply depot, and they're setting up shop while I head to R&D."
"Those explosions were you? No one's ever made it into the fortress from outside before besides a handful of spies; and last I had heard, most of them got caught."
"Yeah. Our friend tells me you spend a lot of time near the personnel facility. Do your eyes and ears ever sense anything useful about their troop movements, or maybe overhear some plans for future fighting?"
"Yes. When you took over the western supply facility and vehicle depot, you decimated Outer Heaven's armored division. Aside from a handful of rotary aircraft, they only have one mechanized unit left onsite. I heard they're planning on sending them later this morning just before dawn for a counterattack."
"Did they say when, exactly?"
"It won't be for another few hours. But you won't be able to get here in time to stop them from leaving."
"I wasn't planning to. Figured I'd meet them halfway at the kill houses."
"You're planning on taking on three armored vehicles and armored infantry by yourself?"
"Not exactly. More of a hit-and-run sabotage kind of thing. Cripple them so they'll be easier for our friend to take down. But that's not important right now. Tell me, about how many Outer Heaven employees are onsite, if you had to guess?"
Snake took the last few bites of his MRE and stood up to shoulder his weapon and once more moved eastward, marching as he talked.
"It's hard to tell; I haven't been to every facility. But the personnel dorms could house about three to four hundred people, easily. That's not counting the civilian staff that come in from off-site. This place is big enough to have the population of a small city, but you wouldn't need quite that many people to keep everything running. Gun to my head, if you made me guess, I'd say…maybe fifteen hundred people? Twenty-five hundred, at most."
Which meant that the men he and the Resistance killed didn't even make up the brunt of Outer Heaven's total forces onsite, not even counting the reinforcements from outside the base that Outer Heaven was probably putting together right now. Snake sighed as he checked his compass, corrected his march to about 30 degrees to the right, and continued moving.
"What about their leader, this Venom guy? Way I hear it, these people are so loyal it's almost like a religion. A real cult of personality."
"That's one way of putting it," Diane agreed. "Many of Outer Heaven's mercenaries were former enemies captured on the battlefield and convinced into joining. Ahab has a reputation for being merciful towards enemy combatants who surrender or get captured, and his ideals are attractive to the men and women under his command."
"What are his ideals?" Snake asked.
"From the way the men tell it, he claims to desire a world where soldiers are always respected, always needed. A place where soldiers live and work only for themselves and fight for their own causes, rather than for a government or a creed that would use them and throw them away. That's what he says, anyway."
Snake lifted the NVD from his eyes, opened a pack of Lucky Strikes, and stuck one in his mouth. The flame from his lighter and the burning, ashy ember glowed brightly against the darkness that enveloped him. He checked his compass as he walked. It had been a couple of hours since he first started trekking away from the supply depot. He had to have been getting close to the training facility. An aardvark crawled in the distance over the rocks and into some bushes, disturbed by his passing.
"I know a lot of men back home who'd like the sound of that," Snake commented. "Old vets who got left behind by the system, no one to take care of them. It sounds like this Ahab is trying to create a new Sparta; some kind of warrior-run city-state, rather than an actual commercial enterprise."
"That's the culture he's trying to foster here," said Diane. "Though if you were to ask the men, they'd say it's more like he's trying to build a Valhalla."
"…Putting the 'Heaven' in 'Outer Heaven,' huh?" Snake said dryly. "And the men believe in this dream? Like he's some kind of messiah or something?"
"I suppose. Personally, I think he's no different than any other warlord; he came into power with violence and appeals to the darker nature of his followers so that they may help him keep it. He's a monster who lives on the blood and misery of others, nothing more."
"Then maybe it's time someone knocked him down from his pedestal," Snake retorted.
Slowly, the shape of the kill houses melted into the green view of the IR goggle. Snake dropped his cigarette and ground it into the dirt with his foot as he raised his rifle for the approach. Three structures of what looked like plywood and concrete roughly two stories high sat at about thirty to thirty-five feet apart. Methodically, Snake took the time to clear every building, but just like he'd predicted when he started his journey, the buildings were empty when he got there.
Outside the buildings on the south side were four trucks with covered beds. By the doors of each building were silver crates and toolboxes. Snake grabbed a crowbar from inside one of the trucks and busted off the padlocks of each lock box. Inside were more weapons and more ammunition, as well as road flares, a flashlight, and a few Claymore mines.
Snake continued conversing with Diane while he worked his way around the training facility. "Diane, have you ever been inside the R&D building?"
"No, why?"
"I'm looking for someone. An old man with a moustache and receding hairline. Russian. The mercs are holding him prisoner somewhere inside. Have you heard anything about that?"
"I've heard talk about an old man they have working on some kind of secret project."
"That's him. Do you have any idea where in the building they might be holding him?"
"No, but I do know he's under the highest level of security. A couple of Ahab's most trusted personal guard are watching over him."
"Personal guard?"
"Mm-hmm. The men say they're very dangerous, to the point that they even make many of the rank and file nervous to be around them. They describe them as something less than human."
"Less than human?"
"They have some kind of biological and mechanical augmentation that makes them inhumanly strong and fast. Some of the soldiers even say they can turn invisible. They've been seen carrying loads over their heads that not even a circus strongman could lift, like it was nothing."
Snake paused as he stopped at the beginning of a dirt path leading to what he believed to be the main road that went east to west, the east end winding up the cliff to R&D several kilometers away, and the west end stopping that the supply storage building in the distance. He gripped his weapon tighter as he took in the information that Diane was telling him.
Outer Heaven has Irregulars on their payroll, he realized with horror. He thought back to his days in training with Black Mamba and Chameleon.
"Where does a person like that even come from?" Snake wondered.
"No one knows for sure. Some of the older personnel have said that they've been around since the early days of the company, but if anyone knows anything more about it, they weren't telling me."
"Hmm…" Snake growled in thought.
Once Snake found the training camp clear of hostiles, he walked back to the main east-west road that ran parallel to the place. He was certain that when the mechanized infantry unit came through here, they would have to be coming by this road. That gave Snake an idea. He climbed into one of the trucks, hammered the underside of the dash beneath the steering wheel, releasing the wires. He pulled out his knife, and set to work hot-wiring the vehicle, taking care to make sure that the headlights were set to be turned off first.
Within a few minutes, he had then engine running. Donning his NVD, he drove over onto the road crossing Before parking the vehicle and digging his knife into the tires to let all the air out. He repeated this process until all four trucks were parked, two to block the road, and another two to block off the driveway leading to the kill houses. This would force the vehicles to move along a directed path off the road and give any offloading infantry limited room to maneuver.
He then opened his pack and dug out the AT mines and C4. He grabbed a shovel from the training camp's work shed and ran east up the road by about a couple of miles before he started digging a small hole in the road's center.
As he worked, he asked Diane, "Hey, Diane. I've been hearing whispers here that Ahab might be planning a military coup in South Africa. You've been spending plenty of time around the mercs here. Have you heard anything to that effect?"
He heard a snap, sizzle and an inhale. Diane had lit her own cigarette. "Just speculation. Whispers, like you said. But it is true that there's been increased activity among the men; not just here, but at Outer Heaven's other bases, too. Yet, it's been months since Outer Heaven's taken on any new contracts. It's suspicious."
"So, you think Outer Heaven might actually try and invade? What about the SANDF? Won't they be able to put up a fight?"
"They've got numbers, for sure. But the armed forces under the new constitution are still new, and from what I've heard, there's been some issues with the integration process. Remember, our government only ended the apartheid structure and instituted universal suffrage just a few short years ago. The wounds from colonialism are still fresh, and they're only just starting the healing process."
Snake wiped the sweat from his forehead as he primed the mine and rigged it for remote detonation before carefully placing it into the hole and covering the space around and on top of it with dirt. Once finished, he ran back to the training camp's driveway and then armed and planted the C4 charges underneath the trucks blocking the driveway. Finally, he crossed the road to dig another hole aways away from the parked trucks to plant the other AT mine.
"I think I get what you mean," Snake said. "In some ways, my country's not that different—it's still struggling to reckon with its own sins from before the Civil Rights movement in the sixties. But if there's one thing our military tradition and even our citizenry hasn't been lacking in, it's presenting a unified front in the face of adversity. If there's one thing I've seen watching the rebels fight here, it's that the people here are strong."
"Yes, I think so, too," Diane said, though her voice sounded less optimistic than her words. "But if there's one thing I've seen while observing Outer Heaven, it's that simply being strong may not be enough by itself. As you say, we need unity. The people are ready to fight for their freedom from their oppressors, but will our government stand behind us when the time comes? Or will they just continue to be victim to the machinations of foreign and corporate interests, like the Safari Club did with France, or the entire west African coastline to Nestlé?"
Snake's thoughts turned once again to America, and the people back home who believed in him and were depending on his success. An image came unbidden to his mind of Big Boss in formal Army dress as he returned Snake's salute and shook his hand on the day of Snake's formal introduction into FOXHOUND. Snake knew that he was only here because of the effort, blood, sweat, and tears of the men who came before him, and because the Boss believed in him.
"I think they will," Snake replied with conviction. "And even if they don't, I believe that you can win this fight. For the sake of everyone, you have to believe it, too. I'll help however I can."
"That's…" Diane paused. He heard her take a breath. "Thank you, Snake. Of course, I'll help you however I can, too."
"Thanks, Diane. I'm going to sign off now, but I'll call you again when I get closer to the R&D building."
Snake signed off the radio. He ran over to the silver tool crates and pulled out a few Claymores, planting them along the driveway leading up to the kill houses. Once finished, Snake trotted up the stairs of one of the kill houses and sat down at a window that overlooked the southeastern side of the training camp so he could get a clear view of the east end of the road. He set up each of the three detonators, in order of intended activation, on the windowsill in front of him. He pulled out his binoculars and got comfortable.
Nothing else for him to do now but wait.
OPERATION INTRUDE N313
DAY FIVE – 0530 HOURS
MAIN EAST-WEST ROAD
The sound of the whine inside the fighting compartment was deafening. Erik Soder was thankful for the ear protection as he and his crewmates felt the rumble of the metal beast beneath their feet which carried them. He still kind of wished that tanks came with air conditioning, though; with the heat radiating from the engine inside, the whole compartment was sweltering—and it was only going to get worse once the sun rose and they got hit by the warmth of the summer air, to say nothing of the upcoming battle itself. Still, at least the tank crew wasn't wearing heavy armor like the boys in the IFVs, he supposed. Small miracles.
"Hey," Ricardo Galvez, their machine gunner, called down to him. "You good, Soder?"
Soder wiped the sweat from his brow, and nodded to his partner, giving a thumbs-up. He turned around and slid open the ammo compartment. Full rack of shells. Should be more than enough to put down a building full of rebel sewer rats. Soder corrected himself, remembering the details of the morning briefing. Those sewer rats had captured a facility for storing ordnance. Better not to get too cocky. He shook his head to himself.
Soder called out to the driver over the mic. "Yo, Takashi, we there yet?"
Galvez grinned. "Yeah, Dad, how long's this road trip gonna be?"
Hironobu Takashi rolled his eyes inside of his leaned back chair in the front. "Don't make me pull over this thing." He chuckled. "Smartasses," he muttered to himself.
Takashi looked over at the assistant driver and main gunner, Cpt. Mikhail Ivanov, who was handling navigation. Ivanov smiled back. "It'll probably be another ten minutes. You know these tanks are slow as shit," Ivanov replied on the radio in a very slight Russian accent. "We're almost half-way there," he added.
"Yeah, but you know, if you're unhappy with our pace, you're more than welcome to come down here and give this a try, gentlemen," Takashi sniped back.
Galvez and Soder chuckled.
The two IFVs traveling with their tank were forced to slow to match their pace; one at the front of the convoy and one behind the tank. Soder was sure that the other guys were probably hoping they'd get to beat the worst of the day's heat just as much as they were.
"What the hell…?" Galvez's low voice was barely audible on the radio over the sound of the engine. "Takashi, are you seeing this?"
"I see it, Galvez."
Soder, now curious, opened the hatch above him and climbed up to see what they were looking at.
About a little over three kilometers ahead of them, downhill from their position, at the turnoff to the training grounds, four trucks, parked such that they blocked the roads in either direction were illuminated in the combined headlights of the convoy. In another couple of minutes, the IFV in front of them would reach it.
"Uh, Cap, was there a training exercise scheduled today and nobody told us?" Soder asked.
"Not that I know of," Ivanov answered. "Hang on." After signaling to the convoy to halt, he tuned his radio to Central Command.
"HQ, this is Captain Ivanov of Mechanized Infantry Unit Number 41, callsign 'White Elephant,' speaking. Are you reading this? Over."
Fuzz over the line, followed by a response. "This is HQ. Send it, Elephant."
"Are there any training exercises scheduled for today at the kill houses? Over."
"Please wait one moment…that's a negative, Elephant. Interrogative: why are you asking? Over," said HQ.
"The four trucks stationed at the facility are blocking the main road and the turnoff."
"Has there been any sign of enemy resistance?"
"No, sir," Ivanov replied. "No visible damage to the trucks that we can see at this distance." He looked through the periscope to the training grounds. "No sign of life in the buildings, either."
"Can you safely maneuver around the vehicles, Elephant?"
Ivanov looked questioningly to Takashi, who nodded after glancing down the road.
"We believe that will be more than possible, HQ."
"Copy that, Elephant. Orders are for the convoy to inspect the vehicles to determine if they are operational. If so, then return them to the facility. Otherwise, continue on to main objective. Advise that you proceed with extreme caution in case there are any Resistance members nearby. ROE is weapons-free in the event of enemy resistance. Buildings expendable. Verify."
"Roger that, HQ. We will stop and investigate before proceeding to main objective. White Elephant, out," Ivanov signed off before relaying the orders to the rest of the convoy.
The rumbling beneath Soder's feet resumed as the convoy started to move forward, more slowly than before. Soder closed his hatch and dropped down so he could load the cannon at a moment's notice. He glanced up and saw Galvez's eyes had widened a little as he looked much more alert.
"This is spooky…" Galvez muttered.
"This is Red Badger One," came a growl over the radio. It was the IFV in the front. They had just parked up close to the trucks. "We're going to have our crew disembark and investigate. Hold position until we know it's safe, over."
"Roger that, Badger," was Ivanov's response.
Soder watched from the periscope camera as the rear door of the IFV opened and six of the twelve passengers unloaded from the vehicle, dressed in full battle dress with multiple layers of armor and padding. Leading them was a giant figure clad in gray and black, who looked to be nothing but metal and pure muscle. Soder relaxed slightly at the sight.
They'd been assigned two of their boss's personal guards, one for each IFV. With the members of the Bloody Brad unit (named for their physical strength and resilience, which was said to rival that of the US's Bradley IFV) watching over them, Soder knew that the boys outside couldn't be in any real danger. The squad moved around the trucks, searching them inside and out.
"Damage under the steering wheel. They were hot-wired," a soldier reported. "No air in the tires. Whoever it was who parked these, didn't want them moving."
"Checking underneath," said another soldier, who Soder saw lower himself to the ground to crawl beneath one of the trucks. "This one's clean." He moved over to the next truck and did the same thing.
"Shit! This one's rigged! Everybody, get ba—"
The two trucks blocking the turnoff exploded, taking a few of the men with them. "Contact, contact, contact!" the survivors shouted as they moved to take cover behind the IFV.
"Back up, Badger Two," Takashi called to the IFV behind them. "I'm going to put some distance between us and the threat!"
The IFV moved in reverse to give Elephant space, only to get hit from underneath with another BOOM, wrecking the engine and killing the driver and occupants with shrapnel.
"Badger Two's down!" Ivanov shouted. "Soder, give me ammo! Galvez, do you have eyes on!?"
"Negative, Cap! No sign of the enemy!"
Soder was already moving before Ivanov could finish getting a word out. Within seconds, he had opened the loading bay, spun around, grabbed a shell, turned back, and inserted it before closing the bay again. "Shell loaded!" Soder called out.
"We're taking fire!" screamed a voice on the radio. It was Badger-1. Soder looked into the periscope camera. The rest of the soldiers had dismounted from the IFV and were taking cover behind the vehicle and the two downed trucks that weren't currently on fire. The Bloody Brad had his rifle raised, serving as a human shield to two of the soldiers.
Why didn't the bioroid just move in, Soder wondered?
"Do you know where the fire is coming from?" Ivanov called out.
"Bearing 23 from our position! Southwest corner of the closest building!"
"Roger, moving to advantageous position. Galvez, give our boys some covering fire! Takashi, move on bearing 220 and move us around Badger-1 so I can get a better shot!"
The machine gun buzzed as the tank rumbled. Soder felt the adrenaline hit his bloodstream as he tried to focus on the task at hand so that he wouldn't panic. The Resistance had made it this far east already. They must have more ground forces than they initially thought if they had this kind of confidence. They had to have been moving and planning all night. They were ready for us, too, Soder thought.
Just what kind of people do they have working for them?
There was a slight lurch in the compartment as the tank reoriented its center of gravity—they had left the road and were turning left to start a U-shaped turn to the right. Takashi must be trying to maneuver them behind their ground squad and around the trucks so that Ivanov could get a better shot at the building's southwest corner.
An explosion rattled the inside of the fighting compartment. Soder felt his stomach lurch as he was thrown forward into the closed shell bay. There was some sort of grinding sound before all motion beneath their feet was gone. They'd been driven to a halt. Soder looked up at Galvez, who was already climbing half-way out the hatch to look over the side, wincing as he clutched his ribs.
"What the fuck was that!?" Soder shouted.
Galvez leaned over to look down at Soder. "AT mine! They've taken out the treads and wheels on the right! We're grounded! Say again, we're groun—"
Suddenly, Galvez's head exploded like a crushed raspberry. Brain matter and bone painted the back of the tank. Soder looked at his hands. Some of the dripping blood splattered down onto him. He felt the floor rumble with main cannon's turret turning. The tank shuddered, but Soder barely felt it. He couldn't hear or feel anything. He was too busy staring at the blood on his hands. There was a muffled scream. It sounded like his name.
"Soder! SODER!"
Soder's senses snapped back to reality. It was Ivanov over the radio.
"Soder! Are you still alive back there?"
Soder nodded, shaking. "Y-yes, sir. But…Galvez is—"
"Then load me some more fucking ammo! Takashi! Grab a rifle and use the tank for cover! Call HQ for help! And find out why those fucking freaks they sent with us aren't making themselves useful!"
"Understood," Takashi answered. Calm, collected, professional. Like his ride didn't just turn into an armored coffin.
Soder's trembling fingers slid open the ammo rack, pulled the lever to open the ammo bay and release the spent shell, and hefted another shell into the cylinder. He lifted and pushed the lever to load the new shell in place.
"Loaded!" Soder called out.
There was another explosion, but it wasn't the tank firing. This one was more distant. There was more callouts over the radio. They've planted claymores on the driveway approach, they'd said. The enemy must be hunkering down in the kill houses. They wanted Elephant to level them. Ivanov was more than happy to oblige.
Another fire shook the fighting compartment. Soder smelled smoke, and grabbed a small fire extinguisher from the wall, but he couldn't see where the smell was coming from. It was getting hot. The metal walls around them hurt to touch. "Uh, Cap?" Soder said. "I think we've got a fuel leak or something. Something's burning up back here!"
"Takashi, check it out! Soder, load me another shell!"
Soder complied, unloading another spent shell, and loading another round. Takashi's voice answered on the radio.
"Soder's right, boss. We've got a fuel leak. It's way too close to the ammunition compartment. Recommend evacuating the tank immediately."
"Soder, did you load my round?"
"Affirmative, sir!"
"Alright, then get out. I'll be right behind you once I fire."
Soder didn't have to be told twice. He grabbed his rifle and climbed out of the second hatch next to Galvez, scrambling down the armor and trying his best to keep his head down. He slid off next to Takashi.
"What's happening, Takashi? Where is he—the shooter that took out Galvez?"
Takashi pointed at the southernmost building, which collapsed on the west side. "I'm pretty sure the shots were coming from that direction."
There was no sound of returning fire. The survivors from the IFV explosions were stacking up behind the trucks on the driveway, but there was no sign of the two Bloody Brads that had accompanied them.
"Where are the Brads?" Soder asked.
"They went wide," Takashi explained. "Trying to surround the facility."
Just then, a voice was heard over the radio. It was strained, hoarse, with a slight electronic tinge in the background, like it was being fed through a Casio synthesizer. The voice was speaking Bantu. "Captain Ivanov, this is Commander Gamba of the Bloody Brad division. Adjust your aim twenty degrees to your left, toward the building just north of the one you damaged."
"Is that where our target's hiding?"
"Affirmative. He is slippery, and may make it out before you level it, but even if he survives, he will be trapped, and we can finish the job."
"Understood," Ivanov said, adjusting his targeting solution. "Firing."
OPERATION INTRUDE N313
DAY FIVE – 0645 HOURS, SUNRISE
TRAINING FACILITY, NORTWESTERN KILL HOUSE
Snake only saw the tank's cannon point to his window just in time to dive down the stairs and land in a rolling somersault that had him land painfully on his back on the hard concrete for the second time before the floor above and behind him started to cave in. Not sparing a second, he dove out a second open window just ahead of him onto the dirt path as the prefab building behind him crumbled into the ground. Snake silently cursed to himself.
He was starting to run out of hiding spots, and with the rubble on the west side, that only gave him east and north in terms of directions. He put his back against a surviving wall on the northeast side of the southern kill house. It was only a matter of time before the enemy moved in.
Before he could think about it though, he heard a series of sonic booms from way too close by, followed by a huge cloud of dust on the north and east alleys. He found himself trapped between the rubble and two newcomers who skidded to a stop in front of him.
They cut an imposing figure against the rising walls of dust and sand behind them: two huge men covered in what looked like armor plating that reminded him of tank armor. But that couldn't actually be depleted uranium, could it?
The two tangoes had to have been seven feet tall at least, gigantic walls of muscle and sinew, plated in metal. Under the armor they wore skin-tight grey suits which had mounted electronics and mechanical parts. Snake couldn't make out their faces easily, as they wore some kind of breathing apparatus. But he could see the glow of their eyes underneath their masks, malevolent and gleaming. He thought of his nightmare back at the prison, of the demonic face in the darkness accusing him.
There was no doubt in his mind—these were the Irregulars that Diane had warned him about. Snake carefully stepped back onto his right foot, trying to calm down and loosen his grip on the rifle that had reflexively tightened at the newcomers' approach.
"So…," Snake said, slowly and deliberately, like he was trying to soothe a wild animal. "What's your guys' deal? Some kind of cyborgs? Like the Terminator?" It would hardly be the weirdest thing that Snake had encountered at this point.
The bigger of the duo placed a hand on his chest. His voice sounded artificial, with a deep echoing breath that made Snake think of Darth Vader.
"I am Commander Gamba of the Bloody Brad Squadron," he said in English. "We are the enhanced personal guard of Ahab, and the greatest warriors in all of Outer Heaven. This here is my second-in-command, Lieutenant Olivier." Gamba gestured to the other bioroid standing at his right, before pointing to Snake. "And you, Intruder, are a dead man."
Snake squared up his stance. "Is that so?"
Cmdr. Gamba nodded. "It is. Your mind simply has yet to realize it. You did well to take on our mechanized troop all by yourself. You are truly a strong fighter. Perhaps we have finally found a worthy opponent. What do you think, Brother?"
Another artificial voice, this one slightly higher, came from the Lieutenant. "I do not know, Commander. He still looks weak to me."
Once again, Cmdr. Gamba nodded. "A test, then. To see what this man is truly made of."
Both bioroids widened their stances. Though they each had P90s strapped to their massive thighs, they did not draw them, nor did they even close their fists. Their glowing eyes pulsed like stars going supernova. Every muscle in Snake's body tensed.
"Rejoice, Intruder! This will sure be a fine battle between us three," Cmdr. Gamba shouted. Snake wasn't sure, but he thought he detected a hint of mirth in that electronic tone.
There was no movement between them. It was like something out of a spaghetti western—a Mexican standoff as the opponents eyed each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. Snake flexed his trigger finger.
It wasn't clear who moved first. The bioroids appeared to phase in and out of existence and the ground cracked and rumbled beneath their feet as they charged. Snake let off several shots, but he wasn't sure if he was actually hitting anything or if they were simply bouncing off the super-soldiers' armor. One popped into being in front him, lunging forward, and Snake dropped and slid under the attacker, pointing his rifle upwards to fire up at his target's center mass as he passed underneath.
After he passed between the legs, he rolled off to the side as the other bioroid appeared above him, just narrowly missing as gargantuan foot slammed down and embedded itself in the ground to the knee in the spot where Snake just was. Snake dropped his rifle and grabbed a flashbang with his off hand, used his right to prime it, and tossed it between them before scooping his rifle up and moving away at a flat run.
He dove inside the remains of the southern building just as the flash popped off. He peeked out the door and saw the two giants stumble slightly, and he grabbed a fragmentation grenade and tossed it shortly after. He didn't stick around to watch the boom, instead sprinting for the last intact building on the northeast side.
Snake wasn't sure if the explosion was enough to kill or disable the Irregulars, but even if it was, there were still enemies in the area. He took cover behind a load-bearing concrete pillar and aimed towards the door from which he came. He waited two seconds for the sound of movement, before turning around and heading out the northern back door, finding himself face-to-face with Cmdr. Gamba: the bioroid looked like torn-up meat due to exposed bone and muscle tissue.
The meat, bone, and skin regrew around the body, and though the armor did not regenerate, the suit did. All that Snake saw before the mask returned was Gamba's skull, grimacing with many sharp teeth like a true beast of the Devil's army.
All Snake could think of to say was, "…Shit."
Cmdr. Gamba's eyes sparked with a terrible glee. "Indeed," he agreed.
Snake raised his rifle, only for Gamba to smack it out of his hands and send it flying. With a light shove, Gamba sent Snake's body flying to the other side of the room back into the pillar. Wincing with the effort, Snake drew his pistol and knife and rolled to his feet, slashing at Cmdr. Gamba's inner thigh and up into his stomach.
Rather than severing the femoral artery and disemboweling his enemy as planned, Snake felt like he'd barely managed to inconvenience the giant as Cmdr. Gamba grabbed Snake's knife arm by the forearm and squeezed. Snake felt his bones creaking from the strain and yelled. He raised his pistol to Gamba's face and fired three shots, catching Gamba on the third and grazing his temple. This seemed to loosen Gamba's grip, allowing Snake to grab the hilt of the knife he'd embedded in Gamba and use his foot as leverage to shove his aggressor away.
Snake turned to run, only to find Lt. Olivier waiting for him. Olivier threw two wild swings which Snake ducked, causing the Lieutenant's fists to come into contact with the pillar, scooping out chunks of concrete like they were hot butter. Snake aimed his Beretta at Olivier's knees and fired at both kneecaps, causing Olivier to stumble, which Snake took advantage of by following up with a knee to Olivier's jaw, knocking him back to the ground. Snake unloaded every last round into Olivier's head, which appeared to be the least protected. He didn't stop until he emptied the magazine and Olivier's heat was nothing but meat coating the dusty floor. This time, Olivier's wounds didn't regenerate.
Suddenly, Snake felt hands big enough to crush his head like a fruit grab his shoulder and the hand holding his pistol, forcing him to yell in pain as he felt his bones once again be painfully squeezed prior to spinning him around. Cmdr. Gamba's face was contorted in rage. He reared back and punched Snake in the chest, sending him flying through the plywood wall of the building and onto the ground. Snake struggled to breathe. His lungs felt like they were on fire.
Gamba walked through the wall like it wasn't even there. His hulking figure cast a dark shadow on Snake. Gamba started clapping while Snake gasped, trying desperately to crawl away from him.
"It appears Olivier underestimated you, Intruder," Gamba said. "You truly are a worthy opponent. I apologize for my subordinate's disrespect. You have bested one of us, and for that, you are to be commended."
Gamba stepped over Snake's body and leaned down so close that their noses were almost touching. Snake was too terrified to move as Gamba said in his synthesized growl, "But you still killed my friend. And for that, you will die most painfully."
Gamba grabbed Snake by his skull, picking him up like one would a doll, and threw him through the wall of the southern building, where Snake collided with the last load-bearing pillar inside. Snake agonizingly rolled over to look out the hole and see Gamba charging. Gamba appeared to disappear from the north side of the building and reappeared on the south side. The ceiling above Snake started to rumble, and Snake looked up to see that the concrete pillar had been broken in half. The ceiling started to crack, and rubble fell from above, and Snake rolled to try avoiding the falling debris.
There was nothing left of the western and southern kill houses, and when the dust had settled, all was still and silent.
DAY FIVE – 0710 HOURS
THE AFTERMATH
Captain Ivanov, Takashi, Soder, and the other survivors approached Cmdr. Gamba. "Is it over?" Soder asked.
Cmdr. Gamba replied, "Yes. The threat has been eliminated. The Resistance member is no more."
"All of this was just one guy?" Takashi asked in astonishment. One of the Badger-1 survivors whistled.
"What do we do now, sir?" asked Cpt. Ivanov.
Commander Gamba was silent while he considered their options. He looked to the road. Between the trucks, the IFVs and the tank, there was no way that the road could be used safely until the debris was cleared. If they sent out new vehicles, they would have to drive around it. Unfortunately, there were no more land vehicles to spare. He looked to the surviving troops. There weren't enough men left to mount a proper offensive on the Supply Storage facility; they were going to need more firepower, and more than likely any new forces sent out would have to traverse the place on foot.
"Captain," Gamba growled.
"Sir?"
"You are to take your men and perform triage on your casualties; separate the wounded from the dead. Then you are to establish a base camp here and await reinforcements. I will return to HQ and speak with the boss about getting you more men and weaponry. The mission has not changed. When reinforcements arrive, you are to continue your march west to take the supply facility."
"Wait a minute, and where will you be? Aren't you supposed to be our escort?" Soder demanded as Gamba started walking away.
Gamba turned to look over his shoulder to regard the smaller soldier's challenge. "You will have your escort, Corporal. But I am still a member of the Bloody Brad Squadron, and I have my own duties to discharge. Besides—" Gamba continued slowly walking, "I have my own dead to see to."
The men went quiet as they considered the implications left in the bioroid's wake. Not only was this entire ambush orchestrated by a single person, but they had managed to kill one of the boss's own super-soldiers. Soder shivered, feeling like he was about to be sick. What if there were more rebels like this one? He looked at Badger-1's faces, and realized he wasn't the only one who felt this way.
Takashi still looked confident, and Ivanov for his part was stern. They felt the same misgivings as the rest of the men, but they knew that as the ranking officers, they couldn't afford to show weakness. They needed to keep up morale.
"Alright, you heard the man," Ivanov said, pointing to each man he spoke to. "You, you, you, and you, come with me to establish the base camp. Sergeant Takashi, take the rest and start performing triage."
"Yes, sir," Takashi answered. He turned to his men, barking, "Alright, get off your lazy asses! We've got work to do!"
Within the hour, a new camp was constructed and those with serious debilitating wounds were left laying up on one side of the road, and the dead were covered in blankets and left lying on the opposite side. Triage completed, Takashi and his men returned to the group to help finish in the camp's construction.
No one noticed when one of the unconscious wounded was snatched and dragged away, only to be replaced by another wounded soldier wearing the same armor with blood obscuring his face…
LATER, ELSEWHERE...
A knock on the door. A command to enter. The chief of the Demon's army has come, bearing a body across his shoulders. One of the Demon's most cherished children has been slain. The Demon and his general share their grief in the only manner permitted by their custom. Property is destroyed. Spirits are imbibed. New plans are drawn to hasten their enemies' destruction. The room fills with blackened smoke.
A question is asked by the lesser demon: what of the old man? There is still one intruder left. They will not stop coming for him.
The Demon is amused. Their plans are so close to fruition. In just a little more than two days' time, the preparations will be complete, at which point, the old man's fate will no longer matter. The old man must continue to be kept under guard until then.
A call is made. The Demon answers. The lesser demon is dismissed.
The damnable voice is on the other line; the one monster whom the Demon hates, loves, and fears the most. It is a commanding voice, strong enough to assemble and build the fires and stones of hell through nothing more than sheer force of will alone. The Demon knows it well. It was the same voice as the one on the tape he'd received, at the beginning of all this.
The voice says the time is coming. Preparations must be made. The Demon has one more role to fulfill, one more scenario to help orchestrate, before he can be free to unleash his own hell upon the world. So, he listens to the instructions intently, and he makes plans. A trap with many layers, to kill and maim and torture one singular individual, should it ever be sprung.
The Demon thinks of the old man and has a new idea. He contacts his lesser demons to command their assistance…
OPERATION INTRUDE N313
DAY FIVE – MORNING HOURS
SUPPLY STORAGE FACILITY ROOF
The rebels had watched in awe through their binoculars as distant explosions lit up the dim expanse of the small desert in the light of daybreak. Flashes of light, followed shortly after by echoing booms dotted the landscape several kilometers away. A crackle and popping of gunfire was heard as tracer rounds lit up the distance while little toy soldiers left their broken Tonka trucks to battle the unseen aggressor.
A little metal box turned its arm to the buildings and with two booms, it tore one box building in half and completely knocked down another. Little booms made the toy soldiers burst into pieces as they ran into the Claymores. The rebels knew that as long as the gunfire kept being exchanged, their ally was most likely still alive.
"Hey, what's that…?" asked Imke, pointing. Dust clouds had begun to form around the place, and Fox and Kyle turned their binoculars to see Snake staring down two much bigger targets that dwarfed him in size.
"Oh, no…" Fox whispered.
Kyle looked to Fox. "You know them?"
Fox's mouth tightened in a thin line as he swallowed. "The Bloody Brads. Venom's private troops."
The rebels were forced to watch helplessly as Snake was tossed around like a ragdoll, disappearing, and reappearing in and out of the buildings until finally one of the large grey men brought the last remaining building down on top of him. Neither the grey man's friend nor Snake were seen coming back out from the rubble.
When the toy soldiers started moving again, it was with far less urgency than before, except for the grey man, who sped away carrying his friend over his shoulders at a speed that should not be possible for a being of that size.
Imke and Loyiso looked up at Kyle. "Snake is tough," said Loyiso, with concern. "He's going to make it…right?"
Kyle exchanged a worried glance with Fox, before turning on his radio.
"Come in, Snake. This is Architect. Do you read me?"
Static.
"Snake, this is Architect. Come in, Snake. Respond!"
Fox grabbed the radio from Kyle.
"Snake, this is Gray Fox. If you can hear this, say something, anything. Just give us a sign."
More silence.
"Snake? Come in, Snake…"
Static.
"SNAKE!"
A/N: So, I wanted to do a few things a little differently in this chapter. For one, I introduced some new named characters on the enemy side for the tank boss fight and then showed that boss fight largely from their perspective, rather than from Snake's-the idea was to try to humanize the enemy, make them appear more as people rather than as faceless goons. I think having Diane explain the ideals of Outer Heaven from their point of view and having Snake draw a parallel between them and old vets from back home helped support this, since it gave them a sense of having a real goal to fight for. I was hoping that humanizing them would help bend the story more in line with Metal Gear's anti-war tradition. I realized that by going all-in on the gritty semi-realistic war drama from just the POV of Snake and the Resistance could undermine that, so I wanted to throw in a little nuance. Don't know how well I got it across; I guess you guys will be the judge of that.
The other thing you might have noticed is that I introduced the Bloody Brad boss a little early and turned them from two nameless hard-hitting mooks into a proper boss squad in their own right. I had two reasons for this, one of which is a plot thing that I won't go into detail about until the story gets there, but the other reason is that I realized I've been spending so much time in gritty realism that I'd kind of neglected the goofier sci-fi superpowered action hero thing that Metal Gear was famous for, so I wanted to create a boss introduction that was just as bombastic and melodramatic as other games have had with their bad guys, even if it's mostly just the one boss fight that I'm setting up. Halfway through writing this, I also felt like Snake was doing a little too well on the infiltration front here for what's supposed to be his first major mission, so I kind of wanted to give him a bit of a defeat to humble him a little bit before the story continues. So there's that, haha.
Hope you guys are still having as much fun reading this as I am putting it out. I'm having a blast with it!