OPERATION INTRUDE N313
DAY FIVE – 1118 HOURS
OUTER HEAVEN EAST – MEDICAL PAVILION
It was a busy day inside the medical pavilion. Three trucks had rolled in one after the other to offload the bodies of the injured onto stretchers, along with body bags containing the fallen to be delivered to the furnaces further inside the main wing of the medical building just next door to the tents for the funeral arrangements. Doctors, field surgeons, and nurses were moving from stretcher to stretcher, prioritizing patients by the colored tags they'd been assigned during triage and assigning the ones that could be safely moved into the medical wing's hospital rooms.
It was a mess—of the twenty-four Outer Heaven staff that had been deployed in the mechanized infantry unit, twelve had returned as triaged casualties, not counting the super soldier who'd arrived hours earlier carrying his bioroid compatriot. Of the twelve casualties, only half were still among the living, and many of them were severely injured and barely conscious. All three vehicles in the unit were lost, as well; and there were rumors that this was all the work of a single enemy soldier. There were whispers on the base that the soldier who accomplished this possessed strength and skill that was comparable to Ahab himself.
Between this and yesterday's defeat at the hands of the rebels, while morale on the base wasn't broken exactly, it was certainly shaken. The idea that the Resistance movement could have an operative who was on the same level as Ahab was a frightening one, one which the staff didn't want to consider. It was a comfort then, when it was reported that the rebel who decimated the mechanized unit was killed in the firefight.
Jennifer Nkosi did not share in her fellow medical team's comfort at this news, however. When the Resistance won the Supply Storage Building, she silently thought that perhaps her prayers would finally be answered. When the bodies first started being carted in and she had heard what had happened to them and that it was all the result of a single hero in the Resistance, she allowed herself to hope that maybe, just maybe they could turn the tide against their oppressors, and that her brother could finally be saved. Unfortunately, the news of the hero's death dashed those hopes. And now here she is, forced to offer what little healing and comfort she could provide to her enemies, with the hated monsters none the wiser.
"Dr. Stone, over here! Help me stabilize him!"
Jennifer looked up at the sound of her alias. The medics had just rolled in the last casualty. No dog tags, no identification. The man's uniform was stained red, burned in places, and he was covered head-to-toe in a thick coating of what looked like sawdust, grime, and some kind of thick, grey dust. His face was covered and obscured with sand and blood; his shaggy brown hair matted, and his fingers darkened with bruises. His arms were covered in minor lacerations, and there was a bandaged wound on his left forearm that would need to be investigated later. When they cut open his shirt, his torso was covered in bruises and contusions; it was very likely that he had one or more broken ribs, and his limbs may have suffered stress fractures as well. Unfortunately, without an MRI, it was difficult to know for sure.
The man was convulsing. Could he have a punctured lung? The nurses held him down while Jennifer and Dr. Pretorius—the doctor who called her—began intubation to the airway. Jennifer shined a light into his eyes. Pupillary reflex was good. Some bruising on the neck indicated whiplash. Was he injured when the vehicles were attacked? But that can't be right—none of the passengers of the bombed IFV survived, and it was reported that all of the tank crew were still out in the AO. And if he was injured while riding the vehicle, where did all the dust come from?
They massaged his torso. Two ribs damaged, possibly broken. Doesn't seem like there was any damage to vital organs; no active bleeding as far as they could tell. Heart monitor was steady, vital signs good—it was hypothesized that the convulsion was the result of a seizure brought on by the concussion. When it seemed like the patient was able to breathe normally, the nurses let go, and the intubation was removed. The man stirred, mumbling.
Dr. Pretorius hovered over the patient. "Hello, sir. Do you know where you are? Do you know what day it is?"
The man groaned.
"Can you tell me your name? Are you having any difficulty speaking, sir?"
The man's eyes rolled as he blinked heavily. He continued to mumble before cracking his eyes open and looking in Jennifer's direction. The man lifted his hand to reach toward her.
"Yes?" Jennifer said, looking down at him.
"J-Jen…Jenni…fer…"
The man's hand fell back onto the table, and his breathing slowed. He'd lost consciousness.
"Sounds like he was delirious," said Dr. Pretorius. He turned to Jennifer. "Who do you think 'Jennifer' is? A love from back home, perhaps? Or maybe a sister?"
Jennifer fought to keep her face neutral, her hands relaxed. "I don't know," she lied. "Maybe."
"Well, perhaps we can ask him when he's awake and alert." Dr. Pretorius put a hand on Jennifer's shoulder. "Keep an eye on him for me, will you? I'm going to help move some of these patients into proper beds."
Jennifer forced a smile. "Of course, doctor."
Dr. Pretorius assisted the medics with wheeling stretchers further into the tents and through the front door of the medical building.
Jennifer loomed over the new patient, trying to think of what to do. How did this man know her real name? Had she been compromised? Or was this the Resistance member who put these casualties in her tent? Could she afford to take the chance of just waiting until he woke up? She looked to the saline bag of his IV. It would be so easy to simply poke a hole in the line with a syringe and introduce an air bubble into his bloodstream.
Jennifer shook her head. No. Even for an enemy, it would be a terrible way to die. Besides, if he is the one the Resistance sent, she'd lose her chance at saving her brother's life. She had no choice other than to wait and see if the man ever woke up.
When it came time to divvy up the patients among the medical staff, Jennifer made sure that this John Doe was assigned to her for her personal observation…
The passageway was narrow, with stone walls on either side rising high, disappearing into what seemed to be infinite darkness. The river through which David was wading felt thick like molasses, and the air was thick with the fetid aroma of blood and human waste. It made him feel ill. There was no natural light source, but he could just make out the area a few feet in front of him. Though the passage was long, David knew that there was no use in turning around and going back the way he came. There was no option other than pushing forward into the suffocating darkness.
The stones of the walls were slick with moisture and grime. Every muscle in David's body ached as he continued pushing foot by foot through the tunnel. His skin alternated between feeling freezing cold and burning hot. Was he getting sick?
Ahead of him, part of the wall shifted. A skeletal arm reached out with a machete to whack at his head. David barely ducked underneath it with a splash while trying to keep his head from going under the filthy water. More holes opened up in the walls, more arms in various states of decay swung blades and clubs, or otherwise kept trying to grab him.
David was unarmed, wearing only his trousers; he wasn't equipped to effectively fight back. He dodged, ducked, and weaved before diving into an opening that he spotted to a side tunnel. He tumbled and slid downhill, before frantically catching himself on the walls as the tunnel ended abruptly into an abyss. Something he couldn't see struck him from behind, sending his body sailing into the pit. He landed painfully onto a mountain of corpses.
When he'd regained his senses, he looked horrified into the face of the body he'd landed on. It was his friend Sniper Rat, though his features were warped by third-degree burns, and one of his eyes was missing, leaving a reddish-black hole filled with blood and pus. Rat's expression was fixed in a visage of terror, mouth agape and weeping eye locked skyward.
Everywhere David looked, he saw faces he'd recognized in the pile of flesh; people he'd killed in Outer Heaven, and some even going as far back as Kuwait, friends and enemies alike. There was 1st Lt. Perez, Sgt. Wilcombe, and Cpt. Willard from Lima Company; Black Mamba, Honey Badger, Salamander, Fruit Bat and Tortoise; there was Schneider, Loyiso, Imke, Gray Fox, and all the POWs he'd freed; there was that gunner from the tank crew, Shotmaker, the former SAS, the poor kid crying for his mother that he blew halfway to hell in the Supply Storage building, all the men he'd killed in Outer Heaven thus far, the enemies he'd killed in Operation Desert Snake; even the Joint Chiefs were there! Every person David had encountered since he joined the military was now a horrific addition to this macabre display he'd found himself becoming a new addition to.
David tried to push himself off of Rat's body and almost found himself falling back and rolling down the hill of cadavers, but the seared flesh of Rat's emaciated arm quickly reached out and grabbed him by the forearm. Rat's single working eye had rolled forward to lock onto him, accusing. Blood, pus, and worms fell from the German's mouth as it moved like the maw of a marionette. An acrid stench burst forth from between his teeth as he spoke.
"Mein Freund," hissed Rat, "Warum? Why have you done this to us? Why have you done this to me? I trusted you. We trusted you. But you failed us."
A chorus of wails erupted from the corpse mound as their voices joined Rat's in unison. "You killed us. You failed us."
Gray Fox's bloated face turned to David, water dripping from between swollen lips as wide, glassy eyes pierced him with their stare. "You failed us, Rookie. You failed to stop Metal Gear, and now, thanks to Venom, we lay here: as a monument to your sins. To your failure."
"No…no!" David cried, yanking hard on Rat's arm until it tore from its socket. The sudden onset of gravity sent him tumbling down the pile and into the pool of filth below. David pushed above the surface, coughing for air and retching. He looked up at the corpse mountain, and saw Big Boss descending to meet him, unbothered by the carnage as he strolled.
His face was covered with scratches, his hair and beard matted with dirt and blood, but he otherwise looked perfectly healthy. His face reflected an unsettling serenity as he stepped down from the mountain of discarded flesh. David looked around and saw that the corpse mountain and the pit of blood-soaked sewage had vanished: it was just him and the Boss standing in the infinite void while the Boss looked down on him.
"You're running out of time, Snake," Big Boss said. "Every day, the Demon grows stronger."
Big Boss raised his arm and pointed behind David. "Witness."
David turned around. Again, there was that wall of fire in the darkness. Just behind it, there was the massive metal behemoth. Metal Gear stood as a watchful sentinel, with the glowing red of its three camera lens "eyes" piercing the darkness. At its feet were two figures: one was the seven or eight-foot giant Gamba, kneeling in reverence and supplication to a tall, ornate throne in which sat the other: the bloodied horned skull of the Demon himself, wearing olive drab fatigues coated in blood over a chitinous black and red body. His stomach was torn open, revealing hanging viscera.
The skull's grotesque grin lowered as the glowing eye stared into David's soul. A blackened claw, soaked in crimson, opened to wave David forth.
"Come to me, Snake…" the Demon whispered.
David turned to run, but fell into yet another pit, impaling himself on a series of spikes that pierced into his flesh, his body tangled in barbed wire that formed a bloody crown upon his head. Blood poured from every limb, from his head, from his hands and feet, and from his torso as he screamed, writhed, and squirmed in agony. He heard the Demon's footsteps as it approached to look down on him. Cmdr. Gamba, Big Boss, and the corpses of Gray Fox, Schneider, and Rat all huddled around the pit in audience to bear witness to the new meat's misery. The Demon spoke, but as it did, the lips of the entire audience moved, adding their voices to his in a chorus.
"You disappoint me, Snake," the Demon's voice intoned amongst the echoes. "You have failed me."
The Demon held a knife in its fingers. It leapt down into the pit with murder in its eye as it readied the weapon. The last thing David saw before oblivion was the shining black obsidian of the Demon's horn. He squeezed his eyes shut.
OPERATION INTRUDE N313
DAY FIVE – 1730 HOURS
MEDICAL WING, PRIVATE ROOM 103
The first thing that Snake was cognizant of as he awoke was the heavy smell of antiseptics and the steady electronic beeping of the heart monitor. The next thing he noticed was the soreness of every inch of his body, coupled with the drain of absolute exhaustion. Even something as simple as moving his neck felt like it took a herculean amount of effort. Very slowly, he cracked open his eyelids to be greeted with the sterile white of an unfamiliar tile ceiling.
Groaning, he turned his neck to get a better look at the room he was in. The only light was the soft glow of a bedside table lamp next to him. Just past it, he could just make out the outline of a human form leaning against a countertop.
"How long was I out?" Snake mumbled.
A feminine voice responded, "You've been unconscious when you first arrived six hours ago. I don't know when exactly you lost consciousness. You were injured pretty badly when they brought you in. Honestly, you probably shouldn't even be moving around right now."
Snake thought back to his fight with the Bloody Brad troopers. He nodded and winced at the pain it brought. "Yep," he growled. "That makes sense."
The woman sighed. "Well, since you happen to be in a talkative mood, maybe you can answer some questions for me."
Snake let his head fall back onto the pillow. "Such as?"
"I searched your person when they brought you to me. You mind telling me where you got this photo?"
The outline stepped forward into the light. A red-haired woman wearing camo pants, a grey undershirt, a lab coat, a stethoscope, and horn-rimmed glasses stepped into view. The name on her badge read, "Eliza Stone, M.D." In one hand, she carried the photograph that Kyle had given to him. The woman in the picture was the spitting image of the doctor.
Snake slowly and carefully pushed himself up with his elbows into a sitting position, ignoring the strain he felt in doing so. He looked around—it was just a regular hospital room, albeit a very small private one. He nervously looked to the door, which was closed.
"Is there anyone else here?" Snake asked.
The woman narrowed her eyes. "Why would that matter?"
"Answer the question," Snake demanded. "Are. We. Alone?"
The woman, Dr. Stone, glanced at the door and then back to Snake. She lowered her head but kept her suspicious gaze on him. "It's just us," she confirmed.
"I'm looking for someone. The person in that photo. You look just like her. I was told I'd find her here by the person who gave it to me," Snake explained.
"And who was that?" she asked.
"That depends. Are you Jennifer Nkosi?"
Dr. Stone visibly tensed. "And if I were?"
"Then you'd already know who gave me that photo."
She paused. "You're with the rebels?"
"I feel like we wouldn't be having this conversation if I wasn't."
Finally, Jennifer relaxed. She nodded her head, satisfied. "You're right. We wouldn't be. So, what's your name, or should I just keep calling you, 'John Doe?'"
Snake cautiously and deliberately swung his legs over the edge of the bed to face her. "Call me Snake," he said. "I'm a friend of Kyle's. He said you could help me."
"You mean you're not a member of the Resistance?"
"No, I'm American. I'm here to do something about your mercenary problem. But I need information first."
Jennifer crossed her arms and put one foot in front of the other as she leaned back against the counter. "I'm listening," she said.
"I'm looking for an old man who's being kept prisoner in the R&D building. He's about six-foot, Russian, has a bushy moustache and a receding hairline. Do you know anyone fitting that description?"
"You mean the scientist they brought here a few months ago?"
"That's the one. Do you know where exactly I can find him?"
Jennifer stood up from the counter and paced in front of Snake towards a window at the far end of the room, her back to him. "I might," she said as she stared out into the late daylight. "Why do you want him?"
"He's being forced to develop a weapon for them. Something big. I plan to get him out before they can finish it if I can. If not, then he'll be the one to tell me how to destroy it."
"I see…"
Jennifer turned around, staring Snake down. "You're an American. You know that information typically comes at a cost. If I tell you this thing, it won't be for free."
What, was helping your faction get a foothold on the base not enough? Snake thought to himself bitterly. He was beginning to get tired of being jerked around; he was sent here to avert nuclear catastrophe and assassinate a mercenary warlord—how could these people not see that every second wasted brought them one step closer to having their own country be taken over from within, or worse?
If Snake were to go around extracting nonessential personnel every time somebody asks, it could actively put the mission into jeopardy, which in turn puts their own people into further danger. Besides, what's stopping the Resistance from extracting their own prisoners now that they have a sizable force of their own onsite in the AO?
Snake sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to retain his composure. He said, somewhat impatiently, "What do you want?"
Jennifer stepped forward. "We have a network of four spies inside the R&D building who I communicate with. Three of whom have been captured and are being kept as hostages. I want you to rescue those who have been captured."
Snake tore out his IV and wires in frustration, pulling himself to his feet to march toward her. "I don't have time for this," he growled.
Jennifer stood her ground. "These men have been actively monitoring this section of the base and reporting back to Resistance HQ for months. My one free man can get you inside and we can help you navigate the place and find the man you're after. Agree to help me, and I will put you in contact with him."
"Why not just wait for the Resistance's counteroffensive? Why do you need me?"
"Because I don't have that kind of time," she spat back. "You are the one who took out that mechanized infantry unit, yes? You are someone who makes the impossible possible. I wouldn't ask you if I had another choice."
Snake looked into her eyes. His face was an impassive wall, like it was carved from granite. There was no emotion in his cold, unbroken stare, just hard steel. Jennifer shivered; the way this American looked at her with those empty, predatory eyes felt like something other than human.
Snake didn't register the doctor's discomfort, instead searching her expression for the answer to his unspoken question. There was something she wasn't telling him, something she was trying to hide.
"Why are you so desperate to save them? It's not just because they're comrades," he said.
"Because I don't know how long they have before Outer Heaven will execute them," she said.
No, that wasn't it, Snake thought to himself. Outer Heaven had taken multiple prisoners from the Resistance thus far, and not a single one yet had been killed that hadn't resisted. While they were violently interrogated, the enemy was still going to the trouble of keeping them alive. Can't recruit the dead or use them as hostages, after all. This, Jennifer's anxiety, was something else.
"I don't buy it," Snake said. "This is personal to you somehow, isn't it? Who do they have, Jennifer? If you want me to risk my neck and my mission, then you need to tell me."
Jennifer's hand shook. She broke eye contact and looked down, biting her lip. Her bangs covered her eyes so that Snake couldn't see her expression clearly. "It's my older brother, Wikus. He was among those taken as a hostage. It was my fault. I shouldn't have let him take the mission. Shouldn't have contacted him so often…"
Teardrops fell to the floor.
Snake's hardened gaze softened slightly. "If I agree to get him out," he said slowly, putting emphasis on the 'if,' "will you help me locate the scientist?"
Jennifer took a second to compose herself before looking up to Snake defiantly. She nodded vigorously. "Those are my terms. Either you guarantee my brother's safety, or I will not help you."
It was clear that Jennifer valued her brother's safety more than that of the mission or even of her own rebellion. Snake thought of his brothers in arms in Lima Company and back at FOXHOUND HQ—in spite of everything, he felt for her.
Snake sighed heavily, limping back to the bed. "Fine," he said. "How am I getting in?"
Jennifer relaxed and stepped back over to the counter to open a big bottom drawer, pulling out some folded clothes shrink-wrapped in plastic. She tossed the parcel onto Snake's hospital bed, pointing to it. "You'll be going in the same way my spies did: in disguise. That right there is one of the brand-new uniforms issued to personnel on guard duty in the R&D building. Since it's brand-new, it's marked as low-ranking, so you can pose as a new hire. That should help you dodge some of the questions the guards might ask."
Snake nodded and pulled the privacy curtain around the bed closed so that he could pull off his hospital gown and get dressed. He noticed that the uniform came with a balaclava. He remembered seeing some of the guards on patrol duty from the beginning of his infiltration wearing them. It didn't seem like a smart idea to him to have the personnel of your base wear a mask that hides the face as a part of their uniform, but he wasn't complaining.
When Snake opened the curtain again, Jennifer looked him over with approval. "That uniform will get you into some places, not all," she pointed out. "You'll have to work out the rest on your own once you're inside."
"What about your man on the inside?" Snake asked.
"I'll contact him and have him meet you. You'll know him by the blue star he wears as his right shoulder patch. Make sure no one else is around when you approach him. He's the last active spy we have, and we don't want to compromise his cover."
Snake nodded. "Got it." He looked himself over. "Where are the things I came in with?"
"They were taken off your body when you arrived," Jennifer responded. "The MREs were returned to the Mess Hall facilities, and the recovered weapons were taken to the armory."
"What about my radio?"
"I have it right here." She pulled the walkie-talkie and headphones out of the drawer and handed them to Snake. Snake plugged in the headphones and wrapped them around his neck, snapping the radio to his belt.
"I'll need something to defend myself with," Snake said. "A sidearm, or even just a knife. Or would that be too suspicious?"
"No, a sidearm will indeed be required; they're carried by all on-duty guards." Jennifer patted him on the shoulder, shaking her head as Snake made to stand up. "I will get those for you. Wait here, and try to recover your strength, while you can."
With that, Jennifer stepped out of the door and into the hall, closing the entryway behind her. Snake tuned into Big Boss's frequency hailed him on the radio.
"Control, this is Solid Snake. Do you read me?"
Big Boss's voice answered within the next second. "This is Control. What happened, Snake? Fox said you'd disappeared on us. He was worried you were KIA."
"From the sound of it, the enemy thinks so too. I had a run-in with the HVT's personal guard," Snake explained. "They put me out of commission for a few hours. Good news is, I survived. More than that, I was able to get medical attention and transport to the east side of the facility by posing as an enemy casualty. If you could let Architect and Fox know that I'm still alive, I'd appreciate it. I don't want to be on the radio for long, not when I'm so close to the R&D building and its radio tower."
"Acknowledged," said the Boss. "We'll try to find a way to keep the enemy from being able to intercept your transmissions—in the meantime, your instinct in keeping your transmissions brief and rare is a good one. I'll be sure to relay the good news. Speaking of, have you managed to find a lead to our VIP being held hostage?"
"I have," Snake said. "I've made contact with another Resistance asset who's agreed to help me locate him in return for a prisoner rescue. I'll be making a milk run on the way to Madnar."
"Understood. How are you getting in?"
"I'll be in disguise. I'm to locate one of my asset's contacts, who'll help me navigate to him."
"The Resistance have people inside R&D?"
"Apparently."
"I see. Good job, Snake. You're doing us proud."
Snake felt his chest swell with pride at Big Boss's praise. He remembered his nightmare. He knew he couldn't let it come to pass. Big Boss had noted the silence.
"Snake?" he asked. "How're you doing, kid?"
"I'm alright. Just tired. The mission's taking more out of me than I thought," Snake admitted.
"Take whatever rest you can when you can get it," the Boss advised. "You're no good to us dead."
Snake shook his head. "I know. But I can't rest yet. Not when I'm so close." He remembered Big Boss's words in his dream. "We're running out of time," he said. "I'll contact you when I have more to tell. I've got to get going."
"Understood. Keep your head in the game, soldier. Let's get it done."
Snake signed off, leaned back into his bed, and started to doze off while he waited for Jennifer's return. This time, he didn't dream.
A FEW HOURS LATER...
Snake was self-conscious. He'd never realized how aware one could be of your body until he was in the enemy's uniform. Every swing of the arms, every step forward, even the way he moved his eyes was something that he obsessively over-analyzed as he was accompanied by Jennifer to the elevator and to the end of the hallway that led outside moving north toward the exterior wall of the R&D complex, where they parted ways.
"Try to act natural," she had told him. But how could he act naturally when he was so aware of how unnatural his movements felt? How could he behave casually when his mind was made to measure his every movement?
He tried to loosen up his walking gait, which felt exaggerated and ridiculous. Sweat dripped from his eyebrows to his nose. The balaclava was uncomfortably warm. Three Outer Heaven troops stopped him at the checkpoint pedestrian door leading through the R&D building's outer perimeter wall.
One of them, a dark-haired man with a thick Hungarian accent, stopped him. He asked in stilted English, "What is your business in Research and Development, újonc?"
Újonc? Snake registered the Hungarian word. He didn't think the uniform pegged him as that low ranking. Well, Jennifer did say he'd be posing as a new hire, he thought. Better roll with it.
Snake reflexively stood at attention in response to the Hungarian's commanding voice. "Sir," he replied, "I'm a new hire, assigned to R&D for patrol. I'm supposed to meet with Sergeant Tagger for orientation. He said I should come in through this entrance."
"I see…," said the Hungarian. "I'll need to radio this in."
The Hungarian put the walkie-talkie to his lips. "Entry One to CP. Can you please patch me through to Sergeant Tagger of R&D?"
"One moment, Entry One," said a voice on the other line. After a short pause, a new voice answered on the other end.
"This is Staff Sergeant Tagger. Go ahead, Entry One."
"Sgt. Tagger, this is Corporal Farkas, I have here new hire, says you are to give him orientation, asking to let him through perimeter wall. Please advise."
Another short pause.
"Go ahead and let him through, Farkas. He's expected; I'll be down to meet him shortly."
Cpl. Farkas nodded. "Very good, sir. Letting the újonc through now." Farkas pointed to Snake and waved him towards the door. "Go ahead, újonc."
Snake nodded, clipping a very brief, "Thank you, sir," before walking through the steel door into the R&D facility.
Inside the concrete walls, Snake found that there was actually more than one building to the R&D complex. There was the main building, which he had seen from a distance when he'd first made his infiltration; a large boxy building about three or four stories tall with an imposing radio tower and set of radar dishes casting their shadow over the complex. There were also two smaller two-story office buildings across from it, and a series of chemical tanks on the far opposite side of the complex from where Snake stood.
Walking around the buildings were several two-man teams of mercs on patrol, while many men and women wearing lab coats over their uniforms were walking back and forth between the main building and the office buildings. On his right near where he stood, Snake could see a small parking lot with several small Jeeps, as well as four large semi-trucks that were backed into the main building's loading bay.
It wasn't long before Snake saw what he was looking for: a man with jet black hair and a well-groomed moustache trotted up to him. On his right shoulder where the patch of his previous unit would be, he had a single blue star, and his nametape read "Staff Sergeant Arno Tagger." Sgt. Tagger reached out a hand when he got to Snake. Snake shook it.
"It's a pleasure to meet you…" Tagger looked at the nametape on Snake's uniform. "…Connors. Welcome to Research and Development."
Snake followed Tagger's lead, trying to act every bit the inexperienced newbie. "Thanks, Sarge. I'm looking forward to working with you. I heard you could give me the grand tour?"
"Indeed, that's why I'm here, leerling!" He turned around, opening his arms. "As you can see, we are very well staffed around here. We have about fifty researchers and well over a hundred technicians and mechanics working day and night to keep our excellent operation up and running, protected by a force over one hundred strong. And that's not counting the staff that protect us outside our walls!"
Snake whistled. "That's pretty intense for just a research lab."
"Ah, but we do so much more than simply research here. Much more," Tagger said as he raised his eyebrow to Snake. "Much of our more experimental weapons and technology are developed right here in house. We also process much of the precious metals and other materials brought in from our FOBs every day. So many of our secrets flow through here; even our elite Bloody Brad forces have R&D to thank for providing them with their great strength."
"I heard about them," Snake said. "Even saw them this morning when they were sent out. They looked huge, and their armor looked like no joke."
Tagger nodded. "Depleted uranium. Just like you find in tank armor; and they move as fast as a cheetah; zero to sixty in three seconds or less, and at full speed they can even create small sonic booms. It's been said that their muscles are enhanced somehow. Exactly what caused them to be like that is a mystery; I'm not cleared to know, and I haven't been here long enough to find out."
There was an awkward silence as Snake processed the information. Something as big, strong, and heavy as the enemies he'd encountered in the desert should not be able to move as fast as those bioroids did. Sgt. Tagger elbowed him, smiling—but the smiling was forced. In Tagger's eyes, Snake could see the same fear that he felt at the prospect of them.
"But hey," Tagger said with fake swagger, "Good thing they're on our side, right?"
Snake nodded, laughing without a trace of humor in his voice. "Haha, yeah…"
"Anyway," Tagger said, just loud enough for anyone who might be listening in to hear, "you'll be on patrol duty for the lower floors of the main building, where the lower clearance areas are. I'll give you a tour of the area, but first, we'll need to get you your badge and keycard access. Follow me."
Obediently, Snake followed Tagger across the road and through the front door of the R&D building into the front desk lobby. After exchanging some pleasantries with the security officer, Tagger thumbed in the direction of Snake. "Got another newbie for today. I need to sort out his badge access," he said.
The security officer nodded, pointing them toward the photo room. Through the door, they were met with a camera opposite a blue background pasted on the wall, like something from the DMV. Next to the photo was a computer kiosk connected to a dye sublimation printer and a stack of blank ID cards with a pile of little metal clips.
Tagger closed the door behind them both. "You'll need to take off your mask."
"Won't that defeat the purpose of having it?" Snake asked.
Tagger leaned in. "Have any of the enemy seen your face?"
"Shotmaker. Some of the soldiers in the supply storage facility."
"So, everyone who's seen your face is dead?"
Snake shook his head. "I got pretty up close and personal with those Bloody Brad guys. Commander Gamba or whatever his name was, he saw me. Pretty sure he and everyone else here thinks I'm already dead, but if Gamba catches me or sees me on the security cameras, he might recognize me."
Tagger nodded to himself, biting his lip. "That is a complication… Okay, I've got an idea. Hang on."
Tagger dug into his pockets and fished out his wallet. After rooting around in it for a few seconds, he pulled out a small picture. Snake craned his neck to look.
"Who is it?" he asked.
"An old driver's license photo of a person who died a few months ago. Someone with no connection to Outer Heaven."
"Why do you have it in your wallet?"
"I keep a lot of generic pictures on hand for situations like this," Tagger said, waving his hand. "Now, shut up and do what I say; we'll still need to take the photo. Take off your mask."
Rather than argue, Snake pulled off the mask and stood in front of the camera. Tagger flashed the photo, then stepped over to the computer. As he opened the application to show the photo, Tagger explained, "This printer performs direct-to-card printing. Normally, once you take the photo, you'd fill out the name and rank information and upload the photo from this program. Thankfully though, this printer also has a scanner attachment."
Tagger placed the photo from his wallet onto the scanner and ran it. Another window popped up on the screen showing the new photo next to the printer window showing Snake's face, which he copied and pasted into the printer window, replacing Snake. Tagger filled out the badge information with the name on Snake's nametape along with a series of bullshit identifiers before placing one of the blank badges into the card hopper, hitting 'print' on the computer. Within seconds, a brand new ID badge with the false photo and the name "Corporal Johnathan Connors."
Tagger clipped the badge to Snake's jacket. "You can put the mask back on," he said in a low voice. "Since you're posing as a new hire, I could only give you access as high as Level 5. This badge will get you through any door LV 5 or lower. I can help guide you into some of the higher level areas if I get an opportunity, but after that, you'll be on your own. Understand?"
"Got it," said Snake, pulling his mask back on.
Tagger opened the door, motioning for Snake to walk ahead. "Come on, Rookie," he said. "I'll give you the grand tour."
They stopped by the security desk to activate Snake's badge ID access, after which they walked on down the hall to a set of double doors where Tagger handed Snake a pair of ear plugs before they entered out onto a massive and loud factory floor. The floor was sectioned off by painted lines that acted as a path for navigation, with overhead hanging signs and wall sign postings indicating direction to various facilities. At various parts of the factory floor were technicians and mechanics working on engines, fuselages, armor plating, and various other large mechanical pieces.
"This is where we construct and modify our vehicles," Tagger shouted. As he spoke, a piloted Walker Gear walked past them with a toolbox mounted on the side and carrying what looked like an engine block in its mechanical arm. Snake watched the box-shaped vehicle in wonder, having never seen one in action before.
"It's something, isn't it?" Tagger said, taking note of Snake's fascination. "They stopped using them for anti-infantry because tanks and IFVs were cheaper to build and easier to get ahold of. When the Walker Gears started going out of service worldwide, Outer Heaven started repurposing them for grunt work with the technicians."
"So, there's just no Walker Gear weapons anymore?" Snake asked.
Tagger shook his head. "You can still mount weapons on them. We've got a few guarding the bunker up north, near the helipads. But their heyday came and went in the '80's—they're mostly just an expensive novelty, now."
Further down the line, Snake spotted a metal stairwell, and noted the sound of rushing water. He pointed and asked, "What's down there?"
"The waterways. We've got a large underwater drainage system to dispose of waste chemicals. It runs parallel to the sewage system. We've got a few storage areas down there too, but not much of note."
Turning the corner, they found themselves on a short bridge overlooking the underwater canal. Snake could see armed guards patrolling the waterways below on either side. At the other end of the bridge, Snake and Tagger ended up in a room with a series of tall steel pillars with red emitters on their side.
"Fancy a smoke, Rookie?" Tagger said, pulling out a cigarette.
Snake followed suit, and after they lit up and exhaled, they could see red lasers crisscrossing throughout the room between the pillars. "As long as you've got your badge on you and it's security status is active, the lasers will turn off as you pass through," Tagger said between his teeth.
The two passed through the laser grid to an elevator on the far side and stepped in. Tagger scanned his badge on the reader and pressed 2 on the panel. When they got to the second floor, Snake found that it was much quieter.
Tagger gestured around as they walked down the halls. "This is where the research labs are. Here new weapon systems are developed and tested before they get patented and distributed both among Outer Heaven and to our customers worldwide: everything from small arms to plastic explosives to chemical and biological weapons."
"Aren't chemical and bioweapons banned by the Geneva Conventions?" Snake asked. "How does Outer Heaven avoid coming under scrutiny?"
"Because those specialized weapons are sold exclusively on the black market, unlike conventional vehicles and firearms. First and third world nations are aware of their activities of course, in fact it's kind of an open secret, but Outer Heaven's armed forces and weapons sales are seen as too useful by the majority of its client nations to risk clamping down on them too hard."
"There's no oversight whatsoever?"
"The UN sends token inspections every few months, but for the most part, they just turn a blind eye," Tagger said. "That's not to say that Outer Heaven doesn't have some sensitive items that they keep secret, but the truth is that they don't really have to try that hard when the authorities are this lax."
"What do you think it would take to get more involvement from major world powers?" Snake asked.
"I'd say…probably if Outer Heaven was caught doing something so big that the rest of the world would have no choice but to recognize them as a threat," Tagger said. "Something like… trying to develop nuclear weapons, for example."
Snake nodded. "That makes sense," he said.
Tagger looked to him. "Why do you ask?"
Snake said, "You know why I'm here, right? Who I'm looking for?"
Tagger nodded. "The Russian scientist. Yeah, his imprisonment here isn't exactly a secret. You're saying he's working on something that dangerous?"
Snake didn't answer. He just said, "I need to find him yesterday."
Tagger's mouth tightened into a straight line. He licked the corner of his mouth absent-mindedly and nodded. "I'll point you in the right direction."
Together, they turned a corner and passed through a series of maze-like hallways. Together, they stopped at a door. Tagger looked both ways to make sure that the coast was clear before scanning his badge and walking them both inside.
In the room was a series of desks covered in papers and blueprints. On the wall was a whiteboard whose every inch was covered in equations, free body diagrams, doodles and short notes in increasingly cramped handwriting. On the wall opposite from the door they entered from was a long window with the blinds closed. Tagger slipped his hand in between the blinds and checked the corridor outside on either side. He waved Snake over to take a look.
"Check the cameras down left on the corner and at the right on the far end. You see them?"
Snake nodded. "Yeah."
"Guards patrol both walkways. We also have automated gun turrets further down, hidden in the ceiling waiting to pop out at the sound of an alarm. The reason for the increased security is because there are two rooms which are under heavy protection: one is the office used by the Russian scientist to do his work, which is also where Venom has been residing for much of the last three months," Tagger explained. "The other room is the scientist's cell. Every day, the scientist is escorted to the office, where together he and the Outer Heaven scientists work on development under Venom's supervision."
"Venom's been living here?" Snake asked. If he could somehow get a shot at Ahab and rescue Dr. Madnar…
Tagger shook his head. "Whatever secret project they're working on, it seems like they're close to wrapping it up. Venom's been spending less and less time in R&D the past few weeks. Last I've heard he's been setting up an office in the northern bunker. But the scientist, he's still continuing to work. Every evening, at around 1900 hours, they escort him back to his cell. He should be there right now, with a couple of guards posted right outside his door."
"So, if we can get close enough and take out the guards…"
"I can let you in," Tagger said, finishing Snake's thought.
Snake looked up at the camera. "What about the cameras?"
Tagger shrugged and replied, "As long as you're with me, no one will question your lower status. They'll just think I'm some egotistical Staff Sergeant who insisted on having some low-level peon follow him around."
Snake mulled it over. "Do you know if there are any cameras overlooking the door to the cell?"
Tagger shrugged. "No. But it shouldn't be a problem either way."
Snake shook his head. "You're the last spy in here who's still free. We need to find a way in that won't break your cover."
Tagger looked taken aback. Clearly he hadn't expected Snake to care about his well-being. "Well, what do you suggest?" he asked.
Snake looked out the hall again. "You lead me through the hall. Pretend you're on a regular patrol, and we'll keep acting like I'm there to shadow you for training. When we get close enough to the cell to determine the presence of cameras, then we can play it by ear. If there's no cameras, we'll go with your plan."
"And if there are cameras?" Tagger asked.
"We separate somewhere out of sight. You distract the guards and lead them away and I'll get in through the door when you're out of sight."
"Just 'lead them away'? That's your plan? How am I supposed to do that without threatening my cover?"
"You'll just have to think of something that throws suspicion off you…maybe set up somebody else as a patsy or make up some kind of emergency. I don't know, use your imagination!"
"Alright, alright!" Tagger said impatiently as he walked up to the door. "We're not going to get you any closer by standing around and talking. Let's go."
Together, the two men exited into the hallway into the watchful eyes of the high mounted CCTV cameras. Moving left to the end of the hall and rounding the corner, Snake made sure to stay close behind while maintaining the respectful distance a junior soldier would give a superior.
Around another corner, they found the door they were looking for. As Tagger had said, there were two guards posted outside. Snake looked up and spotted a security camera overlooking them both. Rather than turn down the hall toward the cell, they continued walking forward, and Snake stepped into a supply closet with Tagger trailing behind.
Snake looked the shelves up and down, before spotting a can of spray paint tucked away inside a small box. Grabbing the can, he turned to Tagger and spoke in a low voice. "Okay, you go out first and lead them back the way we came. When I see you turn the corner, I'm going to spray this onto the camera lens and make my way through the door."
"How are you going to get in without my card access?" Tagger asked.
"Oh, that's easy. Hand me your ID."
Tagger passed it to Snake, who returned the favor by slugging the Resistance spy in the face, and then once more in the diaphragm hard enough to make him enter a coughing fit. Snake patted him on the back as he caught his breath.
"W-what the hell did you do that for?" Tagger gasped. "What's wrong with you!?"
"Quiet," Snake said, putting a finger to his lips. "Listen closely. You just got attacked by a Resistance spy, and he took your badge from you. You sent your trainee off to sound the alarm while you went to get help. You stopped the first guards you saw, which just so happened to be the guards at the cell. Understand?"
Tagger nodded weakly, coughing again. "Y-yeah. I got it. Geez, you hit hard, Connors." Tagger wiped blood from his mouth. His eye and cheekbone were starting to show a dark bruise.
"Sorry about that," Snake said. "But I needed to make it look good."
Snake opened the door a crack and peeked out. There were no guards in the hall. "Okay, you're up," Snake said while motioning his head to the hall.
"They're going to come looking for you, you know," Tagger said over his shoulder.
Snake nodded. "I know. With any luck, by the time they come to investigate the place, me and the old man will be long gone and on our way out of the building."
Tagger appraised Snake. 'Not bad,' his expression seemed to be saying. "Alright then. If I don't see you again, then good luck," he said, giving Snake a thumbs-up.
"Likewise," Snake smirked.
Tagger slipped out the door and sprinted down the hall and around the corner. Even from this distance, Snake could hear him yelling as he got the guards' attention. Within moments, he saw Tagger and the two guards running out of the offshoot hallway and back in the direction that he and Tagger had turned into this branch of hallway.
Not wasting any time, Snake moved forward and turned into the hall ending at the cell door, quickly moving to the blind spot underneath the camera. He then popped the lid off the can and aimed it upwards towards the lens. Once the camera was thoroughly soaked in the black liquid, Snake absent-mindedly tossed the can aside and pulled out Tagger's access card to unlock the door and let himself inside.
Inside the room, there was a huddled figure tied up in ropes with a large black cloth wrapped around its face. However, the white hair and mustache were clearly visible. The prisoner's shoulders were shaking as his body was wracked by quiet sobbing. Snake drew his knife and started sawing at the old man's bonds.
"Dr. Madnar," Snake said as he cut. "My name is Snake. I'm here to get you out."
Snake pulled off the black cloth, only to find that the face underneath was made of rubber and contorted into a permanent frown, and that the shaking shoulders wasn't sobbing, but laughing. Before Snake could react, the figure jumped up and sent a rising knee into Snake's gut before slugging him in the face with an uppercut. Snake fell onto his back, stunned. The man yanked off the rubber mask to reveal an unfamiliar face, then drew a pistol and pointed it at Snake's head.
"Don't move, Snake," said the decoy. "Not a muscle."
The decoy reached out and yanked Snake's mask from his face and pulled his pistol from its holster to toss it to the far side of the room. The door behind Snake burst open, and the two guards from before marched in with a handcuffed Tagger in tow.
"You think we didn't know about the last spy?" The decoy made a tsk-tsk sound with his tongue. "We've been waiting for you Resistance rats to pull a fast one on us ever since we captured those other three prisoners. I feel I should thank you for delivering him to us, though. That's one less loose end for us to have to deal with."
The guards forced Tagger to the ground on his knees as the decoy aimed at his head.
"Wait!" Snake yelled. "If you kill us, you won't be able to find out what we know."
"True, you're not wrong," said the decoy, lowering his weapon. Snake breathed a sigh of relief.
"Then again, there's always the other three prisoners."
The decoy raised his pistol and executed Tagger. Tagger's eyes rolled back into his head as he fell backwards into his own brain matter.
"TAGGER!" Snake yelled, trying to crawl over to the spy that helped him before one of the guards kicked him away and started restraining him with another pair of handcuffs.
Snake snarled at the decoy, "You'd better hope you kill me, you son of a bitch, because you're a dead man!"
The decoy grinned cruelly. "Oh, I think not. You see, Snake, we've all lost some comrades here thanks to your little stunt back west, and I happen to know of some old friends of yours in particular who are just jonesing for a rematch."
The decoy motioned to one of the guards and Snake and Tagger's corpse were dragged bodily to the center of the room. The guards stepped back as the decoy pulled open a wall panel to reveal a large red button.
"Tell the Bloody Brads I said hello," the decoy taunted, slamming his fist onto the button.
The floor opened beneath them, and the two bodies were sent tumbling down a long, dark chute until they were deposited into a wide open space, with Tagger's body painfully landing on top of Snake. Snake awkwardly shimmied out from underneath Tagger's bloody corpse and curled his legs up so that he could painfully and awkwardly put them through his handcuffed arms. He pushed himself up and quickly took stock of his surroundings.
He was in a square concrete pit, a little larger than a regulation soccer pitch in square footage. The pit was flooded with light from overhead spotlights, and a rectangular observation window could be seen high above. Surrounding him on three sides were the biomechanical hulks of the Bloody Brad squad. In the middle of the three was Commander Gamba, who looked at Snake with a mixture of cruel glee and intense loathing in his glowing eyes.
"Hello, Intruder, or should I say, Snake," Gamba hissed in a menacing electronic growl. "I am happy to see you so alive and well. Pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."
A/N: A little bit calmer of a chapter overall as we transition to a new area. Unlike Building One, I'm playing a bit more fast and loose with Building Two's layout and order this time around, just for the sake of making the writing a little more efficient and to spare me having to write the same corridor descriptions and takedowns over and over. The one thing I wanted to accomplish though since I was making Building Two into the research and development building was to give both a plausible reason for there to be increased security as well as a reason for why exactly Snake is going to be fighting a bunch of cyborgs in this area. It also gives me an excuse to tie in another plot thread from the MGSV area of the timeline by giving a little shoutout to the Walker Gears and giving a reason for why they don't show up later in the timeline besides "because Kojima retcon." I also wanted to establish the existence of the waterways as a separate floor rather than it being part of the first floor like in the actual game map-it's going to be important for the prisoner rescue later, among other things. Jennifer having her own mini-spy network assisting her also gives a reason for why there are POWs inside the building and also helps to inject a little bit more humanity in the plot.
Honestly, not a whole lot else to say about this chapter-it's serviceable and does what it needs to do to move the story along. Next chapter we'll have the Bloody Brad boss fight, along with the Dirty/Coward Duck fight as well. If I can fit the rescue of the father and daughter Madnar duo I will, but that might have to be its own separate chapter. For now, I'm going to take another small break before I get started on writing the new chapter, which I should hopefully have out in another few weeks. Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks especially to those who take the time to review. Your encouragement really helps keep me motivated to keep moving forward on this project.
(10/30 update: This chapter was originally uploaded 10/20. I noticed something odd with my story traffic stats and lack of emails from the site after the network issues that the website was experiencing a little while ago and deleted/reuploaded this chapter as an experiment. However, I'm still working on chapter 14 and hope to have it uploaded soon within the next couple of weeks.)