Authors notes: In celebration for Metal Gear Rising Revengeance's 10th year anniversary I wanted to give a little something for my readers. Two chapters it is! I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Well...hopefully more so because writing can be like pulling teeth sometimes when the brain refuses to get creative. Those that know will know what I'm talking about.

Speaking stubborn brains its time for a certain somebody to wake up...

.

A sensation, insistent and intense, hauled Raiden up from the depths once more.

The new sensation did not tilt dizzingly as before. It did not poke and prod at him eliciting a reflexive snarl. There was no distressing pulsing, a relentless tha-thump tha-thump from beyond that kept trying to nudge him out of the numbness. This sensation simply was, and it was impossible to ignore. An all powerful stimuli that cut across the void and pierced through the darkness that held him prisoner.

This not-void he was experiencing was distantly familiar. It was something that he had not experienced in ages but the soul deep knowledge of it was still buried somewhere within. The relentless intensity pierced through the mire of his mind and landed upon a memory. Finding the strength to break through the nothing that enveloped him, Raiden pulled forth a single thought.

'Light.' He thought simply, mentally exhausted with the effort it took to come up with the realization.

That was what the unyielding sensation was, he was registering light. To an outsider it would have appeared dim and indistinct, but after ages and ages of not even being able to see the black of darkness for lack of eyes, the dim glow from beyond his closed eyelids seemed to have all the force of the noonday sun. The why's and how's of the lights appearance was too much for his enslaved mind. Raiden mentally turned away, seeking shelter in the abyss of his psyche once more.

Or he tried to at least.

Another sensation was making itself known on the periphery of his tentative awareness. It was not as all consuming and unwavering as the light was. What it lacked in steadfastness it made up for with spontaneity and intensity.

The stimuli would shake through his mind like an earthquake would shake the foundations of a building. It seemed to happen at random, but more likely he was simply incapable of remembering and predicting its occurrences. By the time the sensation occurred and faded off, Raiden had already forgotten about its previous happening and it shook through him anew every time.

"...needs a little more time..."

"...unresponsive..."

"...best to keep him in the VR..."

The new sensation kept occurring, shattering the nothingness. It kept pulling him back up whenever he tried to sink and settle down in nonexistence. Every time it thundered through him it was as if the vibrations were slowly rattling a fragile object towards the edge of an immense drop. Throughout the constant prodding the largely catatonic man came to realize the disturbance was sound.

Raiden was helpless to fight against the light and sounds. The vibrations would come and jar him to semi-awareness all the while the light seemed to burn away at his shelter of the void. He wanted it to stop. He needed it to stop. The distress kept building and intensifying until he could no longer passively let it wash over him.

For the first time in years, Raiden opened his eyes.

It was overwhelming. The light seared, scorched, and seemed to burn away anything that was left of him. It was all too much. Raiden immediately closed his eyes tightly once more. He quickly retreated back into the darkness that had claimed him but he could not quite reach it through the light. The other sensations, the sounds, seemed to increase to crushing levels with his mistake.

"…was open...swear I saw..."

"...Jack please wake up..."

The sensory input rained down torment upon him that he could not escape from. The sounds were loud, excited, excruciating. They prodded at him far harsher than the hands had ever done. It was all too much. Overwhelming and overpowering, the light and sound seemed to crush in on him from all sides.

Underneath it all from within was a previously unnoticed tha-thump tha-thump tha-thump that only grew faster and more deafening as the nothing that had been his entire existence was replaced by the everything and he was on the verge of being destroyed by it all.

"...ress levels rising...risk"

"...ing sedatives..."

Just when the sensations of light, sound, and movement neared their crescendo did salvation come for Raiden. The nothing that he had been a part of for so long reached forth and seized him once more. The overwhelming sensory input dulled and soon faded away altogether.

Raiden let out a sigh of relief as the nothing claimed him for its own once again.

-0-0-0-

The next time Raiden was wrenched forth from the nothingness things felt different. Awareness came through a bit more clearly. Thought seemed less nebulous and more solid. It was a minute difference more akin to water vapor condensing just enough to form beads of dew rather than just mist, but it was enough of a difference for him to be able to notice even in his haze.

The light was still present although it seemed somewhat less all consuming, searing. Blissfully there was no soul rattling sound tormenting him. While the nothingness was preferred, the lack of any of the extra stimulation that had been tormenting him was a relief. For the first time in ages Raiden felt almost… content as he drifted in his lassitude.

It was in this half aware daze did he realize that there was another sensation to be had. It was not overwhelming and demanding as the light and sound had been. It was steady and unobtrusive, almost supportive in its calmness. Raiden drew comfort from the soft sensation, which he realized was what he had been feeling.

Touch.

Distant feelings of long dormant curiosity had him sluggishly extending his awareness out to see where all this sensation of softness extended to. He searched and searched, numbly realizing that there was a lot more of himself than there should have been. It was too much to think about and not worth the effort of fully mapping out his physical self.

Curiosity sated and exhausted for his efforts, Raiden drifted but annoyingly did not quite manage to sink back under. He willed himself to return to the nothingness but this time the void did not reach back for him. The man rejected the light, the sensations of something soft touching him, the realization that there was more of him than just a face to be touched, and willed himself to go back into shadow.

Awareness and insensibility struggled against one another for some time but neither truly prevailed. He distantly wished he had never been disturbed by the light. It was almost if he were an animal coaxed from the safety of its den only to have the path of retreat blocked when he was not looking. Once again the sensation of thumping wormed its way into his awareness with its increasing insistence.

Raiden was exhausted. He didn't want this. He didn't want to see and feel and hear. It was all too much and for him and likely naught more but a hallucination or a stray nightmare. For so long he had reached for existence, wanted it, had pulled forth memory after memory of what it was like just to be. But with time it had all slipped through his fingers like water leaving him with nothing left.

Now Raiden wanted the nothingness, the serenity and sanctuary of the void. To not have to try and fight and struggle for everything was soothing in a way he had never before experienced in his life. Brows furrowing in irritation, the most emotion that he had experienced in ages, Raiden's eyes opened of their own accord.

The light was just as intense and scorching as it had been last time. But unlike before, he didn't close his eyes and retreat inward. His sanctuary had been cut off from him and Raiden was so exhausted from all the realizations, emotions, and sensations that he did not have it in him to fight against it. The light flooded in on him but all he could do was submit to it, like a prisoner kneeling helplessly under the glare of a spotlight.

Ever so slowly as the newness of the sensation of sight wore off so did the intensity of the light seem to fade. Relief washed over him as his irritation faded and once more the new sensations and realizations took a backseat to the drifting in the emptiness of self.

It could have been moments or it could hours, but eventually with his eyes open Raiden realized that there were things to be seen. He passively allowed sight to relay the input in front of him so long as he did not have to exert any effort by focusing or looking around. The only thing in his immediate field of vision was soft white fabric and an arm in a blue sleeve stretching out before him.

His, he realized slowly. He was laying on his side on the soft surface with one arm stretched out and the other tucked close. Or at least he thought that's where it was. He did not care to feel it out to determine its location, it was already nearly overwhelming to exist in so much more space than he was used to. His arm that he was looking at lay out palm facing upward, fingers slightly curled in their relaxed state.

It was an impulse, not quite curiosity and surely not a planned action that lead Raiden to try and move his hand. Was it truly his or had the hallucinations returned once more? It would certainly explain all the sensory input that could not possibly be harassing him.

His index finger slowly crooked towards his palm, the other fingers sluggishly following suit. 'Real then.' He thought faintly and with no real feeling behind it. Raiden relaxed his hand, weary from the effort.

The peace was abruptly shattered as sounds flooded in, startling him out of his soft reverie.

"... are awake now...moving..."

"...respond...can you hear..."

He could not retreat from the sounds and he could not ignore them. Most of all he could not withstand the bombardment of sensory input. Even the pounding from within was increasing by the second. He desperately wished to be back in the place of the dark and cold rather than this new hell.

Seemingly of its own accord, Raiden's arm curled towards him and his hand clutched over his head protectively. The other one sluggishly followed suit, the uncertainty of its existence made the limb slow to respond. Helpless to do anything else about the sound, Raiden held his head tightly and curled in on himself as much as his uncoordinated and uncooperative body would allow.

Miraculously, the sound's stopped their bombardment immediately. Raiden's tight posture relaxed slowly by increments. It was less feeling more secure in the situation but more rather he lacked the willpower to maintain such conscious effort. Eventually the man gave up completely and went limp, his hands coming to rest on the soft surface in front of his face. The sounds did not start back up and even the thumping sensation eased and became unobtrusive once more.

He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, utterly and completely exhausted.

-0-0-0-

Waking once more came with painful sharpness and a clarity that Raiden forgot could ever exist. It was like clawing at razor sharp ice to break through the surface and to face the sun. He did not know how he knew, but deep down Raiden knew that something inside of him had changed and that sinking back into the void was lost to him.

The loss of his haven evoked churning and persistent feelings that he had long forgotten about. Loss, desperation, and most unexpectedly of all, anger. His heartbeat began to increase with in its intensity at his dismay, but this time Raiden did not shy away from it.

He did not shy away from the light either as he opened his eyes once again. He did not know how he would fare against the intensity of the sounds but the occasion to see never arose. It was blissfully quiet and the thankfulness took some of the edge off the intensity of the rediscovered emotions.

The room was dimmer than Raiden remembered it being when he had first opened his eyes. The lack of the harsh glare searing through him was a welcome blessing and encouraged him to willfully look around. The source of the gentle low light lay somewhere beyond the scope of his vision casting long deep shadows over his surroundings.

At the forefront of his sight were his hands, still laying as he had left them. It was actually a mild struggle to get his eyes to focus properly on something so close to him. After trying and failing to adjust his eyes, inspiration struck and Raiden simply pulled them further away from his face. The movement, while sluggish at first, obeyed his will far easier than expected. The feeling of skin moving over the white surface also lacked the intensity that his previous waking had.

Raiden came to recognize that he was lying on the same fluffy surface. The white color of the material was dulled to grey in the dimness and the surface threatened to envelop him within its soft embrace. 'A bed' he managed to recall. For once the effort of thinking and remembering took no strength from him. It did however irritate him.

Blunted ire at being coerced into this unwelcome consciousness gnawing at him, Raiden painstakingly forced his eyes to focus beyond himself and the bed. He looked about his surroundings for something to blame for his awakening. Some items he recognized instantly, some took several moments of staring before what he was looking at would register within his mind.

Beyond the edge of the bed was a black dresser with a simple digital clock reading 1:13 AM. The walls were painted with unobtrusive tones that seemed pleasant even in the gloam. Further beyond that was a stand with a large television which was thankfully switched off.

At the edge of what he could see without physically moving Raiden could see a picture on the wall. From what he could make out it was a pleasant looking scenery photo although painfully generic and lacking in character. He looked from each of these objects to the next, feeling that there was some conclusion to be drawn from what he was seeing but it kept slipping away, like trying to grasp fog.

Eventually the pieces fit together and realization condensed into thought.

'It's a room.' Whether this was an apartment, house, or hotel room, he did not know. All he knew was that it was not the kind of place he would expect to find himself in after being in the dark and the cold. Or was it the same place after all and he just never realized it? It was not as if he would know the difference in where he he had been. Raiden didn't know what to do with these questions, so he let go of thinking about it.

To flee from the puzzling thoughts he tried again to see what lay beyond his field of vision but was limited by laying as he was. The prospect of moving was an exhausting one and tired him by even considering it. Raiden would much rather drift back off but with that thought came the remembrance that he had nowhere left to retreat to.

It was then that he recalled that he had been angry over this. Was still angry. It grew and festered and suddenly the task of moving was not such a daunting one. In fact, it was almost a welcome prospect.

Deep in the forgotten depths of himself did this unexpected feeling grow. It was insubstantial at first, like the fleeting memories of a dream, but it did not relent in its growing intensity. For the fist time in ages, Raiden felt the need to move. It was like a building pressure, an itch that would not be ignored. The feeling was almost as overwhelming as the light and the sound had been. The more he denied it, the more insistent the urge became.

Raiden had lost the will to move ages ago. His need to move and escape from that place coupled with his complete inability to do so had only drove him quicker to the edge of madness. Now the man knew that movement was possible, that he had already moved of his own accord. He was not restrained. He was not stuck limbless and helpless. There was nothing now other than his own disjointed mind holding him back.

So he moved.

So slowly that he lost his focus several times during the process, Raiden twisted around enough so that he could place his both hands against the soft surface of the bed. Then jerkily and painstakingly he pushed himself upwards. It was astonishingly difficult and exhausting. His hands sunk into the soft surface like it was trying to reclaim him. He was so very tempted to let it.

Weakness worked against him wanting to overpower him and pull him back down. It was less of a weakness of limb but rather the weakness of will put behind the motion. The desire to move warred fiercely with the desire to give in. Somehow from somewhere deep within Raiden, he drew up enough will to not give up just yet.

Raiden pushed until he could rise no longer. Twisting, he turned to look about him, eyes moving but taking in very little in his distraction and struggle against the weight of his own physical form. What he managed to make out first in the low light was the foreign sight of the rest of himself.

His legs were partially folded underneath him on the soft bed, clad in loose blue fabric to match the shirt that hung from him. For a moment he wondered if the limbs he were seeing truly belonged to him. Existing on the outside rather than solely of thought was a little difficult to wrap his mind around. Extending his will to move had a foot twitch in confirmation.

Exhaustion overpowered will and Raiden let himself sag back down face first onto the bed with a sigh. All that struggle and effort and he had only managed to push his top half partially up off the bed and have a quick look. He was so very tired. The desire to move had been withered and all he wanted to do was sink back into the welcoming darkness.

But still the darkness would not take him back.

He tried to give a cry of frustration but all it came out as was a pitiable moan, made even more pathetic by the fact that it was muffled by the soft surface of the bed. Rage flared up at his helplessness, but it was more disjointed and dim as the exertion from his struggles had diminished some of the clarity that he had woken with. It was so tempting to quit trying but he was not quite ready to give up just yet.

His temper set in again more deeply than before. But why did he need to move again? Raiden couldn't remember, and he was unwilling to try and figure it out. What he wanted now was up. He needed up and away from the smothering softness of the bed that he irrationally began to associate with his helplessness and his inability to sink back down into the void.

Raiden pushed himself up, finding himself able to move much more quickly this time although still far from smooth. Desperate to keep away from the entrapping surface waiting for him to collapse back into and be stuck in a helpless limbo, Raiden pushed himself sideways in a pitiable attempt to escape the bed.

The sensation of his whole body moving was such a burdensome and unwanted sensation. It was foreign, to have so much self. The body felt more akin to dead weight than to being a part of him. It never occurred to Raiden to question why he now possessed a body. All he knew was that he was feeling trapped at the situation and wanted to escape it, but having so much of himself to move was a burden.

His distraction caused his arms to buckle and back down to the bed he fell. Anger began to give way to anxiety as the impressions of capture and confinement began to rise up at his inability to get away from the bed's soft clutches. Almost desperate to flee from the once soothing surface, Raiden tried pushing out with sluggish legs as well to move himself. Suddenly there was no more bed to try and escape from.

Alarm jolted through him followed by dizziness as he tumbled down to the floor.

His shoulder hit first with bone jarring intensity, with his legs falling soon afterwards. Whether the impact hurt or not, Raiden couldn't tell, he was too busy holding tightly to the plush carpet to steady himself against a disturbed equilibrium that seemed hell bent on sending him spinning into orbit. The long forgotten sensation of nausea rising up was almost enough to make him start dry heaving right then and there.

Eventually the world stopped trying to buck him off and his stomach quit churning leaving Raiden stunned and staring up at the white textured ceiling. He lay there dazedly trying to process what in the hell had just happened. The itch to move crawled through his nerves once more but the rest of himself had other ideas. His limbs had had enough. They rebelled and refused to heed his commands anymore. He tried to force himself but exhaustion had won in the end.

He tried to placate the persistent urge to move, to do something, by running his fingertips over the plush carpet. The sensation of touch brought about by his own choice was somehow addicting. It had been so long since he experienced the sensation of touch through his own will rather than that of his mystery caretaker.

Raiden would lightly brush his fingers over the fabric, nails catching on the small threads, then have to stop as the sensation threatened to overload a mind unused to such stimuli on demand. The feeling of touch that didn't come from the hands or the act of simply existing was mesmerizing and the man soon became lost in it.

-0-0-0-

Raiden awoke without ever realizing that he had fallen asleep. Looking about the man saw that he still lay on the floor. The only thing he could see from his current position was the base of the dresser on one side of him and the bottom of the bed on the other. Raiden remained laying where he was for the longest time simply feeling.

He felt the texture of the fabric on his skin. He felt the weight of his body pressing down into the plush carpet. Most of all, Raiden felt a clarity of mind that he had not known in quite some time. Thought still felt too prone to slipping away when he did not have all of his focus on it, but thought was still there all the same. What to do with these realizations, he didn't actually know, but what he felt was a bone deep certainty that something inside had shifted.

Slowly and with great effort Raiden managed to twist and push and struggle until he was finally sitting upright. Mostly upright anyway. He swayed slightly in place, his balance objecting greatly to doing anything other than lying inert. Thankfully the nausea of his fall did not return with this new change in position.

The constant micro-adjustments and struggle it took to just stay upright was far more taxing than what Raiden had anticipated. It was deeply frustrating to finally be allowed movement but being almost incapable of it. He felt deep down that he could do so much more than just sitting up if only he could get a solid grasp on himself.

He refused to let gravity win again and pull him back down to the floor. Raiden pulled upon the hazy feeling that he was more than this to give him the drive to try and stand. Standing, it turned out, was several magnitudes harder than trying to sit up but he refused to let himself be overcome once more. Grasping at the bed that he had fallen from only a short while ago, Raiden used it to pull himself up while forcing his feet to obey his will and to get properly placed underneath him.

The blankets suddenly pulled loose and Raiden found himself back on the floor. As if to mock his pitiable efforts, the blankets followed him down and partially buried him. Frustration giving him strength, Raiden struggled to get free of the smothering fabrics and managed to scoot away from them until his back hit the base of the dresser.

The dresser proved to be a much better source of support as Raiden once again got his feet under him and shakily tried to stand. The light from the little clock, now reading 4:38 am, stretched across the polished surface and illuminated normal unblemished hands. They seemed odd to him but he could not quite pinpoint what was so wrong about the way his hands looked.

Leaning heavily on the solid furniture, Raiden manged to fully stand although his legs seemed oddly weak and threatened to give out on him the moment his focus waned. Memories of strong drink and the unsteadiness that inevitably resulted from it flashed through his mind in sudden recall. Raiden had not had any alcohol for quite a few years now but if he were ever to get out of this situation he knew that he never would again just so this feeling of looseness and lack of coordination could never be revisited.

Now in a position to see more of his surroundings, the man took a moment to look around this room he found himself in while he recovered some strength. It was spacious, far bigger than he would have guessed from his limited view from the bed. It was somewhat...intimidating to be in such a wide open area after being confined in his mind for so long.

Refusing to give into the irrational fear, Raiden focused less on the openness and more on what commanded his attention the most: the light. The source of light that had lit up the darkened room came from a door over at the far end of the room. It was slightly ajar with the white light spilling forth from within. It was only across the room although it might as well have been several miles.

Eventually Raiden trusted his balance enough to slowly move away from the dresser and closer to the source of the white light that called him like a moth to the flame. The angle from where he stood did not allow him to see beyond that slight crack in the door. It beckoned to him. What was in that room, he had no idea but it seemed to whisper promises of answers to him. Raiden heeded the siren call and began his difficult trek across the room.

Newborn animals moved with more confidence and grace than what he managed, but Raiden moved onward regardless. The television was the first causality of his efforts. When he was close enough to the stand Raiden grasped at it for support. He overestimated the reach of his arms and the weight he had behind the lunge and was not able to pull himself back in time.

The man ended up colliding with the stand rather than leaning on it. He managed to stay upright, but the device that had sat upon the furniture had not. The cacophony it made when it crashed with the floor was was enough to have him clasping his ears and cringing so hard he nearly fell to his knees.

The noise seemed to echo in the spacious room long after the sound had faded away. The absence of the sound planted the seed of thought that he might not be alone in this place. Raiden looked around the dark room anxiously. He didn't know who might be after him, but instinct told him to be wary nonetheless. Suddenly the darkened room had him feeling very much like hunted prey.

He didn't want to return to the dark cold place. He couldn't. Not again.

No whispers of sound in the concealing darkness. Nothing shifted from the dim doorways he could see just beyond the wedge of light. As each moment ticked by with no footsteps our the sounding of an alarm, Raiden began to relax by increments. 'Alone then.' he thought turning once more to the room with the light. The thought that it may be the exit from this place had Raiden parting ways with the little island of stability and moving intently forward once more.

The sliver of light through the cracked door grew tantalizingly close. The more he focused on reaching the light rather than his shuffling path the smoother he seemed to move. His legs felt stronger, his feet more confident. The slow almost geriatric shuffle became swifter and more sure. He was so intent on his goal that Raiden hardly noticed that he almost felt normal.

He reached for the door and as he took a hold of the handle the man greatly overestimated how hard to pull, accidentally throwing the door wide open.

The bright light hit him with an almost tangible impact. It seared at him, far brighter than his poorly adjusted eyes could process at the moment. Raiden recoiled back, throwing his arms up to shield his eyes from the piecing light. He stumbled and the impact of him hitting the opposite wall was bone jarring enough to make his legs give out from underneath him altogether.

So focused on blocking out the light, he paid little mind to the sound of glass shattering. The jolt of him hitting the floor and even the light was all but forgotten as a shock of clarity shot through him like a bolt of lightning in the night. The lucidity was more potent and revitalizing than any of his awakenings in this place had been by far.

Raiden looked away from the hand that was blocking out the light and slowly turned towards the other one that had been thrown out in vain to try and arrest his fall. The room with its plain inoffensive colors, the bland pictures, even the clothes he wore with its soft blues, they were all muted shades of grey in comparison to the vibrancy of red he now saw.

The twisted edges of the picture frame that he had collided with and took down with him dug uncomfortably into his back. Shards of glass littered the floor when the picture had shattered both with his impact and it's collision with the floor. His hand rested in the middle of the glinting fragments, a halo of red slowly spreading outward.

Raiden slowly lifted his hand and turned it over, marveling at the color and the pain that was shooting thorough his hand and up his arm. The man could almost see the triangle of glass embedded in the center of his palm vibrate with his increased pulse. Marveling at the pain, he drew his hand closer towards himself. The blue fabric of his clothing was slowly becoming spattered with red.

Raiden tugged at the wedge of glass. It would not budge. He pulled harder.

It reluctantly tore free sending a renewed wave of pain that burnt away the fog that had been settled over him. Raiden watched in fascination as blood welled up eagerly now and spilled over onto his lap, the red shining vibrantly in the bright light of the room beyond. He opened his hand wide and the cut spread open like a big smile stretching across ones face. He couldn't help but to mirror the expression having finally been set free from the haze.

Clenching his fist tight to savor a new wave of pain, Raiden slowly rose to his feet. The fog may have been lifted but his limbs still felt annoyingly uncooperative. He clutched at the wall to keep his balance, heedless of the blood he smeared across the beige wallpaper. His eyes had adjusted enough for him to tell that the glaringly bright room with its false promises only contained a lavish bathroom.

Raiden didn't quite know whether to laugh or rage at this turn. Thoroughly uninterested in the utilities, the man stumbled away searching for a way out of this place.

The first window he came to held gave a pleasant view of a beach with moonlight dancing over the gentle waves. Raiden didn't give a shit about the sights, he was more interested in the window itself. There were no latches to be found for it to open. He gave an experimental tug but it held fast. It was not an ideal escape anyway. It was too high to leap from judging from the view.

Keeping the window in mind for an alternate exit, Raiden prowled onward. He was reluctant to turn on any of the lights, the feelings of being hunted still far too strong for him to reveal his position. He flexed his injured hand as he moved keeping a constant surge of pain against the mental muddiness that lurked at the edges of his mind waiting for a chance to pounce. He beat it away with blood, severed nerves, and sheer force of will.

Raiden slowly discovered that the place he had woke up in was rather large. A sitting room with an extensive collection of books, several closets with various linens, and even the bathroom with rather elaborate fixtures held no clues or answers as to why he was here and who had brought him to this place.

While he was thankful to be free of the place of the cold and the hands, for all Raiden knew the place he had been held in this entire time was the basement of this place, or even just one room over. He wanted nothing more than to escape and find some safe place to tuck away in for a while until he could get his head back on straight. It would not be the first time he has had to do something similar.

Finally, beyond the sitting room he spotted it. A foyer and the front door that lead to his freedom. Raiden stumbled along heedless of the drops of blood he left in his wake. He slowed as he neared, suspicious of a trap. He fought to get his eyes to focus through the spyhole on the door. Oddly there were no guards stationed outside. No one there to monitor him, just empty halls. Hell, there wasn't even any cameras to be seen in this suite. Despite suspecting a trap Raiden was desperate enough to try the doorknob.

It would not turn.

He twisted at it again harder this time. It wasn't simply locked, it did not move at all. The knob didn't even rattle. It was as if it had been placed there purely for cosmetic purposes. Raiden pushed then pulled at the door, nearly throwing himself off with the force behind the movement. He threw his shoulder into the door with pitiable results.

The strength behind his moments was nonexistent and he completely lacked the coordination for anything more elaborate. After several more incensed tries Raiden sagged against the bloodstained door. The man rested his forehead against the polished wood to recuperate and come up with a plan.

So much movement and emotion had exhausted him deeply. Already he could feel the drowsiness creeping back up on him and along with it the mental lethargy that had held him captive just as steadfastly as these rooms did. Raiden squeezed his injured hand with as much strength as he could muster but only managed to mildly renew the bleeding that had stemmed during his exploration. The nerves had cried out but he was quickly beginning to become numb to the fading stimuli.

Raiden weakly beat a fist against the fake door. He would not go back under. He had been lucky that no one had come for him while he had been out of it, trying to figure out what he was much less where he was. He would not be taken again, to be locked up, blinded, and immobile. He refused. He needed to be able to focus to be able to get out of here.

Raiden stumbled away from the false exit. He had to escape from this place. He made his way back towards the broken glass in search of the clarity that only pain could bring him.

.

Authors notes: I can't believe that MGRR came out ten years ago. It seems like just yesterday that I was sulking because I couldn't afford a gaming console to play it on lol. Looking up the dates I realized that I'm older than the Metal Gear series itself. I need some ibuprofen for my back now.