Nezu sat at the rendezvous point waiting with a cup of tea in hand. In his other hand, was a folder of documents he thought the MSF might like. Ocelot also stood nearby, the spy spinning his revolvers as always. He holstered the revolvers eventually, as a helicopter neared the landing zone. Its side doors opened and Nezu climbed in once it landed. Ocelot followed suit, taking a seat in the copilot's chair.
Sitting down, Ocelot turned and tossed Nezu a blindfold. He could understand why, the MSF didn't fully trust him yet. So, with no objections, he put it on quietly as he felt the helicopter lift off the ground. He couldn't tell how long it had been, he assumed hours, but eventually, the helicopter landed.
"Alright, you can take it off now," Ocelot told him, the sound of the doors opening following it. He removed the blindfold carefully, before taking a look around.
"This is impressive. How long did it take to build?" Nezu asked as he looked around Mother Base. It had to be an engineering feat of massive proportions.
"I'm not entirely sure," Ocelot replied, "You might have to ask Miller about that."
"Then ask away," Miller stated, coming out to greet them, "Kazuhira Miller, pleased to meet you."
"Nezu," he introduced himself. From there they entered the main facility, taking a seat in one of its conference rooms. With it, Nezu took another sip from his tea. It miraculously stayed warm through the entire journey.
"So, I see you brought something with you," Miller noted as Nezu passed him the folder.
"Consider it the first of many gifts," he replied, with Miller opening it carefully.
"What is this?" Miller asked him. The folder contained nothing but blueprints for weapons. Experimental rifles, IFVs, trucks, helicopters, and artillery. And what Miller found before him was the blueprint for a tank.
"The KF-51 Panther if I remember correctly. It was designed just before the emergence of quirks but never entered mass production. In fact, everything in there is a prototype weapon system."
Miller could see that, as he looked through the next set of documents. He found canceled tank programs, next-generation fighters, prototype rifles, IFVs, drones, and others. This was cutting-edge tech, almost all of it having some link to better intelligence and stealth capabilities. Of course, one thing didn't make sense.
"Why weren't any of these ever built?"
None of it had a functional prototype currently. Some were built, of course, disproving his question, but those were all destroyed or inoperable. So why weren't more built?
"I'm afraid quirks are to blame." Nezu informed him, "These were developed right at the emergence of quirks. The chaos that would ensue led to the projects' subsequent end. The only thing left of them is blueprints."
"Well, these are impressive. I'll keep them in mind." Miller told him, putting the blueprints away. They would be useful to MSF, that much was clear. But he couldn't help but see the price tag on the concepts being proposed. If they wanted these weapons, they needed capital. It was then Miller pulled out his codec.
"Now for your part of the deal," Miller said, turning it on. The hologram was lit up immediately, displaying what information they currently had. Most of it was old events back in Venezuela, but now reports were coming back from Africa.
"Currently we've been following a money trail the HPSC left behind back in Africa," Miller explained, "once there we found a scientist we've been tracking by the name of Night Owl, and the local warlord codenamed the Congo Tyrant."
He switched it over to photos of the two individuals, as well as the factory. Immediately Nezu spotted what was being produced on the assembly line. He began to worry about what they may be for, only for Miller to confirm those fears.
"Snake, or Big Boss, personally infiltrated this factory in Nigeria. There he found the blueprints for a fission-based, nuclear weapon. Along with the bombs themselves being manufactured in the factory."
"So, an army of villains has gotten their hands on nukes," Nezu commented, anger and worry already becoming present.
"The factory was only producing the physical missile parts. We're not sure if they have the payloads completed yet." Miller replied.
"I think you have something mixed up," Nezu told him, "The HPSC has done many horrible things, but they wouldn't give villains nukes. It ruins the balance of power they've created."
"How do you mean?" Miller asked.
"You can cover a gang's existence so long as no one notices. A warlord using a nuke in Africa is pretty noticeable, especially when people five countries away start dying of radiation poisoning. Not to mention it ruins the image of invincibility the HPSC created for heroes." Nezu stated.
"Meaning more than likely they know they're funding the Tyrant, but not where the money is going," Miller noted. It made sense as Miller thought about it. The HPSC unknowingly backed themselves into a corner. If Tyrant was successful and got his hands on nukes, then the influence of the HPSC was worthless. There would be nothing stopping him from ignoring their orders.
Soul looked over the documents carefully, with Strangelove doing the same. This one in particular was of a quad tilt-rotor aircraft, supposedly capable of carrying as much weight as a C-130. But he couldn't help but decline the idea.
"It's just not feasible at the moment," he told Miller, setting the blueprint down.
"How come?" Miller asked him, "Sure it might cost a lot we have the material for it."
"Yes, we have the material for it, but that's not the problem." Soul replied, "What we need is standardization before we start spending any more money on projects like these."
"And yet you built the walker gears." Miller countered.
"We only built one, and that was from a copy of Emmerich's robotic legs." Soul stated, "But again we need standardization."
"How do you mean?" Miller inquired.
"Exactly what the word means. The MSF has nine different types of tanks, ranging from M1A2 Abrams, Mark4 Merkavas, Challenger 2s, Leopards, and others. What we have is a massive drain on resources, in that for all these tanks, we need different parts. Some have different engines, different optics, and different electronics in some cases. The same could be said for our rifles." Soul told him, as he listed even more of the MSF's equipment. They had AKs, M4s, FNCs, FALs, MRSs, ARCs, and G36s. They had weapons from all parts of the globe, some with interchanging parts, others without. But Miller could see what Soul was saying.
"Alright, I'll see to it. Any suggestions hardware-wise?" Miller inquired. Soul pondered it for a moment, before turning away to get to work.
"For tanks, I'd say focus on the Abrams. They're not the best, but they're reliable, and there are lots of them. Everything else, I'm not sure."
"Alright y'all, gather round!" the CO ordered, with the men subsequently falling into order. Ape stood near the back, with Eagle next to him.
"Any idea what this is about?" Eagle asked him, as he inspected his desert eagle.
"None I'm afraid," Ape replied, as he activated his quirk. Only to deactivate it as the CO sent him a glare. Somehow that man always knew when he was using it.
"What I have today is some big news. First, on the list, we have the new shotgun being sent down from command. This here, is the AA-12."
He held out the shotgun carefully, the weapon unloaded and its safety on. All the men got a closer look then, and their interest suddenly peeked.
"This one specifically is a variant manufactured by the R&D team. It's fully automatic and can fire a slew of different shells. This is being issued out to infantry squads, to combat small suicide drones. Think of it like a mini flak cannon." The CO finished, as he grabbed a nearby ammo drum. He loaded it into the shotgun before he handed it off to one of the infantrymen. At that moment a nearby drone operator flew a small drone.
"Take a shot at it private." the CO ordered, and the Private took aim. The drone flew erratically, in a pattern that would be difficult to hit with a regular gun. But true to his word, it was like an old flak gun, as the private fired so many pellets down range the drone simply disappeared.
"Remember, this is being issued to all infantry squads. Men issued with this weapon will be working with the drone operator in the field. Now that brings me to my second report, we are being transferred to the Africa FOB. I don't know what we're doing yet but pack your bags."
Ape couldn't help but hear Eagle grumble as the CO finished.
"First South America now Africa. Why can't we go somewhere cold?"
"I heard some guys got a contract in the Arctic, maybe you could join them." Ape joked as the two began to walk away.
"I said cold, not frigid," Eagle replied as he inspected his desert eagle yet again. He cleaned it with a fine cloth as they walked, scrubbing every nook and cranny.
"Be glad we're going into the field at all, we could be stuck at base doing nothing." Ape countered as the two entered their barracks.
"I guess your right, still maybe our next mission could be to some nice beach."
Snake thought carefully as he looked over the map with Nagant. No matter how he looked at it, he couldn't tell what their next goal should be. It was obvious that they needed the nukes disposed of, preferably before they were finished. The problem was the size of the operation. The Tyrant controlled a large amount of land, at least three million square miles. It included the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Central African Republic, South Sudan, Angola, Zambia, Uganda, Rwanda, Burundi, Tanzania, Cameroon, Congo, Gabon, and parts of Nigeria, Ethiopia, Chad, Sudan, Botswana, and Kenya.
It meant the Tyrant could have factories all over his territory, and Snake would never know about it. And worse, it meant that it was too vast for MSF to be everywhere at once. So, there would be no full-scale invasion like back in Venezuela. They didn't have the manpower to do one originally though, but this helped solidify it.
"Ok," Nagant started, "Lets start simple, what countries that previously existed, possessed uranium deposits?"
"The Central African Republic, the Congo, the DRC, Gabon, and Botswana. There are some smaller pockets elsewhere though." Snake replied, as he pointed to the countries listed, "That still leaves us with over a million square miles."
"So they could be built anywhere, great." Nagant commented sarcastically, as she rubbed her eyes. It had been an hour of staring at a piece of paper, still stuck on what to do.
"We should change targets." Snake decided, "If we focus on the nukes, we'll be stretched on to wide a front. However, if we can take down the Tyrant or Night Owl, we might be able to cause a disruption to production."
"Thats assuming they don't have a nuke already made." Nagant countered.
"It's assuming a lot of things, but that's all we have at the moment." Snake replied.
"Alright," Nagant conceded, "Where to then?"
He looked back at the maps, deciding their next move. If he remembered correctly, Night Owl was first spotted near what was the border between the Sudans. He was then spotted again, barely a month later. It was clear something important was going on there.
"Sudan, its where Night Owl was first spotted. We might find some semblance of a clue once there." Snake told her.
Roland looked at the card in his hand, having taken it out so much the logo was rubbed away. He had done it, he had graduated and got his license. But he couldn't help but feel lost. Every time he patrolled the streets, it somehow felt like he failed. Like there was something out there he was missing. His cohorts didn't help either. Against his better judgement he became an official sidekick under Infini Leap.
Most of his days were exactly like his internship. Going out to patrol, getting swarmed by fans, and doing nothing but waste time. Was this is? This is what he would do with his life? As a hero giving autographs? He didn't know, but becoming a hero somehow lost its luster. Its why he kept returning to the card, the same card given to him by Snake in Colombia.
"Can I get your autograph?" someone asked him, stirring Roland out of his thoughts. He turned around to find a group of people huddled around him, all starry eyed and smiling.
"Oh, uh sure." he looked around for a pen, before a fan held one out for him. He took it, thanking them before he started. To the public he appeared genuinely happy, with a wide small he was trained to have at all times. But deep down he couldn't help but wonder about what would happen if he called the number on the card.
He held a pose as another fan came in for a selfie, while wondering about the possibility. The card didn't market them as a hero agency, so what would he actually do there? It had to be better then this, after all he hadn't done anything heroic in a month! Anything seemed better then standing in another interview. And then he mentally sighed as Roland spotted reporters getting closer.
"Freezer Boy! Could I borrow a minute of your time!" a reporter asked, Roland now regretting the decision for his hero name. But he kept the fake smile on as he looked at the reporters.
"Sure, what can I help you with," he replied to them, trying to keep his voice cheery and optimistic.
"I'm with Hero Love Lives," oh for fucks sake, "is it true you're in a relationship with Heart Star?"
He laughed it off playfully, it feeling like the soul was being dragged from his body all the while.
"Heh, I don't know where this rumor started, but no we are not in a relationship."
And never would be, as he remembered the female hero being a… well stuck-up bitch didn't describe her well enough. It only reminded him of that essay he had to write, the one where he had barely enough points to pass. And she somehow passed with flying colors.
"But what of this photo of the two of you together in high school?" the reporter asked, wearing down Roland's nerves.
"That was three years ago, we weren't dating then and were not dating now," he told her, as another fan shoved into him for a photograph.
"Well, are you currently in a relationship with anyone?" the reporter pressed on.
"I am not, now I need to get back to work," attempting to end the conversation.
"Nonsense!" Infini Leap laughed, the hero walking over to them, "There's always time for paparazzi!"
And the mask fell, for just a split second it fell. No one noticed but it fell, and it soon came back on. But Roland? Roland was done, he couldn't take it anymore. This wasn't heroics, spending hours of the day answering pointless questions and handing out autographs. This isn't what he signed up for.
The MSF's aircraft carrier sailed through the Indian Ocean undisturbed. Once under the flag of the US navy, it now belonged to them. The crew aboard went about their usual duties, maintaining the ship, checking the planes, and patrolling the area. Well, some of them were doing these things. It turned out Strangelove's AI proved more useful than originally thought. What once needed a crew of five thousand, had dwindled to a mere three thousand five hundred.
So, it meant for those on board, if they weren't fixing something, then they were bored.
"Sorry fellas, I'll just take my winnings now." Butcher commented as he placed his cards out on the table. A royal flush in spades was present as he dragged the money away.
"Bull fucking shit." Darkside stated, setting down his own cards. They were also a royal flush, all spades.
"You cheating bastard." Mustang accused, placing his own royal flush down, angrily looking around the table. Impulse simply held in a chuckle a few feet away. Unbeknownst to them, he had tampered with the deck, making it so every player got a royal flush. Was it stupid, absolutely, but his callsign wasn't Impulse for nothing.
Of course, his laughter didn't go unnoticed by his compatriots. Just as Butcher was about to confront it on him, an explosion echoed around the ship. Alarms rang out as the AEGIS guns were heard firing away. A voice rang out over the intercom then, as the captain gave out orders.
"All hands battle stations! Flight squadrons Diamond, Crimson, and Wolf report to the flight deck!"
Immediately the pilots scrambled to their aircraft, running alongside each other as they went.
"Whoo! Finally, some action!" Butcher called out, as he arrived at his F-35.
"Don't sound too eager, command might ground you if they hear too much fun." Darkside commented as he climber into his own fighter.
"I could say the same to you. You remember this is a battle, right?" Mustang interjected as his jet was being towed to the elevator.
"Hey if I die in a blaze of glory, then I'm going to enjoy the moments before it." Darkside replied, as his own jet was being escorted. It was led to another elevator and lifted up, with Darkside finding Mustang on the runway. The CIWs guns kept firing away from what Impulse could see, as his own jet made it to the runway. Anti-air missiles soon followed, intercepting the incoming projectiles.
"Alright gentlemen," Diamond actual started over the comms, "we've been engaged by an unknown force of enemy aircraft. Your main goal is to establish air superiority in the area. I'll explain more once we get more intel."
"Well, you heard the man boys, time for some fun!" Butcher exclaimed over the radio. Slowly the squadron began taking off, the VTOL capable F-35s leaving the runway quickly, with the older F-18s coming after. Impulse took to the sky quickly, his radar immediately lighting up with contacts.
"I count forty bogeys up ahead. Pick your targets gentlemen." Darkside called over, as they found the enemy beyond visual contact. Quickly Impulse found his first target, getting a missile ready to fire. He made sure no one else was targeting it, before preparing to fire.
"Fox three." he called out, launching the missile. It flew at astonishing speed, detonating against the enemy jet. His first kill of the day, and he began looking for other targets. He found another, preparing a missile, when his radar started going haywire.
"I think my radar's broken." Darkside stated.
"Mine too, enemy interference?" Mustang inquired. As he asked an enemy J-15 flew by them, along with several others. Their guns were firing all the while, bullets impacting parts of Mustang's F-35. They soared by, with the rest of the jets breaking away.
"Shit, the fuckers strafed me!" Mustang called out, his jet still working but damaged.
"The hell was that!? I thought we out ranged them!" Butcher called out, as he forced his plane into a dive. It took Impulse a minute as he tried to think about what was happening. Instead of launching a missile the enemy got in close and strafed them. Why? He thought about before he looked down at the radar. It was clear the enemy had somehow jammed it, and then it hit him.
The F-35 was a stealth fighter. It was hard to detect it out of visual range, so the enemy had somehow jammed their own radars and gotten in close. Neither side could lock onto each other out of visual range. The realization of this thought struck him as another jet appeared on his tail. He moved quickly pulling his jet up, before making it take a sharp turn and diving back down.
The jet behind him stayed on him though, launching a heat seeker. Impulse reacting fast shot out flares, before taking a sharp turn to the right. He then slowed down dramatically in the turn, causing the J-15 behind him to fire its gun. It narrowly missed, being fired too late. The J-15 passed him then, with Impulse speeding back up. Now behind the enemy J-15 he spotted some peculiarities about the jet.
It held a logo one of its horizontal stabilizers. It was of a shiny beach, with a battleship resting in the water.
"Ah shit, I've got visual contact on the enemy combatants. They appear to be Gold Coast Mercs." Impulse relayed over the radio, before firing a heat seeker at the enemy.
"I thought reports said the HPSC killed off the GMC," Mustang replied over the comms, as Impulse's heat seeker made contact with the J-15. It exploded violently as he moved onto a new target.
"Last I heard they did," Darkside said, "these must be a straggler force."
"Stragglers my ass!" Impulse interjected as he found another enemy aircraft. He followed it closely, the enemy attempting to shake him off. It wasn't successful as he launched another heat seeker.
"What kind of straggler force has this many jets?" Impulse stated rhetorically. The heat seeker neared the J-15, only for the bandit to launch flares and erratically dive down. Not willing to let the enemy get away, Impulse stayed on its tail, switching to the GAU in the jets MMP. He stayed on the enemy as closely as possible, lining up the F-35 carefully. Just as he was about to take the shot, he spotted another enemy craft.
It lined up with his jet immediately, forcing Impulse to dive out of the way, barely avoiding the strafing run. The jet flying past him then he pulled back up, quickly aiming back at his original target. He held down the trigger then, the bandit in front of him beginning to smoke before exploding. That left the one that tried to strafe him.
He turned his F-35, finding the enemy coming back for another run. Both now staring each other down, Impulse readied a heat seeker. Both he and the enemy launched a missile at the same time, with the two colliding with each other. The smoke from the explosion clouded the area, forcing the J-15 to pull up. Exactly what Impulse wanted him to do.
He kept flying forward, flipping his F-35 so it was belly up. Once he left the smoke he pulled up, now facing the rear of the enemy jet. He quickly fired another missile, with it exploding into the rear of the enemy's engine. Finding another enemy killed, he looked for his next target, as the battle raged around them.