The Tyrant watched giddily as the clock ticked away. Only fifteen hours remained of his ultimatum, and he could see the HPSC's panic. Small drones flew over their "hidden" facilities, giving him a perfect view as the personnel there scrambled. It brought him such joy to see them run. That and everything at the base had been running smoothly. The missiles were ready, all guards were on constant alert, and the supply routes were still open.

Then there was the matter of his forces in the contamination zone. If reports were to be believed the MSF was completely surrounded and cut off from resupply efforts. By his own estimations, the enemy force would surrender in a matter of days. So, yes, everything was going smoothly. With it the Tyrant sat back in his chair, leisurely drinking his glass of champagne.

It was a rather expensive bottle, so it brought him some annoyance when the radio on his desk came to life.

"Sir, the crew on truck eighty-seven have disappeared."

With a sigh, the Tyrant pulled the radio over as he carefully shook his glass.

"Most likely deserters, commander. Find them and bring them to my office." the Tyrant ordered, watching as the champagne formed a tornado in the glass.

"Yes sir."

Like that the commander hung up, leaving the Tyrant alone with his thoughts. He had a whole slew of desertions once word had spread of his actions, mostly from those of Nigerian descent. Apparently, they had beef with him nuking their homeland, but he couldn't really care. Of course, as he tried to zone back out with his drink, he received another call.

"Sir, a patrol hasn't on the eastern sector hasn't reported back yet."

With another sigh, he reached over and grabbed the radio, placing his glass on the desk.

"Send another squad to inspect the area, they're mostly likely hiding somewhere."

Although, a new thought struck him, something he had yet to consider. It wasn't a guarantee that it was true, but there was the possibility.

"Actually, ignore that order, I want more patrols being sent to the control room. And alert the other patrols. We may have a possible infiltrator."

It seemed his battle with Snake, was quickly arriving.

Snake watched from his cardboard box as the guards searched the now-occupied storage room. He had been forced to hide when a patrol stormed inside. Nothing gave away his presence though, as he had returned the documents only minutes prior. Yet the guards remained cautious still.

"Anything?" one guard asked, as he walked past Snake's box.

"Nothing I'm afraid. Where the hell could those chuckle fucks go?" another replied, both heading over to the door outside.

"Beats me, they could be back at the Mess Hall?"

"That just your stomach talking?"

"Depends, which answer leads to us getting something to eat?"

"Neither command wants us on alert." the guard talking opened the door then, then to stepping back outside. Finding his moment, Snake collapsed the cardboard box and began looking for the nearest stairs. With the control room being below him, it didn't take long to find the way. But that brought forth a new issue. As Snake slowly went down the stairs, he heard voices talking loudly.

"A possible intruder?" one voice asked, as Snake looked over the railing. The bottom floor held seven people, all well-armed. He couldn't get a read on all their quirks, but he could see the basics. Two were larger than the others, most likely strength quirks. Another two had a mud-like substance dripping off them, possibly clay or mud. Three had seemingly mutant quirks, one having spikes on his shoulders, another having carpet skin, and the final one having only one eye.

For convenience, Snake labeled the targets as such, Brute, Brawn, Clay, Mud, Spikes, Carpet, and Cyclops. All stood near the only entrance into the control room, and all watched the surrounding area like a hawk.

"That's what command says." Carpet replies, looking over his FAL carefully. It was old and rusted and appeared to be far from working condition.

"Who the hell could have snuck into this place? It's a damn fortress!" Brute exclaimed, hoisting up his own PKM. This one looked more intact than the FAL, causing Snake to assess his next move.

"Well, you hear the stories about Big Boss?" Clay asked, looking around the various militants. Most shook their heads no to his question.

"Only some. But they think it's him?" Spikes asked.

"That's what command's saying," Clay told him, motioning around as he leaned against the wall. The rest of the men guarding the door had somewhat decent equipment, Spikes and Clay both wielded an AKM, Mud held a Galil, and Brawn had an M60. Cyclops, however, seemed to be the biggest threat, as he was armed with a SPAS-12. With how close they were indoors, that shotgun had to be dealt with.

From his vantage point on the stairs, Snake began to map out his next move. He needed to eliminate the Cyclops first, followed by Brawn and Brute. It took him a second to think of a plan, but then he spotted a fire extinguisher on the wall. It rested right next to Brawn and was completely out in the open. Moving quickly Snake shot it with his rifle. The extinguisher burst open instantly, exploding like a grenade.

"Holy shit!" Spikes called out; his voice muffled in the blast. The shrapnel impaled itself onto those standing nearby wounding Spikes, Clay, and Brawn and killing Cyclops. The chaos gave Snake enough time to move. He leaped over the stair railing, before landing into a roll. Unnoticed he ran up to the Mud who stood unaware. It wasn't for long as Snake grabbed and snapped his neck.

The other guards' hearing the snap turned back over to see Snake. The wounded ones, Spikes and Clay scrambled to grab a radio, while Brute held up his PKM. Quickly Snake unholstered his knife, and right as Brute was about to fire, he threw it. The knife stabbed into his hand, causing Brute to flinch back in pain as Snake pulled out his own rifle. Switching targets over to Spikes and Mud, he fired off two quick bursts. The two died quickly, eliminating the problem of the radios.

Carpet meanwhile attempted to fire his own rifle, only to find the firing mechanism didn't work. Carelessly he tossed the rifle aside, before brandishing his own knife. Snake turned back over to him, sidestepping a swipe from Carpet, before ducking as Brawn attempted to beat him with his M60. Bits of shrapnel had embedded itself into the machine gun, turning it into a new spikey club.

Carpet attempted to stab Snake again, only for Snake to grab his arm. Brawn then took another swipe at Snake, as Brute ran up to join them. Clumsily, Brute tried to stab Snake with the knife lodged in his hand. He succeeded as Snake was forced to dodge Brawn and missed Brute. It sliced the outer layer of his sneaking suit, ruining the material. Snake was quick to counter-attack, however, as he twisted Carpet's arm.

Carpet not expecting it, instinctively let go of his knife, allowing Snake to grab it mid-air. In one fell swoop Snake then ducked under another of Brawn's swipes and quickly shanked him in the gut. After that, he dodged another attempt by Brute, before grabbing the handle of the other knife. In a painful scene, he yanked it out of Brute's hand, before shoving it into his jugular.

Carpet soon recovered then and threw a punch at Snake's jaw. His head shot back as Carpet's fist hit him, with Brawn then slamming his club into Snake's chest. The shrapnel fragments in the club tore up his sneaking suit and threw Snake back to the ground. He sat back up almost instantly, grabbing his rifle and taking aim at the last guards.

Panicking as they saw their mistake, they tried a last-ditch charge, running as fast as they could. Yet Snake was faster. He fired two quick bursts, with the round punching holes in their chests. Carefully, Snake stood back up, feeling a slight pain in his chest. The club hadn't pieced his skin, but the strength quirk most likely cracked a rib.

He didn't bother hiding the bodies as he went forward, unable to wash away the large puddles of blood. But he was there, slowly opening the door to the control room. It remained empty for the moment, but the clock on the wall told him it wouldn't be for long. Immediately he moved to the nearest console. Finding it he began searching for the main controls.

If he was going to do this right, he would have to alter the timer and launch the missiles with the silo doors still closed. For that, he needed a concrete timetable to work with. If he changed the timer first, it could risk launching too early, so he focused on the doors. All the controls being in analog he found the switch and flipped it. Watching as the camera's displayed the silos closing, he moved to his next goal.

It took some time, but he found the launch controls before he stopped to think for a moment. If he shortened it to an hour, he might have the possibility to escape, but that was if he could find transport. And that was especially if none of the guards learned of his actions. It was risky, but any longer and the Tyrant might be able to reverse it.

So, after checking over his shoulders, ensuring no one was present, he entered the new launch time.

Something was off, the Tyrant determined as he watched the silo doors close. Something was most definitely off.

"Reroute everyone to the control room." the Tyrant ordered over the radio. He stood up quickly then, finding his own personal pistol. After checking to make sure it was loaded, he left his large office and began making his way to the control room.

The changes were finished, and Snake began smashing up the controls quickly. The enemy could still find a workaround, but the destroyed controls would stall them for now. He then darted back over to the door. Just as he arrived, he ducked back behind it, as bullets collided with the frame.

"He's down here!" a militant shouted, as gunfire echoed around the stairwell. A loud cacophony of boots followed as men advanced down the stairs. Finding his exit cut off Snake looked over to the ventilation system. He had to clamber over some shelves, but he managed to get inside, right as the guards entered the control room.

They looked around the room curiously, attempting to find him before one yelled out "He's in the vents!".

Like that the militants outside began searching every vent they could find. None led in Snake's direction, but it left him in many dangerous areas. So, he kept crawling forward, stopping to pause as the occasionally militant would pop open a vent. Eventually, he came across a supposed dead end, only to find the vent went straight up. Struggling due to the cramped space, he managed to adjust his footing.

With a slow process, he climbed up the vent, his hands and feet placed firmly against the walls. Inch by inch he crawled upwards, trying his best to move quickly. He could hear voices every few seconds as he passed more vents.

"Spot anything!?"

"Negative, we've lost sight of him!"

"Damn it, spread out and start putting holes in vents! He's here somewhere!"

Just as the order was given Snake stopped. Bullets punched through the thin steel of the vents, weakening the entire structure. It held barely as the guards stopped firing. Trying to move as silently as possible he continued climbing, yet the higher he got the worse it became. On every floor he climbed past more militants fired into the vents, attempting to flush him out.

It only stopped when he reached the top and left the vents. He was back in the storage room now and made his way quickly to the outside. Yet he was forced to stop as more bullets pounded the door.

"Contact!"

Snake kept his head down as he grabbed a grenade on his belt. He stopped as he looked back outside, before grabbing aloof his grenades. He had them cradled in his arm as he removed the pins. Then he chucked them outside, all rolling through the open field. The enemy outside tried to find cover, but all were shredded to pieces.

Looking back down at his watch, Snake ran out the door. He was running out of time, that climb through the vents had taken half an hour. Quickly his eyes began searching for any form of transport before they fell onto a Hilux. He yanked its door open as he frantically searched for keys.

His hand found them left in the ignition, and he hopped in quickly. At that point more guards noticed what was going on, and soon enough someone checked on the nukes. Behind him, Snake saw a large mass of people beginning to run from the silos, fleeing in whatever they found. Whether it be a jeep or their own two legs.

The Tyrant looked around furiously as his own men fled the area. All around him they abandoned their posts and fled. Tanks drove off at maximum speed. Helicopters loaded up and left others behind as they flew away.

"You! What is going on!?" the Tyrant demanded, grabbing one militant by the collar. The man looked at him pale-faced, fearful for his life.

"The missiles were tampered with! They're set to blow in thirty minutes!"

The Tyrant threw the man aside in a fit of rage, his eyes searching in vain for a possible culprit. Or was it in vain? His eyes found a lone figure running up to a Hilux. He couldn't see them clearly from this far away, but it had to of been him.

"Snake," he muttered under his breath, he was going to get his fight. A militant on a motorcycle tried to drive by him then, only for the Tyrant to close line him. The man flew off the bike, and in a precise fashion, the Tyrant hopped on it. The entire time the motorcycle kept moving. He turned it around to face the Hilux then, just as the truck took off. He would get his fight.

Snake had his foot on the floor as the truck launched forward. Leaving the base at an astonishing speed, he drove as quickly as he could. Finding the main entrances to be too crowded he rammed a chain link fence, driving into the surrounding wilderness. The wide-open fields of the savannah posed little obstacle to the truck, but the vast distance he needed to cross made that point worthless.

He constantly checked the mirrors behind him, looking back at the silos. He would then look back to the Hilux's clock, and then the window. Mirror, clock, window, over and over as minutes felt like hours. Even as he counted the seconds passing it felt like an eternity, but he was sure he could make-

The nukes detonated, and the majority of the blast and radiation were contained in the silos. But not all of it. The blast wave violently shook everything as the ground surrounding the base lifted upwards before sinking. All the men still stuck at the base died in an instant, the vast fortress the Tyrant had built now reduced to rubble. And Snake's truck was flipped in the blast.

It landed hard, stuck rolling a good few feet away. Its windows shattered as the frame buckled and broke. The wheels were ripped off and flung into the surrounding plant life. Slowly it came to a stop, a broken husk of a vehicle. And there it rested, for five minutes, ten minutes, twenty. Snake didn't know how long he stirred awake. He felt something grabbing him, but his mind was still foggy.

It didn't take long to learn what it was though, as the Tyrant threw him across the field. Staggered and shaken out of his stupor, Snake looked back over to him. The Tyrant looked somewhat worse for wear, the man's normally crisp Hawaiian shirt muddied and torn. Splotches of blood caked his body, yet he stood tall, with an almost calm face.

Snake slowly stood up, his eyes never leaving the Tyrant.

"I must say," the Tyrant began as he began to approach Snake, "you have been quite the challenge. You destroyed my nukes, crippled a large chunk of my forces, and have thoroughly pissed me off."

As the Tyrant came closer, Snake began to distance himself, before the two began circling each other.

"I can't help but be impressed. I couldn't have asked for an opponent more challenging."

"This isn't a game," Snake replied, his eyes searching the area. He moved to grab his rifle but found it broken near the Hilux. Same with all his other equipment.

"Your right, it's not. That doesn't mean I can't find enjoyment in it." the Tyrant retorted, as he pulled out his own pistol. To Snake's confusion, the Tyrant threw it away, the gun disappearing into a patch of tall grass. Unseen by both, the Hilux's engine began leaking fuel, along with an electrical component beginning to spark.

"However, this is where it ends. No more guns, no more knives, no more hiding."

The component lit the fuel, engulfing the field in flames as more gas leaked out. The field of grass continued to burn as the fire spread around the two, engulfing the area in a circle of fire. Yet neither seemed to care, both fixated on the other.

"It's just you, and me, Snake."

Snake took a fighting stance, as the Tyrant did the same. The flames glowed around them, casting the area in both shadow and light. Neither made the first move, only continuing to circle. Then it happened, the Tyrant charged, throwing a right hook at Snake's chest. He dodged barely, before intercepting a kick from the Tyrant.

The Tyrant yelled out in pain as Snake twisted his leg awkwardly before the Tyrant twisted around and threw a second kick. He hit Snake in the face, making him let go as the Tyrant fell onto the ground. Snake fell back then, feeling blood drip from his nose. The Tyrant was stronger than him, so he focused on the defensive.

Tyrant charged at him again, attempting to upper cut him, only for Snake to dodge to the left. With the brief moment he was given Snake threw a strike at a pressure point in the Tyrant's right arm. The Tyrant was late to react, felt his arm go numb, and whipped back around. It was no less dangerous, however, as the Tyrant threw it at Snake like a club.

The limp arm was easily dodged, but the second punch was not. It hit Snake in the chest, leading to another crunch being heard. He could painfully tell another rib was broken before he threw a feint strike. It appeared he was focusing on Tyrant's other arm, so Tyrant moved to block it.

Shock soon covered his face when the feint was revealed, with Snake instead striking his leg. With what little time he had, the Tyrant countered with a kick, nailing Snake's arm in the process. It cracked loudly as it broke. Neither one let the other rest, continually through punches at the other.

It was a dance of warriors, as both dodged and countered the other. And all the while the flames burned around them, lighting up their small field. It seemed like neither would break, but they had too eventually. And it seemed to be coming close. Snake held experience and skill on his side, but the Tyrant held strength and endurance.

It's why Tyrant tried to beat Snake with his limp arm, uncaring if the bones broke. But the same was for Snake, as he snapped his broken arm back into place, nothing more than a temporary fix. His ribs were cracked or broken, with Snake feeling blood drip down his nose. They fought on, with Snake throwing another punch at the Tyrant.

It was slow and sluggish, but it made contact, causing the Tyrant to stumble back. With it came a brief opening that Snake took. Running up to the man he grabbed his face and swept his legs. With the Tyrant falling he slammed him into the ground, before punching him in the face repeatedly. Snake could feel exhaustion catching up to him, so he didn't relent. Punching the man again and again. Until he stopped, his knuckles broken, and his hands caked in blood.

He stumbled back, before collapsing onto the ground, breathing as deep as he could. The Tyrant barely moved, only his chest slowly rising told Snake he was still alive.

"Heh… not… bad…" the Tyrant muttered, gasps and small chokes lining every word. But slowly, his breathing stopped, and the Tyrant died.