Chapter One: Rise and Shine

James Mallory was not having a good night.

A sudden and ear-splitting ringing had disturbed the silence of his house, stirring both him and his wife from a relatively peaceful slumber. Mallory recoiled from the piercing shriek, pulling his pillow over his head. He could feel the sound bouncing around his skull, and the beginnings of a migraine started to build up behind his eyes.

His wife Sarah wasn't particularly fond of the disturbance, either. She shifted, peeking over the wall of pillows that had been carefully erected between them on their shared King-sized bed.

"Are you going to get that, or not?" she uttered with the annoyance of an interrupted rest and the slurred speech of someone who wasn't quite awake.

Mallory groaned. He wanted to tell her to just let it ring. To just go back to bed.

But he couldn't—it might be important, after all.

So, he hauled up his sorry carcass into a sitting position, rubbed his temples to try and combat the worst of the headache, and said to Sarah in a low voice, "I'll get it. Go back to sleep."

Mallory dragged himself to his feet, awkwardly shuffling across the carpet as he left the master bedroom and moved on yawning down the hall to the turnoff out into the kitchen, where the house phone hung on the wall, the phone ringing the whole time. He yanked off the receiver in the middle of the phone's last ring and cleared his throat to try and tamp down the drowsiness in his voice.

"Hello?"

"Special Agent Mallory?"

It was Mallory's superior, Special Agent in Charge (SAC) Jim Mead.

"Yeah," he said, before coughing and correcting himself with "Yes, sir."

This had better be important if they're calling me in the middle of the night, he thought to himself.

"We need you to come into the office with Agent Juarez. There's been a development that requires your attention."

Agent Emilio Juarez was Mallory's partner and junior who had just been assigned to him earlier that month.

"What happened? Did we pick up another suspect or something?"

"There's been another bombing, this one's in St. Louis."

That got Mallory's attention. He sobered up instantly as he asked with concern, "Another federal building?"

"No. It was a residency. Much smaller, more localized. The boys from the Bureau are already on the scene, and they're saying that it might be unrelated."

Mallory sighed, both out of relief and out of annoyance. "So, why are you calling me, then? It's the middle of the night. We've got other guys on OKBOMB besides me, right?"

"The call's from up top. They want you specifically on the scene."

"Why me?"

"Can't discuss it over the phone. It's why I need you to come in. How quickly can you get here?"

Mallory turned his head to look at the small, carved wooden clock that hung on the far wall next to the cabinets. It was a Cuckoo clock painted a light baby-blue that Mallory had bought his wife as a gift a few years ago, during better times. He blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted.

"I can be there in…I think, thirty minutes? Maybe closer to forty-five."

"Well, make it quick," Mead replied. "From what I've been made to understand, this lead is time sensitive."

Mallory nodded, more to himself than to Mead. "Yes, sir," he said. "I'll be on my way, shortly."

"Very good. That'll be all. Goodbye."

After giving his farewell, Mallory hung up the phone and looked again at the clock while absent-mindedly tugging on the phone's cord—it was still only about two o'clock in the morning. He groaned. Ever since this OKBOMB business had started, he hadn't been able to get more than maybe a few hours' worth of sleep at a time. Tonight had been the longest he'd been able to rest without much in the way of interruption.

He lumbered over to the sink and turned it on to splash some water into his face, the made his way back through the hall, stopping on his journey to the bedroom to briefly regard a door that had stayed closed for over a year and a half.

Mallory pressed a hand against the wood of the door, brushing his thumb against the grain. He thought about opening it, knowing that he wouldn't—even after over a year, he still hadn't had the courage to walk inside. He pulled his hand away, then walked into the bedroom.

His eyes having adjusted to the darkness, he pulled open the closet as quietly as possible to pull on a pair of slacks and a pressed collared shirt. No need for a jacket—at this time of year, the air and humidity would be sweltering by the time the daylight had come out in earnest. After pulling on his long black socks and tying his shoes, he heard Sarah stir.

"Who was it?" she muttered sleepily, still out of it.

Mallory turned from his sitting position on the bed to face her. Her back was still to him, pressed against that awful wall of pillows—that infernal Wall of Jericho. He reached out—maybe to put a hand on her arm, or maybe to tear the wall down—but he thought better of it and pulled his arm back.

Coward, he thought.

"It's work. They're calling me in—don't know why yet," Mallory answered softly, "but they said it had to be me."

Sarah didn't say anything, her shoulder and chest just rising and falling in time with her breaths. Mallory thought maybe that she had fallen back asleep before she spoke again.

"When will you be back?" she whispered.

"I don't know," Mallory said. "Maybe later in the morning, maybe this afternoon. It's hard to say. I'll know more when I get there."

Sarah didn't say anything else, only nodded. Mallory was caught up with the sudden impulse to reach across and grab her shoulder and turn her around to make her face him, but instead he simply leaned forward and planted a soft kiss above her ear.

"I'll see you later," he said.

"Okay," came the soft reply.

It was a little after 3 AM when Mallory got to the main building for the local Missouri branch of the Army's Criminal Investigation Division (CID) at Fort Leonard Wood. It was quiet as he approached, the only inhabitants moving inside the building's light being the poor suckers pulled in for night shift or on call work. And himself, he supposed.

After scanning in his badge and moving through the lobby, he quickly found Agent Juarez, who was waiting for him.

"Hey," Juarez said, yawning. "I got the call."

"Yeah," Mallory said. "They tell you anything?"

"Nah," Juarez replied. "They said it had to wait until we were here to get briefed personally. It's weird, right?"

"It is," Mallory agreed. "The feds must have stumbled on some pretty big intel."

Jim Mead came around the corner, not wasting time with niceties. "Jim, Emilio. Good, you're here. Come on, let's get to the conference room and get this briefing over with quickly. We don't want to waste time here."

Mallory and Juarez followed him in silence without argument. After a five-minute walk, Mead closed the door behind them and turned on a projector at the front of the room while the two junior agents sat down at the table.

"Alright, sir," Mallory said. "We're here. What's this about? OKBOMB get a new lead?"

"Not exactly," Mead said, flipping a switch for the projector.

The screen showed two pictures side-by-side—a before and after comparison. On the left was a small two-story residential house, and on the right was an empty charred husk of brick and wooden beams, clawing upwards against the daylight sky.

"About fifty hours ago, a residence on the corner of Park Avenue and Missouri was destroyed in an explosion," Mead explained. "There were four people recovered from the scene, two deceased victims, one witness, and a person of interest who may or may not have been involved in the bombing—as he is our only lead at the moment, we have yet to determine whether this suspect is perpetrator or victim."

Mead pressed a button on the remote he carried, cycling through the projector screens. The next photos shown was a charred corpse whose legs ended at the knees and two holes in either side of his head—one smaller entry wound and a large exit wound. The second photo was of a man covered in burns and what appeared to be shrapnel wounds. Mead pressed the button a second time and the projector switched to close-up headshots of two driver's license photos, presumably of the victims.

"The deceased victims have been identified as Captain Shawn Willard and First Lieutenant Maxwell Reeves. Both men are Green Berets who served in the Gulf. Lt. Reeves was medically discharged due to a career-ending injury, and Cpt. Willard retired from service a little over a year ago. Both discarges were honorable, and they have no known links to any criminal or terrorist organizations."

"Did either of them know McVeigh and his posse?" asked Agent Mallory.

SAC Mead shook his head. "We haven't had a lot of time to check, but from what we and the FBI have been able to ascertain, there is no evidence linking them to Oklahoma whatsoever. Still, the feds wanted to be thorough, so they sent in a few agents to question the locals and look over the crime scene and any evidence that local law enforcement may have uncovered."

Mead pressed another button. A nervous-looking and mousy man with a moustache, a pair of thick Coke bottle glasses and a slightly receding hairline showed up on the next slide.

"This is Robert Teegan, a witness. He was out for a walk on the night of the event, happened to be nearby."

"Randomly out for a stroll in the late evening? In St. Louis?" Juarez balked.

Mead shrugged. "Apparently. He's go no link to anyone or anything exciting, either. Just a local neighbor who was in the wrong place in the wrong time. When the cops questioned him, he reported that leading up to the explosion there was an exchange of gunfire across the street.

"The house that was blown up got shot first, but from the sound of things, our victims were also armed, and they returned fire. The explosives that destroyed the house were detonated shortly afterward. Reeves didn't make it, and even though our Person of Interest tried to drag him out of the wreckage, Willard wasn't much longer for this world, either.

"Our witness dragged the POI off the street to relative safety, and when there was no more gunfire, emergency services were called. The POI was checked into a hospital to get looked over, and was checked back out to be remanded into the FBI's custody shortly after. He's currently stewing in the Metro PD building on Olive Street as we speak."

"So who is this mystery man they've got holed up?" Juarez asked.

Mead's brow furrowed. "That's the thing. We just don't know. His prints don't match up with the federal database, and when the feds tried to match up his mugshot with local records, they couldn't find any driver's licenses to track down a name. They're trying to comb through national records for all the other forty-nine states, but it's a slow process. The only thing we know for sure is that he's not a resident of Missouri, and based on his accent, he's probably American."

"He didn't identify himself in any way?" asked Mallory.

"Not at all. At least, not at first. The only thing he had on his person when he was picked up was a wallet full of cash—no credit cards, no driver's license, no insurance cards, not even a video store membership card. Nothing. When asked for his name, he offered only an alias, and even then it was under duress."

"Duress?"

Mead looked uncomfortable. "The POI's the one who insisted that the feds call us in. Said that everyone involved, including himself and the person he stated was the perpetrator was connected to the United States Army, and so it's our jurisdiction."

Mead frowned, casting a serious look to the two agents. "But the fact that he admitted to knowing the identity of the perpetrator and refused to name him suggests that this individual was likely involved somehow."

"Wait, so the guy's Army? And we don't have any record of him?" Juarez scoffed.

"Nope. None that I've been able to access, anyway. All I had was the alias. When the OKBOMB team reached out, I made some phone calls to try and figure out what was going on. Someone from the Pentagon called back, and they had me bring you in."

Juarez looked over to Mallory in disbelief, chuckling with confusion, only to have the smirk wiped off his face when he saw Mallory's expression. Special Agent Mallory had gone very still, his lips tightened into a thin line, and Juarez could see that his direct superior was holding his breath.

"This alias the suspect used to identify himself," Mallory said tersely. "What was it?"

Mead pressed the button on his remote one final time, switching the projector over to a mugshot of a man in his early-to-mid twenties with a shaggy brown mullet and a chiseled jaw, whose stony downcast expression was marred slightly by the widened, wild eyes of a predatory animal.

"The man called himself 'Solid Snake,'" Mead replied. "He instructed the Bureau to use the name when contacting the CID for help."

Mallory's fingers curled into fists. Juarez looked at his partner quizzically.

Mead went on, "Judging by your reaction and by the fact that the Pentagon specifically recommended you for this investigation, I'm going to guess that the name means something to you, then?"

Mallory nodded stiffly. "Yes, sir. I am not at liberty to discuss the details due to the classification of the subject, but I can confirm that I know who this man is."

Agent Mallory stood up abruptly, looking over to Juarez. "What security clearances do you have, Juarez?"

Juarez shifted his eyes from Mallory to Mead and back to Mallory. "Top Secret…why?"

Mallory ignored him, looking to Mead. "We need to get Juarez TS/SCI clearance if he's going to be on this case, sir. Do you think you might be able to arrange that?"

SAC Mead nodded. "I think I can pull some strings. It's going to be hard for me to establish need-to-know if I don't know the necessary details, though."

"You can let me worry about that, sir," Mallory assured him. "If you can get him the clearance, I'll start making some calls of my own, make sure the right people can give him what he needs."

"Good," Mead said. "In the meantime, I need you two to head down to the police station in St. Louis. It's about a two and a half-hour drive, and I don't want to waste any time."

"Right. Okay. We'll start heading there right away." Mallory looked to Juarez, who stood up. "Ready to go?"

Juarez nodded and followed him out of the building to Mallory's sedan.

"You want to explain what that was about?" Juarez asked. "You sounded like you knew this guy we're about to talk to."

"What, weren't you listening in there? I can't talk details. Not until you have clearance," Mallory said curtly as they climbed into the car.

"Not even to tell me if you know the guy?"

Mallory took a second to think on it as he turned the key in the ignition, tossing about the idea in his head.

"We've met. Briefly. It's not really accurate to say that I know him, not personally anyway. More like, I know him by reputation. That's all I can say, so don't ask me anything else."

Juarez sighed. "Alright."

With that, the car pulled out onto Iowa Ave going north, and they drove in silence all the way to St. Louis.

As they entered the police station, Mallory stepped up to the front desk. Sitting there was a beleaguered policewoman, who looked like she hadn't gotten a single wink of sleep in days. Agent Juarez looked at her with sympathy.

She took notice of the two men, and cleared her throat to speak up a little. "Yes, can I help you?"

Mallory smiled kindly. "Hi there, Officer, uh…" He tilted his head to get a look at her nametape.

"McClaren," she helpfully supplied for him with a small smile. "But, you can call me Jeni."

Mallory's smile widened slightly as he raised his left hand to point to himself and Juarez—while also showing off his wedding ring.

"Well, Jeni, my name is Special Agent Mallory, this is Agent Juarez, we're with the US Army's Criminal Investigation Division. I understand that you have a survivor from a recent tenement bombing in your interview rooms and that the FBI has already sent some agents of their own to interview him?"

Officer McClaren did her best to hide her disappointment from seeing Mallory's wedding band, and nodded with a tired smile. "Yes sir, that's right. They've been expecting you. Would you like me to take you to them?"

"That would be great, Jeni, thank you."

The two CID agents were handed temporary security badges and then led further into the station past a series of cubicles and down a couple of hallways, until they found the three FBI agents waiting patiently for them in the hall outside of the interview room in question. The elder man with the claw-shaped scar at the edge of his mouth stood up first to greet them, his subordinates quickly following his example.

Special Agent Mallory reached out to shake the FBI agent's hand, and the scarred agent took it.

"Good morning. I'm Special Agent Mallory," Mallory said politely, gesturing to his partner. "That's Agent Juarez."

"Special Agent Blackthorne," said the scarred man, pointing to each of his subordinates in turn. "Agents Steele and Thompson. How much do you know?"

Mallory breathed in. "Not much. Bombing two nights ago of a tenement, shots fired. Two dead soldiers, one survivor, and a civilian witness. The survivor refused to identify himself with anything other than an alias. That about right so far?"

Blackthorne nodded. "That's right."

"I was also told that it was by his request that we're here today."

"Right, told us to tell the CID that 'Solid Snake' was requesting CID involvement."

Mallory went still for a short second, then sighed. "That's what he told you, huh?"

Blackthorne's eyes narrowed, eyebrow raised. "That name mean something to you, Mallory?"

Mallory was quiet for a moment, then looked at the door to the observation room next to the interview room door.

"I assume there's cameras and microphones in there observing."

Blackthorne nodded. "Most likely."

"I'm going to need any recording equipment in there turned off and the observation room cleared out. No local cops, no federal agents." Mallory emphasized the last to words, arching his voice slightly in the direction of the other FBI agents in tow behind Blackthorne.

"Wait, what? Why?" asked Agent Steele.

Mallory ignored him. "I also assume there are security cameras in the interview room itself. I need you to inform whoever's in charge of the police station security that they're to be disabled for the duration of my interview with the individual in custody."

"You can't be serious," Steele protested.

"I'm afraid I am," Mallory responded.

Juarez looked over at his partner with surprise and curiosity, but opted not to say anything, so as not to undermine his superior's authority in this situation.

"Last I checked, I don't report to you," Special Agent Blackthorne replied. "If you're wanting me to prevent the collection of potential evidence, Special Agent Mallory, I'm going to need some explanation."

"There will be subjects under discussion that are classified Top Secret/Sensitive Compartmented Information that I will not be at liberty to share, sir," Mallory said. "I assure you, if I glean any information from the interview that is pertinent to the investigation and not above your pay grade, I will happily share it."

Blackthorne said nothing at first, staring down S.A. Mallory. After an intense few seconds, he nodded. "I see," he said, waving over Thompson. "Thompson, could you please get the station's head of security over here and get the equipment disabled?"

"Sure thing, boss," Agent Thompson replied as he walked out, side-eyeing Mallory as he left.

"This is such bullshit," Agent Steele whispered undered his breath.

Blackthorne's head whipped around to regard his junior agent. "You've got a problem, agent?"

Agent Steele shook his head. "No sir," he said, walking away. "I'm gonna get more coffee."

Juarez thumbed over in Steele's wake. "What's his problem?"

"Sorry about that," replied Blackthorne, shaking his head. "Steele's not a fan of the whole 'jurisdiction friction' thing. Frankly, neither am I, but I'm used to avoiding the headache by keeping my head down. Steele's relatively green, he's still got a lot to learn."

"Fair enough," Mallory said. He turned over to Juarez and asked, "Hey, Emilio, you mind clearing out the observation room and keeping guard to make sure it stays empty?"

Juarez nodded and said, "Sure, no problem," before entering the observation room to inform the people inside to head out.

Mallory leaned against the wall. "While we wait for Thompson to get back with the head of security," he said, "what else can you tell me about the crime scene? Have they already gone over it?"

"House is burnt to a crisp," Blackthorne replied, standing next to Mallory with his own back against the wall. "Residue collected from the pipes indicates the presence of plastic explosive. Whether it's homemade or C-4, we haven't determined yet. There's a bullet that was found lodged in the floor; a 7.62x51mm NATO round, so likely some kind of rifle. We're still waiting for ballistics analysis to come back, but at the angle it was at, it was most likely shot from a rooftop. It's weird, though. All the houses are so close together and none of them are very tall. It'd be a pretty close range for sniping. "

Mallory nodded to himself, making a mental note. "I'd like to take a look at the crime scene myself, if that's alright," he said.

"Me, too," Blackthorne agreed. "I already got the address for the house from the local cops here. I'd be more than happy to drive you and Juarez there later today, if you have time."

Mallory considered telling him that they had their own car, before deciding that it would be better to save on gas since Blackthorne was offering. "Sure, let's carpool," he agreed.

A few minutes later, Thompson arrived with a not-too-happy police technician, who followed him inside the interview room to disconnect the cameras and then into the observation room to shut off all the microphones and screens and recorders.

Once finished, the two men exited the room and the technician informed that Mallory that the room was ready whenever they were.

Mallory leaned over to Juarez. "Wait outside the door, and make sure nobody pops into either room," he muttered conspiratorially. Juarez gave him a thumb's up, though Mallory could tell that Juarez wasn't too happy at the exclusion, but refused to say so in front of Blackthorne.

It was important that Juarez not wait inside the observation room, so that he couldn't overhear his conversation with the suspect. Mallory rested his hand on the interview room's doorknob, took a breath, and let himself in.

The suspect was there at the opposite side of a table, sullenly leaning back into a hard stainless steel chair. His clothes were smudged and blackened where they had been burned. His light brown locks hung over his face like a curtain, through which his eyes glinted as he observed the newcomer.

Mallory surreptitiously kept his hands in his coat pockets as he approached, pulling out his right hand only to pull out a chair and brace himself against the table as he sat down.

There were a few moments of silence as the two men stared each other down, broken only by the hum of the fluorescent lights and the air conditioning.

Eventually, it was Mallory who spoke first.

"Hello, Snake," he said. "I'm here, just like you asked."

The suspect didn't respond.

Mallory smirked. "You don't remember me, do you? I guess in fairness it has been a while."

The suspect's head tilted, a quizzical raised eyebrow.

"We've only met a couple of times," Mallory said. "It was when you were still in training. Once was for interrogation, and the other time was during your final exam, if I remembering correctly."

A small glint in the eyes—a hint of recognition.

"Choir Boy…," came the strained whisper.

Mallory's head cocked. "What was that?"

Snake shook his head slightly, then nodded. "I said, I remember you. 'Mouse,' right?"

"Seeker Mouse, yeah. Although, I guess, not anymore. I retired, you see. Moved on."

"I see," Snake said, brushing the hair out of his face and sitting up. "So then, what do I call you now?"

"Special Agent Mallory," Mallory said. "With the CID."

Snake chuckled. "A rodent taking residence in the CID…"

Mallory joined in with laughing. "I guess it is kind of funny, isn't it?"

There was another awkward moment of silence.

"So," Mallory said.

"So," Snake replied.

"I hadn't heard much from you since you passed your exam," Mallory said. "Congrats on that, by the way."

"Thank you."

"When I retired you were still on ice, waiting for your first mission. They had you waiting for a while, as I recall."

"Sure did. It was a long wait."

"Did they eventually give you one? A mission, I mean."

Snake nodded. "Back in March."

Mallory thought back to the various events that took place earlier that year to see if he could make any guesses as to what mission it could've been. "Yugoslavia?"

Snake shook his head. "South Africa."

Mallory's mouth hung open. "That was you?" he asked incredulously.

"You know about it?"

"Only the stuff that ended up on the news," Mallory said, his gaze shifting into a meaningful glower. "…and the rumors."

"Whatever you heard, it's probably worse," Snake told him.

"I bet. You know, they brought us in after you came back? Investigating some kind of corruption scandal. They said we had bad actors in the unit. Some kind of mass embezzlement scheme. You know anything about that?"

"I know some things," Snake replied.

"What about the Boss? He disappeared right around then, too."

"Let's not talk about the Boss," Snake said, his face darkening.

Mallory was slightly taken aback, but recovered quickly. "Okay, then. Let's talk about current events, then. You asked for CID's involvement. Why?"

"Because every person involved in the event is or was, Army."

"You also told the feds that you know who was responsible for the bombing. And you dropped your code name."

"I did."

"Which I'm going to guess means that the person who did this…"

"…is from FOXHOUND," Snake said, confirming Mallory's silent concern.

Mallory leaned forward. "Who?" he demanded.

"Sniper Rat," Snake said.

"How do you know?"

"I heard his voice."

"How? When?"

"He spoke to me over the phone, before…"

Snake went quiet.

"Before the shooting started," Mallory finished for him. Snake nodded.

Mallory pulled a folder out of his bag and placed it on the table, opening it up to pull out the photographs of the two victims. Snake flinched when confronted with them. Mallory pointed at each one with his index finger.

"The victims, Cpt. Willard and Lt. Reeves. You knew them?"

"…Yes."

"How?"

"I served with them. Before FOXHOUND, I mean," Snake explained. "I was in the Berets alongside them."

"Why was Rat trying to kill them? Were they targets in some kind of op? Traitors, maybe?"

"No!" Snake said virmly, raising his voice slightly. He shook his head. "No…I don't think so. I think…they were killed because I was there. My presence put them in danger. Rat killed them to get to me."

"So, you're saying that Sniper Rat wasn't acting on behalf of FOXHOUND?" Mallory asked.

"I don't think so," Snake answered.

Mallory pulled out a pen and notepad from his coat pocket and started taking notes.

"Maybe it would help if we started at the beginning," Mallory suggested. "You said you knew Willard and Reeves. Why were you there that night in the first place?"

Snake took a deep breath and sighed loudly. "After the South Africa job, I was pretty messed up. I was put on leave to try and get my head on straight. I needed someone to talk to, someone that wasn't a shrink, and someone that wasn't FOXHOUND. Unfortunately, that narrows down my options to a small handful of people. I heard through the grapevine while traveling through the States that some of my old war buddies from Lima were in St. Louis."

"Lima?" Mallory interjected.

"Lima Company," Snake explained. "My old unit before FOXHOUND."

Mallory nodded, indicating for Snake to continue.

"Anyway, so I did some digging, and found out that Cpt. Willard attended these Veteran's support group meetings after which he would sometimes hit up the bar. So, I went to try and meet him."

Snake leaned back as he sadly reminisced.

"I think he was pretty surprised to see me…"

A/N: Prologue and first chapter done. I'm aiming for this one to be more of a noir thriller, so chapters will probably be a little bit shorter. Hopefully that might also mean quicker output rate, but I've also become relatively busier as of late IRL, so I'm not going to make any promises on that front. In any case, I hope you enjoy this new story as it develops!