Outer Heaven's command center consisted of a boardroom surrounded by communication centers and monitors for the installation's many surveillance cameras. The consoles were operated by devoted men and women who manned their stations for the around-the-clock security measures, and scrubbed communications for any intelligence that might affect operations. The set of double doors leading into the room was guarded by two towering things, mistakeable for humans at a glance, but whose glossy, plastic skin told otherwise. Most of the central floor was occupied by a spacious table covered with dossiers, orders, documents and maps for reference by the staff whenever there was a meeting, which, at this very moment, there was.
Around a conference table that could easily sit twelve, there were three, gathered with the sole purpose of protecting the purposes of Outer Heaven's master. At the head of the table, they were led in their discussion by their leader, a man whose metallic hand wrapped its fingers upon the armrest of his chair. Through the course of his life, he had become known by multiple names, but his enemies knew him as, "Venom."
His voice was a calm, low growl, the herald of a fortress tapered in its passion, and devoid of any vulnerability, "Has there been any word from the white house?"
A man with a shaggy head of hair and whose haggard face had lived in combat the majority of his life answered matter-of-factly, "They got the leak. Two words. We limited the Foxhounders' transmission to two words like you said."
Another one of Venom's operatives, whose protective mask sat in his lap atop his full suit of fire protection gear, said, "I was with Kid when the transmission came. The word is, Foxhound has dispatched another single operative to investigate."
Venom nodded slowly, before changing the subject, gesturing behind him with his head to the two figures guarding the door, "How are the TX-11s performing?"
"Very well," The third operative grunted with a smirk, "It doesn't seem removing Madnar's failsafes has inhibited functionality."
"They're a sight to behold. Color me impressed. Does Madnar know we've inhibited his sabotage?" Venom asked.
"No," The third's grin went wider.
"And Metal Gear?"
Kid, the first who had spoken, had the latest to report on the subject, "Testing is still underway. We want to make sure Madnar didn't pull something before we're ready for a field test."
The metallic rapping of Venom's steel fingers slowed. He addressed the third operative, "Shotmaker, I want you to increase your sessions with Madnar."
"Are you sure, Boss?" Shotmaker asked, "I've been giving it pretty good to the old man. A guy can only withstand so much torture."
"If you're worried about his health, then remind him of his incentive. Make him watch, if you have to."
One of the women at comms stiffened her back, and then eased back farther into a stretch, before readjusting her headphones and returning to work.
Venom continued, "I don't want to risk any of us getting hurt. Metal Gear needs to work without any compromise, and with mitigated risk. Now, especially since we've kicked the hornet's nest, our people's lives rely on our bite matching our bark."
Another one of the comms staff swiveled around from the consoles to face the table, "Boss, word just got in. Building 1 has apprehended an intruder. They've processed him, and his radio is the same model as the Foxhounder."
"Well," Venom would've cracked a smile, if only he were capable of doing so, "That didn't take long." He took a moment to think, "Shotmaker, Our newest guest is a more pressing security risk. I want you to make sure there's no funny business in Building 1. I'll talk to Madnar." Venom's metallic hand rose to beckon his Flame Trooper, "Come with me."
As the men stood to carry out their assignments, Venom added, "Be on call to move out from Building 1. If I have my way, Metal Gear will be ready for a field test this afternoon."