Chapter 10: The Soldier's Paradise
A wall of brick indicated what was once the entrance into Outer Heaven's massive underground hangar. It was the home of a massive grid of steel shipping units that no doubt housed all of the resources necessary to fuel the operation of the installation. The basements of Outer Heaven were mainly stone, but the hangar was more metal, leaving the smooth concrete as an accent of flooring, ceiling and walls to steel beams and walkways. To the right of the hangar, in its own corner, was the final weapon, the missing link between infantry and artillery–The towering, robotic monster that was Metal Gear. Although it stood at attention at all times, its current stillness left it an icon of potential devastation waiting to strike–A sleeping metallic dragon, guarding its hoarded gold of munitions, supplies, fuel and whatever the hell else were in all of these shipping containers.
Snake picked himself from the floor, tearing off what was left of his sleeves on either side from the burns and spikes. His rippling biceps gleamed with sweat and blood from the bruises, cuts and burns that marred his skin. Ellen, much like Snake, gravitated in her gaze to Metal Gear as she made her way to her feet. There was a trail of blood that dribbled from her lips down the left side of her chin, and she spoke wth the slightest lisp on top of her accent as her mouth grappled with constant pain from the altered dentistry of her torture. All of it seemed to manifest a consistent furrowing of her brow as her eyes remained focused, piercing ahead to the task at hand.
"My father told me the detonation sequence," Ellen extended her hand for C4.
Snake patted himself down to make sure he still had the explosives provided by Jennifer, "Alright," he split the C4 and its charges between them, "You get the left, I'll get the right, then we'll meet back here, and I'll use the detonator. Three seconds between them, right?"
Ellen nodded. She took a step, and Snake's arm shot out to stop her. She looked to him and watched as Snake withdrew from his equipment a pack of cigarettes. He withdrew his other arm and fetched a lighter, another gift from Jennifer, and lit a cigarette he both removed with and held in his teeth.
As he took a good, long puff, Ellen's eyes narrowed, "What are you doing? You smoke at a time like this?"
Snake exhaled the delicious smoke of the tobacco, and just in front of them, a gray cloud formed, revealing thin red security beams.
"Yeah," Snake coughed as he offered the pack and lighter to Ellen, "I suggest you do, too. Take a couple of puffs every few steps. I'm guessing these trigger more traps, but I don't want to find out."
"Yes." Ellen agreed and lit her own cigarette.
The two split up as they made their way, with great care, passed the array of both static and moving lasers, pressing up and shimming against the wall, crawling, ducking, anything besides a careless jump to slip by undetected to the steel beast, until finally, they crawled beneath its shadow.
Snake puffed smoke before him, and finding no lasers, slowly picked himself up to his feet. Keeping the cigarette between his lips, he stepped, putting one foot in front of the other as he inched his way behind the right leg of Metal Gear. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Snake puffed more smoke as he withdrew the C4 from his equipment, and installed it just as Madnar had instructed. Snake leaned his face close to the detonator to get a good look at what he was doing, before he retracted the lit cigarette at the end of his face from the surface of the explosive. Turning his sweating head to the left and pointing his cigarette to the side, he leaned in again to finish setting the device.
Once he was done, he felt something cold press into the back of his neck. It was the barrel of a handgun. Fox was right, he needed to be more careful.
Snake had gotten so far on luck. It was arrogant to think that that could carry him past the finish line. He felt his hands shake as his heart sped at the thought of his final moments being right now. There would be no mercy. He had made it too far–too close to their prize. He had killed too many of them. He had begun this mission, and continued it, as a gauche dog–It only made sense that he be put down as one. Despite it all, however, Snake's heart quaked with an oppressive longing to live, and somehow survive to complete the mission.
It was a man's voice behind him, "You really think that little spark is going to floor this machine? I took a rocket, right there. Can you see where it hit?" The armor was immaculate, "Have you ever thought of the possibility that Madnar was lying to you?"
Snake shifted his eyes as slowly as he could, without moving his head an inch, to Metal Gear's left leg. There was no one in sight. His eyes shifted back, staring at his explosive.
Snake spat his cigarette out as he presumed, "Venom?"
"That is what some call me."
"Where's my welcome party?"
"Stopping your friends in the prison. My people keep telling me the traps should be enough, but I guess you could say I'm stubborn about these things. Besides, I'm not here to kill you, necessarily–Not unless you want to die. We can do this the standard way where I end your life right here, or I could use your help."
"My help?"
"The government's using you Snake. What were you told? That there was a nuclear threat? Metal Gear is a deterrent, its protection."
"Tell that to Galzburg."
"They've had every opportunity to join us. Any one of the people here we've killed has been in self-defense. Metal Gear legitimizes Outer Heaven as a nuclear power. That is all. It is not meant to be used. It keeps us safe, but the United States, they don't want us to be safe. They want to cut our freedom before we've even broken our chains. If Galzburg would just join us, it would help them."
"Help them, 'what?' Live in war?"
"To live in purpose, to live in freedom–to live, Snake. We are tools for the government anywhere in the world–but not here. This place is where warriors go to settle roots, to protect what matters, not for political gain, but for them–for their destiny. Outer Heaven is the soldier's paradise–and you can be a part of that dream. We can end this, Snake. There's no need for us to fight."
Snake saw, in his mind, the eyes of Outer Heaven's residents, the ones on the surface, the ones who smiled. Had they simply been given this offer of peace, and they took it? As simply as that? He then remembered their uniforms, "If 'the soldier's paradise,' is a mercenary kingdom devoted to war, there's always going to be a need to fight."
"Touche–but just because we are weapons at heart does not mean we have to fight amongst ourselves. When we do that, 'They' always win."
A single noise on the right drew Venom's gun away from Snake. Snake whipped his head around to spot Ellen just as she was taking aim with her rifle. A gunshot brought her falling backward as she clutched her shoulder. Snake only had a moment and he needed to use it. He flung his elbow backward, hearing a loud cry from Venom, and shot his hands back to disarm him. It was messy, Venom seemed to know the maneuver before it was coming, but Snake's grip on the gun had more friction than the cold steel of Venom's fingers. It might've been a tighter grip, but Snake's was more slippery, and he ended with the gun, forcing Venom into retreat as Venom jumped up, grabbing onto Metal Gear and swinging his feet to kick Snake. Snake dodged the kick, but aimed just in time to see Venom's combat boots disappearing as they rose up and out of view. Gun at the ready, Snake ran out to get a line of fire on Venom, only what he found was an open hatch that closed shut.
Lights flickered on Metal Gear's front and exhausts hissed from its vents as its systems came online.
Over a loudspeaker, Venom's voice called out, "Last chance, Snake. Are you for yourself, or for your government?"
The screeching of the monster's mechanisms shifting its weight between its clawed metallic feet sent a chill down Snake's spine. Metal Gear was operational. An armored, walking tank, loaded with machine guns and nuclear launch capabilities–and Snake had a handgun.
Why was he doing this? The military was all he knew–But it was a job–a present, not a future–particularly if he was dead. If he made it out of this, would he just be used again, and again, by Foxhound or whatever other organization the government put him in, sending him out on the next suicide mission, and the one after that, until he finally died and needed to be replaced? Is that what Venom meant by a "tool" of the government? If so, was he not right? The man had him dead to rights and he was still giving him a choice. Perhaps Snake was simply a weapon to Foxhound or his country, but here, in this moment–and in this place, he was a man–a man with a choice.
The eyes of Outer Heaven's residents appeared once more in Snake's mind. Snake never knew his parents. Foxhound was a purpose, but the thought of a soft hand to hold in his calloused palm, a child in his arms, he had never thought about that before. The soldier, the spy–could they not hope for such things outside of a dream? Was that dream only possible in paradise?
What would be the trade?
Snake thought of Schneider, who was willing to take a risk on an unknown man because he thought Snake might make a difference. Snake thought of Diane, and of Jennifer–The hope in their voices when they spoke to him with no one else to turn to. He thought of Madnar, who had confided in him the secret to stopping this machine, and of his daughter, who had just been shot so that Snake might be free to finish the task at hand. Snake thought of the rows and rows of caged people, and of Grey Fox, who was, at this very moment, fighting, so that they might be free.
That would be the trade. They would be the trade–or perhaps, it was Snake's very soul that was on the table if he were to abandon them now. That trade was untenable.
Snake readied his pistol against the nuclear titan. He squeezed his grip on the gun, trying desperately to stop his trembling hand. His heart raced. His skin burned. Sweat drenched his face. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he sucked in the air and the courage to give Venom his answer, "I'm for saving as many lives as I can from your death machine."
"Very well. Call me mad like the rest of the world, and see how many you save when you're dead." Metal Gear swung its huge leg in a massive kick. Snake dived beneath it, dropping what might as well be a BB gun in favor of drawing the detonator. Then there was the next kick. Snake avoided it, but the swing struck a shipping container, sending the massive steel box hurling toward him. Snake leapt out of the way, this time with poor form, doubling over and sending the remote skidding across the floor.
Metal Gear began walking towards the remote. Clearly, Venom wanted to send the message that Snake's efforts were futile. Snake had to prove they weren't, or die trying. He rushed to his feet, moving too fast and stumbling off balance again to the floor. Dear God, so much was riding on this, he couldn't fail–not now. He tried again, realizing the hangar shook with each monstrous step from Metal Gear. It sent Snake into a stumbling serpentine pace, working his way trying to stay on target just long enough so he could–now–leap for the remote!
Snake grabbed the detonator, only to spot a machine gun turret on Metal Gear twitching. He hurled his body, rolling, jumping, anything to move himself out of the way as Metal Gear attempted to cut him in half with bullets that broke off chunks of the concrete floor with every volley. Snake made it behind another crate. This was his chance. He hit the detonator. He heard an explosion behind the crate, just before the crate itself lifted and flew towards the wall to his left. Metal Gear towered above him.
One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand.
Snake hit the detonator again. He watched the charge explode on Metal Gear's right leg. Thank God–not only had Ellen managed to place her charge, but they had exploded in order–Only–Metal Gear continued to move. Snake's pupils contracted as he fell on his back, watching the bottom of Metal Gear's horrid, mechanical hoof, as it raised, and then fell, and then stopped, a mere foot from Snake's face.
It was as if time froze for a period that felt like an eternity, but slowly, Metal Gear's foot raised once more before rotating backward as the machine toppled to the ground, shaking Outer Heaven's very foundation. Metal Gear had shut down, just as Madnar had said it would, and what followed was the automated voice of Metal Gear's systems announcing its self-destruct in T-minus 10 minutes.
Snake clicked on his radio, "Diane, Metal Gear's been disabled. Contact everyone. Commence the evacuation."
After hearing Diane's "Roger," he shut off the radio.
It was over. All that remained was to get Ellen out.
Snake sat up, finding the room only half-lit as Metal Gear had destroyed much of the industrial light fixtures that adorned the ceiling on the same rampage that had knocked piles of concrete and rock from all corners of the installation and contributed to multiple active fires and wreckage within the hangar.
Just as Snake climbed to his feet, Metal Gear's hatch sprung open, and out climbed Venom, his figure a mere silhouette in the new shadows of the vast space. He was armed to the teeth, likely from a stockpile stored in Metal Gear's cockpit, and he descended Metal Gear's dormant shell and approached Snake, as well as the light. As Outer Heaven's leader emerged from Shadow, Snake saw his face for the first time. His face was marred and bleeding, a piece of shrapnel protruding from his temple, but nonetheless, there was no mistaking who he was.
Venom, the infamous mercenary king, and Big Boss, commander of Foxhound, were one and the same.
"Boss," Snake couldn't catch his breath.
Big Boss did not reply. He instead took aim and fired a rocket launcher.