Authors notes: Covering some uncomfortable material in this chapter. Nothing graphic but I felt it best to warn you all.
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Upon entering the makeshift supply room, Raiden was somewhat surprised to see that he was not the only one up at this early hour. Notebook already open on the worn table, Kevin sat nursing a cup of coffee with one hand as he scribbled away with the other. On the opposite side, feet up on the table and lounging back in his chair indolently, was Sam with his own drink.
"Well, look who decided to join us for once." Sam declared with a lighthearted voice, raising his cup to the new arrival.
"Hey Rai." Kevin greeted, flipping the book closed as the man finally entered the room to join them.
"Where are the boys?" Raiden asked eyeing the coffee pot and deciding against it.. He was after something a little different. Something a little more nostalgic to soothe his troubled mind after the unexpected dreams.
"Still out cold." Sam said after a sip of his black coffee. "They were up all night chatting again like this is one big sleep over. Becoming fast friends I think."
Raiden nodded approvingly. He had been disappointed to learn that John was still having difficulties making friends at school. It certainly wasn't for lack of wanting them as the child had practically thrived with Sunny's and George's companionship despite the challenging situation. The boy had been extremely upset with their departure from Maverick although John had bore it with a stoicism that was quite similar to his own.
Raiden didn't know what George's life back at the orphanage was like. The tall teen may have been friends with the others but Raiden knew personally what it was like to be yet another face, overlooked and forgotten amongst the multitude of others in an environment like that. The next time they talked Raiden resolved to bring it up with the boy. They could certainly bond over commiserations or tales of mischief.
"What about you? You're back awfully early today." Kev asked jarring Raiden from his thoughts as he gave his worn pencil a twirl before tucking it behind an ear.
"Never left last night." Raiden answered simply as he began digging through the supply boxes for what brought him out of his room and his memories in the first place. "I'll probably have to stop doing so anyway. I've been grounded."
"How come?"
"George has been getting on my case about it. Says I'm going through the self repair units too quickly." Raiden briefly glanced at the flavors then sat aside a stack of MRE's as he continued to search. "He and John are teaming up on me about it. Guilt tripping me by saying that if something did happen around here then there might not be enough units to go around for the three of us. Kid even threatened to take me offline of the evenings if he had to."
This earned a hearty laugh from Sam. While Raiden shared his amusement at the boy's audacity he wasn't about to let the other man know that he was in agreement with him over something.
"Kid has a set of brass ones on him. Perhaps literally. He recently threatened me to behave as well whenever Wolfie and I were having a bit of fun." Sam scratched at his bristly chin before hanging his arm over the back of the chair again.
"Boris gave that kid final authority over the well being of you two for a reason." Kevin said with a huff of exasperation as he flipped his notebook back open. "You," he jabbed his pencil at Sam, "do not know how to play nice with others. And you Rai...Well let's just say you were hard as hell on the heavy duty tech, much less that soft civilian stuff."
Sam tried to put on an air of faux indignation at the accusations but Kevin steadfastly ignored him in favor of finding the page he had been on. Seeing as how he was going to get no attention from that end, Sam instead turned to Raiden, who was also ignoring him in favor of what he was still looking for. Sam was never to be deterred when it came to seeking attention.
"Seeing as how you are stuck here now with the rest of us, if you ever get too restless my offer still stands. Wolfie helped me make some practice swords last night before he set off to go patrol. The practice swords are substandard and will most certainly break. So we made a few. Also there is something else I wanted to talk to you about." Sam left the statement hanging until Raiden turned away from the box to give the man his full attention as wanted. "I had heard back at Maverick that your boy was interested in swordplay. Perhaps he could join us?"
"Not going to happen." Raiden said bluntly before returning back to his task. "As Kevin said, you don't know how to play nice."
"You trust me enough not to kill you all in the night but not enough for some lighthearted sparring?" Sam asked with a look of honest offense. Either that or he was putting on a show in order to manipulate him. Raiden had never been any good at spotting things like that.
"I don't trust myself to play nice either." Raiden tried for a placating angle. He was still too unsettled from the resurfacing of all those old memories to jump right into an argument so early in the morning. "It may just be wooden swords that can't really do any damage but I know how we are. I don't trust either of us to not get carried away. John doesn't need to see anymore aggression than hes already been exposed to."
Sam looked like he very much wanted to argue with him. If Raiden had to guess it was further protests on how soft Sam thought he was raising his son. Or perhaps about his violent past that the other man had ominously warned would not stay hidden. Either way, instead of arguing Sam surprisingly chose to drop the subject and focus on his drink instead.
Patience finally worn away, Raiden quit digging through the boxes and turned to Kevin.
"You two wouldn't have happened to bring any tea along with all these supplies, would you?"
"Tea?" Kevin paused in the middle of his writing. "Since when do you drink tea?"
"I never took you for a calming tea type of person." Sam asked, carefully neutral. Raiden could almost see the strain in the other man forcing himself to behave.
"I'm not really. Tea has always been Rose's thing." Raiden began irritably tossing the miscellaneous items back in their respective boxes. "She always keeps the cabinets stocked with more types than I can name. I didn't sleep well last night and just wanted something that's reminiscent of home."
"Sorry man. Nothing but coffee here." Kevin said holding up the little empty pot and giving it a shake.
Even though he didn't need the caffeine Raiden still enjoyed the taste of coffee from time to time. It wasn't what he wanted but now was not the time nor place to be picky. Deciding that the dark drink would be close enough, he took the offered pot and refilled it and set it on the portable heater to set it to boiling. With nothing to do but wait, Raiden leaned back against the coarse wall and tried to bat away memories as they insisted on surfacing.
The conversation puttered out between the three men as the water slowly heated. Kevin returned to his writing, the pencil making little scratchy sounds against the paper in the silence. Raiden alternated between looking at the small flame licking the metal pot, and looking down at the seams of his fingers peeking out from his crossed arms.
Naturally the silence couldn't last with Sam in the room.
"So when are you going to be finished with your novel?" The Brazilian man asked, drumming his metal fingers against the tin cup to make a rather obnoxious tinking sound. "You seem quite keen on it. Whenever you are not putting the two of us in time out, you are writing away in that notebook of yours." Sam leaned over the table to try and peer at the contents of the page. "You seem the type that secretly writes romance stories."
"First of all, kiss my ass." Kevin flipped the notebook shut against spying eyes. "Second of all, you're not all that far from the truth."
"What?" "Really?" Raiden and Sam asked at the same time. Kevin let out a long-suffering sigh before leaning back in his seat, notebook carefully tucked under his arm and out of Sam's reach.
"I'm not sure either of you are aware of this as no one really cares what I think or say, but I'm engaged." Kev said slowly as if he were talking to a pair of particularly dull children. "Since I am stuck in this godawful place instead of, you know, back home with Rachel, I have been keeping a journal of sorts everyday to share with her once I get home. Which does not look to be any time soon. Nothing confidential is written, I promise." Kevin was quick to reassure.
"Congrats Kev." Raiden said with complete sincerity. "I knew you finally found someone but I didn't know that you had proposed yet."
"Yup." Kevin could not help the goofy smile that came over his face that only someone in love could wear. "I finally popped the question after a nice dinner followed up by stargazing most of the night away."
Raiden couldn't help but chuckle at memories as he took the little pot off the flame and began preparing his own cup of coffee.
"Sounds a hell of a lot better than my own half-assed proposal. I had just finished up a mission that had flipped my world upside down and was covered in blood, sweat, sea water, and piss." As he stirred in the instant coffee Raiden became aware of the complete silence behind him and turned to see what was up.
"Piss?" Kevin asked, brows raised high.
"It wasn't mine." Raiden was quick to reassure.
"Somehow that does not make me have any less questions Rai." Kevin apparently decided that he really didn't want to know and quickly turned to Sam. "What about you man? Any engagements or old flames?"
"I will have to pass on the gossip ladies." Sam said with a deliberate drink of his coffee. "My love life is not up for conversation."
"Cant talk about something that doesn't exist, right?" Kevin playfully ribbed. "Probably would say something like 'I am married to the way of the sword, I need no other' or some bull like that." Sam responded with the one finger salute.
Raiden declined to join in on the teasing. Normally it would be a refreshing thing to see Sam on the defensive verbally but with half of his mind still lingering in the past he didn't have the wit to press on Kevin's advantage.
That didn't mean that he couldn't enjoy it though.
"You know…" Kevin began pensively. "Back in the day I would have never thought that I would be getting married. The self proclaimed quintessential bachelor."
"It is easier to believe that it is your choice when no one wants you." Sam teased, giving his cooling drink a swirl. Both the other men ignored him.
"I thought the same honestly." Raiden confessed. "I don't know anything about your girl but I do know that Rose is made a little different than others. Real tough stuff. She had to be to be able to put up with my bullshit and still want to be with me." Raiden chuckled ruefully, marveling at the depths of Rose's patience and love for him.
"Either that or she's crazy." Sam chimed in unhelpfully from where he lounged in his chair. "I would pay to be able to meet the woman capable of putting up with you." Raiden magnanimously ignored Sam's nettling.
"Wait a minute. I lied." Kevin further tucked his notebook under his thigh and away from Sam's hand that was slowly creeping across the table. "I did think that I would get married once.
"Old flame?"
"Yeah." Kevin said, lost off in memories. "First love, first time, first everything. I thought that we were going to last, you know? She was a real firecracker. Had me wrapped around her little finger. But then again what young guy doesn't think the one they lost their virginity to will be the one they stay with forever."
Raiden scoffed and Sam laughed outright.
"I will have to disagree with you on that one my romantically inclined friend. We do not all think that." Sam explained pointedly, his disdain for the statement apparent.
"Oooh, so there is somebody you are not telling us about." Kev latched on to the potential story. "A lover scorned? You got stabbed, right?" Kevin laughed.
"Shot actually." Was Sam's arch reply.
"What-"
"No." The man shut down the questioning before it could even begin. Kev pouted but saw that he was going to get nowhere. Instead he turned to Raiden.
"What about you? There's a story in there, I know it."
"I'll pass Kev." Raiden busied himself with stirring in more sugar to mask the taste of the poor coffee.
"Aw c'mon." The man pouted. Being denied his gossip after being used to office conditions must have been driving the man crazy. It was somewhat humorous to witness his desperation. "Afraid I'll tell Rose?"
"Oh she knows. But I was just a kid and no one wants to hear about that."
The silence in the room was deafening. Raiden had been so distracted by the dreams and memories that he forgot that it was supposed to stay locked up in there. He was far more off balance from last night than he realized.
"I didn't think man…" Kevin shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry."
"Just forget I said anything."
With the easygoing atmosphere disrupted, Kevin turned back to his notebook in an attempt to escape the situation. Sam, for once, had nothing to stay and instead chose to focus on his drink rather than comment. Seeing as how he had brought the conversation down Raiden decided to take his leave so the two men could have their peace once more.
Instead of soothing him like he intended, the drink he now held was particularly bitter.
Itching to move but unable to wander about outside without Bladewolf, Raiden found himself migrating towards the open lunch hall. Many of the weathered tables had already been pushed aside and just as Sam said, there were several crude wooden swords propped up in the corner. Unwilling to yield the mediocre coffee to properly wield the weapon, he settled instead for attempting some tricky balancing maneuvers with his feet.
Upon hearing light footed yet solid footsteps approaching, Raiden's already precarious mood turned decidedly sour.
"I am very much not in the mood to do this right now with you Sam." Raiden warned, drink still in one hand and wooden sword balanced on his foot with his leg held at a ninety degree angle. As always, Sam ignored what he had to say and joined him in the large room anyway.
"Kevin is rather concerned that he has upset you." Sam moved to lean against one of the splintery walls, inspecting his nails with an exaggerated air of casualness. "He would have come himself but did not figure that you would want to see him. And so here I am, to be punched in the face in his stead."
"I'm not upset." Raiden said firmly, managing to switch the feet holding up the sword without sloshing his coffee over the rim of the tin cup. "Kevin grew up soft. It was just a fact of life where I came from, especially with how I look. Even you yourself called me a pretty boy, others just took it further. I should have never had ran my mouth. I had a bad night. Leave it at that and let me have some peace."
Sam did not leave him to practice in the spacious room alone. The other man simply stood leaning against the wall observing the balancing practice with the wooden sword.
Not that he would ever admit it, but Raiden was growing to be thankful that the other man ignored his wishes. With all the unearthing of memories he didn't feel like facing any more of the demons of his past today. It was much better to have Sam to focus on instead.
"You know…" Sam began with an intrigued tilt of his head. "I've never had an opponent utilize their feet quite like you have before. It is somewhat odd."
"Its not odd." Raiden griped while successfully maintaining the balance of his coffee, the wooden sword, and his patience all at once. "It's practical."
"I did not deny that it was." Sam yielded before Raiden could become even more defensive. "Had I not already done my homework on you before our dance back in Africa, your unexpected little technique might have got me."
"Not only is it good for surprising opponents, its useful if you are down an arm or two. It's hard as hell to fight with only a blade held in one's teeth."
Raiden's thoughts went back to his showdown with those Haven Troopers. He could have managed it had he had not been so damn outnumbered. Hard to use your feet to fight with when you had to use them to dodge out the way of numerous blades. 'Not that I did that particularly well either', he admitted recalling the number of times he had been run through in that fight.
"Much experience with that, have you?" Sam asked with a chuckle that was torn between amused and disbelieving. "How many arms have you lost that you felt the need to perfect this technique?"
"More than I'd like." Raiden huffed, remembering the pathetic mess that he had been left in after that particular battle.
"Ah, you are being stingy with the details." Sam pushed off from the wall to go fetch his own wooden sword despite Raiden's repeated rejections of the offers to spar. "You, my not-friend, are a tease."
"Don't call me that." Raiden groused, shooting the other man a look. Regardless he caught his sword in his free hand as he dropped out of the balancing pose and looked up as he thought about it for a moment. "I suppose all in all I've lost seven total."
"What?" Sam laughed before toning it down at the sour look shot his way. "You are having me on, surely."
"The Patriots took my original two from me. During further incidents with them I was forced to cut one off. Lost another just minutes after that. You took one." At this Sam gave a little bow of acknowledgment. Smartass. "As for the final two, who knows what Hunter did with them. I often wonder what he did with my old body."
"Perhaps it is the wrong thing to say, but it almost seems in a roundabout way the Patriots did you a favor." Sam mused thoughtfully.
"What?" Raiden paused in setting aside his coffee to shoot Sam a particularly venomous look over his shoulder. Never one to apologize for stepping on toes, Sam pushed his reasoning for such an absurd statement forward.
"I do not know what kind of fighter you were before all of this," He reflected, looking Raiden up and down, heedless of the other man's offense. "But from what I've seen of you, you are reckless. You dive headlong into battle without hesitation nor concern for yourself. Don't get me wrong, it is somewhat inspiring. I do not know if being a cyborg is cause or effect of this but I feel that it may have been only a matter of time before you became as you are. They just hastened the process. It must feel rather liberating for one so wild in battle as you to no longer be held back by the limits of the flesh."
"Liberating." That single word practically dripped with acid. "Why don't you fully convert and see how exactly liberating it is. It's hard to feel free when I will have to be chained by my medical needs for the rest of my life." Raiden turned to leave the room but paused and turned back to the other man as he was not quite done just yet. "I don't exactly feel free being forced to fight just to pay to live. I've done my time already fighting for others just to be able to survive. I'm sick of it. I'm not like you. You fight for fun and can walk away from it any time you wish."
Whatever unsteady, yet civil conversation that they had been having might as well have been thrown out a window and buried in the endless sand outside. As far as Raiden could see Sam was not trying to be offensive in his assessment, but spoke with sincerity. But intentions aside, no one had ever had the nerve to bring up the subject his unwilling conversion in a positive fashion, much less in such a candid manner.
Well...there was always Doktor, but that man was in a class of his own.
Raiden didn't know what was worse: the frank reminder of the loss of his former self, or the fact that Sam was likely all too correct in his assessment that it was only a matter of time before he ended up a cyborg.
"Walking away from this lifestyle is not exactly something I can do lightly." Sam said thoughtfully, twirling the sword about after inspecting its crude design. "In fact, in recent days I find myself quite thoroughly caught in the same situation you must live, though not to the same degree as yourself."
"An arm is nothing." Raiden dismissed in an unexpected call back to their earlier conversation. "The maintenance on a single limb is cheap. I'm sure you could find plenty of mercenary jobs to cover that easily and be done with it forever."
"There is more to it than meets the eye." Sam tucked the sword under one arm and to Raiden's puzzlement, he pulled the hem of his shirt up high exposing his torso to view. Peeking out from amidst the large battle scars were numerous long healed surgical incisions on the man's chest that denoted cyber augmentation.
"...I didn't realize you've had more work done."
"Not by choice mind you." Sam pulled his shirt back down with a rueful chuckle. "Our little fight in the badlands did quite the number on me. I was not going to make it long without assistance." Sam lightly began to run through sword forms as he talked. The motions were fluid and precise but it was clear by the look on his face that his thoughts and focus were miles elsewhere.
"What was taken." Raiden asked, his curiosity slowly starting to outweigh his temper. As he replayed through their fight, making note of all the damage he had dealt the other man, he fell into step with his own forms.
"Lungs." Sam said simply. "That is the reason why I joined Maverick in the first place. For all of your prattling on about justice and such I figured that they were...well perhaps not my wisest option but my best chance at survival."
"And do you see it as an improvement, or would you rather be as you were? Free to come and go as you please without being beholden to anybody that can provide medical care so long as you fight for them." Raiden could not help but take a dig in retaliation.
"You." Sam suddenly stopped in his flowing motions with the wooden sword, and angrily jabbed a finger towards him. "You confuse me."
"What?" Raiden faltered in his forms, completely taken aback by the sudden turn.
"You act reluctant to do battle, yet you throw yourself into it wholeheartedly. Nearly fanatically. You speak of justice and peace yet you delight in pain and bloodshed. You talk as if you would rather be an ordinary man living out your days with your family yet your actions tell the tale of you being an unstoppable force of nature that lives only for the fight."
As Sam rambled off Raiden's numerous contradictions, he gesticulated wildly in his growing frustration.
"You confuse me. And I cannot figure you out." Sam accused, as if it were being done just to vex him. Thrown decidedly off balance at the odd turn of the conversation and unsure of how to answer this unexpected rant, Raiden took a ready stance and waited to see if the unspoken invitation to spar would be accepted. With a subdued huff, Sam accepted the challenge and took a stance as well.
With the fragile wooden swords, the two began to lightly spar.
The carved weapons could not stand anything more than the lightest of taps against one another, but that was truly all that was needed. The practice they displayed as they moved across the worn and weathered floors was not about aggression or power, but one of control and technique.
They started slow and extremely basic, so simple that Raiden was somewhat offended at Sam's assessment of his abilities, even if he had to admit to himself that it had been quite some time since he had held a sword last. But soon the moves and techniques applied became more elaborate and difficult. Also the speed between the two picked up as they each got a feel for the weapons and how much control to exert over their clashes to avoid breaking the wood.
"I suppose…" Raiden began as he ducked under a swing, the sword making a whooshing sound as it slashed through the air where his head was moments ago. "It all boils down to me never having a choice in the matter."
"This I already know." Sam interrupted him with a huff.
"And because of that," Raiden continued on in spite of the interruption. "Back then...I always fought to die, not to survive." This confession took Sam aback a bit.
"Explain." The single word was both a demand and a request.
"When I was taken by the Devils Army it was fight or die. Those that did not have what it takes to withstand what we were put through or fought against it did not die clean deaths. Nor were they fast."
He reluctantly thought back to those boys, usually the older ones, that rebelled too much at what they were being forced to do. After the instructors were through with them it had taken them several long days to die. By then the example had been made very well and clear to the others not to follow in their footsteps.
Raiden pushed away the memories in favor of trying to push Sam on the defensive with the sword play.
"I fought hard as I was commanded to do so. I wouldn't be here today if I didn't, after all, and while I was good at the fighting, there was a part of me that wished I wasn't. I couldn't help but feel envious of those that fell in battle."
"Because to survive meant returning back to hell." Sam nodded in understanding, allowing himself to be pushed back, most likely for the novelty of being forced to defend.
"Exactly. I never had the courage to commit suicide like many of the others did. The first day they had us train with live ammunition, five of the boys turned their guns on themselves before the guards could put a stop to it." Raiden's parrying faltered nearly taking a hit to the side of his head as he hesitated, fighting to find the right words to adequately describe his warped perspective back then.
"It's just...well, you've seen the look Sam, whenever someone is dying and all the tension drains out of them. It's almost like they find out what its like to rest truly for the first time in a long hard life. Back then I wanted that rest, to have all the pain and fear bleed away never to come back again."
"You sought others in battle to give you that rest." Sam looked at him a little differently as they sparred, weighing this new information with the preconceived notions he held. It was not a look of pity, and Raiden would have put a stop to the sparring and conversation in an instant if it were, but it was one of uncertainty.
Uncertainty about what, Raiden had no idea. He had no clue about what kind of notions about himself that he had just shattered in the other man, but Sam was the one who was pushing this interaction and was attempting to forage some sort of relationship outside of antagonistic between the two of them. If this was what he wanted then it was up to him to speak up about it.
In the absence of any interruptions or questions, Raiden continued on in his explanation.
"I fought like I intended to die. I became a vicious unstoppable little monster. I destroyed as many targets as possible in an attempt to make an appealing target of myself. No one managed to best me though. It only served to catch the attention, and approval, of the very man that put me in that position to begin with. Of course I got out of those reckless habits for the most part by the time I enlisted and joined Force XXI. It was after I was forcefully converted and had nothing to live for did that old tendency of fighting like 'an unstoppable force of nature', as you called it, come back with a vengeance and I've yet to shake it off. You're right...I am reckless. Now you know why."
For the several long minutes there was only the shuffle of feet across the worn floor and the clack of wooden blades against one another. Raiden had begun to wonder if he had overshared, his usual reticence discuss his past had been unmoored from the unexpected influx of old memories. He had nearly been about to make an excuse about checking up on the boys to get out of the situation when Sam finally began to speak.
"I have had somewhat different experiences when it comes to fighting habits." Sam's words were slow, an odd contrast to the speed at which he sparred. It was almost as if he were attempting to speak while fighting an intense desire not to. Raiden understood that feeling all too well.
"You have surely been informed of my history during that business with Desperado. I am sure that my records told that my father was murdered, by one of his own students no less. That bastard took my father's sword." The bitter laugh was jarring to hear from one usually only laughing out of mischief.
The cash of their swords became noticeably more intense during these words, and the wood of their weapons began to crackle ominously. The two disengaged and Sam slowly made his way to the several fresh weapons propped by the corner. He looked at the sword held in his hand, a crack running through wood but did not seem to see it.
"I had trained with this person many times as a child, and had even shared many a meal with him. As much as the loss of my father stung at my heart, it was that bitter betrayal that set my soul ablaze. I swore vengeance, no matter the cost."
"I know the basics of your file, but not the details. Or how all of that ended really." Raiden took the moment to seek out his long forgotten drink. It was lukewarm and no longer appealing but he downed it anyway.
"Where you had no choice but to fight at the whims of others, I chose my path very carefully and very deliberately." Sam's eyes narrowed as he looked off into memory. "As much as I would have loved to blown in and did away with the traitor and the one who had ordered my father's execution just as you did with the Winds of Destruction and World Marshall, I was a young man and had no idea of how to get to my target."
"How did you manage it then?"
"It was strange." Sam mused, tossing aside the cracked sword but not picking up a new one. "Growing up in a favela like any other you quickly learn what sort of groups to avoid. Those with connections to the crime lords. I suddenly found myself actively trying to seek them out."
"To kill them?"
"No. To join them." Sam smiled grimly at Raiden's confusion. The man crossed his arms and began to pace as he talked, fingers drumming away against his metal arm as he did so. "Back then I had only a mediocre weapon and armor that I crafted from scrap. Not only would I have likely been killed before confronting the traitor but it would have guaranteed that I would never find out who it was exactly that placed the hit. It wasn't enough to have one. I needed both. To accomplish this I joined them. I willfully joined those people."
Raiden did not know what sort of memories were running through Sam's mind as he spoke of joining the criminal organization, but the look the man wore was of sheer disgust. Knowing what he did of the criminal underground, Raiden suspected Sam's time with them as an orphaned young man had to be as torturous as his own childhood was.
He chose to stay silent and still, watching as Sam paced and the words that held unexpected secrets of his past spill forth, looking at the man in a new light.
"I took on a different name, left swordsmanship behind as the style would have given me away. Over the next few years I began to work my way up the ranks. Many horrible things I had to do. Many horrible things were done to me. This, was gentle in comparison." At this the man pointed to the scar high on his cheek, no doubt from a blade that had been intending on taking his eye out. "Eventually I worked my way up enough to find who I was looking for. I will not go into details as I know that you can already imagine, but I reclaimed the sword that was rightfully mine and enacted my revenge for the one who had commanded my fathers death."
"I imagine that caused quite the shitstorm." Raiden said bluntly.
"That is only putting it mildly." Sam said with a laugh that seemed to dispel some of the darkness lingering about him. "The entire organization was out for my blood, so I began letting theirs. I cut quite the path through them, very nearly managed to bring the whole organization down just as you did with World Marshall. But unlike yourself, I failed at the very end and had to flee. I've not been back home since."
"What went wrong?" Raiden asked but Sam was already pointing towards his torso where the plentiful scars had already been revealed to him.
"There is only so many bullets one can deflect at once. Especially for one unpracticed at it. The rest found their mark. Our fight in the desert was not the first time I've been left for dead and had to slink away to recover. Later on in my life I heard of World Marshall and was strongly reminded of my old foes. I thought their leader sent others out to die while never lifting a finger himself. I thought to bring them down, this time wiser and more prepared. I was at my prime and believed myself unstoppable. Armstrong proved to me that I was rather mistaken in this belief."
"And he didn't kill you?" Raiden couldn't help the upturned pitch of his voice as Sam hit him with that bit of intel. The thoughts of a flesh and blood person going against that insane bastard was unthinkable. From his experience with the Senator in that desert nearly taking him apart, Raiden began to marvel that Sam was still alive.
"He had me right where he wanted me. It was all for...my recruitment." Sam extended his cybernetic arm with a flourish, although his face was grim. "I earned this for my failures and had no choice but to sell my soul to that man or else die."
Raiden was struck with the realization that like him, Sam had no choice but to fight. Back in Africa, in Denver...it was all ordered. Sam's enjoyment of battle was most likely his only sense of control that he had in his indentured servitude. Raiden also knew that feeling all too well.
It made sense now, the pieces of the puzzle about Sam that never quite fit into place. How he was always somewhat separate from the rest of the Winds of Destruction. How he could have prevented Raiden from stopping the Senator but instead chose to spare all the souls in Solis. Bladewolf's insistence that Sam was different. These were the actions of a man that was only doing what he was ordered to and not a single step more.
Raiden began to realize that he had been badly mistaken about Sam this entire time. And the man had let him because like himself, he could not stand the thoughts of being pitied.
"Ah but I ramble." Sam shook his head and waved the memories off. "My point is, before Desperado all my battles have been with a goal in mind. Specific targets for various personal reasons. Afterwards, well, I became like you. Fighting at the behest of others. I lost my way and I have not been able to find it again. To see a clear goal and strive for it. That is why I stay with Maverick, cybernetic needs aside. I...I am lost."
"Why are you telling me all of this now Sam?"
"Because I once thought that you could help set me on my path once more. I had thought you unstoppable and unshakable in your convictions, but I see now that you are a man as lost as I." Sam cast his eyes to the ground, shoulders slumping. "The difference in us I suppose, is that you are long accustomed to the darkness, while I am newly blind."
With that broken confession Sam turned to leave to find solitude. Raiden knew that he couldn't let the man leave it at this.
"Wait." Sam stopped but did not turn. "I think you're forgetting something very important here. There is another difference between the two of us. It's the reason that I can keep going no matter what, even if I am in the dark like you say."
Sam turned back to face him with an unreadable expression on his face.
"And what would that be?"
"I wasn't alone." Raiden said simply. He walked over and sat aside his cracked sword to pick up two fresh ones. "Snake, Otacon, Rose, Sunny, everyone at Maverick…Hell, I even had allies in my old unit that occasionally encouraged me onward. They've all been on my side guiding me whenever I would stumble. I may have been the one doing the actual fighting, but I would have never made it as far as I did if it were not for all of them. I've had plenty of time to realize this trapped in that forsaken basement in the middle of nowhere. It was how Hunter caught me after all. I was alone. And you, it sounds like you've always been alone."
Sam pensively looked down at the practice sword held out to him but said nothing, lost in thought.
The offered weapon was an invitation to spar, to take his mind of his troubles, but in their own twisted way formed and honed by violence it was almost as if it were an olive branch. This wouldn't fix every problem that existed between the two of them but it was a start.
There was an added layer to the offer as well. An offer of friendship was also an offer of an ally against the loneliness that had defeated the both of them before.
Wordlessly Sam accepted the sword and fell back into a ready stance. There was much still unsaid between the two of them, but neither were truly the type of men to sit and hash things out. Nor was this the time. Enough had already been said between the two of them as it were already. Instead they let their swords speak for them, a dance between two souls who were formerly enemies that were slowly learning to find their footing as partners.
-0-0-0-
The green light of the unlocked door stared at him almost accusingly. Aaron eyed the little light but was reluctant to open it almost as if it were a viper that would strike him for daring to make that erroneous move. Halfway wishing to be struck down, he reached for the handle and for the third time this week, entered into the darkened room beyond.
It had taken him no small amount of time to obtain Doktor's pass code to his private office. Aaron's reputation for being somewhat of a needy assistant had worked toward his favor as he would often follow the man to his office with questions about this or that and catch glimpses of the numbers entered in. It had taken far far more effort and time to manage to discreetly make a copy of the man's key-card.
Time was not exactly something that was on his side right now.
His 'new employer' had been growing increasingly impatient with his lack of progress lately. At night Aaron could see figures, standing just out of the scope of the streetlights looking up at his apartment. Simply waiting. Whenever he would commute to work vehicles would slowly pass him by, the blank faced drivers making prolonged eye contact with him before they moved on.
The message being sent was loud and clear: they were watching and they were waiting. For how much longer they would wait was the question that weighed most heavily on Aaron. Most days he could hardly even keep food in him for all the stress that had him a strangle hold and that noose was slowly tightening.
It was all getting to be too much. He knew that he would be seen as a traitor and incarcerated for his actions but Aaron could not find it in himself to care. He would gladly and readily give everything up to be free of those blank faces with their watching eyes.
Ignoring the computer for now, by the light of his phone Aaron began carefully looking through Doktor's files and the drawers of his desk. He had not found anything on previous nights down here but the old scientist had quite a bit of paper clutter. Aaron held out very little hope that the older man would have the answers to all his problems neatly written out and tucked away in a drawer somewhere but there truly was no choice. If Aaron could find just something, anything, to give that woman that might hint at the blue eyed man's location than perhaps it would be enough to buy his freedom with.
Aaron had just opened up a book and was flipping through the pages hoping for a relevant slip of paper used as a bookmark when he froze. Faintly in the distance were the distinct sounds of two different stets of footsteps approaching. Familiar footsteps.
A chill washing down his spine, Aaron quickly shot a glance at his phone to check the time. 4:03 am. He had thought that he would be in the clear this late at night, but apparently not this night. He was wrong and if he were caught then he would most likely be thrown in some cell where he would be a sitting duck for whatever vengeance that menacing woman could think up for him.
He had to hide.
Aaron looked around frantically, the footsteps growing ever closer. The office was well filled out yet not cluttered. There were displays set up periodically holding some prized piece of cybernetics but nothing a full grown man could hide behind. There was not even a box that Aaron could dump the contents of and jump inside.
With little choice Aaron tucked underneath the desk just as the sound of the key card being swiped chimed out in the resounding silence. He barely remembered in time to clutch his phone tightly to his chest to smother the light of the flashlight as the door opened.
"I apologize for the late hour. I did not intend to make you wait so long when you told me you wished to speak with me. The mission over in Europe ran into some snags and caused delay." The richly accented voice of the boss Popov rang out as the owners of the two pairs of footsteps entered the room. Aaron flinched as the lights were switched on.
"I am well used to late and unusual hours, so it is no bother on my part. All went well I hope?" Came from none other than Doktor.
"Da. Just small problems. Nothing dire thankfully."
Aaron's heart nearly stopped as the two men moved further inside the room. He pulled up his shirt over his mouth in an attempt to help muffle his breathing. Of course that would do him no good if the Doktor moved around to sit at his chair. There would be no hiding from that. Thankfully the older man just moved to lean against the desk. From his huddled up position, Aaron could reach out and grab the man's ankle if he wanted.
"That is good to hear. Now then...on to the topic that has us old men up at such a late hour for."
"I had spoken to Dr. Emmerich earlier this morning. He was convinced that he was close to being able to prevent the hackings. I take it that he has managed it?"
"Yes indeed" Aaron could practically hear the smile in the Doktor's voice. Once again the feeling of being a traitor prickled. But not so much as the feeling of eyes on him all the time.
"How soon can his work be implemented?"
"That is primarily what I wished to discuss with you. It is admittedly complex and I am afraid it will take will take quite some time to set into motion. It was already a nightmare to apply the improved security last month with all of our personnel, much less our systems. It will take some time. Are you sure they will be safe out there for such an extended period?"
"Hmm." Boris hummed thoughtfully. Aaron watched the man's shadow from his position tucked under the desk as he moved about the room. "While Samuel and Bladewolf are more than competent, I admit having Raiden and John stay at that derelict lodge in New Mexico any longer than necessary makes me intensely apprehensive."
Aaron felt such an intense surge of adrenaline that he began to feel lightheaded. This was it! He had to bite down on his shirt to keep even the slightest sounds of his jubilation from escaping. Perhaps this would be what it would take to placate the monster lurking in the shadows of his life.
"From what you have told me Samuel is convinced that the place is very remote." To Aaron's alarm, Doktor moved from where he had been leaning and moving out of the young man's limited range of sight.
"Remote is what I am worried about." Boris grumbled, pacing, from the sound of it. "The other safe houses were remote but had reliable means of communication. This place is isolated. If they need us, we would be hard pressed to respond in time. I would like Dr. Emmerich's protections implemented as soon as possible so that they can return quickly to safety."
"Perhaps I can offer an alternative?" Doktor suggested. "Sunny and Dr. Emmerich have been regaling me about their time avoiding the Patriots detection. Perhaps we can do something similar? In terms of their defense, a small mobile base would be more easily defended than an exceptionally large stationary one."
"The thought has crossed my mind as well." Boris muttered, ceasing his pacing. "While I have made promise to Raiden and his son I still worry about all of my people."
"All the more reason to get them out of there and moving, ja?"
"That would all depend on the two Emmerichs and their decision. There is little more to discuss between the two of us tonight without their input as well." Boris said decisively. Aaron felt a little thrill of hope that he was actually going to make it out of this situation without being caught after all.
"You are right. We would be better able to plan with their input as well. Tomorrow though I will have my people start laying the foundation work to get all of Maverick secure."
"Thank you my friend. Now, let us catch what rest there is left to be had this night. Tomorrow there is much work for us ahead."
Aaron listened to the retreating footsteps intently, still muffling his breath through his shirt and clutching his phone tightly. There was a distinct click that cast the room into darkness once more and the sound of the door closing. He did not move, did not even dare to let out a sigh of relief until he heard the footsteps fade off into the distance.
It was only after several minutes had passed did he dare relax his tense shoulders which had begun to cramp due to his position and his precarious situation. He had gotten lucky but he was not about to press his luck any further than he had already tonight. Slipping out from under the desk he quietly left the room, halfway expecting to be ambushed by the two men with accusatory words and enraged faces.
There was no one in the halls except for himself.
Not even bothering to turn off the flashlight still draining his battery, Aaron quickly made for the elevators while typing furiously into his phone, knowing that his watcher would see the information from where they lurked on the other side of the screen.
It was not an exact location, but perhaps those little scraps of information that he had managed to eavesdrop this night would be enough to placate his stalker. He knew that he would not be able to come back to Maverick after his actions, but if the intel was enough to get him off the hook then well...he would just have to find a way to live with that.