MGS1英文官方小说

fengmosn

呵呵
b兄说笑了 你翻译英文小说的工作量也不小啊 更何况偶干的这件事没啥技术含量 纯苦力话
大致估算了一下速度 基本上一小时能录入两页
除却现在放假不说 平时5点下班回宿舍 吃完饭也就6点左右 一直到晚上12点睡觉偶都没啥事情 游戏玩腻了 一天晚上录入个5 6页是不成问题的
今天因为在淘宝上找手办花了不少时间 就偷懒了一下 第三章只有3页不到

Kissdreams

[quote=fengmosn;497903]b兄说笑了[/quote]


b兄！b兄啊！！！

brightxy

[quote=kissdreams;497908]b兄！b兄啊！！！ [/quote]
正太小样的，信不信我帮你把方丈打出来的肺痨再加重一层

0479

进来支持楼主

fengmosn

4

SNAKE EYED HIS surrounding and double-checked them. with the map grid that appeared on the Codec, which was strapped around his wrist. The cargo dock was in a hollowed-out cavern that was supported by metal latticework. There was an empty berth at which government supply ships could dock. The approximately seventy-five-foot platform was dotted with large shipping crates, which were scattered across the space all the way to the freight elevator. The rest of the facility probably was built into the ground as well as in structures above the surface. Liquid had disappeared into the elevator, so that was obviously the only access to the surface level.
Snake drew the Mark 23 Model 0 SOCOM from its holster and checked the chamber. Locked and loaded. In Snake’s opinion, there was no pistol with better accuracy and resilience than the .45-caliber SOCOM. The laser-aiming module was particularly nice. Ironically, in a perfect world Snake would never have to draw the thing. If everything went as smoothly as possible, not a single shot would be fired.

　　Fat chance.

　　Snake holstered the gun. It was time to make his move. He slipped around the water filtration tank and crawled under the large pipe running along the wall of cavern. Some kind of vermin droppings lined the perimeter, and Snake frowned.

　　“Colonel, I see animal feces. Are there rats here?” he asked.

　　“Negative, Snake,” Campbell replied. “We already checked with vermin control; those are droppings form brown mice. They’re harmless; they won’t bite. Apparently, everyone who works in the facility is used to them. Be alert. We’re picking up three- on, four guards patrolling the cargo dock. Where did Liquid go?”

　　“He popped into the elevator. It’s amazing. Other than the difference in skin tone, the guy could be my twin.”

　　“Snake, he’s going to be a formidable enemy. His code name is the same as yours, so you’ll be evenly matched, more or less.”

　　“Yeah, but it will be the solid versus the liquid.”

　　“Right,” Snake said. He continued to study the Codec ground plan when he heard the sound of boots nearby. He froze and peered over the pipe to see one of the guards. The man was mask and was armed with a FAMAS assault rifle. The guard moved to the edge of the dock, looked across the water, and sneezed. Snake crept behind him, said “Gesundheit,” and executed a silent stranglehold. The guard’s neck snapped, and his weight drooped limply into Snake’s arms. Snake dragged the body behind the filtration tank and left it there. He heard more small space between the tank’s outside lip and the platform. A solider must have heard something, for he was walking carefully toward the edge of the dock. Snake rolled out from under the tank on the opposite side, stood, and stealthily inched his way around so that he was behind the guard.

　　Another stranglehold, another dead guard.

　　Snake dragged the corpse behind the tank, searched the man, and found a pack of commercially made American cigarettes.
Yuck.

　　Snake preferred a nicotine-based mix of chemicals and plant leaves that he had made especially for him. They were also somewhat smokeless, which was an asset on a mission. He’d been temped to swallow a pack before leaving the submarine but hadn’t relished the thought of regurgitating them upon arrival. No, for smokes he would have to depend on the usual On Site Procurement, no mater how awful the brand that he found was.
He took the cigarettes and slung the rifle over his arm.

　　“Snake? Naomi Hunter here.”

　　“Yes, Doctor?”

　　“Just reminding you that the genome soldiers have highly developed sense of hearing and vision. They’ll come running at the slightest noise. I suspect they’re equipped with the same antifreezing peptide I gave you. ”

　　“That’s not going to stop me from putting them on ice.”
The colonel interrupted. “Snake, five minutes ago we launched a diversion to keep them from paying too much attention to what’s happening at sea. Two F-16’s took off from Galena and are headed your way. The terrorists’ radar should have already picked them up.”

　　Could that have been what Liquid Snake meant about swatting down flies?

　　Time to move forward. Snake moved to the edge of the tank and then darted to the nearest crate. He stopped, listened, moved to the opposite edge, and dashed once again to the next closest crate. He continued in that way, sprinting from container to container, gaining yardage toward the end of the platform. When he was at the penultimate crate, he dropped to the ground and peered around the edge at floor level.

　　The elevator had just descended and opened. The third and fourth guards were patrolling from left to right directly in front of it, on a path some six feet away from the last crate. There was no way to sneak up behind the men, so Snake waited until they turned and began walking away from him. He bolted across the floor to crate closest to the elevator door. There he waited a few seconds for the guards to turn again and walk slowly toward storm. He surprised them by stepping out from behind the crate and standing directly in front of them.

　　“Merry Christmas,” Snake said as he delivered two powerhouse punches, left and then right, into the guards’ faces. The soldiers plopped to the floor. “I forgot to tell you- Christmas is early this year.”

　　Snake took hold of one man’s arms and dragged his body around the crate. He repeated the process with the other guard. As soon as the limp figures were stuffed tidily into a corner, a siren sounded throughout the complex.

　　“Great,” Snake said. “Either they know I’m here, or something else is going on. Colonel, I’m taking the elevator.”
He stepped into the open cubicle and pressed the button for the surface level. The ride took less than ten seconds. The doors opened to a massive space, the focal point being a Mi-24D Hind-D gunship residing in the middle of a landing pad. Snake looked up and saw that the roof- a sliding slab of reinforced metal- was retracting so that the helicopter could take off. Blocks of snow fell in from above; Snake could see that it was snowing heavily outside.
He moved out of the elevator and slipped along the wall and into the shadows, avoiding the sight lines of two guards at the end of the platform. He crouched in the shadows as a female voice he didn’t recognize spoke. “Snake, weather conditions are bad. A blizzard is hitting your position just about now.”

　　“Who’s that?”

　　“Oh, sorry. Mei Ling here. I’ll be monitoring the weather as well as your communications devices.”

　　The door had retracted completely, and the entire room lit up like Time Square. Guards moved out of the way as the rotor on the Hind began to rotate, building to speed in seconds.

　　“Colonel, there’s a Russian gunship here in a state- of –the –art heliport. And someone’s crazy enough to fly the thing in this weather.”

　　A good pilot could handle a Hind-D in a lizard. The machine was know for tis agility and speed. Snake had heard that it was the most difficult combat helicopter to shoot down. Its offensive capabilities were formidable as well, as it possessed a Phalanga-P antitank missile complex and machine guns.

　　The landing lights around the helicopter rotated in place and pointed upward, creating a tunnel of beams to guide the pilot off the helipad. Even through the beast was large for an assault chopper, it gently as the pilot fought the strong wind, but whoever was flying the vehicle knew what he was doing. After a moment, the chopper was up, had moved out of the open roof, and was gone.
Snake took a moment to light one of the cigarettes. As expected, the commercial stuff was horrible and nearly made him cough. But bad tobacco was better than no tobacco, so…

　　Campbell said, “Snake?”

　　“Yeah?”

　　“Liquid Snake fancies himself an expert pilot. He was a big ego and probably insist on flying it in lieu of anyone else. I suspect he’s after our fighters. That means the diversion is working.”

　　Mei Ling commented, “I’m surprised our pilots can fly in that storm.”

　　Campbell answered. “The Air Force in Alaska is trained to fly in these conditions. They’re some of the best of the best, so to speak.”

　　“Hey, guy, I don’t mean to interrupt this lively discussion, but dose someone want to tell me where I’m supposed to go?”

　　Dr. Hunter spoke. “Snake, the DARPA chief, Anderson, was injected with the same GPS- transmitting nanomachines as you, so you should be able to track his signal with the Codec. We’re not picking him up yet, but you should be able to once you’re farther inside the complex.”

　　He checked the device around his wrist and noted a faint signal.
“He’s on a different level,” Snake said. “And he’s a lot farther inland. I’ve got to get into the bowels of this place.”

　　Mei Ling said. “Then you’ll have to cross the heliport, Snake. We see there’s a lot of genome soldier activity in the place so watch you’re a-, uhm, your back.”

　　Snake grinned.

　　“There’s another large space north of you. Looks like some type of hangar. You’ll have to cross that as well to get into the main facility. It’s crawling with guards, too.”

　　Great.

　　“Piece of cake,” Snake said.

fengmosn

5

IT WAS A STRAIGHT shot across the heliport to the other side except for two things. First counted three roaming guards, again wearing the white camouflage uniforms.

  　　Second, light on the ceiling had flicked on and produced a searchlight effect, with beams zigzagging haphazardly across the floor. As Snake studied the spotlights’ patterns, he noticed an object on the helipad close to where the Hind-D had sat. The light passed over it again, and Snake could discern that the object was a box. Was it worth the risk to see what it contained?

　　Sure, it’ll be fun.

　　He counted the sweeps of the light beams’ crisscross pattern and determined that the cycle was repeated every thirty seconds, To get to the box on the helipad without being hit by a searchlight, he had to dart to the edge of the helipad and wait foe the crisscross cycle to begin again. The drawback to that was that he would be in full view of the entire helipad. Then, at precisely ten seconds into the cycle, most of the helipad would be in darkness long enough for him to dash to the box, pick it up, and run left, toward the western wall of the structure.

　　But where were the guards? Two of them had moved out of sight. Snake could still see one standing at the north end of the space, next to a truck – some kind of cargo carrier. Okay, snake wouldn’t have to deal with him until the very end. The other two…? Since he didn’t spot them, Snake moved to a group of petroleum barrels, crouched, and scanned the room from a different perspective.

　　There.

　　A guard was standing in front of a double doorway on the left side of the room. That was the point to which Snake would have to run after grabbing the box on the helipad. Fine, he would deal with him when the time came. So where was the third guy? Snake waited a few seconds longer, but the man never appeared. Was getting the box still worth the risk? He could be anywhere.

　　The light beams moved away from the edges of the helipad. It was now or never – or wait for the next cycle, which would take up too much time. Snake bolted across the floor and reached the helipad corner in two seconds. He crouched and willed himself to be invisible. Luckily, the dark sneaking suit blended into the shadows surprisingly well.

　　You don’t see me, you bastards.

　　He remained perfectly still and counted the seconds as the cycle started over.

　　Voices. Two men. The third soldier had joined the other man over to the left, where Snake needed to go. That stop was going to be a little more challenging than he originally had thought.
The searchlights swung across the floor.

　　Snake could still see the guard by the truck, smoking a cigarette. At least he wasn’t moving.

　　The beams crossed each other and moved away from the center. Snake mad his move, sprinted onto the painted H, reached the box, and looked inside.

　　Grenades. Three chaff grenades.

　　Snake scooped them up, quickly opened his empty pouch, and dropped them in. Time to move.

　　He ran off the helipad toward the left, where the two guards stood directly in his path, some twenty feet away. They were talking and smoking cigarettes, and even though they were facing in his direction, so far they hadn’t seen him.

　　Snake picked up his running speed as the men’s gazes finally focused on him. They had time only to open their mouths in shock as Snake jumped and collided with them like a bat out of hell. Both soldiers fell backward with Snake’s arms locked around their necks, just below the chins. With Snake’s arms locked around their necks, just below the chins. With as much force as he could muster, Snake landed on the floor, using the two guards’ heads as cushions. The cracking sound on the concrete floor meant that their conversation was over.

　　Snake twisted his head around and looked north. The guard by the truck was gone.

　　Uh oh.

　　Snake grabbed the two soldiers by their fur-lined hoods and dragged them eight feet to an alcove on the left side of the structure. The open double doors he’d seen earlier apparently led to a storeroom of some kind. That could be worth a peek.

　　A security camera slowly made an arc as it pivoted back and forth across the entrance.

　　A surveillance camera?!

　　Time it just right and he’d have it. Snake watched the camera move across his path. The second it was turned away, he ran forward, dived through the double doors and into the room, performed a body roll, and landed on his feet, his SOCOM in hand.
A fourth guard sat draped over a table with his hooded head in his arms.

　　Snake froze,

　　Was the man asleep?

　　As if in answer, the guard snorted on an inhalation, moved his head, mumbled, and settled back into his arms again.

　　Snake stepped quietly to the side of the storeroom to examine the boxes on display. Much of it was food supplies, nothing that might be of use. It appeared that mice had gotten to some of the boxes of grain; there were holes in some of the lower cartons, and grain had spilled over the floor. He moved to the west wall and hugged it, then slowly stepped around the room. Eventually he was positioned four feet behind the sleeping guard at the table.

　　The man snored loudly and woke himself up. His head rose to the level where Snake wanted it.

　　“Sounds like you’ve got sleep apnea,” Snake said. “Better get that checked out.”

　　As the guard turned his head to see who had spoken, Snake reached out, grabbed the man’s skull through the hood, and twisted it all the way around.

　　The snap sounded like a slap.

　　Snake gently laid the man back down onto the table and arranged the head and arms as they had been when the guard had been asleep. He then moved to the north side of the storeroom and looked at the shelves.

　　“Colonel, I found a pair of the thermal goggles.”
It was ArmsTech’s Model A, reliable and effective heatsensing stealth equipment. Snake picked them up and placed them in the pouch.

　　“Hello, Snake? This is Nastasha Romanenko.”

　　“Oh, yeah. The nuclear specialist. How’s sunny California?”

　　“Just fine except it’s night here now. I’m glad you found the thermal goggles. You know, thet work by thermal imaging, instead of amplifying light like night vision goggles. They’ll work just as well in complete darkness. Not only that, they can penetrate optic stealth systerms. You should be able to spot Claymore mines, too.”

　　“Well, thanks, Nastasha, but I knew all that.”

　　“Oh. Sorry. I guess maybe I’ll just stay quiet unless you have a question about about something, da?”

　　“Da.”

　　“They asked me to participate in this operation as a supervisor from the Nuclear Emergency Search Team. I was happy to accept. We must not allow terrorists to get their hands on nuclear weapons of any kind. I hope I can help you stop them.”

　　“I’ll be sure to give you a buzz if I need you, Nastasha,” Snake said, and then ended the transmission.

　　He quickly scanned the rest of the shelves and boxes and was tmpted to take a box of shells for an M9 but decided against it. He had spent enough time in the helipad already.

　　Snake looked out of the storeroom, kept an eye on the surveillance camera, waited for it to turn away from him, and then bolted out and across the floor to a crate. He flattened his back against it and inched along to the edge. All clear. Snake slipped to the next crate, one that was parallel with the truck. The vehicle was an M548 Full Tracked Cargo Carrier. It would be interesting to take a look under the canopy to see what treasures he might find, but Snake didn’t have a fix on the last guard’s location. He waited a few precious seconds and listened carefully.

　　He heard bootsteps on the right side of the room. He crouched and saw the soldier walking around a crate, returning to his position by the truck. Snake opened the pouch, removed a chaff grenade, released the safety pin, and tossed the explosive over the top of the crate so that it would land and roll over to the right wall. Five seconds later, the device exploded, sending microscopic metal shards into the air around it. Chaff grenades were no particularly incendiary, and their damage was slight; the main uses were jamming enemy sensory systerms and creating diversions.

　　The guard, surprised by the noise, turned toward the right wall. He called his colleagues by their names and, when he didn’t receive a reply, walked cautiously toward the sound of the explosion with his assault rifle readied. As soon as he was around the crate and not in sight, Snake ran to the cargo carrier and crouched behind its left side. He took the time to lift a corner of the canopy and saw that the truck bed was full of cartons. One was open, and it contained more chaff grenades. Snake reached in, grabbed two, and thrust them into his pouch.

　　He then turned toward the north wall. Closed steel doors led to the next part of the facility, and Snake doubted that merely waltzing through them would be very safe. There was, however, a ventilation duct on the wall next to the doors. It was covered by a simple mesh grating that he could pry off easily with his fingers. That was his next port of call, he thought, but he didn’t want the remaining guard to find his incapacitated buddies.

　　“Over here!” he called.

　　The guard acknowledged him, thinking the voice he’d heard was that of one of his colleagues. Snake heard the sound of the man’s boots running toward the truck, so he lay prone and rolled under the truck. The man, confused that no one was there, called the names of his comrades. Snake emerged from under the other side of the truck, stood, and casually crept behind him.

　　This time, Snake reached around the soldier and grabbed the man’s assault rifle with both hands. He pulled the weapon laterally into the guard’s neck and applied continuous pressure until he went limp. Snake opened the passenger side of the truck and unceremoniously stuffed the body into the seat.

　　He skirted to the grating and pulled it off with his gloved hands. The duct was big enough for him to worm inside, but it was a tight fit. For illumination, he flicked on a penlight that was built into his should padding. Now it was just a matter of crawling through the channel to its other end.

　　He dragged himself along the claustrophobic metal tunnel, happy to get out of the cold. Even though the heliport was enclosed with a sliding roof, the temperature in the place was almost as low as it was out doors. Once he was in the facility proper, the central heat would be on.

　　“How are you doing, Snake?” Campbell asked.

　　Snake grunted in reply. “There’s mouse shit it in here.” He heard the women giggle. “It’s not funny.”

　　“Snake,” Campbell said. “if that’s the worst of your problems, then you’ve got it easy. ”

　　Snake continued to crawl until he reached a grating flat on the duct “floor.” He peered through the mesh into what appeared to be a large area foe storing heavy equipment. In fact, he could discern the back end and treads of an armored tank.

　　“An Abrams,” he said.

　　“What?”

　　“Colonel, they’ve got an Abrams tank in there.”

　　“That’s right, Snake; they have two. Our intelligence reports that you’re approaching a hangar for Shadow Moses’s armored vehicles, tank parts, and –we think – ammunition.”

　　“Good to know, Colonel, but at the moment I’ve got all I – hold it.”

　　Two guards appeared on a catwalk directly directly beneath him, maybe five feet below the bottom of the duct. Snake caught a bit of their conversation as they walked by.

一个人的冬夜

简直不敢相信自己的眼睛这是真的么？！
楼主太伟大了！滔滔江水啊！！！

本来这是我要KD完成的啊，难怪他在沙发上笑得如此开心哦

0479

楼主辛苦，再次支持～

Kissdreams

[quote=一个人的冬夜;498603]简直不敢相信自己的眼睛这是真的么？！
楼主太伟大了！滔滔江水啊！！！

本来这是我要KD完成的啊，难怪他在沙发上笑得如此开心哦[/quote]

我很开心~

一个人的冬夜

[quote=kissdreams;498671]我很开心~
[/quote]
莫再本性告白了，赶紧给人楼主寄眼药水去！

fengmosn

　　“- the shaft cleaning. They’re gonna spray for mice,” one said.

　　“So what did you do with him? ”

　　“The DARPA guy? He was moved to the cell in the firstfloor basement, next to the woman.”

　　“I hear she’s feisty. What I wouldn’t give to…”

　　And they were gone.

　　Woman? Meryl Silverburgh, perhaps?

　　“Colonel, I know where DARPA chief Anderson is,” Snake said. “And I think I know where your niece is, too.”

　　Snake continued the lateral journey through the duct until he came to a juncture going down. He wasn’t sure how far it went, but there was no place else to go. He straightened his arms and used isometric pressure to lower himself with his back sliding along the side of the duct. The strain on his shoulders and knees was tremendous, but he had practiced this maneuver many times at FOXHOUND’s obstacle course.

　　Eventually he came to another ventilation grate. He used his legs and back to wedge himself against the sides of the duct so that he could rest for a moment and look out. The same two guards apparently had come down a set of stairs and were standing seven feet away from the vent, learning against a rail.

　　“- been put on alert.”

　　“Why?”

　　“I heard something about an intruder. He’s already done three sentries, and they say he’s using stealth. The security detail’s been doubled. Come on.”

　　They moved away and continued along the catwalk out of Snake’s sight.

　　An intruder? Stealth?

　　“Colonel, there’s another intruder here. Unless they’re talking about me, then things just got a lot more complicated.”
“Did you hide the guards you neutralized?”

　　“Yes, sir. But that doesn’t mean they can’t be found.”

　　“Then they may be on to you.”

　　But I’ve done more than three sentries.

　　“Somehow, Colonel, I don’t think so. I think it’s somebody else they’re talking about. Never mind. I’m going on.”

　　He lifted his torso off the back of the duct and continued the spider crawl all the way to the blessed bottom, which finally appeared after several minutes of spine-breaking exertion. The vertical duct ended in a T, with passages going off in opposite directions. Which way to go? Heads or tails?

　　To help answer his question, a scratching, scurrying sound grew near.

　　What the…?

　　A small herd of brown mice skittered in from his left, ran around his feet, and continued into the duct to his right. When they were gone, Snake muttered, “Where’s the fire, boys?” and figured the rodents knew where they were going. He went right.

　　“Snake, we’ve got you tracked very near the hangar,” Mei Ling announced. “there should be a vent opening in a few yards.”

　　“I see it.”

　　Snake slowed his crawl and focused on staying silent. It was a safe bet that human beings stood just beyond the grating. They might no take kindly to a stranger caught crawling out of their air duct.

　　He approached the grating and looked through the dirty mesh. It emptied onto the ground floor of the hangar. Although the place was big enough to house a small airplane, dominating the floor space were the two Abrams tanks. Work lights on the ceiling illuminated the hangar well enough that a figure, even one dressed in black, might be spotted darting across the floor.

　　There were no guards in sight, but Snake could hear the two men talking no far away. He wasn’t sure if they could see the vent; nevertheless, he gently snapped the grille out of its sockets, carefully tilted it, and brought it inside the duct. He then dared to poke his head out of the metal shaft.

　　The two guards stood on a second-level catwalk to his right. There was no sign of men on the ground floor, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any. Snake thought it best to play it safe and create a diversion so that he could slip out of the vent unnoticed. He reached into the pouch, removed a single .45-caliber cartridge from his supply of ammunition, and snaked his way out halfway onto the floor. Lying on his back, he flung the bullet into the air, aiming over the nearest Abrams tank. He heard it hit the floor on the other side of the hangar, but the guards didn’t notice because of the ambient noise in the space. He hated to use another cartridge, but he had no choice. This time, he aimed for the catwalk on the left side of the hangar, directly opposite the guards. Once again on his back, Snake flung the shell hard and hit the left wall. This time the cartridge bounced on to the catwalk, clanging as it well. The two guards looked toward the noise, mumbled something, and split up. One proceeded to walk to the western side of the hangar via the northend catwalk, and the other man went the southern route, which would take him directly over Snake’s head. Snake waited until he heard the boots tromping above him and then slipped completely out of the duct. He got to his feet, darted to the center of the floor, and took cover on the right side of the nearest wall. He couldn’t risk running for it because it was in plain view of the guards on the catwalk.

　　Snake cursed to himself and eyed his surrounding for another alternative. Fifteen feet to the southeast was a steel flight of stairs that led to the second-level catwalk. He reached into his pouch, grasped another shell, and threw it as hard as he could toward the north end of the hangar. The bullet clanged against the second Abrams tank. The two guards quickly hurried to investigate, their backs now turned to Snake. He used the opportunity to sprint to the staircase and ascend with the quiet, light touch of the feline species. Up there the lighting was less intense. Shadows were snake’s friends, so he embraced them one by one as he traveled along the catwalk until he was crouched on the same side as the guards. They were standing and looking over the rail, studying the area around the second Abrams.

　　Snake stooped to all fours once again so that he could crawl silently along the catwalk, a trick Master Miller had taught him. Footsteps on metal latticework made too much noise. Literally becoming a cat was the only way to surprise a target in such a setting. When he was approximately thirty feet away form the men, snake lay prone on the catwalk, reached into a pocket on the calf of his uniform, and removed the SOCOM’s sound suppressor. He screwed it onto the barrel, used both hands to aim the weapon, and fired a round at one of the guards. The recoil felt good; it had been too long since he had used the weapon on assignment. Shooting snowballs at his wilderness cabin was good for practice, but nothing took the place of a living target.

　　The guard flinched slightly, as if he had just been bitten by a nasty bug, and the other man seemed confused about why his partner was wobbling on his feet. Then, as soon as the wounded man began to drop, Snake was able to get a clear shot at the second man. The gun jerked in his hands again. Simultaneously, the first man crumbled onto the catwalk as the second guard wrenched violently, staggered against the rail, and the careened over it. His body fell thirty feet onto the concrete floor with a hard ka-plump.
Snake twisted his head back and forth, eyeing the entire hangar for sihns of movement.

　　No one else was inside.

　　He stood, ran back to the staircase, and descended to the floor. He could leave the first corpse on the catwalk since it was out of sight, but he had to get rid of the second guy. Snake crossed the space, picked up the man by his ankles, and dragged him to the side of the room near a set of trash barrels with lids. He removed one lid, heaved the man up and over, and secured the lid on top of him.

　　The storeroom was directly to the right, but the doors were protected by a security keypad.

　　“Colonel, do you guys have any security access coded for me?”

　　“Negative, Snake. You’ll have to pick those up from somewhere…or someone..”

　　Snake didn’t feel like trying to guess a code from infinite mathematical possibilities, so he turned his back on the locked treasure trove and ran to the freight elevator. He pressed the button for B1 and said, “Colonel, I’m on my way to the first-floor basement. The show’s just getting started.”

一个人的冬夜

趁楼主在线的机会当面道谢一下！谢谢！码字时注意要经常让眼睛远望放松下！
也代KD感谢一下！
拼字日文学习中之KD曰：“搞骷髅！！”

fengmosn

谢谢楼上关心
这么几天下来感觉还好 暂时没有出现眼疲劳的症状
继续更新

fengmosn

6

SNAKE STOOD IN a Weaver stance with the SOCOM in both hands, facing the elevator doors as they opened at the first-floor basement to an empty hallway that led forward several feet before making a jog to the left. Snake continued to hold the handgun at a readied position as he stepped out of the lift. The first thing that struck him was a damp, musty smell overlying the foul door of an unclean toilet. He thought that if prisoners were being held on this level, they were either mildewed or asphyxiated by now.
A shut steel door with a security keypad was on his right. Snake quickly examined the contraption and knew it was useless to try to hot-wire it.

　　“Snake,” Mei Ling said, “we’re picking up three warm bodies in your area. And check your Codec. We’re getting the signal that the DARPA chief is just around the corner from you.”

　　“I see it.” Sure enough, a blinking blue light appeared on the level ground plan that automatically appeared on the Codec. Snake went farther down the hallway to another steel door; it too was shut tight with a security keypad. “I’m at the door to the cell block. No luck, guys, unless you have a code for me.”

　　“Not yet. There’s got to be another way in. keep looking.”

　　Snake went to the junction and stopped at the edge. He carefully shot a look around the corner and saw that the rest of the corridor was empty. He moved along, the gun still in hand, but there were no doors; it was a dead end. There was, however, a steel stepladder leaning against the back wall.


　　And another ventilation duct just below the ceiling.

　　“I just found my way in. Don’t change channels.”

　　He quickly set up the ladder, climbed it to the vent, pried off the grating, laid it inside the duct, and crawled inside. The smell was worse in the shaft. Snake crept forward and after ten feet came to an intersection; the shaft kept going straight, but a leg jogged off to the left. Snake consulted the map on the Codec. It was difficult to distinguish which path was the one that would lead him to the blinking blue light that was Anderson; he tried the left path first.
Snake quietly crept along the metal until he came to another grating in the duct bottom. Looking through it, he had a bird’s-eye view of a restroom stall. A guard who appeared to be tall and blond sat on the toilet with a magazine in his lap. The noises the man’s body was making were nearly inhuman. The guard grumbled to himself, belched, and muttered something about last night’s curry.

　　“We hear him, Snake. We’re analyzing the voice algorithms just in case he’s somebody important,” Mei Ling announced.

　　Snake checked the indicator light on the Codec. It was now apparent that DARPA chief Anderson was not situated along the duct path he had taken. Still, it would be useful to know the layout of the level in case he ever had to return. Snake moved on past the restroom grating and came to another on twenty feet beyond. Looking down, he could see a messy office containing a desk overflowing with papers and junk food wrappers, a few dirty magazines, and three computer monitors. What particularly caught Snake’s eye were the boxes of ammunition and grenades that were on the floor against the wall. He wagered that the office belonged to the man on the toilet.

　　“He’s a low-level guard, Snake, a rookie,” Mei Ling said. “He’s known as simply Johnny. According to the Shadow Moses personnel records, he’s the lead computer technician on base.”
“I’d like to get down into his office and poke around.”

　　Campbell spoke up. “Remember your first priority, Snake.”

　　“Don’t worry, Colonel. I’m on my way to he other fork.”

　　Snake managed to turn around inside the duct and make his way back to the junction. He took the other path, crawled along for twenty feet, and came to another jog the left. Just beyond that was a grating in the duct floor. Snake moved to it and peered into the cell below.

　　A young woman dressed in what appeared to be military trousers and a workout bra was busy doing sit-ups on the floor. She had red hair, was thin and lean, and obviously took her exercising very seriously.

　　Meryl Silverburgh, in the flesh.

　　Snake wondered if he should let her know he was there but decided against it. First things first. His orders were to find Anderson before he did anything else. Besides, the girl didn’t appear to be in any distress. He’d come back for her.

　　He moved on to another grating ten feet beyond Meryl’s. It, too, was directly over a cell, and Snake could see an African-American man with his head in his hands sitting on the decrepit bunk that was fastened to the wall. Snake checked the Codec and saw that was fastened to the wall. Snake checked the Codec and saw that he was right on target. He pried off the grating, pulled it inside the duct, and dropped down into the cell.

　　DARPA chief Anderson looked up and gasped.

　　“I’m a friend!” Snake said quietly. “I’m here to get you out.”

　　“Who are you?” The man looked haggard, much older than his fifty-something years. He was dressed in what once had been a nice suit. Bloodstains covered patched of his formerly white shirt.

　　“My name’s not important. You’re Anderson, right?”

　　The man nodded. He stood, a little unsteady on his feet.

　　“Are you all right?”

　　“I think so. They tortured me.”

　　“Okay, we’re leaving this place, but first I need some information. Sit down for a second.”

　　Anderson hesitated and then returned to the bunk. “What do you want to know?”

　　“These terrorists, they’re threatening a nuclear strike. Are they capable of it?”

　　“Terrorists…?”

　　“The guys that took over the base and their little army. They’re threatened the White House with a nuclear strike unless some demands are met. Can they do it?”

　　Anderson closed his eyes and nodded. “I think so. They could launch a nuclear weapon if they really wanted to.”

　　Snake crouched in front of the man so that they could speak softly. “But I thought Shadow Moses Island was just a nuclear waster facility where you dismantle warheads. How could the terrorists get access to a live one?”

　　“You’re not very informed ,are you?” Anderson said with a smirk. “That’s just a cover story. A nuclear disposal outfit? Yeah, Shadow Moses dose that, too, but for years this has really been a government-run arms research and development facility. We’re been building a new type of experimental weapon. A damned important weapon, if I say so myself.”

　　Snake could see that the man still had his pride, if not his dignity. “What do you mean?”

　　“It’s a walking battle tank. It has the ability to launch a nuclear strike from anywhere on earth. It’s mobile.”

　　Snake felt a chill run up his back. “Metal Gear? It can’t be!”
Anderson registered surprise. “You’ve heard of Metal Gear? It’s our most classified black project! How could you know about it?”
“Let’s just say I’ve had Metal Gear business in the past.” In fact, Metal Gears had been involved in the Outer Heaven and Zanzibarland incidents in which Snake previously had encountered Big Boss. “But I thought the project was scrapped – too dangerous.”

　　“Nope. ArmsTech and DARPA joined forces to perfect the thing. We’ve been working on it for three years, and now it’s done.” The man sighed heavily. “But now the revolutionaries have it.”

　　Revolutionaries? “You mean terrorists?”

　　“Er, yeah, terrorists. They have REX.”

　　“REX?”

　　“Metal Gear REX. That’s the new code name. and it’s probably already been armed with a warhead. These guys are pros. They’re all experienced in handling and equipping nuclear weapons.”

　　A voice at the cell window startled them both. “Hey!”

　　Snake retreated and hugged the wall next to the door. Johnny, the guard from the toilet, appeared at the window. “Are you talking to yourself again? Shut up!”

　　Anderson muttered “Sorry,” and looked at the floor. After a moment, Johnny moved away. Snake waited a moment more and then slinked around the cell until he was at the edge of the bunk. They continued the conversation in whispers.

　　“Are there launch safety measures?” Snake asked.

　　“Detonation codes? Fail-safe codes?”

　　“Yeah, you mean PAL. There are two different passwords to launch. I know one of the passwords. Baker – the president of ArmsTech – he knows the other password.” Anderson bowed his head sheepishly. “But they know my password.”

　　“You talked?”

　　“I said I was tortured. That one with the gas mask- Psycho Mantis. He can read your mind. You can’t resist it no matter how hard you try. And believe me, I tried! It’s probably a matter of time before they get Baker’s password, too. They may already have it.”

　　“Where is Baker?”

　　“We were together, but they separated us. They moved him somewhere in the second-floor basement. I heard the guard say they put him in an area that has a lot of electronic jamming.”

　　“Any other clues?”

　　“I think they cemented all the entrances, but that was yesterday. I doubt they’ve painted them yet. ”

　　Snake cursed to himself. “That’s great. They probably have both passwords.”

　　“But there’s another way to stop the launch.”

　　“Yeah?”

　　“With card keys. There’s … there’s three of them. Even without the passwords, you can insert the keys and engage the safety lock.”

　　“Terrific. Three card keys. Now where are they?”

　　“Baker has them.”

　　“then we’ve got to go get him. Come on, let’s get you out of here. Can you walk okay?”

　　“Oh, I just thought of something.” Anderson stood, reached into his pocket, and removed his wallet. He took out what looked like a credit card and handed it to Snake. “This is my ID; it’s a PAN card. It’ll open any Security Level One door.”

　　“I know how it works. Personal Area Network. Thanks.”

fengmosn

　　“Hey. You haven’t heard of any other way to disarm the PAL, have you?”

　　“What do you mean? I didn’t even know there was a Metal Gear here.”

　　“Is the White House going to meet the terrorists’ demands?”

　　“Hell if I know. That’s their problem. I have my orders and -”

　　“What about the Pentagon?”

　　“The Pentagon? What are you talking about?”

　　“Then you don’t know that – uhm …I …” Anderson’s face suddenly conveyed pain. His eyes bulged in fear as he gasped for air and clutched his chest.

　　“What’s wrong? What is it?”

　　The man screamed loudly, panicked, and lunged for snake. He grabbed hold of Snake’s shoulders and tried to speak but could only fight for breath. Finally, as if an electric shock had gone through his chest, Anderson jerked violently and then collapsed onto the floor.

　　“What the hell just happened?” Dr. Hunter asked.

　　“I don’t know! It looked to me like the chief just had a heart attack!”

　　“Check his pulse!”

　　Snake did so. “Nada. He’s flatlined. I don’t understand it. One minute he was fine – you heard him – and the next-”

　　“Forget it, Snake,” Campbell said. “Better find the ArmsTech president, and fast.”

　　“Colonel, what did he mean about the Pentagon? Are you keeping information from me?”

　　“No, Snake. But…”

　　“But what?”

　　“Snake, this op is level red. You know the drill. You’d need the highest security clearance to be in on the whole story.”

　　“And I don’t have that? You send me in here to do the dirty work and I don’t know everything I need to survive?”

　　“Secretary of Defense Houseman is in operational control; I told you that. I report to him. Come on; we don’t have time to sit and argue about it!”

　　“Fine. Wait -”

　　He heard sounds of a ruckus in Meryl’s cell next door. She was fighting with someone! It went on for several seconds, and Snake wondered if he should hurry up into the air duct and help the woman. But then there was a loud farump! And the crash of a body falling against the bunk. Then it was quiet. Snake waited a moment and then heard Meryl’s cell door open. He started to climb onto the bunk so that he could slip up into the duct again but heard a key card swipe Anderson’s door.

　　“Mister Anderson?” a soft voice whispered.

　　The door opened. Johnny stood there, wearing a mask and pointing a FAMAS at Snake. No, it wasn’t Johnny.

　　The feminine voice accused him. “You killed the DARPA chief?”

　　“What?”

　　“I heard you through the wall. You killed him!”

　　Snake noticed that the guard’s hands were shaking. He lowered his SOCOM. “You ever pointed a gun at anyone before? Your hands are shaking.”

　　“Who are you?” Meryl Siverburgh asked.

　　Snake almost laughed. “Can you shoot me, rookie?”

　　“Careful, I’m no rookie.”

　　“You’ve never had to kill anyone, have you? You haven’t even taken the safety off, rookie.”

　　The woman pulled the mask down so that she could get a better look at him. “Liquid?”

　　“Huh?”

　　“No. Wait. You’re not … but you look like… ”

　　“Yeah, I know. Come on, let’s get out of here, all right? I’m on your side. Your uncle Roy sent me. What happened to Johnny?”
She lowered her rifle. “He got fresh. I left him in my cell. How do I look?”

　　The guard’s uniform was a little big on her. “I think you’ll pass. I have to get to the second-floor basement. Do you know ArmsTech president Baker?

　　“Yeah.”

　　“Then come on.”

　　They stepped out of the cell together, and Snake noticed that Johnny was on the floor of the cell, facedown with his ass sticking up in the air.

　　Then he heard the entrance to the cell area slide open.

　　Three heavily armed genome troopers stormed into the cell block. Meryl immediately whirled to fire the FAMAS, but as Snake had noted, her safety was on. Snake thought fast and drew the SOCOM – thwack, thwack. Three head shots and the trio was down.

　　“So, uhm, nice work, rookie,” Snake said.

　　“Shut up.”

　　The sound of approaching boots gave them no time to jump for cover. Three more troopers poured through the door, and this time Meryl let loose a volley of noisy spray fire, mowing down the men in seconds.

　　 She turned to Snake as if to say, “See there?”

　　“Nice shooting, but now everyone in the complex will know we’re here.”

　　She ran toward the door and said, “Come on; I know my way around this place.”

　　“Meryl! Wait!”

　　But she was gone.

　　What the hell? Where’s she going?

　　Snake followed her out of the cell block and saw her at the end of the hallway, headed for the exit. She turned, aimed the FAMAS at him, and fired another volley of rounds. Snake leaped to the side to avoid being hit, rolled, and cursed aloud. When he sprung back to his feet, she had disappeared.

　　The crazy woman! Why’d she do that?!

　　Snake started to run after her but suddenly felt disoriented. For a moment he wasn’t sure where he was, and then a searing pain knifed through his head. He staggered and leaned against the wall. He was confused but had the presence of mind to wonder wht there were no bullet holes from Meryl’s blast. The wall was completely smooth.

　　 Am I imagining things?

　　And then he closed his eyes-

　　-and saw DARPA chief Anderson strapped in a chair, an interrogation lamp shining brightly over his head. Anderson was dead or had passed out. Snake recognized three figures standing around the poor man: Liquid Snake, Revolver Ocelot, and Psycho Mantis.

　　“He’s dead,” Ocelot said.

　　“You fool!” Liquid grumbled. “I told you to be careful!”
Psycho Mantis replied, “His mental shielding was too strong.”

　　“We’ll never get the detonation codes now.”

　　“Wait, sir,” Mantis said. “I have an idea.”

　　- and the vision dissipated as Snake opened his eyes. He felt the cold steel of the cell block wall against his face. Consciousness returned, and he found that he was standing, hugging the wall. The headache went away as rapidly as it had appeared, and he no longer felt disoriented.

　　“Doctor Hunter?”

　　“Yes, Snake?”

　　“I just … I don’t know. Something weired just happened.”

　　“What?”

　　“I had some kid of hallucination. And a splitting headache for about a minute, but now it’s gone.”

　　After a pause, Dr. Hunter replied. “It could be psychometric interference coming from Psycho Mantis. He’s probably nearby. What was the hallucination?”

　　Snake shook his head and flung the cobwebs away. “Never mind. I’m on my way to the second-floor basement. Let’s hope Baker’s still alive. And Colonel?”

　　“Yes, Snake?”

　　“Your niece is one wacky babe.”

fengmosn

7

THE FREIGHT ELEVATOR stopped at the second-floor basement, and the doors opened to a large, dimly lit room the size of a gymnasium. Concrete pillboxes were positioned across the floor. Snake figured that each one contained supplies and weapons. He hugged the wall and moved to the corner of the room to survey the situation. It was very quiet… too quiet.

　　And what the hell happened to Meryl? Where did she run off to?

　　“Snake, you’re in an armory,” Mei Ling said. “Our intelligence reports that each of those concrete blocks is sealed with a Security Level One lock. The ArmsTech president is most likely beyond the armory, in one of the storage rooms on the other side of the pillboxes.”

　　“Thanks. You know, there’s something about this place I don’t like.” Snake reached into his pouch and retrieved the thermal goggles he had snatched. He put them on and immediately noticed the warm outline of a square on the floor in front of him. A trapdoor-what those in the business called a murder door. More often than not, a gruesome death in the form of a long drop, steel spikes, or a drowning pool awaited the unwary soul who fell into one.

　　Snake made a running start and jumped over the trap. He kept the goggles on in case there were more, but now he understood why there weren’t any guards about. Why waste manpower when booby traps could do the work?

　　By clearing the first murder door, Snake had access to the closest pillbox. He swiped Anderson’s PAN card, and the steel door slid open. He stepped inside and was happy to find boxes of SOCOM ammunition, along with extra handguns. He grinned as he envisioned himself as a cowboy with a gun holster on each side of his waist. A two-first automatic gunslinger…wouldn’t it be fun? Unfortunately, he didn’t have another holster, so he picked up one of the handguns, loaded it with a full magazine, and put it in his pouch. He then grabbed as much ammunition as he could carry. There were other types of arms and ammo, but there was only so much a guy could do with two hands. Snake left them and exited the pillbox.

　　The thermal goggles picked up another trap in the floor on the way to the next block. Once again, Snake leaped over it, moved swiftly to the next pillbox door, and used the PAN card to get inside.
Explosives. Lots and lots of C4 explosive. The stuff came in small containers that were attached to a surface by magnets or sticky tape. Remote sensors activated the things, and they were good for demolishing low- to medium-level security doors, wood, some plasters and concrete- depending on the thickness-and cameras. They wouldn’t be effective on steel. Nevertheless, Snake picked up three of them and stuffed each one in a separate pocket on his trousers.

　　He left the block, studied the floor in front of the third pillbox, and discerned another trap. This one he could skirt. The PAN card opened the security door, and he was inside the block.
This one appeared to be stocked with various types of grenades and other explosives. There were some frags- fragmentation grenades. The Claymores were way too bulky, he already had some chaffs, and the flash-bangs caused too much attention for Snake’s comfort, so he grabbed three frags and thrust them into the bulging utility pouch.

　　“Find anything useful, Snake?” It was Romanenko on the Codec.

　　“Lots of grenades. Some Claymores. They’re too big to carry.”

　　“You should maybe try. Claymores can be set up above ground and are designed to produce maximum damage in a wide fan-shaped area. When they go off, they spray seven one-point-two-millimeter steel pellets in a sixty-degree pattern, much like an oversize shotgun. Traditionally, Claymores use a trip wire to set them off, but the ones you have there are a new type. They are camouflaged using the new stealth technology and are equipped with sophisticated motion detectors.”

　　Snake almost laughed. “You really know your sh – er, your stuff, eh, Nastasha?”

　　“I take pride in my work, if that is what you mean.”

　　“Never mind. Talk to you later.”

　　He exited the pillbox and proceeded to the storage room area where Baker most likely was being held, but he encountered a concrete wall where the map indicated a door should be. And it was unpainted. Was this what Anderson had told him about? He examined the texture and determined that it was a fairly new structure; it had been plastered within the last couple of days. Thus, it was still weak.

　　Snake loved coincidences like this. A C4 canister was just the ticket for the job. He just hoped that the noise of the blast wouldn’t alert the entire army of genomes and bring them down on his head but saw no other alternative.

　　“Colonel, I have to blast my way through a wall.” He explained the situation, and Campbell concurred with the strategy. Snake scanned the floors and walls to make sure no cameras were pointed his way and then took one of the C4 containers, exposed the sticky tape, and placed the object in the middle of the freshly painted plaster. He flicked the switch on, moved back behind the pillbox, and held the remote in his hand. The explosive wasn’t timed; he could detonate it at any time with the touch of a button. Snake placed his thumb on the trigger, said “Mazel tov,” and pushed it.

　　The blast was loud but not as thunderous as he’d expected. Still, it surely would send someone his way.

　　Light shone behind the thick clouds of smoke and dust that clung to the air around the hole in the wall. Snake waited a moment, his SOCOM in hand and ready. Sure enough, the silhouette of a trooper appeared. The soldier played it safe by staying behind the wall and peering out through the smoke. Then another man joined him.

　　Too bad that backlighting gives you two away.

　　The sound-suppressed SOCOM jerked twice, and the troopers dropped like bags of refuse. Snake rushed to the edge of the hole, hugged the wall, and waited for any others to investigate why someone would blow a hole in their nice new wall. But none did. He ducked through the opening, waved away the debris in the air, and moved toward the light. The air cleared a few yards into the storage block, and he saw a man sitting in a chair by a pillar. He was positioned directly beneath a bright interrogation lamp. As Snake moved closer, it was apparent that the man was tied to the chair and had a gag in his mouth. He, too, obviously had been tortured recently.

　　The explosion must have frightened the man terribly. His eyes darted around in panic. Snake approached him, help up his hands, and said, “I’m a friend. Are you ArmsTech president Baker?”
The man nodded furiously.

　　Snake reached over and took off the gag. The man coughed violently and spot blood on the floor. Snake started to untie the knots, but baker cried, “No! don’t touch me!”

brightxy

羞愧，最近学校事务繁忙...都没时间翻译

Kissdreams

[quote=brightxy;499237]羞愧，最近学校事务繁忙...都没时间翻译[/quote]


同羞愧。

fengmosn

　　Then he saw it. A pack of C4 had been strapped to Baker’s back, between his shoulder blades. The ropes were attached to the explosive in such a way that loosening them would set it off. Snake examined the canister and realized it would take some time to neutralize the thing. As for Baker, the man looked as if he was at death’s door anyway. He was breathing shallowly and barely could hold up his head.

　　“I’m going to get you out of here,” Snake said. “Somehow.”
But a booming voice cut through the cold, concrete room. “So you’re the one the Boss keeps talking about.”

　　Snake whirled to see a tall figure wearing a duster and several belts of ammunition around his chest. The man had long yellow-white hair, a beard, and long mustache. Snake thought Central Casting could use him for the role of General George Custer in a community theater production of the Battle of the Little Big Horn. The man grasped a six-shooter in his right had, and for a crazy moment Snake was remainded of his recent cowboy daydream. Again, a coincidence.

　　“And you must be Revolver Ocelot,” Snake said. “That’s quite a get-up you have on. Didn’t they tell you the Sioux surrendered a long time ago and live in peace now?”

　　“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Solid Snake,” Ocelot said. “You have quite a reputation to live up to. You know, it really is amazing how much you resemble Big Boss. I met him once.”

　　“Did you?” Snake kept his hand on the SOCOM, ready to blast the guy once he finished reminiscing.

　　“I first met him in the sixties! We had a duel.” Ocelot laughed. “Big Boss beat me, too, fair and square. Your daddy was quite the warrior. Do you measure up to him?”

　　“I don’t know. I didn’t bring my ruler.”

　　Ocelot’s eyes narrowed. “Your mission is over, Snake!”

　　The pair stood several paces apart, with the pathetic Mr.Baker in the middle. “Please…help me…” the wounded man whimpered.
Ocelot slowly held up his gun and pointed the barrel upward, indicating hat he wasn’t going to shoot. “A Colt singleaction Army. An original. Finest six-shooter ever made. Six bullets…more than enough to kill anything that moves. I see you use a SOCOM. The handgun chosen by the U.S. Special Operations Command. Hah! Everyone wants to use the newest and latest technology. Back in the old days, when they really knew how to make things, gunsmiths put their souls into their work. As they say, it ain’t the wand, it’s the magic in it! I can use this gun like it’s part of my own body.”
He twirled the handgun around his finger with the panache of a western star and then thrust the barrel into the holster at his side.
The glove had been thrown.

　　The two men faced each other, their gun hands ready for a quick draw. Snake slowly inched to his right so that Baker would not be in the line of fire. Ocelot mirrored the steps, but Baker was still dangerously close.

　　Throughout Snake’s long career, he had never had to duel another man face-to-face in such a fashion. The scene prompted him to imagine himself on a stage performing the grand climax of an archetypals sang their guts out. Or perhaps he was the protagonist in one of the old Italian Western movies.

　　Snake felt a trickle of sweat beneath his bandana as the synapses between his brain and trigger hand grew ultrasensitive. In the time it took to not think of drawing the weapon, it would be in Snake’s hand. It was something Master Miller had taught him: Let the phantom music in his head become a sound track to the situation and then envision each action in the past before actually doing it.

　　He also had learned from Master Miller how to read a person’s eyes. “The truth always resides in a man’s eyes,” his mentor had said. Snake usually could determine if a person was lying, if he was friend or foe, by the eyes. Unfortunately, Ocelot’s eyes had squinted into dark slits, and it was difficult to see the whites, much less the soul that lurked behind the pupils Revolver Ocelot obviously took the gunslinger persona to an extreme.

　　As if a clock were counting down, Snake felt the seconds tick closer to the final moment when the duelists had to draw. Knowing when to act depended on the instinct of a professional; timing was everything.

　　Ocelot’s eyes glinted.

　　Now.

　　Ocelot drew his weapon.

　　Snake saw himself in slow motion as he pulled the SOCOM from its holster and pointed it at the enemy. He simultaneously leaped to the right to perform a body roll. The trick was pulling the SOCOM’s trigger once his feet had left the ground and keeping the weapon properly aimed.

　　Ocelot’s revolver fired, and the bullet soared over Snake’s left shoulder. If he hadn’t moved, it would have struck him in the face. Snake squeezed the trigger, released three rapid shots, hit the floor with his arm, rolled, and landed on his feet in a crouching position. The three rounds cut the air inches from Baker’s head and ricocheted off a metal girder just behind Ocelot’s yellow-white locks of hair. He jerked his head out of the way without moving the rest of his body, a sign that he had little fear.

　　By then, Ocelot had fired two more rounds from the revolver. Snake felt the heat from the bullets as they soared too close to his rib cage for comfort. His momentum in moving sideways never faltered, and he took cover behind a girder. He quickly removed the sound suppressor- he’d have better aim without it – and then swung the SOCOM out from behind the beam and fired. But Ocelot also had hidden.

　　The man’s voice came from behind a concrete pillbox in back of baker’s chair. “The challenge of a duel, for me, is reloading a revolver during battle,” Ocelot announced. “It’s such a risky thing to do, taking the time, making yourself vulnerable for those few seconds.” Snake heard the cylinder snap shut, and the Ocelot spun it. “Hear that, Snake? Such a beautiful sound. The sound of impending death.”

　　Snake considered using one of the frag grenades but quickly nixed that idea because of the stockpiles of explosives around the area. And with the C4 strapped to Baker, Snake couldn’t risk it. He would have to depend exclusively on the SOCOM’s firepower and his ability to dodge Ocelot’s barrage to get through the duel.
“I love the smell of cordite,” Ocelot boasted. “The smell of fire, the smell of the devil, the smell from the bowels of the earth… it’s the smell of victory!”

　　Snake eyed an area to his right that was full of stacks of crates. A work light on the ceiling illuminated the space much too well, so Snake took a head on the bulb and fired. It exploded, plunging the area in to shadow. He then ran for the first cover. He crouched low and crawled quickly to another stack. Form ther he could see Ocelot standing behind Baker, using the ArmsTech president for cover.

args

不得不说,LZ你有毅力到了近乎扭曲的地步.

fengmosn

　　The gunslinger had no idea where Snake was, but that didn’t stop his bravado. “It won’t do you any good to hide back there, Snake! There’s no way out. I’m sure our noisy little tete-a-tete will summon a squad of genome troopers in minutes.”


　　Snake needed to force Ocelot away from Baker. A steam pipe stretched down from the ceiling and along a girder that was directly over the terrorist’s head. To get a better shot, Snake lay prone and raised his arm at a forty-fie-degree angle from the floor. He aimed carefully, squeezed the trigger, and blew a hole in the pipe. A burst of hot steam his Revolver Ocelot on the side of his face. The man yelped and jumped aside. “Damn you!” he shouted. As the gunslinger moved, Snake let loose a salvo of spray fire and shot a couple of holes in the tail of Ocelot’s duster, but the man had slipped behind another pillar of cover.

Baker sniveled in fear as the hot steam from the burst pipe blasted over his head. Although it wasn’t burning him, Snake figured it wasn’t very comforting either. The sooner he got the ArmsTech president out of harm’s way, the better shape he’d be in to talk.


　　Snake ran to another stack of crates but had no better shot at Ocelot there than before. The battle was destined to be a game of tag until one of them made a serious mistake and exposed himself for the split second it would take for the other to get a clean shot. Perhaps it would be advantageous for Snake to shoot out some more work lights. The thermal goggles would come in handy and could very well be his only hope of defeating the sharpshooter. Snake scanned the ceiling and shot out the nearest bulb, darkening the space around Baker. But that action gave away his position, prompting Ocelot to let loose a volley of rounds that forced the operative to crouch behind the crates.


　　“It’s been so long since I’ve been in such a rewarding battle!” Ocelot said. “You’re not bad, Snake, I must admit. But it’s to be expected, I suppose, since you have the same code as the Boss. But I’m just getting warmed up. Very soon I will-”


　　And then there was an ear-splitting cry of pain.


　　At first Snake thought it was Baker, but he quickly realized that something had happened to Ocelot. He peered around the crates and saw that Ocelot’s trigger hand was gone. Blood gushed from the man’s severed forearm as he shouted, “Who?-What?-Aggh!”


　　There was some one else in the room. Snake heard swishing sounds, the kind of noise made by a sword as it cut through air. He saw a dark figure pounce as the gunslinger ducked and leaped for safety. The blade crashed into the pillar, breaking off pieces of concrete. As the intruder moved about, his form seemed to appear and disappear, blending with the surroundings like a chameleon’s skin. He was fast, too.


　　Stealth. The guy’s wearing a stealth suit.


　　Revolver Ocelot turned and fled, holding his injured arm and leaving his lifeless right hand, still holding on the Colt, lying in a pool of blood on he floor. Snake stepped out from behind the crates to confront the intruder, but the figure had vanished. Snake rushed to baker, who had passed out from fear.


　　“Baker, wake up!” he slapped the man gently on the cheeks, rousing him. But as soon as the ArmsTech president groaned back to life, Snake heard the whooshing sound of the blade. He ducked just in time, for the sword smashed into the pillar behind Baker. Snake performed a lateral roll on the floor to escape another blow from the sword, got to his feet, and faced his new enemy.


　　The man was dressed as a ninja, completely covered in a sleek armored bodysuit nade from stealth material, as Snake had suspected. His face was masked by a helmet that had no hole for the eyes; instead, there was a glowing red sensor in the center, giving him a Cyclops-like appearance. In his right hand he held a replica of an eighth-century sword, but it wad equipped with an ultrasonic generator that created a highfrequency blade, allowing the weapon to cut through much denser substances that normally would be possible.


　　But as the ninja moved, Snake gleaned more about the man’s costume. It was one of the latest optic camouflage actuator suits, an “exoskeleton,” usually worn by soldiers who had been wounded severely. The suit utilized a supersonic motor that operated with high-frequency voltage; in essence, the electric currents in the man’s muscles were detected and operated by the sensors in the suit.


　　The man was a cyborg- a living human being controlled by machinery that kept him alive.


　　A cyborg ninjia.


　　“Who are you?” Snake asked. “Are you on the side of the terrorists?”


　　“I am like you,” the ninja said in a metallic, electronic voice. “I have no name.”


　　“Well, take it easy. I have no beef with you.”


　　The ninja suddenly trembled and toughed his head with his free hand, as if he was experiencing a major headache. “I… am tortured.” Snake could hear the pain behind the words.

Something was terribly wrong with whoever was inside that exoskeleton.


　　Then the cyborg straightened, brandished the highfrequency sword, and said. “Only the blaze of battle can wipe away the agony. Prepare yourself.”



　　DR. NAOMI HUNTER twirled her swivel chair around away from her compuer monitor and stood.


　　“I’ll be right back,” she said to Campbell.


　　The colonel looked at her and saw that her face was ashen.
“Are you all right, Doctor?”


　　“I’m fine. I just need to go to the ladies’ room.”


　　“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”


　　She laughed uncertainly and then continued on her way out of the control room. She walked down the hall, pushed open the door to the washroom, and went inside. Once along, she moved to the sink and held on to the sides to keep herself from collapsing. She looked into the mirror and didn’t recognize the shock that was apparent in her eyes.


　　Could it be…?


　　It was impossible…or was it?


　　The man in the exoskeleton. As soon as she had heard his voice- filtered through the electronic voice box- the memories of her childhood trauma and subsequent salvation had flooded through her. She wanted to cry out in pain but wouldn’t allow herself to do so. For now she had to keep silent. For her sake and for his.


　　What was he doing on Shadow Moses Island? It broke her heart to see him in that condition- the one he would have to live with for the rest of his life. To have to wear that horrid suit just to stay alive would be a hell beyond her wildest imagination. But that wasn’t the worst of it. It was apparent that the man’s mind was gone. Did he know who he was? Did he know about his former relationship with Solid Snake? Did he remember her?

His appearance on the island certainly threw a wrinkle into the mission.


　　No matter what happened, Dr. Hunter knew she had to remain calm and not give herself away.


　　For now.

fengmosn

8

THE CYBORG NINJA attacked, with the high-frequency sword spearheading the lunge at Snake as if it had been launched by a powerful bow. Snake barely avoided the blade because the armored soldier moved with the speed of lightning. Despite his evasive action, the sword slashed Snake’s suit just beneath the left arm and sliced the skin along his rib cage. The pain caused his adrenaline to pump overtime, which shocked him into overcoming the complacency with which he had been executing the mission thus far.

　　Whoever this guy is, he’s not playing around.

　　The ninja continued to swing the sword back and forth in blink-of-an-eye strokes, shearing slivers off whatever material happened to be in the way- wood, metal, and plaster. If the cyborg got a fraction of an inch closer, one of Snake’s arms, or his head, surely would be rolling on the floor. Snake managed to back up and jump onto a four-foot-high platform of stacked forklift pallets. The maneuver surprised and confused the ninja, providing Snake with the moment he needed to fire his weapon. He squeezed the trigger and bombarded the cyborg with several rounds. But the ninja knocked the bullets away with his sword!

　　Snake had never seen anything like it. The creature obviously could move with a speed far greater than that of any normal man.
He switched to spray fire and emptied the magazine, but the ninja continued to bat away bullets. Even through many of them got through the sword’s defenses, the rounds simply bounced off the armored suit as if they were marbles.

　　“Your weapon dose not do you honor,” the ninja said. “Too slow.”

　　Snake foresaw the sword swinging at him, jumped, and grabbed hold of a low-hanging girder. He swung his legs up and hugged it as the blade swiped the space where his body had been a split second earlier. The ninja attempted to strike him from the floor, but he wasn’t tall enough, so he jumped six feet into the air from a standing position. The blade swished toward Snake as he released the girder and fell onto the stack of wooden pallets. The top few split into timbers as his body crashed through them. He tried to wiggle out but was tuck within the broken slats.

　　The ninja raised the sword to strike. Snake furiously kicked out the sides of the pallets to free himself, sending missiles of wood in the cyborg’s direction. The ninja’s blade easily shattered them into a hundred pieces. The distraction gave Snake the opportunity to pull back his knees and jackknife out of the pallets, perform a flip in midair, and land on his feet.

　　The cyborg staggered back and held his head again.

　　“The pain…” he groaned. The man’s entire body trembled for a second, and then he shook himself like a dog that had just emerged from a pool of water. The red sensor on his face focused on snake, and then he brandished the sword. “The pain makes me fell so alive!”

　　And he attacked again.

　　Snake didn’t waste time fighting, because it was futile. He needed a completely different strategy, and to formulate one he had to find some cover for a couple of minutes. He holstered his weapon and performed a somersault out of the way of the sword, which crashed down onto the floor where he’d been standing. Master Miller had taught him to use walls, stationary objects, and the furniture in a room as “springboards” – push – off points to get quickly from one place to another. Thus, Snake became something of a human pinball as he bounced away from he cyborg, leaping and kicking off solid surfaces with the agility of a circus artist. Three seconds later, he was behind one of the concrete pillboxes, his back against the wall, taking deep breaths. Reflexively, he reloaded the SOCOM and said for the benefit of the Codec, “Any suggestions on how to beat this guy would be greatly appreciated.”

　　“Stand by, Snake; we’re working on it,” the colonel answered.

　　Stand by? Was he kidding?

　　Snake closed his eyes and concentrated on the sounds around him. The ninja moved silently and swiftly. Would he be able to hear the creature if he came close? What Snake could hear was his own heart beating furiously. It had been to long since he’d seen action such as this. Perhaps he hadn’t been in the best shape.

　　Stop it, he willed himself. Of course I’m in shape. It’s that ninja who’s got the superpowers.

　　He remembered more of Master Miller’s admonitions. Put an enemy’s strengths into perspective. Don’t compare him to yourself. Measuring the abilities of one man against those of another was pointless. What mattered was confidence, positive thinking, and envisioning victory over defeat before the battle had begun.

　　Easier said than done.

　　Becoming impatient with the dead silence in the room. Snake finally moved to the edge of the pillbox and stole a look back at the storage room. All he could see was Baker, still sitting under the lamp and the leaking steam pipe. The ninja was gone.

　　Was the creature using his suit’s stealth qualities as camouflage? Was the cyborg right in front of his eyes but cleverly blended into the background.

　　Snake slipped the thermal goggles back on. The heart from Baker’s body was cleanly visible, but it was weak – the man was dying. He had to get over there and talk to the guy before it was too late.

　　There was no other heat source.

　　Snake cautiously slipped out from behind the pillbox and then moved slowly back into the storeroom. He looked up and down the rows between equipment and supplies, but the ninja was nowhere to be seen. The creature must have fled.

　　He didn’t sound like he was all there mentally, either.

　　Snake set out for Baker but halted in midstride. Something wasn’t right. There was definitely another entity nearby. Snake’s senses were so finely turned that he  could feel when there was danger around the corner. It was an asset of the genetic coding that went into his makeup, but Snake also had become more sensitive as a result of the post-traumatic stress disorder he had suffered from over the last couple of years. His previous mission for FOXHOUND had shaken him to the core, resulting in his early retirement and retreat into the Alaskan wilderness. It had taken months to rid of himself of the hallucinations, paranoia, and mental confusion that accompanied PTSD, but his rehabilitation inexplicably left him with ultra-awareness. He heard better, saw more clearly, reacted faster – and although he didn’t believe in a sixth sense, Master Miller had remarked that Snake had developed one.

　　It was this sixth sense that saved his life. As he stood between the stacks of crates, a mere fifteen feet away from Baker, Snake became conscious of a presence hovering over him. He quickly glanced at the ceiling and reflexively leaped to the side before the exoskeleton fell on top of him.

　　The cyborg ninja had climbed onto the girders and waited for the moment when he could leap upon his prey. But instead of colliding into Snake, the ninja crashed facedown onto the floor. The creature was slightly stunned.

fengmosn

　　Snake used the opening to jump into position and kick the ninja in the head. The cyborg’s skull jerked backward as he emitted an unearthly cry of pain. Snake spun his body in preparation for another roundhouse kick, but this time the cyborg caught his ankle. Using unimaginable strength, the ninja lifted Snake with one arm and tossed him into a pile of crates as if the operative had the weight of a house cat. Then the cyborg got to his feet, drew the sword from his scabbard, and pointed it at Snake. He moved closer so that the sharp point touched Snake’s Adam’s apple.

　　“Are you or are you not my enemy?”

　　Snake was dazed by the throw. He lay helplessly on his back, looked up at the imposing exoskeleton, and waited for the inevitable skewering. But then he realized that the creature had asked him a question.

　　“I’m not your enemy,” he answered. He took off the thermal goggles so that the creature could see the sincerity in his eyes.
The cyborg hesitated. The red sensor on his face fluctuated in intensity. He then pulled back the sword and straightened his body. Once again, the ninja rubbed his head. “the pain… I do no know…”

　　The ninja turned from Snake and started to walk away as if he had just woken up from a dream and didn’t know where he was.
“Wait,” Snake said. “Let me help you!” But the ninja broke into a run and was gone before Snake could get to his feet. “Damn, he’s fast.”

　　Snake didn’t chase after the tormented creature. He stood and brushed the splinters from his suit as he considered that there was something familiar about the ninja – but he didn’t know what it was. There was no time to think about it, either. Perhaps he’d run into the cyborg again, but for now, Baker was his main priority.
The ArmsTech president appeared to be unconscious, but Snake could see that he was still breathing. “Baker?” He approached and gently rustled the man. “Wake up. Can you hear me?”

　　Baker groaned and lifted his head. “Who are you?” he asked in a whisper.

　　Snake replaced the canteen. “Anderson said he gave them his detonation code. What about yours?”

　　Baker winced and looked away. “I …I talked.”

　　Damn!

　　Snake wanted to slug the guy. “So now the terrorists have both codes? Do you realize what this means? They can launch a nuke anything they want!”

　　“it was the physical… torture … But … but I resisted Psycho Mantis’s mind probe. The surgical implants… in my brain. Everyone … everyone who knows the codes has them.”

　　“Even the DARPA chief?”

　　“But Anderson said Psycho Mantis got the code from him. How can that be?”

　　Baker shook his head in confusion. “I … I don’t know. Please. I’m …dying.”

　　Snake crouched in front of him. “Listen to me. Okay, so the terrorists have both codec. But what about the card keys? The ones that override the detonation code? Do you have them?”

　　The man shook his head again. “Not …anymore. I gave them … to the girl … there was a soldier, a young girl… She arrived at the facility recently… I trusted her … I gave them to her. They threw her in prison because she didn’t join the revolt. I hope she’s all right.”

　　Meryl.

　　“I hope she is, too. She’s a bit green but seemed to me to be pretty tough.” Snake wondered if the card keys might have been confiscated when she was put into the cell. He had to find her again.

　　“I see you have … a Codec.” Baker smiled slightly. “She has one now. She … stole one from a guard. Her Codec frequency is … two point sixty-three. Or it was. I hope they… haven’t caught her.”

　　“I think she’s running around loose, Mister Baker. I’ll find her. What can you tell me about the terrorists? I know Liquid Snake is the leader. Who are his closest lieutenants? Revolver Ocelot?”
Baker coughed, “Ocelot … he tortured me. Bad. He is one of the top men … but the right-had man… is Decoy Octopus. But I don’t know… I don’t knw what happened to him.”

　　“What do you mean?”

　　“Octopus was near Liquid … all the time … but he disappeared … he must have been … sent away on a mission … or something. Watch out for the woman … the one with the wolves.”

　　“Sniper Wolf.”

　　Baker nodded. He coughed up blood, and it dribbled down his chin.

　　“Tell me. If the keys don’t work, is there another way to prevent a nuclear launch?”

　　Baker nodded and coughed again. “Otacon. Find Otacon.”

　　“Who?”

　　“That’s his code … code name. Hal Emmerich. Doctor Hal… Emmerich. He’s the team leader… chief engineer…of the … Metal Gear REX project. If anyone can figure out how to… stop Metal Gear from launching … it’s him.”

　　“Where is he? How do I find him?”

　　“He’s … he’s a prisoner, too.”

　　“Where?”

　　“I think … in the Nuclear Warhead Storage Building.”

　　Snake knew from studying the maps that this was a part of the main complex, where the terrorists most likely were holding down the fort. “Do you know who that was just now? That ninja thing?”
“Ninja? Oh …” the man coughed. “that was FOXHOUND’s dark little secret.”

　　“Huh?”

　　“An experimental genome soldier. Ask … Doctor Hunter…” a coughing fit overtook Baker. Blood spewed from his mouth and spattered the front of his clothing. It was obvious to Snake that Baker wasn’t going to hold up for much more interrogation.

　　“Okay, take it easy, Mister Baker. Now, let’s see what we can do to get this C4 off you.” Snake examined the mechanism, but Baker shook his head.

　　“Don’t. Forget…it. I’m …dying. Don’t … waste your time.”
Snake knew the man was right. “I’m sorry, Baker.”

　　“It’s all … right. Go.”

　　“Baker, why the hell did you guys revive the Metal Gear project?”

　　“There is so much … nuclear material … in the world … unaccounted for. Any small country … or terrorist group … could easily get hold of a nuke. So we … the U.S…. to maintain our policy of …deterrence…we needed a weapon … of overwhelming power.”

　　“But it’s crazy.”

　　“My company … ArmsTech … we pushed for Metal Gear to be developed … as a black project.”

　　“Black project?”

　　“Secret projects paid for by … the Pentagon’s black budget. That way … the bleeding-heart liberals can’t stop them. Anyway… the Metal Gear was going to be formally adopted…after the results of this exercise.”

　　“Frankly, I don’t give a crap about your company.”

　　“Right… So here…reach into my trouser …pocket.” Snake did so and found a computer disk. “This is what you…” what you came for. The optical disk.

　　“I don’t know what-”

　　“It’s what you need to give … give to Jim. It is the … only remaining copy … of the data?”

　　“All the data collected … from this exercise. Make sure… Jim gets it.”

　　“Jim? Jim Houseman? I take my orders from Colonel Campbell. I don’t know anything about -”

　　“Listen!” Baker coughed, and his breath became shorter. “You must … stop them. If it goes …public… ArmsTech is … finished.”

　　“Why? Metal Gear uses existing technology, doesn’t it?”

　　“Sure … Metal Gear dose … but …” He coughed more as blood oozed out of his mouth. Then his body jerked and trembled as his eyes rolled up into his head. He groaned in pain.

　　“What?”

　　“No! it … can’t …be!”

　　“What’s happening? Mister Baker!”

　　“Those Pentagon … bastards! They went … and … did it.”

　　“What are you talking about?”

　　“They’re using you to … to …”

　　Baker’s entire body went into spasm for a moment, and then he stiffened. With one final exhalation, he sagged in the chair. Snake reached out and felt for a pulse, but there was none.

　　“Colonel? Are you listening? Baker’s dead.”

　　Dr. Hunter spoke. “The torture must have been too much for him. Was it a heart attack?”

　　“I think so,” Snake said. “Just like Anderson.”

　　“Well, we won’t know for sure until there’s a postmortem.”

　　“What the hell was that ninja thing? Do you know?”

　　“I’m afraid I don’t have enough information, Snake.”

　　“A member of FOXHOUND?”

　　“No.”

　　“Are you sure?”

　　“We have no one like that in our unit.”

　　“Colonel? Are you there?”

　　“I’m here, Snake.”

　　“Okay, what was Baker talking about? What dose the Pentagon have to do with all this?”

　　“Snake, now is not the time -”

　　“Damn it, Colonel! It’s my life on the line here! What are you not telling me?”

　　“I can’t reveal classified information to you, Snake. I’m sorry.”

　　“Well, that’s just hunky-dory. What about Decoy Octopus? Baker said he’s gone. Do you have any record of transports leaving the island in the last twenty-for hours?”

　　“No one has left the island, Snake. Octopus must still be there. Remember, he has the ability to become anyone. He is the master of disguise.”

　　“Thanks, Colonel. Are there any more words of wisdom that you have to offer?”

　　Campbell hesitated and then answered. “Snake, I want you to find my niece and work together.”

　　With as much sarcasm as he could muster, Snake asked. “And can I trust her?”

　　“Snake, you can probably trust her more than you can trust me.”

　　“That’s what I figured. Look, Colonel, I don’t know what’s going on and I can see that you’re not about to tell me. But something smells about this mission, and it’s not the mouse droppings I keep crawling over.”

　　The colonel’s silence spoke volumes.

0479

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brightxy

无敌了...我已经搁置许久了...
惭愧...上周忙死我了
理论上这周末能继续