MGS1英文官方小说

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.

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！滔滔江水啃！！！

本来这是我要KD完成的啃，难怪他在沙发七笑得如此开心哦[/quote]

我很开心~
[s:31] [s:31] [s:31]

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.”

fengmosn

谢谢楼七关心
这么几天下来感觉还好 抂时没有出现眼疲僳的症烶
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.”