MGS1英文官方小说

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　　Snake glared at the gunslinger. “Not bad. I caught a nice nap on this comfortable contraption of yours. Too bad I was sleeping alone.”

　　“Glad to hear that. This is some bed, all right. I’m about to show you some of its nicer features.”

　　“Where are my clothes? My gear?”

　　“Oh, don’t worry. They’re all here.” Ocelot jerked his head, indicating that they were nearby, perhaps in the next room.
“Washington was taking quite a chance sending you here.
Someone must have a lot of faith in your skills, huh, carrier boy?”
Snake ignored the taunt. “So Metal Gear is armed with a new type of nuclear warhead, huh?”

　　“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Why don’t you ask Campbell for the full story?”

　　“The colonel?”

　　“By the way, you got an optical disk from President Baker, didn’t you?”

　　“What if I did?”

　　“Is that the only disk? There’s no other data?”

　　“What do you mean?”

　　“There’s no copy? If not, that’s fine. We don’t care.”

　　Ocelot moved back to a control panel that was positioned a few feet away from the torture table.

　　“Is Meryl okay?” Snake asked.

　　“She is not dead yet. Wolf must have been feeling generous. The bullets were removed, and she is recovering. But if you want her to stay that way, you better start answering my questions right now. you were holding one card key. Where are the other two? What’s the trick behind that key?”

　　“Trick?”

　　“That weasel of a president said there’s some kind of trick to
using the key.”

　　“Hell if I know.”

　　“I see. No problem, then. We’re going to play a game, Snake. And we’ll find out what kind of man you really are. When the pain becomes too great to bear, just give up and your suffering will end. But if you do, the girl’s life is mine. I’m going to run a high-voltage electric current through your body. If it’s just for a short time, it won’t kill you. Did you know it was the French who first thought of using electrical shocks as a means of torture?”

　　“That figures. They also like Jerry Lewis.”

　　Ocelot laughed. “You’re a tough guy, Snake. But I got some bad new for you. You’re no POW. You’re a hostage. There’s no Geneva Convention here. No one is coming to save you.” He laughed some more. “Starting to feel a little scared? Good! You should be. Okay, let’s get started.”

　　Snake braced himself. He had undergone various levels of pain in his lifetime, but being rendered helpless and made to withstand pure torture was not something in his realm of experience. Could he stand it? Would he survive? Or would he ultimately submit and surrender?

　　No. surrendering is not an option!

　　Revolver Ocelot threw a switch on the control panel. The nozzles on the sides of the table suddenly came to life and discharged bolts of current directed at the belt around Snake’s chest. The belt somehow absorbed the electricity and distributed it into his body.
It was as if he had been struck by lightning. Every nerve erupted with a thousand screams. Every muscle exploded in agony. Every cell in his skin, his blood, his organs, and his brain ignited with the heat and intensity of a million suns. All his senses-sight, smell, hearing, taste, touch-shut off and focused on one thing only extreme and unimaginable pain.

　　And then it stopped as abruptly as it had begun.

　　It took a moment for Snake to remember where he was. He had been lost in a universe of misery for what seemed like eons, but it had been only a couple of seconds.

　　“How did you like that?” ocelot asked. “Fun, huh? It’s amazing, isn’t it? It transports you to another dimension, and not a very nice one. Perhaps it’s hell. Is it hell, Snake? Or are you not sure? Here, let’s give you another glimpse into Satan’s abode.”
He flicked the switch again. This time the shock seemed even more intense. Snake’s nerves had been traumatized by the first dose and were now overly sensitive. The collision of electricity and human flesh produced and anguish that Snake never knew was possible.
After a third jolt, Ocelot said, “Now, let’s see. What was I supposed to ask you? I think I’m supposed to be interrogating you, but I can’t remember what it is we want to know. I don’t think it matters. We have the PAL password. The key cards would be nice, but they stop the launch, so we don’t really need them. I guess I’ll just have to keep this up until I hear you beg me to stop. Yes, that’s what I want, Snake. I want to hear you cry for mercy. I want to hear you say that you surrender and give up. I want to hear you say that the girl is mine to do with whatever I wish!”
And he threw the switch again.
              …


SNAKE LOST COUNT of how many times Ocelot applied the electricity. It was probably only five or six administrations, but it seemed like a hundred. He was certain that he had lost consciousness for a moment. Now he was aware of the straps on his arms and legs being unbuckled.

　　“You’re a strong man, Snake,” Ocelot said. “Well, that’s enough for now, I think. The boss said not to kill you. We’ll resume our game after you have a short rest.”

　　Two guards had appeared and were standing at the sides of the table. They caught Snake and kept him from collapsing onto the floor once he had been freed.

　　Ocelot patted Snake’s face. “See you in a little while.”

　　HE PASSED OUT for a few seconds as the troopers escorted him out of the medical room and came to as they threw him onto a cold concrete floor. Snake heard the men leave, shut an iron door, and lock it with a key card.

　　Weak and sore, he lifted himself into a sitting position with his back against a wall. It was a cell that was equipped with a bunk bed, a toilet, and a sink, just like the one in which he’d found the DARPA chief. The door had a barred window. And over in the corner lay a corpse.

　　As soon as he saw the dead man, Snake was aware of the stench.

　　Christ, how long has that guy been dead?

　　He forced himself to stand and approach the body. Snake was no expect in forensics, but from the look of the cadaver, he’d say that the man had been dead at least three days. His flesh was still intact and soft, but there were a few maggots already crawling in and out of his ears and nose. Even more peculiar was the lack of color. The blood had been drained from the body.
Wait a minute… that guy looks familiar…

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　　It was DARPA chief Anderson! But how did he get in the cell, and why did he look so…dead? The man had died only a few hours earlier. He couldn’t possibly have decomposed that much so quickly.

　　Snake retreated to the bunk bed and sat. He wished he could sleep for a month, but that pipe dream was shattered quickly by the more urgent determination to escape. He evaluated his body’s condition and made sure there was no external damage; it was his insides that had been scrambled by the electricity. And as he examined his arms and legs, he found that his captors had been careless.

　　The PAL card key was still answered quickly. “Snake! Are you okay?”

　　“I’ve been better.”

　　“We’ve been trying to contact you.”

　　“I’ve been a little busy.”

　　Dr. Hunter asked. “How’s Meryl?”

　　Snake sighed. “They’ve got her.”

　　“Damn!” Campbell’s deflation and worry were evident in his voice. There was silence for a moment, and then the colonel spoke again, this time all business. has decided not to give in to their demands. We’re trying to buy some more time.

　　“Come on, Colonel. Why don’t you stop playing dumb? I’m sorry about Meryl, I really am, but I want the lies to end now.”

　　“What are you talking about?”

　　“Metal Gear was designed to launch a new type of nuclear warhead, wasn’t it?” when Campbell didn’t answer, Snake knew he was right. “You knew all along, didn’t you? Why did you try to hide it?”

　　“I’m sorry.”

　　“Can’t tell the grunts anything, huh? You’ve sure changed a lot. Dose the White House know about this? How deep does it go?”
Campbell answered, “Snake, as far as I know, as of yesterday, the president had not been briefed about the REX project?”

　　“One of those need-to-know-basis things? Is that the idea?”

　　“These are sensitive times, Snake. Even subcritical nuclear tests are causing quite a stir.”

　　“Plausible deniability, huh?”

　　“Yes. And tomorrow, the president and his Russian counterpart are scheduled to sign the START-III accord.”

　　“I get it. That’s the reason for the deadline.”

　　“That’s right, Snake,” Dr. Hunter said. “And that’s why we can’t let this terrorist attack go public.”

　　“We still haven’t even ratified START-II or dealt with the issue of TMDs,” Campbell continued. “This has to do with the president’s reputation and America’s place as the dominant superpower.”

　　“So patriotism is your excuse for circumventing the Constitution?”

　　“Please, Snake. Just stop them.”

　　“Why should I?”

　　“Because you’re the only one who can.”

　　“In that case, tell me the truth about this new type of nuclear warhead.”

　　“I told you before. I don’t know the details.”

　　“I don’t believe you. If the situation is so serious, why don’t you give in to their demands? Let them have Big Boss’s remains.”

　　“You see-”

　　“Or is there some reason that you can’t do that? Something you haven’t told me about?”

　　Campbell didn’t answer that one. Dr. Hunter butted in and said, “Publicly, the president has been very vocal in his opposition to eugenics experiments. We don’t want the media to know about the existence of the genome army.”

　　“And that’s the only reason? Huh. The hell with you!”

　　Campbell said, “I’m sorry, Snake.”

　　Snake sat on the bunk for a long while without saying anything. He felt like removing the Codec and throwing it against the concrete wall.

　　“Snake? Are you there?” Dr. Hunter asked.

　　“Yeah.”

　　“Let’s try to assess the situation you’re in now, okay?”
Snake grunted.

　　“Where are you? We can see from the nanomachines in your blood that you’re back in the first building complex.”

　　“They’ve got me in a cell. They fried my brains and threw me in here with a corpse. Oh, yeah; the corpse of the DARPA chief is lying right here next to me.”

　　“Anderson?”

　　“But it’s strange. He looks and smells like he’s been dead for days. All his blood’s been drained, too.”

　　“Drained?” Campbell asked.

　　Dr. Hunter ventured, “Maybe to slow down decomposition?”

　　“I have no idea.”

　　“But the DARPA chief died only a few hours ago, right?”

　　“Right. But he’s already throwing a party for maggots.”

　　“What dose it mean?”

　　Snake didn’t much care. “Something in his blood they wanted?”

　　“I doubt it. Just the nanomachines and the transmitter. ”

　　Campbell asked, “Anderson told them his detonation code, right?”

　　“Yeah. It looks like they’ve got both codes and are nearly ready to launch.”

　　“Is there any way to prevent it?”

　　“There’s some type of emergency override device that can cancel out the detonation code. It’s a countermeasure that Arms-Tech installed secretly. You have to unlock it with three special card keys.”

　　“Where are the keys?”

　　“I’ve got one of them hidden in my suit. I don’t know where the other two are. Besides, I’m locked up here.”

　　“We’ve got no choice,” Campbell said. “Forget about the keys. Your top priority is to destroy Metal Gear itself. I’m sorry to have to lay it all in your lap, but you’re all I’ve got. Bust out of there!”

　　“Sure, Colonel, no problem!”

　　“Also…”

　　“What?”

　　“I know it’s asking a lot…”

　　“Meryl, right?”

　　“Yeah.”

　　“I’ll save her.”

　　“Thanks.”

　　Snake heard footsteps approaching. “I’ve got to go.” He signed off as a trooper unlocked and opened the door. Four armed guards entered and gestured for him to stand. One of them was none other than Johnny, the soldier Meryl had clobbered.

　　“Let’s go,” he said. “Showtime.”


REVOLVER OCELOT was in a talkative mood once again during the second round of torture. While Snake battled the demons from hell on the electrical table, the gunslinger spoke as if his victim were a barroom buddy.
   
　　“You’re a soldier. You should understand. You and I can’t continue to live in a world like this. We need tension…conflict. The world today has become too soft. We’re living in an age where true feelings are suppressed.” He yawned in between throwing the switch the third and fourth times. “So we’re going to shake things up a bit. We’ll create a world dripping with tension. A world filled with greed and suspicion, bravery and cowardice. You want the same things we do.”

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　　Snake answered by screaming.

　　“Liquid is the one. He’s an incredible man, the true successor. He’s the man who can really make it happen. Liquid has a close friend high up in the Russian government who’s currently the head of the Spetsnaz. He’s agreed to purchase this new nuclear weapons system. The Hind was just a down payment. You saw our Hind, didn’t you? I will personally receive gratification when the sale is made. I want Russia to be reborn to lead a brave new world order.”

　　Snake grunted unintelligibly.

　　“I was trained by the Russian GRU, you know. I’ve fought wars in Afghanistan, Mozambique, Eritrea, and Chad. Among the mujahideen guerrillas, I was known and feared as ‘Shalashaska.’ But I’m not like one of those KGB slugs. To me, this isn’t torture…it’s a sport.”

　　Snake lost consciousness.

　　“Oh, dear. Our time is up. I’ll see you at our next session.”
JOHNNY BANGED ON the cell bars with a metal cup. “You alive in there?”

　　Snake opened one eye. He lay on the bunk bed, broken and exhausted. He was too sore and shaken to sleep.

　　I’m wired-ha ha.

　　Johnny banged the cup again. “Hey! I asked you a question! Do I have to come in there?”

　　“What do you want?” Snake managed to ask.

　　“Oh, it talks! Pretty soon we can teach it to do tricks!” the guard laughed at his own cleverness and then said, “I’m just supposed to make sure you’re still alive. The Boss wants you for another round in a few minutes, so be ready!” He laughed loudly and walked away.

　　Snake cursed the man under his breath but didn’t move. They would have to carry him back into that room. There was no way he was going to walk in there voluntarily, guard or no guard.

　　“Snake?” it was Naomi Hunter on the Codec.

　　“Yeah.”

　　“Are you all right?”

　　“Yeah. Nothing new to report.”

　　“I’m increasing the level of painkillers in your blood. You know, the nanomachines.”

　　“Thanks.”

　　“That should help. Some.”

　　Snake wasn’t sure what he felt. His body was one big live wire, on the one hand ultrasensitive to the slightest touch and on the other hand completely numb from the trauma. “Talk to me,” he said. “Say something to take my mind off the pain.”

　　“What can I say?”

　　“Anything.”

　　“I’m…I’m not a very good talker.”

　　“Just…I don’t know. Tell me about yourself.”

　　“Myself? That’s a tough one.”

　　He figured he’d have to ask questions to get her to open up.
“Any family?”

　　“Uhm, that’s not a happy topic for me.”

　　“Your grandfather worked for Hoover in the FBI.”

　　Dr. Hunter shrugged. “Big deal. He did more as an undercover agent investigating the Mafia in New York during the postwar years. And you?”

　　“I don’t have any family. Well, there was a man who said he was my father. But he’s dead. By my own hand.”

　　Campbell jumped into the conversation. “Big Boss.”

　　“What? You killed Big Boss?” Dr. Hunter was genuinely surprised. “I had no idea!”

　　“There was no way you could,” the colonel explained. “it happened in Zanzibarland six years ago. Only Snake and I know the real truth of what happened there.”

　　“So it’s true, then?” she asked. “Big Boss is really your father?”

　　“That’s what he said,” Snake replied. “That’s all I know. I never knew my mother.”

　　“And you were able to kill him even though he was your father?”

　　“Yup.”

　　“How?”

　　“He wanted it. Besides, some people just need killing.”

　　“That’s patricide!”

　　“Yup.” Snake sighed. “That’s the trauma Psycho Mantis was talking about. The one we share in common.”

　　“Is that why you left FOXHOUND?”

　　“Let’s just say I needed to be alone for a while and Alaska was the perfect place.”

　　There was silence for a moment, and then Dr. Hunter spoke again. “I didn’t have a real family, either. Just a big brother who put me through school. We weren’t even blood related, and he was much older than me.”

　　“Where is he?”

　　There was a hint of anger embedded in her sadness. “He’s…dead.”

　　“I’m sorry.”

　　“Yeah.” She paused again and then asked, “Snake, is there a woman in your life?”

　　“Nah. After you’ve been through as many wars as I have, it’s hard to trust anyone.”

　　“Friends?”

　　Snake grinned, anticipating the reaction. “Roy Campbell.”
The colonel gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Ha! You’re still calling me a friend?”

　　Dr. Hunter asked, “Is that it? Just him?”

　　“No, there was another…Frank Jaegar.”

　　“Really?”

　　Campbell continued, “He was Big Boss’s most trusted lieutenant and the only member of FOXHOUND ever to receive the code name Fox- Gray Fox.”

　　“I actually learned a lot from him,” Snake said.

　　“But…but didn’t you try to kill each other?” Naomi asked.

　　“It’s true. We did. In Zanzibarland. But it was nothing personal. We were just professionals on opposite sides at the time. During the Outer Heaven operation we were on the same side. That was no longer true when it came to Zanzibarland. That’s all.”
“And you still call him your friend?”

　　“Hard to believe? War is no reason to end a friendship.”

　　“That’s kinda crazy.”

　　“I first met him on the battlefield. He was being held prisoner by Outer Heaven. But he didn’t look like a prisoner to me. He was always so cool and precise. I was still green, and he showed me the ropes.”

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果然被超过了...

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　　“Did you know him well?”

　　“No. we never talked about our personal lives. Sort of an unwritten rule. The next time I saw him on the battlefield. I know it sounds strange to most people, but we were just two soldiers doing our jobs.”

　　The loathing in her voice was apparent. “Men and their games! You ‘re like animals!”

　　“You’re absolutely right, Naomi. We are animals.”

　　“So if you were friends, then how do you explain the ninja’s behavior?”

　　“I don’t know. His mind is…not the same.”

　　“It’s your genes. They make you predisposed toward violence.”

　　Snake almost chuckled, but it hurt too much. “You really like talking about genes, Naomi. Why did you get into genetic research?”

　　“Oh, I don’t know. I never knew who my parents were or even what they looked like. I guess I studied DNA, genetic structure to…you know, I thought maybe I’d find out who I really am. I had a theory that if I could analyze a person’s genetic information, I could fill in the blank spots in that person’s memory.”

　　“Memory is stored in DNA?”

　　“We’re not sure. But we know that a person’s genetic fate is determined just by the sequence of the four bases in their DNA.”

　　“So what about my fate?” Snake asked drily. “You know my DNA sequence, don’t you?”

　　“Your fate?” Dr. Hunter sounded somewhat distressed, perhaps even a little guilty. “I’m sorry…I have no idea.”

　　“Of course you don’t. You’re a scientist, not a fortune-teller.”

　　A whispered “Psst!” interrupted the conversation. It came from the barred window in the door. Snake eyed it but didn’t see anything.

　　“Snake! It’s me, Otacon!”

　　He deactivated his stealth control and appeared outside the cell. Snake suddenly felt energized. He shut off the Codec transmission, leaped off the bed, and moved to the door. “Boy, and I glad too see you!”

　　“it took me a while to find you,” Otacon said. “I knew they’d captured you, but I ran into some trouble of my own. There’s this woman who’s part of the terrorist team, and she has all these dogs-”

　　Snake reached through the bars and grabbed the programmer’s lab coat by the lapels. “Never mind that! Get me out of here!”

　　“Hey, lemme go!”

　　“Hurry up!”

　　“Whoa, take it easy!” he broke away from Snake’s grasp.

　　“Geez, is that how you ask a guy a favor? Come on!”

　　“Sorry. I just…I gotta get out of here.”

　　Otacon stepped forward again and looked through the bars. “Yuck, it’s like an animal’s cage. It stinks!”

　　Snake moved out of the way so that his friend could see. “It’s because of him.”

　　“Eeeyaah! It’s the DARPA chief!”

　　“If you don’t hurry and find a way to get me out of here, I’ll be lying right next to him.”

　　“Those bastards!” He examined the lock on the door. “This won’t open with a security card. You need a key like the soldiers carry. But here.” He handed a PAN card to Snake through the bars. “It’s a Level Six. It’ll get you out of that medical room where they’re questioning you.”

　　“Thanks, but I wouldn’t say they’re questioning me exactly.”

　　“Are you all right?”

　　“I’ll live. Is that idiot guard out here?”

　　“Johnny? He used to be the head computer technician here at Shadow Moses. I guess the terrorists brainwashed him or something to work for them.”

　　“Is he out here?”

　　“I saw him go into the bathroom. That’s when I moved past his station and got in here. I think he’s got the runs. He’s holding his stomach and-”

　　“I don’t give a damn if he’s having his gallbladder removed! Find a way to get me out!”

　　“Okay, gee.” Otacon scratched his head. “Let me think.” He removed a brightly colored handkerchief from his lab coat and wiped his forehead. Snake thought it was decidedly feminine.
“Where did you get that?”

　　“Oh, it belongs to Sniper Wolf.”

　　“Why do you have it?”

　　“She gave it to me. I don’t know why, but she’s nice to me.”

　　Snake studied him and then asked, “You know what Stockholm syndrome is?”

　　Otacon became defensive. “You don’t understand. See, I used to take care of the dogs here. But then, after the terrorists took over, they were going to shoot all the dogs. But Sniper Wolf stopped’ em. She like dogs. She told me I could keep taking care of the animals. She must be a good person. Don’t hurt her, okay?”

　　“Wake up, you fool! She’s the one who shot Meryl!”

　　“She did?”

　　“Yes! She’s as bad as they come! Hitler liked dogs, too!”
Otacon’s face betrayed his puzzlement.

　　“They’re planning to launch a nuke! I’ve got to stop them!”

　　“Then you’ll have to take out the guard. Johnny’s got a key.”

　　Snake nodded at the handkerchief. “Give me that.”

　　“What?”

　　“Give me the damn handkerchief! I’ve got an idea.”

　　Otacon reluctantly handed it over. Once the cloth was in his hands, Snake could smell Wolf’s distinctive scent on it.

　　“Oh, jeez…he’s coming back! See ya later!” the programmer flipped the switch on his coat, and the stealth feature kicked in. at that moment, Johnny strutted into the outer cell area. He belched loudly, shook his head, and approached the door.

　　“Something in that food…” Johnny mumbled. He clanged on the bars with the metal cup. “Okay, bud, it’s showtime again. Places for act three!”

　　But Snake wasn’t on the bed. In fact, he wasn’t anywhere, but there was a brightly colored handkerchief lying on the cell floor in the middle of the room. What the hell was that?

　　Johnny grumbled and unlocked the door with his card key. He pulled a FAMAS from around his shoulder, readied it, and then opened the door.

　　It was true-Snake wasn’t in the room.

　　Baffled beyond belief, Johnny lowly stepped into the cell. The DARPA chief was still there. But where was the other prisoner?
That handkerchief. It’s a clue, the guard thought. He moved to the middle of the room and stooped to pick it up.

　　That was when the prisoner dropped from the sky and knocked Johnny out of the ballpark.

　　Snake had been using isometrics to wedge  himself in the corner formed by the ceiling and two of the walls. It was a simple position for several seconds. He relieved Johnny of his weapon, took the key card, and left the cell.

　　“Otacon?”

　　There was no answer. Snake figured he’d slipped out when Johnny came in. snake left the outer area, gazed quickly up and down the hall, and opened the medical room door with the Level 6 card. With the FAMAS ready to blast away anything that moved, Snake entered the horrid place, but it was empty.

　　He had a good mind to empty the FAMAS’s magazine into Ocelot’s torture table and power source. But it was best, of course, to keep quiet and get the hell out of there unnoticed. Snake found his belongings on a table, and surprisingly, everything was there: the SOCOM and ammunition, his utility belt, the pouch containing what was left of hi grenade supply, and his cigarettes. He quickly equipped himself and then lit up.
The rancid commercial tobacco actually tasted good this time. And he didn’t cough.

　　Things are definitely looking up…!

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17

SBAJE LEFT THE medical room and found in familiar surroundings. He was in the First Basement of the original building, near the prison cells where he had seen Anderson and Meryl. He decided to search the outer area, where Johnny’s office was located; maybe he could find some SOCOM ammunition and more grenades. Snake fitted the sound suppressor onto the handgun and edged around the corner to look. A long guard sat at a desk, reading a newspaper.
The kid gloves were off now. no fooling around.

　　Snake shot the man in the head. He then aimed the SOCOM at the brand-new security camera that someone had installed during the last couple of hours and blew it to bits. He moved into the room and found the cell where Anderson had been. Using Johnny’s cell door key, he swiped it in the lock and opened it.

　　What the hell?

　　Anderson’s corpse was still lying on the floor where he’d had a heart attack and died. He still looked fresh, too.

　　Then who was the other guy…?

　　He didn’t have time to ponder the mystery. Snake left the cell and went straight to Johnny’s office. He shot the lock off a steel cabinet, opened the doors, and found what he was looking for: plenty of ammunition for both the SOCOM and the PSG-1; some frag, stun, and chaff grenades; C4 explosive; and a splendid commando knife that looked like it was a Fairbairn-Sykes, U.S.Marine issue. Snake took as much as he could carry, made sure the weapons were fully loaded, and then strapped the knife’s sheath to his right calf.

　　He was curious about a large flat box on one of the cabinet shelves. He pulled it out, set it on Johnny’s desk, and opened it. He almost laughed aloud.

　　You don’t find marry of these in Cracker Jack boxes!

　　It was what they called a tank torso: a Kevlar-coated M1-11 combat vest. In other words, body armor.

　　He pulled it out of the box and was surprised by its light weight. Nevertheless, he put it on and strapped it tight. It wouldn’t stop a Nikita rocket shell, but it might protect him from a bullet or two. Couldn’t hurt to keep it.

　　“Snake?”

　　He glanced at the Codec. It was Master Miller’s frequency.
“Hey,” he answered.

　　“I heard you had a little trouble.”

　　“Nothing a good massage and a bottle of vodka wouldn’t cure.”

　　“You know, I was tortured in ’Nam. The Vietcong were vicious little bastards. But I had the satisfaction of blowing the brains out of the chief interrogator when I escaped.”

　　“I plan on doing the same thing to Revolver Ocelot. What’s up?”

　　“Snake, I need you to change brands. Those cigarettes you like are going out of style.”

　　Snake understood. That was code that meant he should switch to a secure frequency.

　　“Do you have a suggestion?” Snake asked him.

　　“I like the ones with the gold band, twenty-three percent nicotine and seven percent tar.”

　　“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.” He signed off and configured the Codec to receive messages from the frequency 23.7,which was unusual since Codec frequencies normally began with the number 1.
Master Miller’s voice returned a few seconds later. “You there, Snake?”

　　“I’m here.”

　　“I didn’t want the colonel or anyone else hearing this.”

　　“What?”

　　“I’ve heard some very disturbing chatter in the intelligence community.”

　　“What do you mean?”

　　“I think you should be very wary of your internal contacts, and that includes our friend Roy and that doctor. Even the secretary of defense.”

　　“Houseman?”

　　“I know it’s hard to believe, but there’s a traitor in your midst. Watch your back.”

　　“Wait. How do you know that?”

　　But Miller already had sighed off. Snake grumbled and tuned the Codec back to receive his normal channels.

　　“Colonel?”

　　“Yes, Snake?” Campbell sounded tired.

　　“I’m on my way back to the communication tower. I’ve got a long way to go.”

　　“We know. Mei Ling, what kind of intel do you have on enemy activity between Snake’s position and the comm tower?”

　　The woman reported, “We’re still having satellite interference because of the storm, and the underground shielding doesn’t help. But I think you can bet that most of the genome soldiers are now located in the other building, closer to the two towers and the building north of that- the underground maintenance base.”

　　“Nevertheless, exercise extreme caution, Snake.”

　　“I always do, Colonel. Thanks, Mei Ling.”

　　He signed off and made his way to the Tank Hangar, where he first had seen the Abrams he had destroyed. The huge room was devoid of humans, and it seemed that all the power was off; not only that, the cargo door was still open. The wind had blown snowdrifts several yards into the hangar.

　　Mei Ling was right. They were all in the other buildings. Except for the lone guard in the cell area, the terrorists had abandoned this facility. But what had happened to Revolver Ocelot? Surely he was still around somewhere. The bastard hadn’t finished with the torture sessions. Knowing him, the one-handed sadist would kept it up for days until Snake had broken. Then they would have killed him.

　　It was too easy…

　　It was as if the terrorists wanted him to escape.

　　Fine, he thought. I’ll play into their hands.
He’d trudge through the snow-covered canyon back to the Nuke Building. If they had a reception waiting for him there, he’d be ready for it.


　　THE BLIZZARD HAD let up. It was still snowing in the canyon, but it was the kind of slow-falling snow that reminded Snake of one of those decorative glass globes that one shook to make the “snow” fall. The sky above had a dull, dark blue tint to it, but the stars were visible through the clouds. It was a beautiful yet unnerving effect, similar to those odd times when it rained while the sun shone.

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Snake checked the location of the Claymore mines with the detector and noted that they were still there. He skirted them and hugged the icy rock wall as he headed for the structure at the other end of the chasm. The Abrams tank sat in a heap where it had been hit, blackened and charred from the explosion. The dead gunners had been covered completely by the snow, buried in cold, lonely graves.
The loading door to the Nuke Building was wide open. Again, Snake had the uneasy feeling that they wanted him to continue his mission. He kept to the edge of the wide doorway, peered inside, and saw three NBC troopers carrying items from one side of the storage facility to the cargo carrier that still sat on the ramp. Snake couldn’t imagine how the truck was going to move anywhere with the snow so deep. Perhaps they were simply loading it to be ready sometime in the near future.

　　He crept up the incline, removed a stun grenade from his pouch, pulled the pin, and tossed it at the truck. The bright flash lit the warehouse with searing intensity as the three men hollered in surprise. Two went down for the count, but the third stumbled blindly away from the truck. He pulled the FAMAS from his direction. Snake hit the floor and crawled forward on his belly until he had a good angle and then took the man out with one shot from the SOCOM.

　　It was a quick elevator ride to the First Basement level. The floor was quiet and empty, too. Snake wondered how many people the Shadow Moses facility employed. Where were all the civilian hostages? Had they all become brainwashed slaves of the terrorists? Or were they all lying dead somewhere, a pile of corpses resembling the horrid death pits in Nazi concentration camps?

　　Psycho Mantis’s body lay on the floor of the Commander’s Room, exactly where he had fallen.

　　They don’t care much for collecting their wounded or dead, do they?

　　Snake experienced a fleeting moment of remembrance as he made his way to the secret passage. The image of Meryl holding a gun to her head, ready to blow out her brains, was not something he was likely to forget soon.

　　The cavern passages were as damp and cold as before, but the wolf-dogs no longer howled. The animals probably were sleeping, although Snake had no concept of what time it might be. It was the type of mission in which he merely kept track of how many hours had elapsed since his arrival and how long until the deadline. Day and night were immaterial. Snake figured it had been at least twelve hours since he had climbed onto the Shadow Moses dock form the sea.

　　He emerged from the cave into the underground passage leading to the tower base. A blood patch remained on the spot where Meryl had been shot. The sights and sounds of those terrible moments came flooding back to Snake. He wished he had made her stay behind. If only she had listened to him, if only he hadn’t let her talk him into allowing her to accompany him. If only…

　　“There is no such thing as ‘if only’ or ‘but’ in this business!” it was another of Master Miller’s philosophical axioms.

　　Before moving closer to the tower, Snake swung the sniper rifle off his shoulder, looked through the scope, and spotted two troopers patrolling the second-floor balcony from which Sniper Wolf had taken potshots at him. The two men symmetrically marched back and forth, coming together in the middle of the balcony and then moving to opposite ends before turning and repeating the pattern in reverse.

　　Snake centered the crosshairs on one man’s head and steadily followed him as he approached his colleague. As soon as the two men were side by side, Snake fired. The round entered the temple of the man’s temple. Blood and gray matter from both soldiers spattered onto the tower wall.

　　Two birds with one shot.

　　Snake was particularly cautious when he approached the tower base. He didn’t want a repeat of what had happened the last time. But no soldiers fast-roped from above, and there was last time. But no soldiers fast-roped from above, and there was no opposition awaiting him. The door from which Sniper Wolf had emerged was shut and required a Level 6 PAN card to open. Snake swiped the card Otacon had given him, and the panel slid to the side, revealing a dimly lit corridor. He edged around the opening, immediately saw a security camera mounted on the far wall, and blasted it with his SOCOM.

　　“Snake!”

　　It was that guy again. Deepthroat.

　　“Snake! Are you there?”

　　“Yeah.”

　　“The tower is crawling with guards. Be careful.”

　　“I don’t see any yet.”

　　“They’re all on the inside. I suggest taking the stairs to the roof and then crossing the sky bridge to the second tower.”

　　“How do you know all this? Who are you?”

　　“Oh, and there’s a gun camera just inside the first-floor stairwell. You’ll have to take it out as soon as you open the door.”

　　“Thanks.”

　　“One other thing. If you make it into the second tower, go to the third floor. There’s a portable Stinger missile launcher in the conference room there. The terrorists were inspecting it earlier, and I’m pretty sure they left it in the room.”

　　“Why would I want to carry around a Stinger missile launcher?”

　　“It might come in handy.”

　　“Look, Deepthroat or whatever your name really is, I have to rely on stealth to get around. A missile launcher is heavy and cumbersome.”

　　“it was just a suggestion. By the way, have you looked inside your pouch for any thing that doesn’t belong?”

　　“What are you talking about?”

　　“It might be a good idea.”

　　“Are we ever gonna meet face-to-face?” Snake asked.

　　“I don’t know. Perhaps. Maybe we already have.”

　　The transmission broke off. Snake cursed to himself and grudgingly looked inside the pouch. There were grenades, the C4 device, a couple of boxes of ammunition, his rations, and... something else. It was the size of a grenade, but it was something he’d never seen. It was definitely electronic, for a tiny LED indicator blinked down in seconds.

　　He had been carrying a goddamn bomb!

　　Snake tossed it back into the passage and ducked. The thing exploded with the strength of two sticks of dynamite. Snake held his position for several seconds and listened ofr any evidence of nearby guards.

　　How did Deepthroat know?

　　Snake breathed a sigh of relief and continued to the end of the hallway. There was a coiled rope hanging on the wall. He didn’t know why, but he had an inclination to take it. If he was going to climb twenty-something flights of stairs, a rope just might be useful. He grabbed it and put the coil around his neck. Now he really felt like a mule with both the rope and the sniper rifle hanging from his shoulders.

　　Snake readied the SOCOM, stood to the side of the stairwell door, and opened it. The gun camera-a surveillance device with a weapon attached to it-had turned automatically toward the open door, ready to register whether the person entering the stairwell was friend or foe. Snake reached around with one hand and, without looking, fired at the mechanism. It was disabled with finality. Snake then entered the stairwell, closed the door behind him, and proceeded in a vertical direction. It was going to be a long climb. He was reminded of his days at boot camp, when he had to carry heavy loads up and down a hill to build his stamina. Here he was again, encumbered with a sniper rifle, a rope, a handgun, a knife, a pouch full of explosives and ammunition, and body armor.
At least he felt invinclble.

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　　As soon as he got to the fifth-floor landing, an alarm sounded throughout the building. Snake figured his destruction of the gun camera had triggered it, or perhaps they’d found the two dead troopers on the second-floor balcony. Whatever the reason, he knew he was about to have company. Snake drew the SOCOM, made sure it had a full magazine, and continued the ascent.
The seventh-floor stairwell door burst open, and two troopers appeared on the landing. Before they had time to register Snake’s presence, the operative had shot them both. One man careened over the stair rail and fell several stories before colliding with a flight of steps.

　　Snake was well aware that he had been doing an awful lot of killing since escaping from the cell. For a brief moment, he wondered if he might be overreacting to being tortured and Meryl being hurt.
No, that’s not it, he told himself. Time is running out. The stakes are higher. I have giid reason to resort to extreme methods.

　　Snake increased the speed of his climb, jumped over the remaining corpse, and pushed onward to the eighth floor. By the time he reached the twentieth floor, he was out of breath and his legs were aching. Keeping in mind that there were only seven more levels, he forced himself to press on. But on the twenty-second floor, he encountered three more guards. They spotted him, shouted, and aimed their FAMAS rifles at him. The bullets chipped off pieces of concrete from the wall behind Snake. The operative dived for the landing below him, removed a stun grenade from the pouch, pulled the pin, and tossed it onto the stairs just as the troopers descended toward him.

　　The blast demolished several steps, and the guards fell through the hole, plummeted a story, and rolled down several more flights. When they eventually stopped moving, it was obvious from their inelegant body positions that their necks or backs were broken.
Snake got up and navigated his way around the huge hole in the staircase, careful not to step on insecure pieces of concrete. By hugging the wall and edging around the hole, he was just able to do so. He stopped on the twenty-first floor’s landing to drink from his canteen and eat one of the ration bars he kept in the pouch. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until then, but he knew he had to conserve the food.

　　When he reached the roof, he was met with blistering cold high winds. There were mp guards outside, thank goodness, and it appeared that Snake had a clear path to the other tower via the bridge. Dominating the roof of the second tower was a gigantic satellite dish, the complex’s communications relay system. That, along with the view of the landscape, was spectacular. Looking behind him toward the sea, Snake could see the roof of the original building in the distance, the canyon separating it from the Nuke Building, and the snow-covered ground that blanketed the passage to the tower base. He had come a long way.

　　Snake proceeded to move across the icy skywalk but stopped when he heard the sound of approaching rotor blades.

　　Oh, my God…!

　　The Hind-D rose from behind the roof of the second tower and unleashed half a dozen 57-mm unguided rockets at the satellite dish, causing a magnificent explosion that knocked Snake from his feet. He covered his head and shielded his eyes as the entire tower shook. Daring to peek through his arms, he watched the dish topple onto the bridge connecting the towers, smashing it to pieces.
His only route to the second tower had been destroyed.

　　A cackle came from the Hind-D’s loudspeaker system. “That road is closed, solid! Detour! Detour!”

　　Liquid Snake. The villain was piloting the attack chopper again.
The helicopter swung over to the first tower, placing Snake in an extremely vulnerable position. The operative got to his feet and ran back to the stairwell entrance, but Liquid let loose a Phalanga-P radio-guided antitank missile and destroyed the only possible escaped route from the roof.

　　When the smoke cleared, Snake found himself lying on the concrete, covered by debris. Again he heard the maniacal laughing coming from the chopper’s loudspeaker. Snake felt the helicopter hover above him and knew he was a sitting duck. He rolled onto his back and fired the SOCOM at the Hind-D, knowing full well it was akin to trying to kill a rhinoceros with a rubber band.

　　More laughter from Liquid. “You’ve got to be kidding, brother! Your puny weapons are no match for one of Russia’s best pieces of warfare technology!”

　　Snake had the foresight to get to his feet and run just as Liquid fired the chopper’s machine guns at the roof. The bullets followed Snake to the edge of the tower, cornering him. There was no other way off the tower-except down.

　　The rope!

　　Snake tied an end to a girder, threw the other end over the side of the tower, and immediately began a long, difficult rappel down the building. It was something he was adept at doing, but he’d never had to rappel from a height of twenty-seven stories and avoid gunfire from a Hind-D at the same time!
He got to what he thought was the eighteenth or nineteenth floor when the Hind swirled around the tower and pointed its nose at him.

　　“Look at that fly on thee wall!” Liquid taunted. “I just love swatting flies!”

　　Another barrage of machine-gun fire made a line of holes just below Snake’s feet. He stopped rappelling and waited until the attack ended and then continued the descent. Liquid was playing with him. The pilot could shoot him down easily enough, but it appeared that the terrorist leader just wanted to scare the crap out of him.

　　Snake reached a ledge halfway down the tower and stopped to rest. He landed on his feet and crouched there as the helicopter came around the tower to shoot again. As the chopper appeared, Snake lay prone on the ledge to avoid the gunfire, but this time Liquid fired another rocket directly at the side of the ledge. The building rocked as the platform exploded into bits, flinging Snake into the air. If he hadn’t been clutching the rope, he’d have fallen to his death.

　　The rope broke his rapid descent, but the impact jerked the life out of his arms. He screamed aloud at the pain but refused to let go. Miraculously, the rope had not been split by the blast. He hung there for what seemed like an eternity, swinging like a pendulum ad the Hind circled the tower again.

　　Move, damn it! Move your ass!

　　He forced himself to continue the rappel. Hand over hand, a few feet at a time, lower and lower… he would make it… he had to make it… it was that or die there!

　　Liquid’s laugh filled the air as the chopper buzzed around the building’s edge. The machine-gun bullets doted the building around Snake, but not one of them touched him. This convinced him that Liquid didn’t really want to kill him…yet. And that would be the terrorist leader’s mistake. Snake wasn’t going to let the guy have another chance if he could help it.

　　Snake was six floors above the ground when the helicopter appeared again, this time Liquid indiscriminately shot rockets at various areas on the tower, creating fireballs that expanded from the building like small suns. The intense heat seared the exposed skin on Snake’s face and arms, but he maintained his grip on the rope.

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　　Lower…lower… not much farther…!

　　He touched the snow on the ground before he realized he’d made it. He dropped and tell into the blessed cold stuff, picked up a handful and rubbed it on his face, and thanked his lucky stars. The snow felt like heaven on his burned skin.
But Liquid hadn’t given up. The Hind hovered lower and aimed at the spot where Snake lay.

　　“Try to get to the second tower, brother! Go ahead! Give it your best shot!” the terrorist mocked.

　　Just to spite the guy, Snake pulled himself to his feet, made sure he had all his stuff, and ran for the second tower base.

　　Two Phalanga-P missiles soared out of the chopper and created a hell on earth in front of Snake. He leaped for cover and buried himself in the snow as a wave of fire and brick thundered over him. There was a tremendous rumbling as the ground shook. Debris fell on top of him, and he braced himself for the weight of something heavy and deadly. But it never came. The tremor dissipated until there was only a crackling noise that filled the air.

　　Snake lifted his head out of the snow and saw that much of the lower two floors of the second tower was in ruins and on fire. Whatever was holding up the building must have been awfully strong, for the tower remained standing. Nevertheless, Liquid had presented a new problem for Snake: how to get through the tower to the other side so that he could get to the underground maintenance base, where Metal Gear was housed.

　　The helicopter had disappeared. Perhaps Liquid had decided to end his game of cat and mouse for the time being.

　　Snake made his way around the burning rubble and found a route inside the wreckage. The stairwell was unharmed, but the main entrance and lower floors were impossible to traverse. He would have to climb the stairs again.

　　There was no gun camera awaiting him this time. He ran quickly to the third-floor landing, which was just above the blaze, and carefully opened the door. There were screams coming from somewhere on the level, but they were far away. Snake wasn’t too concerned about them, and so he slipped into the hallway and looked for the conference room. Sure enough, he found it after a couple of jogs in the corridor. He listened at the door and heard nothing, and so he threw caution to the wind and went inside.
Just as Deepthroat had said, a Stinger missile launcher lay on the table, already armed with a missile. Its open case was on the floor.
Snake grinned and contacted Nastasha.

　　“Hey, I got me a Stinger. I just wanted to brag.”

　　“Congratulations, Snake. I hope it’s not too cumbersome for you. It utilizes a two-color infrared ultraviolet detector with fire-and-forget technology, correct?”

　　“Looks like it. I trained with one very similar.”

　　“Then I assume you need no instruction in how to use it.”

　　“No, ma’am. But thanks for asking.”

　　Nastasha laughed. “Da, no problem.”

　　After signing off, Snake picked up the launcher and decided that it wasn’t much more cumbersome than the Nikita had been.
Now he knew how to get rid of the Hind.

　　Snake made his way back to the stairwell and continued the ascent to the second tower’s roof. He knew it was a dangerous venture; there was no telling if the fire below eventually would weaken the supports that held up the building. The images of what had happened to the World Trade Center towers on 9/11 flashed through his mind, and he hoped that the fires would not be that intense. Those towers had been undone by the tons of burning fuel from the airplanes that had crashed into them, and that was not the case here. He felt relatively secure.

　　Nearly fifteen minutes later, he arrived on the twenty-seventh floor, once again out of breath and feeling the strain in his leg muscles. He stopped to rest for a minute, drink some more water, and eat another energy bar.

　　There was the sound of footsteps to his right.

　　Snake drew the SOCOM with lightning-fast speed.

　　“Don’t shoot! It’s me! Don’t shoot!”

　　But Snake didn’t see anything.

　　“Snake, it’s me!” Otacon deactivated the stealth control and appeared, standing a few away.

　　“Otacon!” snake lowered the gun and thrust it into the holster. “How did you get here?”

　　“The elevator!”

　　“But the first floor was destroyed.”

　　“That’s why I took the elevator.”

　　“It’s working?”

　　“Uh-huh. Gosh, you’re incredible! Like a movie hero or something.”

　　Snake relaxed and leaned against the wall. The fatigue was catching up to him. “No, you’re wrong. In the movies, the hero always saves the girl.”

　　“Oh. You mean Meryl? Sorry. Uhm, forget I said anything.” Dr. Emmerich opened the stairwell door and looked down. “No one followed you. I think you can relax.”

　　Snake didn’t say anything.

　　“Listen, there’s something I want to ask you,” Otacon said. “It’s why I followed you up this far.”

　　“What.”

　　“Have you ever…loved someone?”

　　“That’s what you came to ask?”

　　“No, I mean…I was…I was wondering if even soldiers fall in love.”

　　The guy was a bigger nerd than he’d originally thought.
“What the hell are you trying to say?”

　　“Do you think love can bloom on a battlefield?”

　　“That’s really a stupid question, Otacon, but to give you an answer, yeah, I do. I think at any time, any place…people can fall in love with each other. But if you love someone, you have to be able to protect them.”

　　Otacon nodded happily. “I think so, too!”

　　Snake rolled his eyes and moved toward the elevator. He pushed the button, but the lift was stuck on one of the lower floors. “I thought you said this was working.”

　　“That’s weird. It was working before.” Otacon took over pushing the button, but nothing happened. “I’ll go down and see. Leave it to me. I can fix it.”

　　“Get it working for me, will you?” snake gazed toward the roof. “Now I have to go and swat a fly.”

　　“Okay. I’ll hold down the fort. Good luck. On, there’s something I forget to tell you.”

　　“What.”

　　“There were five stealth camouflage prototypes in my lab. You know, where I got the one I’m wearing.”

　　“Yeah, so?”

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　　“If you take out the one I have, that leaves four.”

　　“This isn’t first-grade math class, Otacon. What’s your point?”

　　“I thought I’d get one for you, so I went back to the lab and … well, the four suits were missing. Just thought you’d want to know that.”

　　Snake frowned and eyed his new friend who looked ad if he’d been through the wringer and had emerged only half-intact. “You really look like hell. You okay?”

　　“Don’t worry, I just turn the switch and it doesn’t matter. I just pretend like I’m not here. Then I’m not scared.” He flicked on the stealth control and vanished.

　　Snake shook his head. “Strange logic. I’m counting on you. See you later.” He then strode to the stairwell, went inside, and climbed the last flight of stairs to the roof. Once again a blast of cold wind struck him in the face. The roof was a mishmash of burned rubble from the burning lower floors filtered up into the sky, creating an ominous backdrop for the battle that was about to occur.

　　“All right, you bastard,” Snake muttered, “Show yourself.”

　　As if on cue, the chop-chop sound of the rotor blades grew louder until the giant insect-like Hind-D rose over the side of the roof.

　　“So, the snake has finally come up out of his hole,” the loudspeaker boomed over the noise of the chopper. “Are you ready now, brother?”

　　“Why are you calling me brother?” Snake shouted. “Who the hell are you?”

　　“I’m you! I’m your shadow!”

　　“What?”

　　“Ask father! I’ll send you to hell to meet him!” With that, two S-5’s shot out of the pods toward the spot where Snake was standing. The operative ran sideways and leaped onto the ice that covered the roof. Like a baseball player sliding into home plate, Snake held the Stinger launcher against his chest and glided on his back across the only unobstructed strip of surface. The deafening explosion behind him jolted the building, and for a moment he was afraid the roof might cave in. he stopped himself from sliding off the edge of the building by slamming his legs against a large piece of rubble that once had been part of the dish. Then, using the wreckage as cover, Snake crouched and readied the stinger launcher. He rested the launching tube on his shoulder, focused the sights on the Hind, and switched on the guidance systerm.
Liquid Snake must have seen what his enemy was about to do, for he pulled back on the chopper’s joystick to elevate the aircraft. But the missile launcher was made to follow the target; the missile was locked on to it.

　　“Who’s going to hell now, Liquid?” Snake said as he pulled the trigger.

　　The heat-sensitive Stinger burst out of the launcher, giving Snake a satisfying kick. Even as the Hind rose higher, the missile stayed on track until it plunged into the bottom of the aircraft.
It took only a couple of seconds, and it was better than the Fourth of July.

　　The back end of the Hind disintegrated into a fireball, sending pieces of metal and burning debris in all directions. The blazing hulk wavered in midair as if it were trying to decide what to do, and then it buckled and began spiraling to the earth. A trail of flaming junk followed it down.

　　“That takes care of the cremation,” Snake said.
He went back to the stairwell- the door had been blown by Liquid’s rockets-and stepped inside. He punched Emmerich’s frequency on the Codec.

　　“Otacon?”

　　“Hey, Snake! I saw the whole thing from a window! That was fantastic!”

　　“I’m glad you liked it.”

　　“But Snake, I think I saw something come out of the cockpit. Looked like a person.”

　　“You mean he ejected?”

　　“I couldn’t tell for sure. Maybe.”

　　“Damn. Then it ain’t over.”

　　“Well, come on down. The elevator’s working.”

　　“You fixed it?”

　　“No, that’s the weird thing. It just moved by itself. It’s headed your way now.”

　　“So I can get to where Metal Gear’s being stored from the bottom of this building?”

　　“Yeah. The entrance to the underground maintenance base is toward the back of the snowfield behind the tower. Just remember to take the elevator to the third floor, because below that it’s an inferno! You’ll have to take the stairs from the third floor down to the ground.”

　　“Okay. Find a safe place to hide.”

　　“Right. The elevator should be at the top by now.”

　　“Thanks. Out.”

　　“Out.”

　　Snake descended to the twenty-seventh floor and pushed the elevator button. The doors opened, and sure enough, the empty car was there. He stepped inside and pressed the number 3.
But he wasn’t alone.