a Metal Gear story
Chapter 1: Something Stupid This Way Comes
by Grey-X
Disclaimer: The Metal Gear series and all related characters are the creation of the gaming genius Hideo Kojima and the property of Konami.
This is a story that was originally completed on 9-30-2007, and I'm now adding to this archive.
Sometime in 2006....
In an underground bunker, hidden deep underneath Pyongyang, teams of North Korean scientists were busily slaving away on their own derivative model of Metal Gear Rex. Of course, it was a long way from being completed. The radome had yet to be attached, the missile module on the back wasn't packing anything, and much of the legs was without any armor whatsoever. But soon, it'd be ready to go stomp on tanks and threaten world peace and stuff.
Ever since the crisis on Shadow Moses Island about a year ago, a certain one-handed, gun-obsessed Russian cowboy had been cashing on the secret plans he had boosted from a certain cardboard-obsessed, bandana-wearing badass, selling the blueprints for the latest bipedal death machine to anyone willing to fork over enough dough. And obviously, that includes a certain movie-obsessed, psychotic Commie freakshow.
And speak of the devil...Mr. Happiness himself was making his way down into the bunker, seeking to personally see what progress had been made. Kim Jong-Il was smiling to himself, obviously very pleased with his diplomatic misdirection. All that hubbub over missile tests was nothing but smoke and mirrors, meant to distract America and its allies. THIS - his own nuclear-capable walking tank - THAT was what he needed. And if he could get it completed before any other so-called rogue nations did, he'd have even greater leverage.
After all the engineers got through with their greetings and general ass-kissing, Kim stared up at the unfinished Metal Gear again. Obviously, he believed all that cash was better spent on his own personal oversized Transformer than say, plentiful food for his famine-stricken country. "How long before it's completed?" he asked the nearest engineer.
"It will take some time before all the systems for the radome are ready," said the engineer nervously, "but the remaining armor and the missiles can be installed by the end of the week."
"I want the armor and missiles ready by tomorrow," said Kim imperiously. Kim knew there was no real point to it, though. Without the radome ready, the cockpit would have to remain open, leaving the pilot vulnerable. He just wanted the opportunity to boss everyone around. "Soon, it'll be completed...and I'll have my own version of the mightiest weapon ever created!"
"It's still hard to believe this thing is for real, though. It's like something out of a movie. It reminds me of those robots from that last Matrix movie," said one of his advisors.
"Nah," spoke up another advisor. "If you ask me, it's like something out of Neon Genesis Evangelion...."
At that instant, Kim Jong-Il took out a big-ass Colt .45 and capped his advisor. "Don't mention any of that anime shit!" he snapped as his advisor fell to the floor, dead. He turned back to gaze at the Metal Gear Rex, then turned back to the engineers and the rest of his advisors. "No, this thing is most certainly for real. And once it's finished, I will bring chaos to the world!"
But at the exact moment he said that, someone decided it was time to bring chaos a little closer to home.
Kim Jong-Il's eyes widened when he heard a thunderous explosion go off behind him. He spun around to see that at the joint where the rail gun was attached to Rex's main body, flames were spewed out and smoke was rising. Before Kim could even so much as blink, more explosions went off from within Rex's open cockpit, the unarmored legs, and the joint on the left side where the radome was waiting to be attached.
Searing flames licked hungrily all across the bipedal tank. The workers and engineers tried to extinguish the fires, but the damage from whatever explosives had been planted was already done. The rail gun began to sag as metal screeched in protest, and then it fell off completely, shaking the entire underground base when it hit the ground. The cockpit was the next thing to fall, and then the legs gave way. The entire mechanical abomination fell over, erupting with one final explosion as it hit the floor.
Kim Jong-Il and everyone else around him stared in shock, completely nonplussed. It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize that their weapon had just been sabotaged. But by who? "Who...what is...HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN!?"
And as if their unseen saboteur wished to answer, all the computer screens suddenly went blank. Then, the image of a skull and crossbones appeared on each screen, laughing obnoxiously.
Only it wasn't an image of a human skull.
It was a snake's skull.
Kim's eys widened again. That mocking imagery...there was only one answer. He had heard the rumors, the whispered stories, the legends.... It couldn't be anyone else.
"Organize search teams!" bellowed Kim Jong-Il. "Scour the entire base! He's got to still be here! I want Solid Snake found, at once!"
A team of half a dozen armed soldiers marched through the halls of the hidden base, still conducting their sweep of the area. Kim Jong-Il was adamant about the saboteur being found, and they didn't dare stop looking until he was. Nothing could distract them from their goal.
Except, perhaps, a girly magazine laid out in plain view on the floor.
"Huh!?" exclaimed one of the guards as he bent over to pick it up. He started riffling through the pages, and the other soldiers looked over his soldier. Now, as most anyone with a Y chromosome can attest to, seeing such lurid imagery is enough to distract even the most disciplined of soldiers, making them oblivious to almost anything else.
Including the sound of a stun grenade, with the pin pulled, landing near their feet. Which promptly went off a second later, the resulting flashbang combo knocking them all flat on their sorry asses.
Minutes later, in the place where the food supplies were stored, three soldiers barged in rifles at the ready. The swept the entire area, but their efforts were fruitless. There were no intruders to be found.
They grumbled among themselves, each muttering vows that wherever the saboteur was, they would find him. He wouldn't get a chance to slip away. Nothing would escape their notice.
Well, except for how a cardboard box, one big enough for a man to hide in, suddenly started moving. Soon the box, and whoever was inside, made it out of the room, the guards none the wiser.
Over an hour had passed since the Metal Gear Rex had been sabotaged, and in all that time, there was still no hint of the intruder. Perhaps he was long gone? Or perhaps he was as good as the legends said, and was able to evade all their sweeps?
A lone guard patrolling the area above ground shook his head. It was impossible. No one man could be THAT good a saboteur. There was no way....
A sudden rustling sound got his attention. The guard spun around and brought up his rifle, ready to fire at a moment's notice. But all he saw was some birds taking flight, away from the grassy field they had landed in. The guard sighed, then radioed in to report was nothing was amiss.
And indeed there wasn't. That is, until after he had turned off his radio and a tranquilizer dart suddenly shot out from the exact spot the birds had flown away from, hitting him in the head. The guard was fast asleep well before he hit the ground.
And by the time his comrades found him sleeping on the job, a certain someone would be long gone.
After that, it wasn't long before Solid Snake, four-time world savior and the world's greatest saboteur and soldier of all time, made it deep into a forest near the base, where a small plane was waiting for him. Once Snake got near enough, all it took was one quick call to his partner via Codec, and the plane was started up, ready for takeoff. His partner Hal Emmerich, who preferred to be called Otacon because of his unholy love for anime, was an experienced pilot, and flew planes and helicopters for him whenever a mission called for it.
But first and foremost, Otacon was a master of all things related to computers and robotology. He was the one who designed the computer virus Snake planted in the base, infecting just about every military system in North Korea. Because of that, all data they had involving Metal Gear was wiped out. It also trashed other vital systems, such as their radar, meaning the two of them could get away scot free.
"And another one's gone, another one's gone, another one bites the dust," Otacon mumbled in a sing-song voice as their plane took off. "That makes our third Metal Gear this month. Ocelot's obviously been busy lately."
"Guess so," Snake said absentmindedly as he lit a cigarette. He wasn't in a talkative mood, not after sneaking around for over an hour, ducking past armed guards, security cameras, infrared beams and other crap he comes across every time he has to go dismantle weapons of mass destruction.
"Goddamnit Snake, put that thing out!" snapped Otacon once he saw what Snake was doing.
Snake took a couple more drags, then crumpled up his smoke. "OK, fine," he grumbled. He then let his seat recline and tried to drift off. But as we all know, Otacon can sometimes be an annoying, talkative pest, always insisting on starting a conversation when all Snake wanted was to be left alone.
"Unfortunately, our...friends in the U.N. don't have any more leads on any more Metal Gears being built, and my information network hasn't turned up anything lately, either," Otacon said, sounding annoyed. Snake understood his frustration. He had been duped into building Metal Gear Rex in the first place, and felt it was his responsibility to wipe out every last trace of the monster he created.
"Then I guess we won't have anything to do for a while," said Snake. "I hate sitting around having nothing useful to do. I did that in Alaska for six years."
"Well, until we get wind that another megalomaniacal dictator is building his own Metal Gear, we're shit outta luck," Otacon replied. "But I suppose...a little off-time could be good for both of us. There's a couple games I wanted to check out."
"Just don't expect me to play along," said Snake. "I still remember the last time to conned me into it, playing that Smash Bros. Melee thing. I can't believe you kicked my ass as Princess Peach."
"Yeah, that was classic," said Otacon, grinning. "Y'know, I've always wondered what it'd be like if someone programmed YOU into a game like that...."
"Yeah, like that'd ever happen," said Snake, shaking his head at how stupid the idea was. Encouraged by how Otacon didn't say anything else, he leaned back again. He was about to drift off, but Otacon spoke up again, jarring him awake.
"Hey Snake, I just remembered...there might be something useful we can do while we wait for more information to turn up," said Otacon. "Something we can do to prepare if things take a turn for the worst."
"Urgh, what?" muttered Snake grumpily. Now Otacon was really getting on his nerves.
"It was just that talk about programming and stuff. I just remembered...I've been working on a VR training program, one that simulates battles with complete, active Metal Gears."
Snake turned to glare at Otacon. "Yeah, so? Why would I need some VR program to prepare for that? And why would I WANT to!? I already know all there is to know about fighting those overgrown robots!"
"Well true, but you've only faced what...four within the span of ten years? Sure, I know that's four more than anyone else in the world, but wouldn't it be a good idea to keep those skills sharpened? We never know when we'll have to destroy one that's already been completed and has a trained pilot," Otacon explained. "And furthermore, I was hoping this program could be used to train all the other Philanthropy agents we've recruited. They also may need to know what to do if they come face-to-face with an active Metal Gear. You could help determine if it's truly an accurate simulation."
Snake let out an exasperated sigh. As much as he hated to admit it, what Otacon said made a lot of sense. The new recruits for Philanthropy would definitely need some sort of special training in case, God forbid, a completed Metal Gear was turned on them.
But Snake still didn't like the idea one bit. Those goddamn walking monstrosities had haunted his nightmares for over ten years. They were almost like his own personal demons, and he had no desire to fight one again anytime soon, not even in a virtual reality program. Moreover, Snake hated the concept of VR training altogether. As far as he was concerned, it was no substitute for actual combat experience. VR training was merely a really elaborate video game, nothing more, and no one would ever convince Snake otherwise.
"Forget it, Otacon," Snake said with a tone of finality. "You'll have to fine tune your little video game without me. I've always hated VR training, and I always will."
For a moment, Otacon was silent. "So, there's no changing your mind?" he asked at length.
"Not a chance in hell," said Snake. He then leaned back again and closed his eyes.
"Well..." said Otacon. "What if Meryl somehow found out it really was you who used the stealth camouflage to take those pictures of her in her underwear, that you posted on the Internet, as revenge for her putting itching powder in your sneaking suit?"
Snake's eyes snapped open, a look of horror etched on his face. Otacon had found the perfect means to blackmail him, and he knew it. Fighting off gigantic, walking, nuke-hauling tanks was one thing. Facing the wrathful fury of an enraged Meryl Silverburgh was something else altogether. "Alright, you little backstabber. You win."
"I thought you'd see things my way. That reminds me, we haven't seen her much lately," said Otacon conversationally, as if he hadn't just backed Snake into a corner. "And whatever happened to Holly White and Chris Jenner? You haven't seen either of them in years, have you?"
"Otacon, two things. Shut. Up," snapped Snake as Otacon continue to fly them back home.
Within a couple days, Snake and Otacon had made their way back to the United Nations headquarters in New York. One of the perks of Philanthropy being officially recognized by the U.N., and being covertly supported by some of its more powerful members, meant that Snake and Otacon had quite a bit of access to The U.N.'s vast resources. For example, hidden deep underneath the Dag Hammarskjöld library, there were loads of laboratories and equipment for researcvh and development. One such marvel was what was perhaps the most advanced virtual reality system in the world.
Most other virtual reality systems relied on sensory input devices, such as headsets that use stereoscopic displays and special gloves that simulate the feel of textures, among other things. But such a setup is very limited; for example, in this manner, things like weight and resistance are impossible to simulate.
However, the VR system housed at the U.N. headquarters was something else entirely. It utilized a system that interfaced directly with the user's nervous system; in essence, it basically planted their minds inside a specially programmed virtual world. The technology still wasn't ready to be mass produced, but so far, it had worked in a number of training and therapy programs.
And now, thanks to their connections in Philanthropy, Snake and Otacon could borrow the facility to test the special training program.
Snake muttered to himself as he stepped into a room that had two large chair with weird headsets attached to them. "I hate using these things. It always makes me think of Total Recall," he grumbled.
"Oh please, stop worrying. These things can't possibly mess up your head more than it already is," said Otacon, perhaps referring to Snake's lingering PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder).
"Hmph, says the geek who's so obsessed with Japanese cartoons, he got into robotology because of them," Snake retorted with a grin.
For a moment, Otacon looked like he was ready to clobber Snake...yeah, right, as if the little geek ever could. Well anyway, instead of firing back a retort of his own, he took out his laptop and connected it to the system's computer. "There we go, the program's booted up, and we're ready to go," he said, sounding pleased with himself. He then sat down in the seat right next to Snake's.
"Uh, hey Otacon, is there any special reason YOU'RE entering the simulation with me?" asked Snake. It seemed unusual for him to take part in a training simulation, when he usually just supported him with information on missions.
"No real reason, I guess. Just want to actually see how the program runs with my own eyes. Besides, who knows when I'll be forced to infiltrate someplace along with you," said Snake.
"Whatever," said Snake dismissively as headset slowly lowered itself over his head. Out the corner of his eye, he saw Otacon's headset being lowered into place before his own obscured his vision.
Then he felt that uncomfortable tingling sensation running down his spine and that familiar feeling of lightheadedness. Soon, all his sensed began to dull completely. It was the same as when he had agreed to use a similar VR system while on the U.S.S. Discovery, right before Roy Campbell had him stuffed into a one-man sub and shot into a warzone. Why do I always let myself get blackmailed like this? Snake wondered as he waited for the program to start.
After what seemed like forever, Snake's sight and hearing came back. He looked down at himself, seeing that in this program, he had the same sneaking suit he'd been using ever since that stint on Shadow Moses. Then he took a good look around him. He was expecting to to see the typical grid-modeled floors and walls that made up the environments of most VR programs. The sight that greeted him was something entirely different.
He was standing in the middle of a wide street, which was clearly in the middle of a large city in the middle of the day, with tall skyscrapers as far as the eye could see. After looking around a bit more, Snake saw one particular skyscraper that gave away what this program was supposed to simulate: the Empire State Building. This training exercise was obviously meant to be set in New York City.
What the hell? Snake thought to himself. I figured this would be in the typical bare-bones VR environment, or at least some godforsaken base. Why a city?
"Uh-oh, this...this is bad, real bad," said a panicked voice. Snake turned around to see Otacon walking up to him, a look of pure horror on his face. "Oh man, I've really done it this time. I've REALLY screwed things up!"
"Wouldn't be the first time," said Snake simply. "So what's wrong. Everything looks fine to me...although this isn't the sort of place I expected to be fighting a Metal Gear."
"Well, er, uh," Otacon spluttered nervously. "This isn't exactly the right program, you see. I accidently, uh, booted up the wrong one."
Snake stared blankly at him. "You...what!?"
"Yeah, this is a completely different program altogether. Something I kinda, uh, slapped together in my spare time whenever I got bored and...stuff," Otacon said softly, looking at the ground.
"So?" Snake asked dismissively, shrugging his shoulders. "There's always a way to quickly exit these VR programs, isn't there? We'll just get out and load the right one."
"Uh, not exactly," Otacon said meekly. "I...never got around to programming anything like that. We'll just...have to complete all the exercises in order to exit."
Snake glared at Otacon. "Oh that's just great. I knew I shouldn't have let you con me into this," he said acerbically. "So, what kind of training exercise is this supposed to be?"
Snake swore he saw Otacon blush. "It's...umm...just somethinng that, er, uh, sort of involves...women. Many of the women you, we, uh, met up with in the past, and...."
Huh? Women? Snake wondered, fearing this was going to be some sort of freaky porno escapade. Well, not exactly FEARING that aspect. At least that would ensure he wouldn't be horribly bored for the next few hours. Out loud, he asked, "So, it involves a bunch of women...doing what? And what do I have to do?"
Otacon looked at Snake again. The look on his face made it painfully clear that answering that question was the last thing he wanted to do. After a few moments, Otacon finally opened his mouth to speak.
But a sudden noise interrupted him. A rumbling noise, accompanied by the street shaking, almost making the two of them lose their footing. Snake looked around nervously, trying to figure out what was going on. As he looked over at a restaurant with an outdoor patio right next to him, he couldn't help but notice the water in some glasses was shaking.
"Oh, I think I get it," said Snake. "There's a bunch of Metal Gears roaming the city...sort of like a worst-case scenario sort of thing. I have to polish them all off, and rescue Meryl, Mei Ling and the others, right?" he asked.
"Uh, not, not really," Otacon replied, but Snake really didn't hear him. He grabbed Otacon by the arm.
"Come on, we better hide until I find a stinger missile launcher. You did at least put in some weapons, right?" Snake asked as he dragged Otacon toward the first hiding spot he saw: a parked truck. The rumbling was getting louder, so Snake figured the Metal Gear must be getting awfully close. He quickly crawled underneath. Otacon followed suit, a mortified look on his face.
Snake wondered why Otacon looked so embarassed, but he put that question in the back of his mind. The first order of business, once the Metal Gear passed by, would be to find a stinger missile launcher and hopefully some chaff grenades. Then he could waste those tin cans and get the hell out of this VR program.
The booming thuds were getting louder, and progressively closer. Snake waited patiently, hoping the damned machine would pass soon pass them by. Should've never agreed to this stupid training program, fighting these walking nightmares. Not a fun way to spend my spare time. There can't be anything worse than those things....
Then, at last, something slammed down into the concrete right in front of the truck. But it didn't look like a Rex's foot, or the foot of any other Metal Gear he'd faced before. At first, Snake figured it was just some different variation, but then he realized how...ODD the look of...whatever was in front of him was.
As he stared at it for a few seconds, Snake began to think that it looked like...a super close-up of the sole of a boot. Huh, what the... he started to think as curiosity got the better of him and he poked his head out from underneath the truck.
And got a nasty surprise.
What had been planted in front of the truck was most certainly a boot...an unfathomably gigantic boot. One that was being was being worn by an unfathomably huge woman...a rather attractive, blond-haired woman who must've stood well over a hundred feet tall!
The woman looked about carefully, obviously looking for him. As he continued to stare upward, he was able to make out the face. Snake gasped when he realized who it was. It was Holly White, the CIA agent he met in Zanzibar almost seven years ago.
"Otacon, what the FUCK have you gotten us into?" Snake whispered vehemently.