Fan Fiction ❯ Metal Gear Solid: Sovereignty ❯ Guardian Angel ( Chapter 2 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Linkin Snake 
Solid Snakes lands on the Russian coast, but soon finds himself surrounded by the enemy. Will the protagonist escape with his life?
Anime/Manga: Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Action / Adventure | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 05.27.2005 | Updated On: 05.27.2005 | Pages: 5 | Words: 4.1K | Visits: 186 | Status: Completed
Solid Snakes lands on the Russian coast, but soon finds himself surrounded by the enemy. Will the protagonist escape with his life?
Anime/Manga: Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Action / Adventure | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 05.27.2005 | Updated On: 05.27.2005 | Pages: 5 | Words: 4.1K | Visits: 186 | Status: Completed
Metal Gear Solid: Sovereignty
Chapter 2: Guardian Angel
Cold, battle worn eyes stared out of a large window out onto a snow-covered field, seemingly
going on forever. A few sentries were seen patrolling the nearby area. The skies were dark and
gloomy, it being so early in the morning. The man was unable to sleep, awaiting word from the
Americans.
The colonel stood in a highly decorated commander's office. Russian memorabilia and tokens of
war were found on the walls, and placed on mantles on either side of the room. The man's back
was facing a wooden desk with a glorious sheen to it, littered with papers, pens, and picture
frames. A single chair was stationed behind the colonel and two others at the front of the desk.
The man was in his fifties, his skin wrinkled, but he was still a well-enough soldier. He had a
thick, light brown mustache and brown leather boots that stood firm on the carpeted floor. The
colonel's beige fatigue pants led up to a belt which contained a holster for his semi-automatic
Makarov PMM, it wasn't the greatest Russian pistol, but it did it's job. The military officer's belt
featured a gold buckle which displayed the Russian flag waving brilliantly in the wind.
The colonel wore a brown leather military coat. Atop his balding head was an olive-drab Russian
beret. His stare was as cold as ice, a look of malice and intrigue, an affect of being born and
raised around war.
He was the one that ordered the launch of the nuclear warhead. He was the one they would
blame, comparing him to the likes of Hitler or Stalin, calling him a ruthless dictator. Being
compared to the former Soviet leader, Josef Stalin, the man who had done what he hoped to
accomplish. In those days the world feared Mother Russia, afraid of what they could do -- the
Cuban Missile Crisis an example of that. In those days Russia could match up to the United
States. It's military was just as strong. That's when America feared the Soviet Union, but now,
Russia had dropped from the radar, losing it's power and intimidation with the fall of the Soviet
Union. The end of communism, and the beginning of a so-called "democracy."
Later at the start of the 21st century, there were talks of START3, which would reduce the
number of warheads in the US and Russia from anywhere from 2000 to 2500. Russia would
become even weaker without nuclear warheads to protect itself. It was then that it was assured
that America had no intention of non-proliferation, but becoming even stronger. The day before
of the signing of START3 was set to commence, America's military forces were testing the
nuclear-capable battle tank known as Metal Gear. The exact opposite of what America said they
were trying to accomplish. Instead of disarming warheads, America was creating machines to
launch them.
To the man that was unacceptable. He had made plans with a man who shared his ideals, Colonel
Gurlukovich, and another man he knew little about who Gurlukovich trusted, Revolver Ocelot.
Unfortunately, that plan fell through and Colonel Gurlukovich died tragically at the hands of
Solid Snake. And he hadn't heard anything from the suspicious Ocelot since. So, he decided to
take things into his own hands and he did what everyone feared.
He launched a nuclear strike against the United States of America.
It had to be done -- in the words of his fallen comrade -- Russia will rise again, and Metal Gear
was the key. First, the plan with REX fell through. Then, Gurlukovich was killed trying to
retrieve RAY. But now they had succeeded in getting their own Metal Gear, "borrowed" from an
American facility. The key to restore Russia back to it's former glory was, in fact, Metal Gear.
The colonel sighed and sat down in the large chair behind the desk, when a knock was heard at
the door at the far side of the room.
"Come in," answered the colonel, wondering who would disturb him this early in the morning.
A man in light-colored BDUs, a balaclava over his face, and a AN-94 assault carbine, walked
into the room. He raised his right hand and saluted the colonel.
"At ease, corporal," voiced the colonel.
The corporal lowered his hand and addressed the colonel, "Very sorry to disturb you, Colonel,
but I have urgent news: New Dominus will be arriving by helicopter shortly," voiced the
corporal.
"Is that all, Corporal Ludwig? I said to inform me when they arrive. Now go out and await their
arrival!"
"Yes Colonel!"
The corporal didn't exactly relish the idea of having to go back out in the cold, but he had to do it
-- it being a direct order from the colonel.
Ludwig saluted the colonel once again, and exited the room. The colonel sat back in his
comfortable chair, thinking about the past thirteen hours. He made history and at the same time
slaughtered millions of people, they all didn't deserve it, but it was for a good cause.
In his mind. . .the best cause.
The entire world was sent into a state of shock and fear, not knowing when or who would be the
victim of the next attack. He was the well-respected leader of an entire army, he never wanted to
strike fear in his own men. The people not only in America, but the entire world, felt a sense of
anger, sorrow, fear and anxiety. They were confused and scared, wondering if they would live to
see another day. They thought of him as crazy, he was just trying to do what he thought was
right. What was right. He had to do it, for her, for Mother Russia.
The colonel's thoughts were interrupted when he was forced to jump out of his chair and duck
under his desk, as the corporal who had just left the room, appeared flying headfirst through the
doorway, seven feet above the ground.
The corporal sailed over the desk and the colonel, and was sent flying right through the glass
window, the colonel just stood at. Only a strong force could have sent a full-grown man clear
across an entire room.
Aaaahhhh!
The shattering of glass and the screams of his comrade ringed in the colonel's ears. It was four
stories to the bottom. He wouldn't be coming back alive.
The colonel stood up searching for whomever just killed one of his men. He walked back to the
broken window, stepping over shards of glass, and stuck his head through. At the bottom he
could see the mangled body of Corporal Ludwig, lying in blood-drenched snow.
"What the . . .?" grumbled the Colonel.
The colonel turned his body to face the doorway with a cocked eyebrow and a look of fear and
curiosity. The officer could see the silhouette of someone in the hallway, beyond the open door,
but couldn't make out who it was.
"Who goes there?" inquired the colonel, reaching for his Makarov.
He had better security than that, a special mercenary group created for this cause. The army
included special soldiers, everyone from Russian police to former Spetznaz. The proclaimed "
Dzhugashvili army" along with New Dominus, made the Sovereign Kings. Their purpose? To
bring sovereignty and power to a struggling Russia.
The colonel raised his Makarov toward the doorway, held in a steady aim, when the figure
entered his office.
"He was in my way," said the newcomer. In such a way, that it seemed, to him, killing was a
casual occurrence.
Once the colonel recognized the intruder, he let out a big sigh of relief. He had been dealing with
a lot stress lately.
A blonde flattop haircut covered in a green bandana was the first thing the colonel saw. The man
wore black combat boots and jungle camouflage pants. His skin, although white, was slightly
tanned, meaning that he hadn't spent much time in the harsh Russian weather. A green tank top
adorned his upper body, an upper body made up of large muscles, thanks to hours and hours of
heavy-lifting; not including the time he spent at war.
He walked into the room with a large grin on his face. A smile so grand and teeth so white, they
could light up a room, and at the blink of an eye this happy-go-lucky character could turn into a
killing machine. Steel blue eyes stared down the colonel as the man slouched into one of the two
chairs in front of the colonel's desk, right across from the semi-confused colonel.
The colonel and the newcomer stared each other down, their eyes clashing like two superpowers.
The colonel had enlisted the man's help, but that didn't mean he liked him. The colonel blinked
first, supposedly "losing" the unofficial battle. As if a dark entity entered the office, all the lights
dimmed off, except for the one above the colonel and the muscle-bound man. It was then the
colonel noticed that three other people stood in the back of the room, shrouded in darkness. The
temperature of the room suddenly dropped and the colonel felt a slight chill creep up his spine.
A very intimidating scene.
The colonel holstered his Makarov pistol and sat back down in his chair. The officer spoke to the
intruder as if he knew him, "That's no reason to kill one of my men, Gangstein."
"You don't need him, especially when you have us, Iosif," replied 'Gangstein' in a slight German
accent.
By "us" Gangstein meant New Dominus; the top mercenary group in the world, since FOX-
HOUND had disbanded all those years ago. They were hired by Iosif to steal certain a nuclear-
capable battle tank, which they succeeded in doing. Stealing wasn't their forte, but they were paid
a reasonable sum. New Dominus had their share of "freaks" and the top four of them stood in
Colonel Iosif's office.
"Now what more do you want commando's expression from us? We got you your machine, and it
damn well wasn't easy." The fatigue-wearing turned to one of annoyance, "Stealing from a top-
secret, highly-secured American base, with something that big was no fucking walk in the park."
"Y-yes I'm sure," Sergei could feel the eyes of everybody in the room staring right through him,
causing a bead of sweat to trickle down his forehead, "And I believe I payed you dearly for it."
"This look doesn't come cheap." replied Gangstein back to his childish nature.
"Anyway, I have another job for you. I need you find someone for me."
"Ooh, a manhunt. Who are we hunting?" A sinister smile appeared on Gangstein's face.
"The man who killed my comrade . . . Solid Snake." Iosif's demeanor turned to one of anger.
"Solid Snake was the one who foiled my and Gurlukovich's plan at Shadow Moses and with
RAY. As if that wasn't enough he mercilessly murdered my comrade. If it wasn't for him, Russia
would be thriving. I need you to find him, and bring him to me, alive or dead, if need be so."
"And the plot thickens," Gangstein released a callous chuckle."The legend -- Solid Snake. This
should be fun, and easy, too."
The colonel raised an eyebrow at Gangstein's reply. How could it be easy to catch the elusive
philanthropist? Even for the top mercenaries in the game, New Dominus. Snake was the hero of
numerous missions, had single-handedly defeated entire squads. He was a true legend.
Iosif mumbled, "easy? Solid Snake is a top threat, and he could be anywhere."
"Don't you know? He's already here."
_______________________
All he could see was complete darkness . . . until a little light crept into his vision, as he opened
his eyes.
The mercenary raised his head and realized where he was. He was lying in the middle of a field
of snow, in front of him was the edge of a cliff. Snake raised his hand and massaged his
throbbing head as he stood up. That wasn't his only problem -- he was freezing cold and was just
tossed through arctic water. Not a good thing if you want to avoid hypothermia. But wait, Snake
noticed his sneaking suit was completely dry.
How could that be possible? But that wasn't Snake's biggest question.
Snake began to walk, his legs felt weak, but he could muster up the strength to make to the edge
of the cliff. Snake stuck his head over the cliff, and took in the scene below. Large, jagged rocks
stuck out of the arctic sea, the tough waters crashed against the base of the cliff.
How the hell did I get here? was the question that rang through Snake's head.
The last thing he remembered was being sucked into that huge wave that appeared from nowhere,
then he was knocked unconscious. It was surprising he didn't die there. What could have . . .
that's when Snake remembered the eyes. Those red demonic eyes that stared at him from the
bottom of the sea. Could it have been Metal Gear? Presumably . . .
He needed some answers so he called the person he could via Codec.
"Otacon, are you there?" Snake's raspy voice was made worse by a sudden cough. The cold arctic
air wasn't doing good for his lungs.
"Snake! What happened? I tried contacting you and got no response. I thought something had
happened to you," revealed a slightly Otacon.
"Something did, something big. I now have a new-found respect for surfers."
"What?"
"A wave, a big one, knocked me out. I'm no oceanographer, but I doubt the arctic is famous for
it's waves. I probably should be dead, but someone must have saved me. Right before I lost
consciousness I saw something in the water. From the looks of things, it could have been Metal
Gear."
"Metal Gear?" inquired Otacon, more and more questions entering his mind. "It could be, but
whoever was piloting it, why would they save you, if they're the ones that caused the wave to
begin with?"
"No idea. Another thing, my sneaking suit it's completely dry, and I was just trashed around in
arctic waters."
"This doesn't make any sense."
"I could have guessed that. I should be getting to that base. Maybe I'll find some answers there."
"Oh yeah, that reminds me. The terrorists have released another threat. They want America to
disarm each and every nuclear warhead they have under their control. If they don't. . ."
"Another attack," replied Snake already knowing the obvious answer. "Any response from the
American government?"
"No word on that, but this war is getting more heated. Russian and American armed forces aren't
backing down and thinking about sending in armed forces, even if it means another attack."
"When it comes to problems like these, the US government usually sends in an operative to deal
with the terrorists."
"Just like you, all those years ago," Otacon chuckled. "If they have, we wouldn't know about it.
Unless you come across him."
"I'll keep an eye out."
Snake cut transmission with Otacon, resuming his mission. When something else unexpected
happened. Snake noticed that all of his grenades, provisions, and USP were all intact, if he had
been hit with the force of a twenty-foot wave, and was sent tumbling underwater, at least a few of
his things would have been knocked loose. Another question added to the long list.
The commando turned to face the field of white, feet of snow stretching out in every direction.
Snake let out a big sigh and trudged through the snowfall. The much less glamorous part of the
job.
Snake crept up to a large boulder and placed his back to it. He slowly peeked his head around the
edge and surveyed the area around him.
Several sentries patrolled the area around Snake, the first sign of life Snake had seen since he
landed. They carried what was expected from Russian infantry: Kalashnikov AN-94 assault
rifles, arctic BDUs, fragmentation grenades and Makarov PMM handguns. Their equipment was
almost identical to the Gurlukovich Private Army Snake encountered in the Big Shell. He was
definitely dealing with Russian mercs.
Behind the sentries was a large dull blue wall that seemed to go on forever in either direction.
Snake also seemed to be dealing with a pretty big complex. Being about twelve feet in height, the
wall wouldn't be easy getting around or through.
But first he would have to get past those guards before he could worry about the wall. There were
four in total that-
Snake was forced to bring his head back behind the boulder when a fifth sentry came strolling by
the opposite side of the rock. Good thing the sentry didn't spot him. Snake couldn't let his
mission end over something that avoidable. Snake noticed that the fifth sentry traveled in a circle
that involved going past the boulder. Snake would just have to wait for the sentry to return. Then
he would begin.
Snake could hear the crunch of the sentry"s boots against the ice-capped snow. The sound grew,
as the guard neared. Snake crouched at the edge of the rock, and grabbed his USP, waiting for
enemy to pass.
The sentry walked past the boulder unaware of the impending danger, but became aware when
Snake jumped out from behind the boulder, wrapped his left arm around the sentry's neck, while
placing the barrel of his USP against his temple. Snake brought he and the sentry back behind the
boulder, so no one would spot them.
"P-please, don't kill me," pleaded the guard, obviously fearful for his life.
"Spare me the small talk. Now tell me who are you with?"questioned Snake. Maybe he would get
a few questions answered.
"T-the Dzhugashvili Army. I was recruited just a couple months ago, before that I was in the
Russian Ground Forces," revealed the sentry.
"Dzhugashivili...?" that name seemed familiar to Snake, but couldn't remember where from.
"Why are you here?"
"Why?" Snake could hear a slight chuckle escape the sentry's lips. "This is why. You Americans
think you can do whatever you want. You come in here and think you can take control, and do
what you think is right. Well, that's 'why' I joined Dzhugashvili, to do what I think is right, to rid
the world of America's evil."
As the sentry's attitude quickly changed, Snake knew he was interrogating an extremist. "We
might have something in common. I'm not exactly ecstatic about the American government's
movements, but that doesn't advocate killing innocent people." Snake did feel strongly about the
situation, but he knew he was talking to the wrong person. A lowly sentry was no one to argue
with.
"Whatever it takes." Snake noticed the sentry's tone changed with those last words.
Snake knew the sentry was going to try something, and he was right.
The sentry elbowed Snake in his ribs, loosening his grip on the guard, allowing him to duck and
evade Snake's hold. Before Snake could regain his composure, the enemy came up and swung the
butte of his AN-94 right into Snake's chin.
The former FOX-HOUND commando stumbled backward, his free hand rubbing his injured
chin, his other hand holding the USP, right before it was knocked out of his hand by a swift kick
from the sentry.
Snake opened his eyes to see the barrel of the AN rifle pointed right between his eyes. How could
he let the sentry get the better of him? Maybe Snake let the guard get away with it, maybe Snake
wanted to be trapped in a compromising position, maybe he wanted to be tested.
Snake put his hands up at the request of the sentry. The sentry didn't think to radio for help, but
instead wanted to deal with Snake himself. Snake turned his head to see his USP lie in the snow
a couple feet away to his right. He was completely unarmed.
A sticky situation.
"Die, American!"
Snake could see the sentry's finger press down on the trigger. It would take a miracle to save him
and some would say, that's what he got.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Five gunshots rang out in the brisk, cold air. A bullet appeared from nowhere and ruptured the
side of the sentry's head. A splash of blood splattered against the side of the boulder, as the sentry
fell backwards, his finger still on the trigger, so bullets flew out of the barrel of the AN until the
clip finally ran out.
Luckily the sentry was shot before he could fire at Snake. The soldier turned his head to the right,
assuming that's where the bullet came from, judging from where the shot hit the sentry. There
was another shooter, someone who had saved him and could quite possibly be the same person
who rescued him from the sea.
Unfortunately, a dense fog consumed the area making visibility very low and was unable to see
beyond 20 meters or so.
"Damn!"
He didn't have time to search for the shooter, so Snake walked over to his USP and held it up,
those shots were pretty loud and the other sentries must have heard them. Snake crept past the
dead body and the boulder, his pistol raised, to find that the four other bullets meet their target.
The four other sentries lie motionless, scattered across the snowy field, in pools of their own
blood. Someone was watching out for Snake, and it wasn't a guardian angel.
Chapter 2: Guardian Angel
Cold, battle worn eyes stared out of a large window out onto a snow-covered field, seemingly
going on forever. A few sentries were seen patrolling the nearby area. The skies were dark and
gloomy, it being so early in the morning. The man was unable to sleep, awaiting word from the
Americans.
The colonel stood in a highly decorated commander's office. Russian memorabilia and tokens of
war were found on the walls, and placed on mantles on either side of the room. The man's back
was facing a wooden desk with a glorious sheen to it, littered with papers, pens, and picture
frames. A single chair was stationed behind the colonel and two others at the front of the desk.
The man was in his fifties, his skin wrinkled, but he was still a well-enough soldier. He had a
thick, light brown mustache and brown leather boots that stood firm on the carpeted floor. The
colonel's beige fatigue pants led up to a belt which contained a holster for his semi-automatic
Makarov PMM, it wasn't the greatest Russian pistol, but it did it's job. The military officer's belt
featured a gold buckle which displayed the Russian flag waving brilliantly in the wind.
The colonel wore a brown leather military coat. Atop his balding head was an olive-drab Russian
beret. His stare was as cold as ice, a look of malice and intrigue, an affect of being born and
raised around war.
He was the one that ordered the launch of the nuclear warhead. He was the one they would
blame, comparing him to the likes of Hitler or Stalin, calling him a ruthless dictator. Being
compared to the former Soviet leader, Josef Stalin, the man who had done what he hoped to
accomplish. In those days the world feared Mother Russia, afraid of what they could do -- the
Cuban Missile Crisis an example of that. In those days Russia could match up to the United
States. It's military was just as strong. That's when America feared the Soviet Union, but now,
Russia had dropped from the radar, losing it's power and intimidation with the fall of the Soviet
Union. The end of communism, and the beginning of a so-called "democracy."
Later at the start of the 21st century, there were talks of START3, which would reduce the
number of warheads in the US and Russia from anywhere from 2000 to 2500. Russia would
become even weaker without nuclear warheads to protect itself. It was then that it was assured
that America had no intention of non-proliferation, but becoming even stronger. The day before
of the signing of START3 was set to commence, America's military forces were testing the
nuclear-capable battle tank known as Metal Gear. The exact opposite of what America said they
were trying to accomplish. Instead of disarming warheads, America was creating machines to
launch them.
To the man that was unacceptable. He had made plans with a man who shared his ideals, Colonel
Gurlukovich, and another man he knew little about who Gurlukovich trusted, Revolver Ocelot.
Unfortunately, that plan fell through and Colonel Gurlukovich died tragically at the hands of
Solid Snake. And he hadn't heard anything from the suspicious Ocelot since. So, he decided to
take things into his own hands and he did what everyone feared.
He launched a nuclear strike against the United States of America.
It had to be done -- in the words of his fallen comrade -- Russia will rise again, and Metal Gear
was the key. First, the plan with REX fell through. Then, Gurlukovich was killed trying to
retrieve RAY. But now they had succeeded in getting their own Metal Gear, "borrowed" from an
American facility. The key to restore Russia back to it's former glory was, in fact, Metal Gear.
The colonel sighed and sat down in the large chair behind the desk, when a knock was heard at
the door at the far side of the room.
"Come in," answered the colonel, wondering who would disturb him this early in the morning.
A man in light-colored BDUs, a balaclava over his face, and a AN-94 assault carbine, walked
into the room. He raised his right hand and saluted the colonel.
"At ease, corporal," voiced the colonel.
The corporal lowered his hand and addressed the colonel, "Very sorry to disturb you, Colonel,
but I have urgent news: New Dominus will be arriving by helicopter shortly," voiced the
corporal.
"Is that all, Corporal Ludwig? I said to inform me when they arrive. Now go out and await their
arrival!"
"Yes Colonel!"
The corporal didn't exactly relish the idea of having to go back out in the cold, but he had to do it
-- it being a direct order from the colonel.
Ludwig saluted the colonel once again, and exited the room. The colonel sat back in his
comfortable chair, thinking about the past thirteen hours. He made history and at the same time
slaughtered millions of people, they all didn't deserve it, but it was for a good cause.
In his mind. . .the best cause.
The entire world was sent into a state of shock and fear, not knowing when or who would be the
victim of the next attack. He was the well-respected leader of an entire army, he never wanted to
strike fear in his own men. The people not only in America, but the entire world, felt a sense of
anger, sorrow, fear and anxiety. They were confused and scared, wondering if they would live to
see another day. They thought of him as crazy, he was just trying to do what he thought was
right. What was right. He had to do it, for her, for Mother Russia.
The colonel's thoughts were interrupted when he was forced to jump out of his chair and duck
under his desk, as the corporal who had just left the room, appeared flying headfirst through the
doorway, seven feet above the ground.
The corporal sailed over the desk and the colonel, and was sent flying right through the glass
window, the colonel just stood at. Only a strong force could have sent a full-grown man clear
across an entire room.
Aaaahhhh!
The shattering of glass and the screams of his comrade ringed in the colonel's ears. It was four
stories to the bottom. He wouldn't be coming back alive.
The colonel stood up searching for whomever just killed one of his men. He walked back to the
broken window, stepping over shards of glass, and stuck his head through. At the bottom he
could see the mangled body of Corporal Ludwig, lying in blood-drenched snow.
"What the . . .?" grumbled the Colonel.
The colonel turned his body to face the doorway with a cocked eyebrow and a look of fear and
curiosity. The officer could see the silhouette of someone in the hallway, beyond the open door,
but couldn't make out who it was.
"Who goes there?" inquired the colonel, reaching for his Makarov.
He had better security than that, a special mercenary group created for this cause. The army
included special soldiers, everyone from Russian police to former Spetznaz. The proclaimed "
Dzhugashvili army" along with New Dominus, made the Sovereign Kings. Their purpose? To
bring sovereignty and power to a struggling Russia.
The colonel raised his Makarov toward the doorway, held in a steady aim, when the figure
entered his office.
"He was in my way," said the newcomer. In such a way, that it seemed, to him, killing was a
casual occurrence.
Once the colonel recognized the intruder, he let out a big sigh of relief. He had been dealing with
a lot stress lately.
A blonde flattop haircut covered in a green bandana was the first thing the colonel saw. The man
wore black combat boots and jungle camouflage pants. His skin, although white, was slightly
tanned, meaning that he hadn't spent much time in the harsh Russian weather. A green tank top
adorned his upper body, an upper body made up of large muscles, thanks to hours and hours of
heavy-lifting; not including the time he spent at war.
He walked into the room with a large grin on his face. A smile so grand and teeth so white, they
could light up a room, and at the blink of an eye this happy-go-lucky character could turn into a
killing machine. Steel blue eyes stared down the colonel as the man slouched into one of the two
chairs in front of the colonel's desk, right across from the semi-confused colonel.
The colonel and the newcomer stared each other down, their eyes clashing like two superpowers.
The colonel had enlisted the man's help, but that didn't mean he liked him. The colonel blinked
first, supposedly "losing" the unofficial battle. As if a dark entity entered the office, all the lights
dimmed off, except for the one above the colonel and the muscle-bound man. It was then the
colonel noticed that three other people stood in the back of the room, shrouded in darkness. The
temperature of the room suddenly dropped and the colonel felt a slight chill creep up his spine.
A very intimidating scene.
The colonel holstered his Makarov pistol and sat back down in his chair. The officer spoke to the
intruder as if he knew him, "That's no reason to kill one of my men, Gangstein."
"You don't need him, especially when you have us, Iosif," replied 'Gangstein' in a slight German
accent.
By "us" Gangstein meant New Dominus; the top mercenary group in the world, since FOX-
HOUND had disbanded all those years ago. They were hired by Iosif to steal certain a nuclear-
capable battle tank, which they succeeded in doing. Stealing wasn't their forte, but they were paid
a reasonable sum. New Dominus had their share of "freaks" and the top four of them stood in
Colonel Iosif's office.
"Now what more do you want commando's expression from us? We got you your machine, and it
damn well wasn't easy." The fatigue-wearing turned to one of annoyance, "Stealing from a top-
secret, highly-secured American base, with something that big was no fucking walk in the park."
"Y-yes I'm sure," Sergei could feel the eyes of everybody in the room staring right through him,
causing a bead of sweat to trickle down his forehead, "And I believe I payed you dearly for it."
"This look doesn't come cheap." replied Gangstein back to his childish nature.
"Anyway, I have another job for you. I need you find someone for me."
"Ooh, a manhunt. Who are we hunting?" A sinister smile appeared on Gangstein's face.
"The man who killed my comrade . . . Solid Snake." Iosif's demeanor turned to one of anger.
"Solid Snake was the one who foiled my and Gurlukovich's plan at Shadow Moses and with
RAY. As if that wasn't enough he mercilessly murdered my comrade. If it wasn't for him, Russia
would be thriving. I need you to find him, and bring him to me, alive or dead, if need be so."
"And the plot thickens," Gangstein released a callous chuckle."The legend -- Solid Snake. This
should be fun, and easy, too."
The colonel raised an eyebrow at Gangstein's reply. How could it be easy to catch the elusive
philanthropist? Even for the top mercenaries in the game, New Dominus. Snake was the hero of
numerous missions, had single-handedly defeated entire squads. He was a true legend.
Iosif mumbled, "easy? Solid Snake is a top threat, and he could be anywhere."
"Don't you know? He's already here."
_______________________
All he could see was complete darkness . . . until a little light crept into his vision, as he opened
his eyes.
The mercenary raised his head and realized where he was. He was lying in the middle of a field
of snow, in front of him was the edge of a cliff. Snake raised his hand and massaged his
throbbing head as he stood up. That wasn't his only problem -- he was freezing cold and was just
tossed through arctic water. Not a good thing if you want to avoid hypothermia. But wait, Snake
noticed his sneaking suit was completely dry.
How could that be possible? But that wasn't Snake's biggest question.
Snake began to walk, his legs felt weak, but he could muster up the strength to make to the edge
of the cliff. Snake stuck his head over the cliff, and took in the scene below. Large, jagged rocks
stuck out of the arctic sea, the tough waters crashed against the base of the cliff.
How the hell did I get here? was the question that rang through Snake's head.
The last thing he remembered was being sucked into that huge wave that appeared from nowhere,
then he was knocked unconscious. It was surprising he didn't die there. What could have . . .
that's when Snake remembered the eyes. Those red demonic eyes that stared at him from the
bottom of the sea. Could it have been Metal Gear? Presumably . . .
He needed some answers so he called the person he could via Codec.
"Otacon, are you there?" Snake's raspy voice was made worse by a sudden cough. The cold arctic
air wasn't doing good for his lungs.
"Snake! What happened? I tried contacting you and got no response. I thought something had
happened to you," revealed a slightly Otacon.
"Something did, something big. I now have a new-found respect for surfers."
"What?"
"A wave, a big one, knocked me out. I'm no oceanographer, but I doubt the arctic is famous for
it's waves. I probably should be dead, but someone must have saved me. Right before I lost
consciousness I saw something in the water. From the looks of things, it could have been Metal
Gear."
"Metal Gear?" inquired Otacon, more and more questions entering his mind. "It could be, but
whoever was piloting it, why would they save you, if they're the ones that caused the wave to
begin with?"
"No idea. Another thing, my sneaking suit it's completely dry, and I was just trashed around in
arctic waters."
"This doesn't make any sense."
"I could have guessed that. I should be getting to that base. Maybe I'll find some answers there."
"Oh yeah, that reminds me. The terrorists have released another threat. They want America to
disarm each and every nuclear warhead they have under their control. If they don't. . ."
"Another attack," replied Snake already knowing the obvious answer. "Any response from the
American government?"
"No word on that, but this war is getting more heated. Russian and American armed forces aren't
backing down and thinking about sending in armed forces, even if it means another attack."
"When it comes to problems like these, the US government usually sends in an operative to deal
with the terrorists."
"Just like you, all those years ago," Otacon chuckled. "If they have, we wouldn't know about it.
Unless you come across him."
"I'll keep an eye out."
Snake cut transmission with Otacon, resuming his mission. When something else unexpected
happened. Snake noticed that all of his grenades, provisions, and USP were all intact, if he had
been hit with the force of a twenty-foot wave, and was sent tumbling underwater, at least a few of
his things would have been knocked loose. Another question added to the long list.
The commando turned to face the field of white, feet of snow stretching out in every direction.
Snake let out a big sigh and trudged through the snowfall. The much less glamorous part of the
job.
Snake crept up to a large boulder and placed his back to it. He slowly peeked his head around the
edge and surveyed the area around him.
Several sentries patrolled the area around Snake, the first sign of life Snake had seen since he
landed. They carried what was expected from Russian infantry: Kalashnikov AN-94 assault
rifles, arctic BDUs, fragmentation grenades and Makarov PMM handguns. Their equipment was
almost identical to the Gurlukovich Private Army Snake encountered in the Big Shell. He was
definitely dealing with Russian mercs.
Behind the sentries was a large dull blue wall that seemed to go on forever in either direction.
Snake also seemed to be dealing with a pretty big complex. Being about twelve feet in height, the
wall wouldn't be easy getting around or through.
But first he would have to get past those guards before he could worry about the wall. There were
four in total that-
Snake was forced to bring his head back behind the boulder when a fifth sentry came strolling by
the opposite side of the rock. Good thing the sentry didn't spot him. Snake couldn't let his
mission end over something that avoidable. Snake noticed that the fifth sentry traveled in a circle
that involved going past the boulder. Snake would just have to wait for the sentry to return. Then
he would begin.
Snake could hear the crunch of the sentry"s boots against the ice-capped snow. The sound grew,
as the guard neared. Snake crouched at the edge of the rock, and grabbed his USP, waiting for
enemy to pass.
The sentry walked past the boulder unaware of the impending danger, but became aware when
Snake jumped out from behind the boulder, wrapped his left arm around the sentry's neck, while
placing the barrel of his USP against his temple. Snake brought he and the sentry back behind the
boulder, so no one would spot them.
"P-please, don't kill me," pleaded the guard, obviously fearful for his life.
"Spare me the small talk. Now tell me who are you with?"questioned Snake. Maybe he would get
a few questions answered.
"T-the Dzhugashvili Army. I was recruited just a couple months ago, before that I was in the
Russian Ground Forces," revealed the sentry.
"Dzhugashivili...?" that name seemed familiar to Snake, but couldn't remember where from.
"Why are you here?"
"Why?" Snake could hear a slight chuckle escape the sentry's lips. "This is why. You Americans
think you can do whatever you want. You come in here and think you can take control, and do
what you think is right. Well, that's 'why' I joined Dzhugashvili, to do what I think is right, to rid
the world of America's evil."
As the sentry's attitude quickly changed, Snake knew he was interrogating an extremist. "We
might have something in common. I'm not exactly ecstatic about the American government's
movements, but that doesn't advocate killing innocent people." Snake did feel strongly about the
situation, but he knew he was talking to the wrong person. A lowly sentry was no one to argue
with.
"Whatever it takes." Snake noticed the sentry's tone changed with those last words.
Snake knew the sentry was going to try something, and he was right.
The sentry elbowed Snake in his ribs, loosening his grip on the guard, allowing him to duck and
evade Snake's hold. Before Snake could regain his composure, the enemy came up and swung the
butte of his AN-94 right into Snake's chin.
The former FOX-HOUND commando stumbled backward, his free hand rubbing his injured
chin, his other hand holding the USP, right before it was knocked out of his hand by a swift kick
from the sentry.
Snake opened his eyes to see the barrel of the AN rifle pointed right between his eyes. How could
he let the sentry get the better of him? Maybe Snake let the guard get away with it, maybe Snake
wanted to be trapped in a compromising position, maybe he wanted to be tested.
Snake put his hands up at the request of the sentry. The sentry didn't think to radio for help, but
instead wanted to deal with Snake himself. Snake turned his head to see his USP lie in the snow
a couple feet away to his right. He was completely unarmed.
A sticky situation.
"Die, American!"
Snake could see the sentry's finger press down on the trigger. It would take a miracle to save him
and some would say, that's what he got.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Five gunshots rang out in the brisk, cold air. A bullet appeared from nowhere and ruptured the
side of the sentry's head. A splash of blood splattered against the side of the boulder, as the sentry
fell backwards, his finger still on the trigger, so bullets flew out of the barrel of the AN until the
clip finally ran out.
Luckily the sentry was shot before he could fire at Snake. The soldier turned his head to the right,
assuming that's where the bullet came from, judging from where the shot hit the sentry. There
was another shooter, someone who had saved him and could quite possibly be the same person
who rescued him from the sea.
Unfortunately, a dense fog consumed the area making visibility very low and was unable to see
beyond 20 meters or so.
"Damn!"
He didn't have time to search for the shooter, so Snake walked over to his USP and held it up,
those shots were pretty loud and the other sentries must have heard them. Snake crept past the
dead body and the boulder, his pistol raised, to find that the four other bullets meet their target.
The four other sentries lie motionless, scattered across the snowy field, in pools of their own
blood. Someone was watching out for Snake, and it wasn't a guardian angel.