Fan Fiction ❯ Metal Gear Solid: Sovereignty ❯ Doctor ( Chapter 9 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Linkin Snake 
The team working with Lieutenant Miller are holding back critical information, and the good doctor is at the center of the conspiracy.
Anime/Manga: Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Action / Adventure | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 11.02.2005 | Updated On: 11.02.2005 | Pages: 4 | Words: 2.7K | Visits: 139 | Status: Completed
The team working with Lieutenant Miller are holding back critical information, and the good doctor is at the center of the conspiracy.
Anime/Manga: Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Action / Adventure | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 11.02.2005 | Updated On: 11.02.2005 | Pages: 4 | Words: 2.7K | Visits: 139 | Status: Completed
Chapter 9: Doctor
The steel blade of the katana halted just inches away from the epidermis of Peacemaker's neck.
The cowboy winced, feeling the force of the sudden halt of the sword, centimeters away from his
death.
"Well? What're waiting for? Just do it, already!" Peacemaker shouted.
Scott Miller turned his back to the terrorist, a very unprofessional move. The cyborg spoke to
himself, "What is going on with me. Now, I'm killing for kicks. I would've never done this
before."
Peacemaker, still on his knees, stared at the ninja like he was crazy. Whatever was happening
with Miller, John was more than grateful his life was spared. Peacemaker got to his feet, his left
hand over the large scar across his chest, and stumbled away from the cyborg. The cowboy, once
he was a considerable distance away from Miller, began to run as fast he could, given his injury,
toward the large steel doors at the other side of the field. Scott was so overwhelmed with his own
problems he completely ignored Peacemaker as he made his getaway.
Scott continued, "It must be... yeah, this exoskeleton. There's something more about this
exoskeleton Dr. Schwartz didn't tell me."
Miller activated the Codec system, and entered the frequency for the good doctor, "Dr. Schwartz,
there's something going on with the exoskeleton."
"What do you mean, Lieutenant?" the doctor asked.
"Don't play games with me. There's something you didn't tell me. This suit–exoskeleton is
doing something to me; I feel it's changing me. I'm twitching, the pressure is getting to be too
much. Hell, it's hard to even breathe. And the way I've been killing, I would have never done
this before."
Schwartz paused for a moment fearing this exact conversation, "I was afraid this would happen."
"What're you talking about?" the fear in Scott's voice grew with every syllable.
"There have been trial tests of the exoskeleton program that show the stress caused by the
powered exoskeleton may have not only physical, but neurological effects as well. The twitching
is normal, and will subside once your body gets use to the added strain. The sudden change that
the suit causes, in speed and strength, creates an enormous amount of stress on mind and body.
There are a number of tests that should have been done, but given the circumstances, the
prototype exoskeleton had to be used without full analysis. Without the proper training, the
tension causes a neurological imbalance. It just so happens this imbalance may result in more
emotional and violent behavior, as you are exhibiting."
"Why didn't you tell me this before?!" Miller shouted, annoyed.
"Well, it wasn't need to know, Lieutenant. Might I add, this evidence is not conclusive–"
"I don't give a shit what it is. You don't know what this suit can do to me and you put me in it,
anyway!"
Colonel Andersen, who had been listening in on the conversation, interjected, "Look, son, I know
you're confused, but you have to calm down. You have a mission to complete."
"Mission, what about me? The doctor doesn't even know what this suit can do to me." Miller
questioned, the emotional problems evident.
Dr. Schwartz returned to the conversation, "That's preposterous. There is no evidence to support
that the exoskeleton has any serious long-term effects."
The colonel continued in his calm, southern drawl. "You have a job to do, Lieutenant. So get
yourself together. Millions of people are counting on you, do not let them down."
"Yes, sir," if mood swings were another effect of the exoskeleton then Miller was a distinct case.
The commando turned from angry and confused to calm and collected.
Dr. Schwartz added, "As I said before, the effects of the exoskeleton will subside and I promise,
you will be fine."
Miller ended the Codec transmission.
Scott, leaving the last few minute's events behind him, turned back to face Peacemaker, who he
immaturely let escape. He looked down at the snow and found footprints alongside a trail of
blood. Miller followed the trail until it brought him to the large steel doors Peacemaker had
escaped through. He scoured looking for a way inside. The only indication of an entry inside was
the large "4" painted on the gray door.
______________
Some hundreds of miles away in an Ohio-class submarine, USS Tennessee, Dr. Schwartz and
Colonel Andersen stood side by side both glaring at a screen displaying a blurry satellite image of
Lieutenant Miller standing in a snowy field. The only light came from a green fluorescent light in
the ceiling, giving off an almost eerie green glow.
Colonel Andersen concernedly asked, "Doctor Schwartz, do you really believe he's going to be
fine?"
Dr. Schwartz answered, "I'm afraid I have no idea what could happen. I assume you remember
the previous effects of the exoskeleton. One of which was the Frank Jaeger case."
"Vaguely," the Colonel turned his head to the doctor, with a look of worriment on his face he
asked, "are you saying the same thing could happen to Lieutenant Miller? That he could
completely lose his mind?"
Behind the two men sitting in front of a computer module was Jessica Langley, listening intently
for the doctor's response.
Schwartz paused, searching for the right words, "Not exactly, we have made progress since then,
but Lieutenant Miller isn't nearly ‘ready' for the exoskeleton. Nobody really is. The effects of the
suit depend on the user. Any number of things can occur."
"But what do you think will happen to him?"
Dr. Schwartz mused, "Let's hope he completes his mission before we have to find out."
_______________
"Metal Gear SAM?!" Snake exclaimed with surprise.
The operative stood a few feet away from the scientist, sitting on a thin bed against the side of the
holding room's wall. Dr. Richard Sullivan was a portly man, with a round face. His balding head
was clearly visible even with the bad combover. He had on a button-down white shirt, his large
belly overlapped the boundaries of his leather belt. Sullivan's suit pants were brown in color as
were his shoes.
"You don't know about SAM? You must really be new," Sullivan said.
"For the last time, I'm not working with the terrorists."
"Then what are you?"
"Philanthropy."
"Wait," something clicked in Sullivan's mind, "you–it can't be... Solid Snake?!"
"Tell me all you know about Metal Gear," Snake demanded.
"No, you're going to try to destroy it. SAM is my ticket to glory. I'm not going to let you stop
me!"
Snake was beginning to get annoyed, "Doesn't it bother you that your work is being used by
terrorists who killed millions of innocent people?"
Dr. Sullivan contemplated Snake's words. "This wasn't the way it supposed to be, but in the end
everything will work out and SAM and I will be back in America's arms. SAM will be used for
good."
"Good?!" Snake was irritated and perplexed, "what good can come from a nuclear battle tank?
All Metal Gear is an excuse for war, it's nothing more than an easier way to kill."
"You'll never understand. Your opinions are clouded by your idealist's views. You think–"
"My idealist views!"
Sullivan explained, "Yes, you think you can destroy Metal Gear and then everything will be
alright? The only way to restore order in the world is power. The more power you have, the more
people will listen and obey you. People need a disciplinarian to keep them in line. Without that
discipline there's nothing that differentiates us from animals. That ‘disciplinarian' will be the
country armed with Metal Gear SAM."
"Sounds more like a monocracy, than a democracy."
Richard replied, "Whatever gets the job done."
Snake was startled by Sullivan's admission. Everyone was entitled to their own opinion, but that
didn't mean Snake had to agree with them. It became evident that arguing with his Patriot-
induced opinions would do no good. "Look, I don't have time for this. Tell me about Metal Gear
or you're gonna end up dead in this cell, alone and afraid."
"Are you saying you can get me out of here?" Sullivan responded, not willing to give anything up
without something in return.
Snake answered, "First, Metal Gear."
Richard thought about the proposition, and decided it was the only way out.
"Well, where do I begin?" the scientist enquired, almost jokingly. "Once Emmerich disappeared ,
I was the number one candidate for creating a new nuclear-capable tank for the US DOD. There
were rumors of a another Metal Gear, supposedly nicknamed RAY, but that was all hearsay."
Snake smirked, knowing full well of RAY's reality.
The doctor continued, "Anyway, using REX as a guide, I created SAM, named for it's main
feature: a special surface-to-air missile system. The most advanced of it's kind." Richard's eyes
widened with amazement at his own achievement. The scientist thought much of himself, a little
too much. "SAM is the perfect machine. Dual M134 Gatling miniguns on both sides of his
‘head', a total of 20 Javelin anti-armor missiles inside both of SAM's ‘forearms', and of course
the MIM-104 Patriot surface-to-air missiles built into the upper back of Metal Gear. Grand, don't
you think?"
Snake didn't even dignify Sullivan's question with a verbal answer, disgusted with the man's
twisted views. The only response Snake gave was a grave stare.
The scientist went on about Metal Gear's weapon capability, "SAM uses the PAC-3 or Patriot
Advanced Capability-3 system, much more advanced than it's predecessor the PAC-2. Using
SAM's active radar terminal homing, the PAC-3 hits it's target with near-pinpoint accuracy. The
missiles are housed inside a M-901 container within SAM's ‘back'.
"And I haven't even gotten to the best part. Along with the SAM system, the prize gem of Metal
Gear is it's rail gun. Which has already been demonstrated," the doctor spoke as if the millions of
American lives that were lost meant nothing. "It's more effective, and more powerful than
before. I've increased the distance of the rail gun to nearly 3,700 miles in any direction. The rail
gun component is also the most accurate of all Metal Gears to date. SAM will become the atomic
bomb of the 21st century. The power of SAM is unmatched. The country that has SAM in it's
arsenal will be unstoppable."
Richard Sullivan eyes glared with a scary intensity. He mesmerized himself with his own
creation. He forgot about, or didn't care, about the innocent dead, and focused on the power and
glory that went along with SAM.
"Metal Gear is a death machine. You do realize that this is partly your fault. If there was no
Metal Gear than there would be no Russian uprising and the millions of people that lost their
lives, would still be here," Snake explicated.
"That's preposterous! How dare you make such an accusation?! I want what's best for us all,"
Sullivan explained. To Snake it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than the
commando. "The nuclear attack on America was tragic, but in the end SAM will be for the
better."
Snake was tired of arguing. "How long will it be before they can launch again?" he asked.
Sullivan scoffed, "Several days at the least."
"Days?!"
"The terrorists stole Metal Gear from a testing facility on an island in the Pacific, SAM wasn't
near fully prepared to launch. They were lucky the nuke landed anywhere near the target. During
the launch the prototype rail gun was severely damaged, and I've been trying to tell them they
need to bring in new parts, but they think I can fix it on my own. The parts they need, they can
only get from America. The terrorists
"Why didn't you tell me this before?" Snake thought a moment, thinking over the critical
information he'd just learned. "If Metal Gear can't launch then there's no threat, and the world's
been held on a bluff."
"Don't get ahead of yourself," Sullivan informed the agent, "just because they can't launch a
nuke doesn't mean SAM's defenseless. It's secondary weapons, the missiles and machine guns,
are all fully-operational."
No nuke... Snake thought. But it still was operable, and that meant Snake's mission wasn't over
in the least.
The soldier made his way to the cell door. He began reaching into his pocket for the card key
when Sullivan stopped him with more words, "You said you were going to help me get out of
here!"
Sullivan got up off of the bed and stormed over to Snake. The scientist moved between the
operative and the door. "You're not going anywhere without me," Sullivan stated.
"Get out of my way."
The scientist stood his ground and didn't budge.
"Alright," Snake placed the card back in his pocket. "We'll do this the hard way."
The commando stepped back, and began to raise his hands toward Sullivan. Snake began
blinking wildly, his head began pounding, like his brain was being stabbed by mini-knives. His
vision blurred, and he began stumbling backward. His vision worsened, and he fell to one knee.
Sullivan watched in perplexity as the operative backed off with no prominent cause. When the
operative fell to one knee, Sullivan lunged at the waning agent, and grabbed the card key from
him. The scientist easily took hold of the key from the injured Snake. Sullivan frantically moved
to the door, hurrying before Snake recovered. He fumbled with the card before he pushed it
through the slot beside the door.
The brain was a very complex organ with many secrets scientists have been and still are trying to
figure out. So Snake hadn't a chance to figure out what was happening to him. He could only
watch Sullivan, as soon as the door opened, blindly, ran out into the hall, leaving the card key
behind.
The steel blade of the katana halted just inches away from the epidermis of Peacemaker's neck.
The cowboy winced, feeling the force of the sudden halt of the sword, centimeters away from his
death.
"Well? What're waiting for? Just do it, already!" Peacemaker shouted.
Scott Miller turned his back to the terrorist, a very unprofessional move. The cyborg spoke to
himself, "What is going on with me. Now, I'm killing for kicks. I would've never done this
before."
Peacemaker, still on his knees, stared at the ninja like he was crazy. Whatever was happening
with Miller, John was more than grateful his life was spared. Peacemaker got to his feet, his left
hand over the large scar across his chest, and stumbled away from the cyborg. The cowboy, once
he was a considerable distance away from Miller, began to run as fast he could, given his injury,
toward the large steel doors at the other side of the field. Scott was so overwhelmed with his own
problems he completely ignored Peacemaker as he made his getaway.
Scott continued, "It must be... yeah, this exoskeleton. There's something more about this
exoskeleton Dr. Schwartz didn't tell me."
Miller activated the Codec system, and entered the frequency for the good doctor, "Dr. Schwartz,
there's something going on with the exoskeleton."
"What do you mean, Lieutenant?" the doctor asked.
"Don't play games with me. There's something you didn't tell me. This suit–exoskeleton is
doing something to me; I feel it's changing me. I'm twitching, the pressure is getting to be too
much. Hell, it's hard to even breathe. And the way I've been killing, I would have never done
this before."
Schwartz paused for a moment fearing this exact conversation, "I was afraid this would happen."
"What're you talking about?" the fear in Scott's voice grew with every syllable.
"There have been trial tests of the exoskeleton program that show the stress caused by the
powered exoskeleton may have not only physical, but neurological effects as well. The twitching
is normal, and will subside once your body gets use to the added strain. The sudden change that
the suit causes, in speed and strength, creates an enormous amount of stress on mind and body.
There are a number of tests that should have been done, but given the circumstances, the
prototype exoskeleton had to be used without full analysis. Without the proper training, the
tension causes a neurological imbalance. It just so happens this imbalance may result in more
emotional and violent behavior, as you are exhibiting."
"Why didn't you tell me this before?!" Miller shouted, annoyed.
"Well, it wasn't need to know, Lieutenant. Might I add, this evidence is not conclusive–"
"I don't give a shit what it is. You don't know what this suit can do to me and you put me in it,
anyway!"
Colonel Andersen, who had been listening in on the conversation, interjected, "Look, son, I know
you're confused, but you have to calm down. You have a mission to complete."
"Mission, what about me? The doctor doesn't even know what this suit can do to me." Miller
questioned, the emotional problems evident.
Dr. Schwartz returned to the conversation, "That's preposterous. There is no evidence to support
that the exoskeleton has any serious long-term effects."
The colonel continued in his calm, southern drawl. "You have a job to do, Lieutenant. So get
yourself together. Millions of people are counting on you, do not let them down."
"Yes, sir," if mood swings were another effect of the exoskeleton then Miller was a distinct case.
The commando turned from angry and confused to calm and collected.
Dr. Schwartz added, "As I said before, the effects of the exoskeleton will subside and I promise,
you will be fine."
Miller ended the Codec transmission.
Scott, leaving the last few minute's events behind him, turned back to face Peacemaker, who he
immaturely let escape. He looked down at the snow and found footprints alongside a trail of
blood. Miller followed the trail until it brought him to the large steel doors Peacemaker had
escaped through. He scoured looking for a way inside. The only indication of an entry inside was
the large "4" painted on the gray door.
______________
Some hundreds of miles away in an Ohio-class submarine, USS Tennessee, Dr. Schwartz and
Colonel Andersen stood side by side both glaring at a screen displaying a blurry satellite image of
Lieutenant Miller standing in a snowy field. The only light came from a green fluorescent light in
the ceiling, giving off an almost eerie green glow.
Colonel Andersen concernedly asked, "Doctor Schwartz, do you really believe he's going to be
fine?"
Dr. Schwartz answered, "I'm afraid I have no idea what could happen. I assume you remember
the previous effects of the exoskeleton. One of which was the Frank Jaeger case."
"Vaguely," the Colonel turned his head to the doctor, with a look of worriment on his face he
asked, "are you saying the same thing could happen to Lieutenant Miller? That he could
completely lose his mind?"
Behind the two men sitting in front of a computer module was Jessica Langley, listening intently
for the doctor's response.
Schwartz paused, searching for the right words, "Not exactly, we have made progress since then,
but Lieutenant Miller isn't nearly ‘ready' for the exoskeleton. Nobody really is. The effects of the
suit depend on the user. Any number of things can occur."
"But what do you think will happen to him?"
Dr. Schwartz mused, "Let's hope he completes his mission before we have to find out."
_______________
"Metal Gear SAM?!" Snake exclaimed with surprise.
The operative stood a few feet away from the scientist, sitting on a thin bed against the side of the
holding room's wall. Dr. Richard Sullivan was a portly man, with a round face. His balding head
was clearly visible even with the bad combover. He had on a button-down white shirt, his large
belly overlapped the boundaries of his leather belt. Sullivan's suit pants were brown in color as
were his shoes.
"You don't know about SAM? You must really be new," Sullivan said.
"For the last time, I'm not working with the terrorists."
"Then what are you?"
"Philanthropy."
"Wait," something clicked in Sullivan's mind, "you–it can't be... Solid Snake?!"
"Tell me all you know about Metal Gear," Snake demanded.
"No, you're going to try to destroy it. SAM is my ticket to glory. I'm not going to let you stop
me!"
Snake was beginning to get annoyed, "Doesn't it bother you that your work is being used by
terrorists who killed millions of innocent people?"
Dr. Sullivan contemplated Snake's words. "This wasn't the way it supposed to be, but in the end
everything will work out and SAM and I will be back in America's arms. SAM will be used for
good."
"Good?!" Snake was irritated and perplexed, "what good can come from a nuclear battle tank?
All Metal Gear is an excuse for war, it's nothing more than an easier way to kill."
"You'll never understand. Your opinions are clouded by your idealist's views. You think–"
"My idealist views!"
Sullivan explained, "Yes, you think you can destroy Metal Gear and then everything will be
alright? The only way to restore order in the world is power. The more power you have, the more
people will listen and obey you. People need a disciplinarian to keep them in line. Without that
discipline there's nothing that differentiates us from animals. That ‘disciplinarian' will be the
country armed with Metal Gear SAM."
"Sounds more like a monocracy, than a democracy."
Richard replied, "Whatever gets the job done."
Snake was startled by Sullivan's admission. Everyone was entitled to their own opinion, but that
didn't mean Snake had to agree with them. It became evident that arguing with his Patriot-
induced opinions would do no good. "Look, I don't have time for this. Tell me about Metal Gear
or you're gonna end up dead in this cell, alone and afraid."
"Are you saying you can get me out of here?" Sullivan responded, not willing to give anything up
without something in return.
Snake answered, "First, Metal Gear."
Richard thought about the proposition, and decided it was the only way out.
"Well, where do I begin?" the scientist enquired, almost jokingly. "Once Emmerich disappeared ,
I was the number one candidate for creating a new nuclear-capable tank for the US DOD. There
were rumors of a another Metal Gear, supposedly nicknamed RAY, but that was all hearsay."
Snake smirked, knowing full well of RAY's reality.
The doctor continued, "Anyway, using REX as a guide, I created SAM, named for it's main
feature: a special surface-to-air missile system. The most advanced of it's kind." Richard's eyes
widened with amazement at his own achievement. The scientist thought much of himself, a little
too much. "SAM is the perfect machine. Dual M134 Gatling miniguns on both sides of his
‘head', a total of 20 Javelin anti-armor missiles inside both of SAM's ‘forearms', and of course
the MIM-104 Patriot surface-to-air missiles built into the upper back of Metal Gear. Grand, don't
you think?"
Snake didn't even dignify Sullivan's question with a verbal answer, disgusted with the man's
twisted views. The only response Snake gave was a grave stare.
The scientist went on about Metal Gear's weapon capability, "SAM uses the PAC-3 or Patriot
Advanced Capability-3 system, much more advanced than it's predecessor the PAC-2. Using
SAM's active radar terminal homing, the PAC-3 hits it's target with near-pinpoint accuracy. The
missiles are housed inside a M-901 container within SAM's ‘back'.
"And I haven't even gotten to the best part. Along with the SAM system, the prize gem of Metal
Gear is it's rail gun. Which has already been demonstrated," the doctor spoke as if the millions of
American lives that were lost meant nothing. "It's more effective, and more powerful than
before. I've increased the distance of the rail gun to nearly 3,700 miles in any direction. The rail
gun component is also the most accurate of all Metal Gears to date. SAM will become the atomic
bomb of the 21st century. The power of SAM is unmatched. The country that has SAM in it's
arsenal will be unstoppable."
Richard Sullivan eyes glared with a scary intensity. He mesmerized himself with his own
creation. He forgot about, or didn't care, about the innocent dead, and focused on the power and
glory that went along with SAM.
"Metal Gear is a death machine. You do realize that this is partly your fault. If there was no
Metal Gear than there would be no Russian uprising and the millions of people that lost their
lives, would still be here," Snake explicated.
"That's preposterous! How dare you make such an accusation?! I want what's best for us all,"
Sullivan explained. To Snake it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than the
commando. "The nuclear attack on America was tragic, but in the end SAM will be for the
better."
Snake was tired of arguing. "How long will it be before they can launch again?" he asked.
Sullivan scoffed, "Several days at the least."
"Days?!"
"The terrorists stole Metal Gear from a testing facility on an island in the Pacific, SAM wasn't
near fully prepared to launch. They were lucky the nuke landed anywhere near the target. During
the launch the prototype rail gun was severely damaged, and I've been trying to tell them they
need to bring in new parts, but they think I can fix it on my own. The parts they need, they can
only get from America. The terrorists
"Why didn't you tell me this before?" Snake thought a moment, thinking over the critical
information he'd just learned. "If Metal Gear can't launch then there's no threat, and the world's
been held on a bluff."
"Don't get ahead of yourself," Sullivan informed the agent, "just because they can't launch a
nuke doesn't mean SAM's defenseless. It's secondary weapons, the missiles and machine guns,
are all fully-operational."
No nuke... Snake thought. But it still was operable, and that meant Snake's mission wasn't over
in the least.
The soldier made his way to the cell door. He began reaching into his pocket for the card key
when Sullivan stopped him with more words, "You said you were going to help me get out of
here!"
Sullivan got up off of the bed and stormed over to Snake. The scientist moved between the
operative and the door. "You're not going anywhere without me," Sullivan stated.
"Get out of my way."
The scientist stood his ground and didn't budge.
"Alright," Snake placed the card back in his pocket. "We'll do this the hard way."
The commando stepped back, and began to raise his hands toward Sullivan. Snake began
blinking wildly, his head began pounding, like his brain was being stabbed by mini-knives. His
vision blurred, and he began stumbling backward. His vision worsened, and he fell to one knee.
Sullivan watched in perplexity as the operative backed off with no prominent cause. When the
operative fell to one knee, Sullivan lunged at the waning agent, and grabbed the card key from
him. The scientist easily took hold of the key from the injured Snake. Sullivan frantically moved
to the door, hurrying before Snake recovered. He fumbled with the card before he pushed it
through the slot beside the door.
The brain was a very complex organ with many secrets scientists have been and still are trying to
figure out. So Snake hadn't a chance to figure out what was happening to him. He could only
watch Sullivan, as soon as the door opened, blindly, ran out into the hall, leaving the card key
behind.