Metal Gear Solid Fan Fiction ❯ Family Planning ❯ One-Shot

Disclaimer: This story contains characters and concepts that are not the property of the author. They are the intellectual property of Konami and their associates. This work of fanfiction is not endorsed by the original creators and is not meant in any way to be an attack on their copyright. The author has not and will not receive monetary benefit from this posting.


Family Planning

Night Sight sat on his bed, braced for flight, girded for war, waiting for he knew not what. A duffle bag tucked under the mattress frame contained almost everything he owned. The customized submachine gun, oiled and loaded, rested in its holster. He wore the optic camo suit, heavy and constricting like a guilty conscience. Wearing it made him sweat more, so he’d packed lots of water. Being seen was a condition harder to reverse than dehydration.

The same questions scrolled again through his mind. Why did Big Boss allow no one to see Kyle’s body? What was there to hide?

Predator hunched over the radio, listening intently on the headset. It didn’t matter that he stood turned away from Night. No one read Predator, not even the Boss. Predator said nothing and, after a moment, set the headset down. Outside, the jungles of matched his silent menace–the pounding of Metal Gear’s passing, the roar of its rockets now fading memories.

“That was Gray Fox,” Predator said around a wad of gum. His voice was flat, his face still now that he’d stopped chewing. “Snake has crossed the canyon. Running Man, Red Blaster, and Ultra-Box are dead. He will soon arrive at our position. We are ordered to stop Snake before he reaches Dr. Marv.” Predator stared down at him, dead eyes in a slack corpse face. He recommenced gnawing.

Night made no motion to rise. He did not care to acknowledge the new order.

“You loved him,” Predator said. It wasn’t an indictment but a stated fact.

Night said nothing. Drawing breath was difficult enough.

Predator slapped a magazine into his assault rifle. “I will kill Snake. I will skin him. I will leave his innards for the birds. And then I will claim his scalp,” he said without a hint of emotional inflection. He stepped to the exit. The crinkled brown flaps of his trophies swayed from straps tied to his belt. “This will be the greatest hunt of my life.” Then he vanished.

Night watched the sky outside the windows. Alone. No one to force him to stay and fight. No one around with an opinion that mattered. Only the questions remained.

***

Kyle rolled off of Night Sight, their sticky skin reluctant to part. It had been good to forget everything for a few minutes, but nothing good lasts. Old questions infiltrated his mind and cut away the post-coital glow with machetes.

Night detected the change in him. Together for only a few months, Kyle could hide nothing from his partner. Even in the dark, Night read body language with a survivalist’s eye for minutia.

“I’ll make it easy for you,” said Night.

Kyle grinned into the dark, reached over and squeezed his sweat slick thigh. “That’s all right. I know your secrets are valuable to you.”

Night waved a dismissive hand. “No, it’s fine.” He was silent for a long moment. Kyle was content to wait. More than content, he felt a touch of shame for trying to take away a part of Night for himself. Everyone living in the small rogue nation had their own damage to bear. Personal history was an asset best guarded closely. Yet, over time Kyle came to need Night.

He took a deep breath of the thick air. Even the nights in were smothering. Birds called and answered in the trees. The ancient rituals of hunter and prey made the occasional stir in the jungle underbrush. Bugs swarmed on the mosquito net draped over a tree branch above, their prehistoric-sized silhouettes grotesque and alien against the moonlight. was no paradise, but then so few places on Earth were. For now, perhaps forever, it was his home.

At last, “We were the Whispers. Guerrilla fighters, the media called us. Do you wonder how an outlaw band of rebels came to possess state-of-the-art light camouflage prototypes?”

Night had shown him the suit before. Nano-manufactured fabric diverted visible light rays around the wearer, making them nearly invisible to the human eye. The gear’s power supply made it bulky–the whole suit resembled a rugby outfit.

“I haven’t seen anything like it before. I don’t think anyone else has, either. Black market or no, the price tag on those suits must be enormous.”

“They are not available on the black market. Not for a while yet, I think. The names of locations and countries are of no consequence to you. It is enough to say we were recruited, trained, equipped by a government agency. The narcotics plantations they wanted shut down, we cleared them off the map. The cartels they wanted in business watched their competition vanish. We were invincible. We became arrogant, and we forgot the golden rule: Those in power make nothing they cannot destroy. They were pleased with our work, and more pleased with their camo’s performance. One night they came back for their prototypes. By accident, I escaped.”

“And you hope, that when the war begins–“

“Revenge against those who used us. I am fond of our boss, but I do not love his dream as you do. I wish to see my enemies singed in the coming crossfire. That is all.”

“Do you believe we can win?”

Night shrugged. “Does it matter?” Another silence. “If things turn against us, will you leave with me?”

Kyle did not hesitate to answer. “My family is here. Don’t make me choose.”

“In , you have a new family and your resistance men. Here, I have business associates and a lover. My family is dead. A man gets one, and only one family in life.”

“That’s not true. You have me.”

“Yes.” Night drew him close and rubbed callused hands down his back until Kyle shivered. “And I don’t want to lose you.”

“We don’t have to fear death. Big Boss’s plan will work.”

Night rolled over on top of him, worked arms under his back and propped him up, smashed wet lips against his neck. Night was aroused and Kyle caught up quickly. Kyle ground against him, then wrapped his legs around Night’s waist. They both smelled of soured sweat, and that made it better somehow.

“That’s enough story time,” said Night. The questions disappeared once more.

***

The next day, Big Boss summoned all his captains to the war room. They knew what to expect. Each officer, if they felt any fear, hid it well in their own way.

Kyle walked into the room, glad no one could see him clench his teeth with embarrassment beneath the balaclava. His new combat suit drew looks. The Red Blaster favored him with a toothy smile. The former Spetsnaz eschewed the vodka of his homeland and sipped brandy from a snifter instead. His wide white eyes roved from one man to the next. Of all them, Red was most eager for battle, another chance to indulge his only pastime besides drinking: grenades.

The four Ultra-Box members played poker while the Running Man reread the same chewed up paperback novel he carried around since joining up. had no need of libraries and bookstores.

Predator chewed bubble gum and stared off into empty space. He was a man so adept at jungle warfare he required no camo more high-tech than a pair of pants and some mud.

Gray Fox was not in attendance. Someone had to remain on patrol.

They were freaks, eccentrics and, most importantly, disenfranchised. From such levies Big Boss drafted the army of the future–the vengeful angels of the second coming of Outer Heaven. A corps of troops fit for a comic book.

Kyle sat next to Night Fright, who handed him a styrofoam cup of coffee. “That ninja outfit looks hot on you. When I first heard the concept, I was skeptical at first…”

Kyle pulled down the balaclava to take a sip. Burnt, with notes of spent motor oil. At least this batch tasted better than the usual.

“Black coffee for Black Color! Don’t drink too much, ninja, or you’ll piss yourself in action,” said Red Blaster. The Russian tittered like an eight-year-old girl.

Night raised an eyebrow. “Black…Color? You’re dressed all in white.”

The suit had black shoulder pads and the rest was more dirty gray than white, but he felt silly arguing the point. “Code names are either nonsense or lame puns. Of the two types, I’d rather have the former,” Kyle said. The ninja disguise was Gray Fox’s idea. Kyle still had contacts and friends in the outside world. While Kyle was presumed dead in most places, his friends might prove useful in the future. It was better that the world did not discover his affiliation with Big Boss. If a witness discovered his identity in battle and escaped, it would mean trouble for his contacts. Thus, he disguised himself as Black Color, a defected NASA space commando of some skill.

Big Boss stepped into the room. Instantly the book and card deck disappeared. Predator swallowed his gum and Red stashed his booze. They shot up from their seats and stood rigid in salute.

“As you were,” Big Boss growled. They sat down, relaxed yet reverent. He was the priest of war and they were ready for the sermon. Everyone’s attention focused wholly on the commander.

They sensed his mood instantly. This night, a white hot wrath radiated from the Boss, his one eye burning with an intensity no gaze could meet. It was scant comfort to know they were not the target of his ire. It was difficult sitting in the same room with the man. Even Predator winced as Big Boss’s eye passed over him.

“The U.N. has delivered its ultimatum,” Boss said. “We can expect an official response within two weeks. Foxhound will respond within the next twenty four hours. They will send Solid Snake.”

“I heard he’s retired, sir,” said

The Boss’s gravely voice was cool. “Men like Snake will never retire from the battlefield. They’ll count on him delivering another miracle. Snake is the only commando on Earth who has destroyed Outer Heaven once before.”

The Boss paused to let that sink in. They all knew well the story of Outer Heaven’s first defeat. They had trained harder on dealing with this one man than all other contingencies combined.

“In the first Outer Heaven, my captains did not know what they faced, and to an extent, neither did I. You have no excuses.” He turned to a rough layout of the Zanzibar grounds sketched on the marker board and began the brief on their positions and routes they were responsible for, where they would deploy their men, and in what shifts.

Kyle “Black Color” Schneider would remain in the armory, and impersonate Dr. Marv in order to lure Snake into a deadly gas trap. To this end he would be given the doctor’s personal transmitter. Boss predicted Snake would operate on orders to track its signal until he had rescued Marv as a first objective.

“There’s been a change of plans for you.” Big Boss pointed at Night Sight. A chill raised bumps on Kyle’s skin, but he kept his silence. One did not interrupt the commander.

“You are no longer guarding the detention complex. That’s Running Man’s job now. Instead, you’ll hold the main building. You’ll be the first to ambush the enemy, as you stand the best chance of eliminating him early on.”

Big Boss continued the briefing. Kyle no longer listened. He stole a side glance at his lover and saw that his face had paled. He took a deep, quiet breath through his nose to brace himself. There was no mental deliberation over his decision, no weighing of factors or consequences. He had finished with all that the night after Big Boss pulled him and the families of his men from the fire. Tonight, he had his own family to care for.

“Permission to speak, sir.”

Big Boss turned slowly and fixed him with his one eye. “Make it quick.”

“I believe that I should be stationed in building, sir. I have the best chance of eliminating Snake first.”

“And why is that, Kyle?”

“I supported Snake during operation Intrude N313. I not only know what he’s capable of, I know how he thinks. I know how to get into his head, how to predict what he’ll do next. I’m closer to him than anyone else here, except for you, sir. On top of that, I’m every bit as good in close quarters indoor combat as Night Sight. Probably better.”

Night grunted in his throat but made no move to object.

Expression souring more by the second, Big Boss worked his jaw in silence. Then, a change swept over his weathered face–something almost like a softening. He glanced from Night back to Kyle.

“You have a point. Deception works best when deployed early. Running Man, get yourself fitted with the best gas mask we have. You’re the bait for the arsenal trap. Night, you stay in the detention center.”

Night did not look at Kyle for the rest of the briefing.

Dismissed, the captains rushed from the room with their orders, eager for a head start on preparations. Night hurried towards the barracks without a backward glance. Kyle chased after him. Along the way, an arm shot out of an alcove and yanked Kyle inside.

The angular face of Gray Fox broke from the shadows. “The Boss has a message he wants you to give Snake when you see him.”

***

Kyle stood with legs spread, hands against the corridor wall, waist stuck out. Night Sight bent over him, riding. Their grunts and sighs echoed down the long empty spaces until they faded, unheard.

Tonight, it was good. No, their lovemaking had never been better. Kyle savored every contact, every sensation, for he knew these were likely his last. Night’s anger fueled an impassioned desperation in his movements that Kyle had never experienced before.

Towards the end, Night snared a fistful of Kyle’s hair and tugged almost hard enough to hurt, pulling him back and in. Kyle moaned, begged him to bite his neck. Night happily complied.

After, passing a cigarette between them, they found their words.

“What the hell are you thinking? I ask you to come with me, and instead you dive head-first into the meat grinder.”

“I meant what I said to the Boss. I know Snake. I’ll predict his moves.”

“Let someone else wear him down first.”

“The others can’t touch him. Gray Fox could do it, but he and Snake are old friends. Fox won’t fight his old buddy until he has no choice.”

“Red Blaster and Running Man stand a fair chance.” Night used the spent cigarette to light a new one.

Kyle shook his head. “Predator is the only one who might slow him down. But I can stop this before the bodies pile up to the ceiling.”

“And what if Snake doesn’t come? If they send someone else?”

Kyle didn’t answer that. He didn’t have to. They both knew that was wishful thinking.

Kyle swallowed. He didn’t want to say what he needed to say next. He had always tried to think positive and avoided self-fulfilling prophecies. But this was too important for superstitious fear. “If I die, and the others fail, then you’ll have plenty of warning.”

“What is this idiocy you babble?”

“Promise me. If we start losing,” swallowed again, throat suddenly dry, “if I go down. Don’t stay around to finish the job. Get out of here. Find yourself another family.”

“You–“

“I won’t die. I’ll do everything to make sure that doesn’t happen. But if it does…promise me.”

Night’s face contorted. He threw out his arms in gesture of disgust. “You’re fucking stupid. Yes, I promise already.”

“Good.” Kyle leaned in and gave Night a kiss as tender and sweet as he knew how. After a moment, they parted. Kyle tried to purr in his ear, coughed instead, and had to settle for a low growl. “That’s enough whining. Now roll over and we’ll do this again like we mean it.”

***

Night glanced at the clock. Thirty minutes gone since the order came down from Fox and Predator walked out the door. He had waited too long, he decided. Time to move.

Snake had killed Kyle in less than five minutes. Big Boss delivered the news in person. Assurances were spoken that the Foxhound agent would not survive the hour. Now, he wondered if even the Metal Gear would survive. Night tried not to think about it.

I’m sorry. For me, the Boss was a means to an end. To you, he was a savior. But he can’t save any of us now.

As he plucked the duffle bag from under his bed, something fell off onto the floor. It was an opened condom wrapper. One of Kyle’s, for Night had never owned any. While they had feared no disease, Kyle claimed he liked the feel of them. They had soon run out, and made love bareback, so this wrapper had been under his bunk for a while.

Condoms. Funny, people wore them to stop their family from growing too soon or at all. And here he was, straddled with the opposite problem.

Night convulsed his hands into claws, picked up the mattress, and slammed it against the wall. A fantasy overtook him: find Big Boss and express his disappointment in person. A strong sense of self preservation evaporated that fantasy before it congealed. There was no doubt in Night’s mind over the result of that encounter.

The rumble of distant explosions stopped his thrashing. It was difficult to be sure, but the noise seemed to come from the direction of the canyon. The same direction Predator had left to intercept Snake. More explosions and the clack of gunfire removed all doubt.

Time to move.

Run, his mind screamed at him. Run! He stayed in place. A new plan unfurled in his mind. For all the effort he could put into going AWOL, he could instead create a superb ambush.

But the promise. No, it wouldn’t be breaking his word to Kyle. Not exactly. In many ways, killing Snake went a long way to insuring his own survival. And if he fouled up somehow, he still had the camo. It’d be almost as easy to run then as now. Old experience spoke in a quiet voice, telling Night these thoughts were rationalizations justifying a bad idea.

No, he insisted, it was that same hard won experience that would make the difference. His career as a soldier had run longer and harsher than Snake’s.

Suddenly, moving was easy. He set out for the detention complex. Snake would have to infiltrate the building if he wanted Marv. A large room fronted the corridor to the doctor’s cell. Lots of cover, lots of room to maneuver. Not that he would need it. Night had done this countless times before. Legends didn’t matter. He’d hit hard and fast, out from a blind spot. That was fighting smart. Fighting hard was for idiots. Didn’t matter how good a soldier they said you were, getting shot in the back by someone you never even saw was enough to kill anyone.

Snake would have no warning. He’d expect the regular sentries. It was the perfect setup. Night only needed two seconds. That would be enough.

The prison rose from the tree line as he drew closer. Night chanted a mantra silently to himself. I’ll take him. And that’ll be revenge enough. For my comrades. For you. And then I’ll run and I’ll never have to fight for money again. It’s what you wanted. It’ll be enough. I promise.