This is the full short story that I've titled The Children of Big Boss. Took me a few months to write this first draft of over 10000 words, and there's a couple of things I'd like peeps to be aware of...

First and foremost is that people should keep in mind that this IS the first draft, and it hasn't been edited at all, which means that some of the stuff in it probably won't make sense, or contradict the other stuff. My Metal Gear desperately needs more description. If people have any suggestions for future drafts, I'd love to hear them.

Next is that I know that people who read this might want to hunt me down and kill me for all the liberties I've taken on this story, but I'd like people to keep in mind that fan-fiction is about creatively filling in gaps and adding bits on to existing stories, which I believe I've done, even if I didn't manage to capture the character Solid Snake, or do my action scenes justice. But in saying this, I should say that I also aimed this at MGS fans, including some elements that I enjoyed from the series.

I always wanted to try writing a MGS fan-fic, and this is the result. I probably took the era in Solid Snake's life that was easiest to fill in, but lacked description. It's set between Shadow Moses and the New York harbour tanker incident, when Snake destroys his first Metal Gear after REX, but it draws on a lot of the story from Metal Gear 2: Solid Snake and Snake's time in Zanzibar Land. For those you haven't played it, I've tried to provide a little back-story.

So enjoy, I s'pose...

*The story contains some strong language... You've been warned... XD*

The familiar dial tone of the Codec sounded in Snake’s ear as he called Otacon, reminding him of the initial moments of his last mission at Shadow Moses; only now, he was calling the frequency 140.12 as a free man as opposed to calling 141.80 as a tool of his government. A ghostly voice - his own - was heard as Snake was patched through to Otacon. ‘This is Snake,’ the voice said. ‘Colonel, can you hear me?’ At the beginning of this mission, however, it was his support who initiated the transmission.

“Hey Snake. Glad to be back on the battlefield?” Snake almost smiled. “Just reminiscing about old times.” There was a pause on the line before Otacon responded. “Uh huh, some of that going on at this end too. I’m not crouching in the corner of that lab you and that Grey Fox destroyed, but I’m still surrounded by computers.” “Manage to score some government funding, huh?” Snake guessed. “Of course not,” Otacon replied, clearly amused. “Philanthropy is a fully active anti-terrorist organisation -or will be after its maiden mission- but I don’t think the U.N. would fund a legend who’s command is a weapons scientist working out of his apartment bedroom to blow up walking nuclear tanks.” Snake smiled this time. “The injustice of it all. So are you gonna brief me, or am I going into this one as unprepared as the last one?” “Of course,” Otacon said. “I got you some info, but first I’ll give you your mission objectives and provide you with a little background. You know that Ocelot sold REX’s design after Shadow Moses?” “Had to spread the good idea, didn’t he?” Snake remarked. “Yeah, well, I managed to trace the sale,” Otacon went on. “It turns out that the respected military transport manufacturer ‘TransLogic’ was the highest bidder. The thing is that TransLogic sold their business the same year as the Shadow Moses incident.” “Why’d they sell out?” Snake inquired, to which Otacon replied, “They were out of date. They were real old timers, and they couldn’t find a way to compete with the modern rivalry. Anyway, they sold everything individually, their designs and all their factories for dirt prices. They remained a company and kept one factory in Canada, but produce nothing.” “That factory, that’s the one I’m in now?” Snake asked. “Exactly,” Otacon said. “The strange thing is that after the last transaction weeks before Shadow Moses, I can’t link any names with TransLogic. It’s like nobody works for or manages it.” “What do you make of that?” Snake asked. “I suspect that an independent organisation is using TransLogic as a cover, but I can’t find any names or accounts. That factory complex still receives shipments from both the suppliers that many of their factories had used, and what are probably black-market purchases. Our informant tells us that a large shipment arrived a few weeks ago; one that he was sure was protected by mercenaries. He thinks that a Metal Gear is being built at the complex. Your objectives are to find the Metal Gear if there is indeed one in development here, and destroy it if there is. Also, you must locate and destroy any copies of REX’s plans. TransLogic has a system terminal in the office of each of their factory buildings. I recommend you go to the control building first and destroy the system memory. I downloaded the maps to your Soliton Radar.” “Where did you get the radar?” Snake wondered. “I kept in touch with your Colonel,” Otacon said. “He pulled a few strings at FOXHOUND and got it for us. He also got the SOCOM pistol you used in Shadow Moses.” “How generous,” Snake said. “I’ll have to get in touch with him too... I guess it’s time to get started.” “I guess it is,” Otacon said. “And I probably don’t need to tell you this, but getting spotted by the enemy is a bad idea. They may have mercenaries at their disposal, and they’ll come running when there’s money on the line. I gave you an M9 Beretta tranq gun as to not alert an enemy to the degree that they find a dead body and raise the alarm.” “And a dead comrade makes mercenaries almost as pissed as if you were to withdraw their pay,” Snake added. He disconnected the Codec and looked around.

He had climbed a fire-escape to infiltrate the complex, shooting the lock on the door. Snake then found himself in a disused staff room with discoloured walls. Now he noticed oil-stained mugs sat on a draining board, and a very used pair of gloves lay on a table. He opened the only other door in the room, which led to a catwalk with access to the factory floor on the lower level through a flight of steps. Snake walked straight ahead. Looking over a railing, he could see blackened metal-working machines. No guards, the radar told him, and his eyes and ears told him the same.

Snake continued along the walkway, following the railing in the dim light that filtered through the grimy windows, which measured at a foot long and half a foot high and had been placed at intervals at the high above the factory. He kept both eyes on the radar and listened intently over his even and cautious footsteps. He came to an office, which was dominated by a large walnut desk that was dreadfully out of place with the bare plaster walls and abandoned rust speckled filing cabinets. Squinting in the gloominess (neither of his weapons were light equipped, and he didn’t dare turn on the bare bulb set into the ceiling), a stack of boxes caught Snake’s eye. He walked over to them and opened one. The box was filled with durable work-gloves, a pair of which he was examining when he was appalled to hear a voice sound softly behind him. “Freeze.” The voice belonged to a young man, maybe in his mid-twenties. He was probably a new recruit, and mightn’t know what he was doing. All the same, mercenary types could be hard to place. Although this man sounded inexperienced, he could have seen battle at an age as young as eight. Automatically, Snake checked the Soliton radar. “Don’t bother,” the young man said. “Your radar can’t pick up my trace. Who are you? NSA? The Pentagon?” Snake condensed all his contempt into a sardonic statement. “I’m my own man, I wasn’t sent by anyone.” The mercenary snorted condescendingly. In the next breath the mercenary would have used to speak, Snake decided his next action. He had measured the distance between him and the gun this man would undoubtedly be holding, and planned to knock the gun out of its owner’s hand with his own, while he was, Snake hoped, still short of his breath. Snake drew rapidly and swung his gun, and was surprised as he realised that the mercenary, a man with a deceptively young face flawed by acne, topped with waves of shockingly deep shade of red hair, had drawn back. In the same instant, it seemed, the man drew a knife and slashed at Snake’s face, who dodged the attack even as he realised that this attempt on his life was little more than a ploy. Already the man had Snake around the neck, with the combat knife piercing his skin. “You are very different from your father Snake...” Snake was again thrown off balance as the man, little more than a boy, matured in his posture, which tensed and stiffened, and his voice, which dropped a few octaves. “You...you knew my father?” Snake spluttered. The crook of the man’s arm tightened around Snake’s neck. “The great Big Boss would have wept as he saw his son reduced to the hostage of his first adversary in a mission. I mistook you, Solid Snake, for some government lackey, because this is the level to which you have been lowered. The bandana you wear on your head is a parody of your father. Legend...” Snake’s antagonist spat. “Legend? I don’t know about that...” Snake dared to say. His muscles were still tense and ready to liberate himself of the man’s grasp, but his surprise that this stranger would allocate him such a title led him to temporarily forget his position and inquire into the matter. “Yes. Legend. That’s what the press are calling you. Of course, the government sees you that way also, but they know the consequences of saying so. The others found out about In the Darkness of Shadow Moses hours before the launch, and were unable to do anything about it. That malign piece of shit was all over the internet that very day. But they will see to Natasha Romanenko. She will wish that she had never heard your fetid name, Solid Snake.” “Natasha? She wrote about the incident?” Snake asked. The man paused, apparently surprised. “Yes,” he said presently. “But I suppose you’ve been underground, is that correct Solid Snake?” Snake said nothing. His hand wandered towards his waist. “I guess we can take that as a yes, can’t we Solid Snake...” his antagonist said absently. Snake still said nothing. Instead, he raised his hand boldly, and as the man snapped his attention back to Snake and gasped as he saw the pin he was holding. Instantly, the world was set ablaze and ceased to make sense. Hearing nothing, seeing nothing, head pounding, Snake rolled away and drew his M9 tranquilliser gun and fired at the spot where he had last known the antagonist to be. He then dropped the gun without reloading and became aware of the pain in his right leg where the stun grenade exploded. His vision was returning but the screaming whine in his ears sustained. Squinting, Snake could see the young soldier. He wasn’t moving. Panting lightly, Snake called Otacon.

“Otacon,” he said before Otacon could speak. “We have a few problems.” “Snake, are you ok? You stopped moving and I-““Shut up,” Snake growled. He felt that his mind had capacity for nothing but for what he had to say. “This soldier. He was too...quick to be a mercenary. I think he was trained to be more than a hired gun. Also, he didn’t show up on the Soliton Radar.” Otacon spoke again, this time apprehensively. “I know the technology exists to fool the radar, but... I’m sorry Snake, go on.” Snake paused, and once more checked the soldier asleep on the floor. He was wearing a green shirt and thin green trousers. A red beret lay on the ground closer to Snake and the door - dressed like a mercenary, but Snake recognised this attire. “Otacon. This man is dressed like the soldiers of Zanzibar Land.”

Snake had never discussed past missions with each other, but Otacon knew that Zanzibar had been a base in South America and had guessed correctly that this was the mission where Snake had killed his ‘father’. After a long pause, Otacon asked, “What does that mean?” “I dunno,” Snake replied. “He’s too young to have guarded Zanzibar, and that mission was kept completely under-wraps.” ‘So I’ve discovered,’ Otacon thought. “So could this just be a coincidence?” he asked, but his dismissive tone suggested he knew the answer. “No. I don’t think so. He talked about Big Boss.” There was another lapse in conversation before Otacon continued. “Ok... Is there anything else?” Snake thought. “Now that you mention it, I wonder if you can alert somebody that Natasha Romanenko may be in danger. The guard said something about her paying for the book she wrote.” Otacon considered this. “Ok Snake. There’s something strange going on Snake. For now, I suggest you remain on course for the control building. The front of it doubles as a lobby so you may find some records of deliveries. Proceed with extreme caution.” Snake smiled. “How long have you been waiting to say that, Otacon?” Snake heard a smile in Otacon’s voice as he said “Otacon, out.”

Without thinking, Snake picked up his M9, reloaded it, and walked slowly the box of gloves and emptied it. Carefully, he folded the box and stored it. He then bent over the soldier. The gun used a biometrical code, and so it was useless to Snake. He studied the unusual knife and tossed it aside. Snake left the office and became aware of the roar of the wind over the factory. Now tense, Snake drew his SOCOM and spun around as a bird that had been nesting in the rafters took flight behind him at his first footfall on the indented metal catwalk.

He couldn’t allow himself to be captured again.
He had to be alert for enemy movement.
The next bird to cross his path would be shot.

Snake descended the steps to the factory floor and exited without incident. His radar told him that the complex had two entrances - maybe one for staff and another for visitors and deliveries – and the eastern one was connected to a building-the control building. Buildings of various dimensions were scattered everywhere, all separated by a splitting tarmac road wide enough to facilitate a truck. The non-descript grey of the walls contrasted with the dark ground, even in this early light. Snake proceeded east towards the control building. At a t-junction in the endless grey walls, Snake spotted a guard with his back to him. This one had the same uniform-green with red beret, but he carried a laser-sighted Scorpion SMG. Again, the Soliton radar neglected to inform him of this potential assailant. Snake continued forward, ignoring him and the occasional door he passed. Finally, the path ended and Snake was faced by another factory building, around which was the vast control building, with two rusted loading bays and a checkpoint for vehicles to pass set into a small brick extension that again differed sharply with the uniform grey of the rest of the building. The main part of the building had a massive window that filled the length and height of the second floor. No security measure seemed to oppose him and the light was growing, so Snake opened one of the double glass doors, which were unbefitting next to the rest of the drab exterior.

The inside was as drab as the outside with more grey walls. He found himself in a narrow corridor that turned left and right. Snake started left, towards the extension. This opened out into a place that was styled much as a waiting room would be, with two folding chairs and a dead plant. An open door between a chair and the plant led to a small kitchen. Two more doors were set into the opposite side of the room; one had a small window in the top. Snake turned the old-fashioned doorknob, but the door was locked. Looking through the glass, he saw that it was a booth with the control for the barrier in the checkpoint. He also saw that the window that separated the booth for the barrier was open. Snake backtracked and climbed through the window. A clipboard fell with a clatter as he pulled himself over the desk that was fixed into the wall. He picked it up, and he could tell that it was a report for deliveries, each report giving two dates, the name of the company it was delivered by and whether the products had been delivered. Most deliveries had been completed, one further up the page had been cancelled and the most recent, dated at a week before, seemed to be pending. Snake took his HD digital camera from his equipment and took a picture of the sheet of notepaper. He looked around the room, but found nothing but an empty filing cabinet and a carbine in a hollow spot in the desk. This gun didn’t have a fingerprint reader, but Snake replaced the weapon all the same.

The second door was unlocked. It appeared to be a temporary storage room, with boxes of uniforms, tinned food and fingerless gloves. There was a box with mismatched combat knives, similar to the knife the man in the factory had had. He found a small crate with various assault and carbine rifles that were separately packaged. They were certainly black-market goods. Snake examined an M4 assault rifle. There was a finger print-reader on this one, but it was unused. After some thought, he decided to keep it; just in case, he supposed. He also procured a belt of chaff grenades and a dented set of thermal goggles. Snake started towards a large crate that had caught his eye even as he walked in before he heard footsteps. He quickly hid beneath the cardboard box that he had taken from the factory office. This one didn’t have the luxury of a slit to see through, so Snake made a mental note to replace it. The sound of footsteps was getting closer, and with it came the sound of a large keychain and a deep voice muttering. “Kid forgot to lock the door again... I don’t know what you were thinking, putting him in charge of inventory.”

The voice was South-Western European, maybe Spanish or Portuguese but again, it was a fairly young voice. Another voice sounded, even though Snake distinctly heard one set of footsteps. “He gets the job done. Good with numbers. I wouldn’t put him in charge of the children. If he left that door unlocked, those bastards would run amok. We weren’t like that when we were kids, did we?” “No, sir,” the European said, who, as far as Snake could tell, was rummaging in a nearby box. The other man seemed to be standing at the door. “Of course not,” he said. “We would have been shot.” “You wouldn’t have been.” Snake detected envy in that sentence. The second man laughed, and the pause between the statement and the laugh made it sound very deliberate. “Maybe. But the fact is that these children don’t appreciate what we do for them. Maybe we should shoot one or two. Keep ‘em in line.” There was a long pause. The rummaging had stopped, and the only sound to be heard was the slight rustle of one of the men’s uniform. The European spoke next, slowly and cautiously. “I don’t know how they’ll take it.” “Who?” The man fabricated another hiatus and another deliberate laugh. “Them? I doubt they’ll care. They want us for one thing only, but we have our own agenda. They mightn’t even find out.” The European sounded like he was panicking now. Snake heard him stand up sharply. “They will find out. They find out everything. What if they need those children?” The other man sounded calm and almost as if he was enjoying this little exchange. “They know what we’re doing and they support us. And besides-they could get children from anywhere they wanted, they wouldn’t need the stress of someone with a weapon such as ours coming after them should the children be lifted.” Snake’s heart jumped slightly. He seemed to be referring to Metal Gear. The European sighed. He spoke with audible humility, as if he thought he would be punished for his rash words. “I’m sorry. You know best, sir.” “You need not look at my feet, my friend. We are men here, equals, as well as the product of the greatest soldier of the twentieth century.” “Thanks you, sir.” The European man said. One of the men inhaled and exhaled audibly. “Now,” the other man said. “I believe it’s your turn to watch the barrier? I believe another delivery is due.” “Oh, yes sir,” the European said. The men left, and the door was locked with a decisive click. The footsteps faded and Snake folded his box up thoughtfully. He moved towards the large crate and, aided by a nearby crowbar, opened it. Before Snake could look at its contents, a familiarly shrill ring sounded in his ear, and he promptly answered the call. “Otacon,” he said. “Hey Snake. Got any info for us?” Otacon asked. “Yeah,” Snake said as he snapped a quick picture of the crate with his camera. “I have a photo of all recent incoming deliveries. It gives the names of the companies they were delivered by. I overheard two guards talking about a weapon and it looks like I found a shipment of plated camo armour, several inches thick. I have a picture of that too.” “Good work, Snake. I’m receiving your photos now.” “One more thing, Otacon,” Snake said. “It sounds like there are children being held in the complex. They may be being used as labour, but...it doesn’t really seem that way...” “Ok, Snake,” Otacon said after allowing Snake a brief, pensive pause. “See if you can find those children, and I’ll see to them being recovered after the mission. And don’t worry, Snake: Natasha is currently under 24-hour surveillance, and she won’t be harmed.” “Good. I’ll continue with the mission then...”

Snake lit a cigarette, looked at it, and then put it out. He might as well quit smoking if he was carrying Foxdie; a strange philosophy, perhaps, but one that made as much sense as fighting, and possibly dying for something he believed in. He didn’t want to lose sight of these things, as he imagined Grey Fox did. As a reaction, Snake lit another cigarette and smoked this one. Did Grey Fox lose sight in what he believed in? He claimed not, even in his death; but even so, he was a weapon with no name and no country to pledge it to. This was probably the reason most soldiers joined Outer Heaven, and shared Big Boss’ dream. But then, Big Boss had seen the volatile conditions of the Cold War, the age of spies and treachery. Now the world faces a common enemy – terrorism. Terrorism was wrong. For every person who is killed by terrorism, dozens or hundreds of lives are ruined as a result. Snake didn’t need a leader to turn to because he had an enemy to fight, and right now, Metal Gear threatened to act as a vehicle for terrorists and terrorism. Metal Gear could also start nuclear war and global conflict. The idea of the walking tank had somehow leaked from Zanzibar or Outer Heaven when it should have died with its inventor. Snake’s last mission was to erase the memory of Metal Gear from the earth.

The cigarette had been smoked down to the filter, and Snake dropped it and stepped on it. The door was locked, so Snake used one of the combat knives and the butt of his M9 to break the lock. The enemy would notice the broken lock, but that couldn’t be helped. Snake left to go back from where he came, and passed the door he had used to enter the building. There were stairs beside a door to a large lobby, and he used them to go to the second floor. Halfway up the flight, he received a call from Otacon, who advised him to use the compact disk he had provided to get the information they needed. “Just pop the disk into the drive of the main computer and it will automatically download any relevant files,” Otacon explained. “What sort of security can I expect up here, Otacon?” Snake asked. “Nothing you can’t handle,” Otacon assured him. “The disk will do its own work, and there shouldn’t be any guards.” Otacon paused. “There may be someone up there to monitor or use the equipment. There will probably be some cameras.” Snake proceeded cautiously to the landing, and turned right thinking that he would explore the eastern side of the building first. He soon came to a door that was fitted with a key-card reader that was the most modern piece of equipment he had seen here. After some thought, Snake put on his thermal goggles. He could now see through the door, and the distinctive shape of a warm body through it. He then loaded his M4 assault rifle, fired three rounds down the corridor, and ran back around the corner. Snake was prepared for the guard as he ran through the door towards him. He hadn’t called for help, a fact on which Snake had counted on. The guard slowly sidled into Snake’s view and he shot him in the arm with his SOCOM before the guard could shoot him. The guard dropped his gun and cried out. Snake aimed his own gun at the guard’s head where he could see it and growled, “You’re going to help me.”

Five minutes later, Snake stepped over the unconscious guard. He had found a bank of consoles that controlled the security cameras, which he used to disconnect the cameras and shut them down. He now headed towards the western side of the building, and came to the room with the large window, which took up the length and height of that wall. Only three now blind cameras that were set high up into the wall guarded it. The room was similar to the one he had met Otacon in, in Shadow Moses, with computers running around all the walls, and more in the centre of the room. Snake looked apprehensively at the nearest camera before walking in. Only one computer seemed to have been turned out, a dinosaur that had been fitted with a CD drive in the centre of the room. With the CD ready, Snake pressed the button on the drive and the disk tray slid neatly open. He put the CD in, and the moment the disk tray closed, the screen went black. Then a series of commands flashed on the screen too quick for Snake to read. These disappeared to give way to:

REQUESTED FILES FOUND
DOWNLOADING (26) FILES ON TO HARDWARE

The percentage of the files downloaded crept up below this. Snake turned away from the computer feeling somewhat relieved. He had complete faith in Otacon to find the files on a computer he had never seen, but he was never entirely sure that there were files to be found. The building’s shadow still fell long over the tarmac outside, as Snake observed from the big window, but no time could afford to be wasted. High morning might bring unwanted activity to the complex. Snake was about to turn to check on the computer’s progress when he heard a familiar female voice.

“Snake, I finished the monthly report on the-” The woman’s steady voice turned immediately to alarm as she said “Who the hell are you?!” By this time, Snake had already turned to the woman and had drawn his M9 on her. He didn’t like aiming a gun-and a tranq gun at that-on a woman, but in Snake’s experience, it wasn’t good to let down his guard, not that he ever had with a woman. The woman was blond, with pretty but mature facial features. She was dressed in fashionable, but still casual winter clothes, but still looked out of place in an area where most wore uniforms and at least one gun. She was at least twelve feet away, but the shot wouldn’t be a problem. “I’m the one with the gun, so I’ll be asking you that question.” The woman hesitated, her eyes on the gun and her hands in the air. “Snake... I’m Holly White...”

“Holly...” Snake said. Holly dropped her arms and ran to Snake where she threw them around him. “Solid Snake...” she said, and as she stepped away, he expression turned impatient. “Why did you run out on me?” Snake’s mind turned reluctantly to Zanzibar Land. Holly had infiltrated Zanzibar as a reporter, investigating the area’s public side. She was really gathering intelligence to aid Snake in his mission, and had proved extremely useful. Holly had been discovered as a spy before the end of the mission, and when Snake came to rescue her, he had been stopped temporarily by her attractiveness. Later, they held off a dozen or more guards to reach a helicopter. On a sudden impulse during the debriefing with the colonel, Snake had run out, away to Alaska where he quickly became an alcoholic.

“I had to...escape my father’s shadow. I went to Zanzibar to do that, but killing him didn’t work.” Holly let Snake reflect for a moment before asking “And have you done that? Escaped your father I mean.” This was a question Snake often considered. He had freed himself in a way his father had been unable to, but wasn’t he still bound to his legacy? Was he even bound to his downfall, preordained to meet a similar fate? Naomi Campbell’s imposter said that Snake should be able to rise above his father’s genes and live the remainder of his cursed life with FOXDIE. Liquid said otherwise, that he, as his father’s clone, would never leave the battlefield. “My father will always have an impact on my life, I guess.” Holly nodded. “I understand. And I know what you were sent to do. I was sent to help you again. We had been expecting you to arrive here for awhile. We knew you would pick this mission up.” Holly’s voice dropped to a whisper. “You need to end this, Snake. They’re gonna threaten the American government with Metal Gear.” Snake considered this. “We’ll get to Metal Gear in a second. First, who were you sent by?” Still whispering-“I can’t tell you. But I suppose you could figure it out.” “Ok,” Snake said. “What do the terrorists want?” Holly turned away from Snake and started pacing. “First, they want to be classed as a small country-like the Vatican in Rome-as well as immunity from other countries from various things. From there, still using Metal Gear, they could instigate and fuel global conflicts, and recruit more soldiers for their cause.” “What is their cause?” Snake asked, fearing the answer. “To carry on the fight. To give soldiers a reason to fight. To give those compelled to war a country to fight for.” “Outer Heaven,” Snake finished. Holly nodded. “Exactly; Outer Heaven under Zanzibar’s banner and anthem. You have to destroy the vestiges of Outer Heaven and Metal Gear before they can grow again.”

This was a very real threat. Somehow, Outer Heaven kept finding a way out of the rubble in which Snake had left it since destroying the original. Even with Metal Gear about to go public, he had hoped Outer Heaven had died with Liquid. “How do they know about Outer Heaven? And Zanzibar Land?” Holly shook her head. “I can only guess that they were survivors of Zanzibar.” Snake granted. “The soldiers I’ve seen would have been children during Zanzibar.” Holly only shook her head again. “They’re all quite young,” she agreed. “But Snake-they have the same Metal Gear that was in Zanzibar. I saw it before they captured me, and they let me wander around here. It has some differences, but it’s basically the same monster. And I couldn’t tell but I think it’s finished. People working here have been hurrying around, talking to each other urgently. Something’s gonna happen, I think, and soon.” Snake ignored all this for the time being, despite that strange appearance of a Metal Gear other than REX. He had just remembered something. “You didn’t recognise me to begin with, but you called me Snake. Why?” Holly smiled, gravely. “The leader, the man who would be ruler of Outer Heaven, his name is Naked Snake.” “Naked Snake? He wasn’t a member of FOXHOUND?” “I don’t think so,” Holly said slowly. Snake dismissed this too. “I overheard some guards talking about children. One of them may have been him... Naked Snake.” Holly nodded again, he smile changing subtly. “Yes. There are children being kept in the west of the complex. The guards here had originally let them ran around in certain areas, and that’s mostly why you’ll see a simple security system where Metal Gear was being assembled.” Snake remembered how eerie it seemed in Zanzibar that children were wandering the sewers and the residential floor. Holly went on. “Now they lock them in a small building near the factory. I go in there sometimes, and talk to the younger children. I get their meals and stuff. They like me. I never thought I’d be good with kids...” Holly’s smile faded. “You have to let them free. I could go over there and let them out, bring them to the staff exit nearby while you deal with Snake and Metal Gear.” Snake shook his head. “There are guards. They won’t take well to you herding children away like a parody of the Pied Piper of Hamlin.” Snake thought quickly. “One more thing. Do you know how to destroy Metal Gear without a fight? I can fight it, if it comes to it. But if I can finish this cleanly, I will.” Holly thought for a moment. “Well, there’s one thing I can think of. Most of the fuel for the machines is kept onsite, in big tanks next to the factory. If you were to blow them up, with some C4 maybe, it might damage it, or bring the roof down on it.” A radio suddenly squawked from within Holly’s coat, and she removed it in time to hear: “Holly! We have an intruder! A soldier was found in the abandoned factory! He said that he had caught a man who shot him with a tranquilizer gun at close range! Where are you?!” Snake recognised the voice as the calm one from the delivery storage room. Holly’s voice regained its cool overtones that had thawed while talking to Snake. “I’m filing this months’ report, sir.” A moment later: “I want you with the children until I call for you!” “Right away sir,” Holly responded, replaced the radio, and smiled at Snake. “How did you shoot that soldier right up close? They know some kind of martial combat I’ve never seen.” “We can talk about that later, for now you have to get to those children. They’re near the factory you say? You should give me a head-start over there. I’ll give you time to get them out. Is there an armoury on the way?” “I believe there’s one along the north wall, and it’s marked with a red door.” Holly pointed to a door across the room. “You can use that exit, it will bring you right to the front.” She reached up on her toes and kissed Snake in the corner of the mouth, and before he had realised what he was doing, he had kissed her full on the lips. Now he was caressing her face. “Be careful,” he warned, before taking the disk from the computer’s drive (the monitor now reading ‘SELECTED FILES DELETED’) and pushing the emergency exit door out.

The complex was now bathed in sunlight. Snake descended a rusted staircase and ran quickly around the extension to the cover of the buildings. His visibility wasn’t much impaired; he was still on the morning side of noon, and was heading west. SOCOM drawn, Snake moved cautiously along the northernmost wall of the complex, quickly scanning the doors as he passed. It was only luck that Snake spotted the glint of the sniper’s scope and recognised it for what it was. He ducked left, into a shaded passageway moments before the loud ‘CRACK!’ and the sound as a high calibre bullet slammed onto the tarmac. Snake ran, head held low through the rabbit-warren of drab grey walls, keeping to the more narrow alleys. It was then heard the thundering footsteps of half a dozen and the urgent cry of “Move!” It was hard to judge where the sounds were coming from; noises bounced off of the walls, and his enemies could be behind him or ahead, left or right. Snake ran into a clearing and to his right caught sight of the assault team. They ran into two, tightly packed lines or three. The front most two had assault shields, and all had assault rifles, black market pistols and shrapnel-masks, the crowns and backs of which had been spray-painted red. Now they spread out into an arrowhead formation, again with the shield-guys at the front, as they sprinted towards Snake, who darted ahead and back into the cover of the buildings. He made no effort to conceal the sound of his footsteps, as this would have been impossible in such close quarters. He flitted left and right, and found himself at the northern wall again. Snake spotted a man with a sniper-rifle on a nearby roof and without thinking, raised the SOCOM and shot twice. The first shot found the sniper’s arm, and he dropped the sniper rifle. The second found his head as the rifle clattered on the flat roof. The monstrous footfalls could be heard again, like a well organised mob baying for blood. Looking around, Snake spotted the red door-the armoury-and the assault team rounded the corner as Snake burst inside. He had enough time to draw his M4 before the door exploded inwards, almost taking it off of its flimsy hinges. Eyes were everywhere, the slits in the masks under the helmets, the barrels of the team’s guns. Snake fired, and one man fell before him in a fountain of blood. Snake kicked him and he fell back into the remainder of the team. This caused a man to drop his shield, and moments later several bullets slammed into his chest. Snake kicked the door in again, and quickly reloaded, but the men stopped coming. He had counted three fallen men, which meant three probably remained. Peering out of the door would be suicidal. Snake unclipped his remaining stun grenade and threw it out the door. “Grenade!” a guard screamed. The noise of the flash-bang with the wall between him and it was loud but not deafening. He stepped over the bodies out the door narrowly escaping a hail of bullets that was fired by a man standing to the right of the door. Snake shot him twice in the chest. To the left of the door was another guard, this one with a ruined right hand squinting in his general direction. The other shield was at his feet. The pistol in his left hand was shaking visibly. He took a shot to the head. One man remained. Snake stepped back, and reloaded his M4, as he re-entered the canopy of buildings. Breathing hard, walking slowly, and listening intently, Snake held his rifle ready to fire. He heard no noises. Minutes seemed to pass as Snake circled the area. He returned to the northern wall for the third time when he heard a brushing noise than suggested only movement, not danger. It was then that a body-that of the sniper on the roof-was dropped on him and Snake was knocked to the ground. The last member of the assault team stood over him and the M4 roared in Snakes hands. He wasn’t aware than he was roaring with it. The soldier’s knees were shot out from under him, and Snake shuffled out from the sniper before the other soldier could fall on him. He did indeed fall, and with a thud on the sniper. Snake stood up and sighed. Now that the men had been eliminated the adrenaline left him quickly. He walked back to the armoury where he found C4, grenades and an unused Stinger missile launcher. There were no missiles, but that’s what he had his Infinity Bandanna for. Snake didn’t think the presence of the missile launcher strange until it was too late and the whole world was on fire.

“Otacon.”
“I’m here Snake.”
Snake wondered what to say. He had called to check in with Otacon before moving in on Metal Gear.
“I’m about to proceed to the factory where Metal Gear was being assembled. These guys know what I’m after, so I doubt if they’ll make things easy. I have intelligence that there are fuel tanks near the factory that should bring the roof in. If that fails, I found a Stinger missile launcher that will bring it down. I have a friend on the inside who will get the nearby children out before they get caught in the blast. But there’s something else. These terrorists don’t seem to have built REX, but an updated version of the Metal Gear D I fought at Zanzibar.” “This is strange,” Otacon said. “It keeps going back to Zanzibar.” “Yeah, I know,” Snake said. “But what about REX? These guys bought the plans for REX but built an entirely different machine. Do you think I have the REX files on the disk you gave me?” Otacon considered this, and sighed audibly. “I don’t know Snake. When you get back here, we’ll take a look at the disk, and then keep our ears out. You have to come back alive to take out Metal Gear if it’s being constructed somewhere else too.” “Nice to know that I’m needed,” Snake said, and disconnected the call. He exited the armoury, wiping his face of the blood on it with his bandanna before replacing it. Snake’s SOCOM was drawn again and he started running west.

There was a small gap between the large children’s building and the outer wall, and a smaller one between the children’s building and Metal Gear’s warehouse. There seemed to be no-one around. Snake used the thermal goggles to check this, shading it from the worst of the sun. There were defiantly warm bodies in the children’s building, moving around restlessly. He walked behind it, then behind the factory, and found that Holly had been correct about the fuel tanks. There were half a dozen rows of four fuel tanks, unmarked except for their white, flaking paint. He methodically placed four C4s for every row; two for each outer tank. Not risking a sprint across the courtyard in front of the factory, Snake went back into the cover of the buildings and used them to get a vantage point on the tanks to wait for Holly.

Twenty minutes later, Snake was considering blowing the tanks. Holly hadn’t arrived, but from what she said, time could not be wasted. If he was to blow up the tanks now, he could only hope the children could escape the building. His decision was spared, however, as twenty soldiers came charging out of the two passages behind him, and ten more in front of him, all armed and very angry. Snake held his hands up, contemplating when to grab the detonator, and one soldier came up to him and drove his knee into Snake’s stomach. Snake fell back into another soldier’s arms. One took the Stinger from his back and toss it to another. His guns, although clearly visible, were not taken. A large man with a green bomb-blast suit (the helmet of which, Snake was bitterly amused to see was red) stepped forward. He was armed with a gun that doubled as a grenade launcher. “Snake,” he said, and Snake seemed to shiver at his mechanical voice. For one moment he remembered Big Boss at Zanzibar, horribly disfigured from the explosion at Outer Heaven. “You faced me at Zanzibar land and beat me. Do you remember?” the bomber asked. Snake remembered a man he had defeated who had attacked him with bombs. He nodded with a grant. “You left me for dead up on my vantage point. But our children here, they saved me. I was given artificial limbs, an artificial voice. An artificial live is what you gave me, Snake, and I would wish to pay you back my ending yours. In fair combat. Naked Snake brought you back to Zanzibar, and now I shall rewind the clocks to blow you up. I would have imagined you would have been welcomed to the original Outer Heaven, but I shall send you to hell.” Snake said nothing as he grabbed for the detonator and clicked it. Nothing happened. The bomber laughed at him as he clicked it again. “We gave you a fake detonator to get you out here. That Stinger too. Those tanks behind me won’t explode. The snake’s been caught in a trap...”

Guards blocked all exits from the massive courtyard. A dozen stood in front of the fuel tanks and the useless plastic explosive. They were here to watch the show, but they were ready to shoot if things got out of hand. It was like a show for them, Snake realised. These men risked their lives, not expecting to be caught by a stray bullet or explosion. The exchange between Snake and the bomber was short, and it started with a grenade pumped from the bomber’s grenade launcher. Snake jumped away, and the grenade exploded, damaging the tarmac. He felt the heat of if it, and expected to come out of this fight with a burn at best. Snake did what he thought would be the only way out of this fight. He ran towards the bomber. Another grenade screamed past his shoulder; and this was followed by a hail of bullets. These missed Snake. The bomber screamed, and it sounded like grinding glass. Snake reached the bomber and jammed the SOCOM up the helmet and shot several times. The volume of the grinding-glass scream rose and fell, and Snake was grabbed by instantly strong metal arms. The bomber fell and brought Snake with him, the screams continuing even after its owner’s death. Snake used the grenade launcher to pry himself from the bomber’s grasp. He thought he was bleeding from the face and abdomen, but not seriously. The guards were shouting by now, reaching for guns. One in front of the fuel tanks had an M63. Snake pumped off a grenade in that direction, and he heard someone scream “Run! They’re gonna fucking blow!”

Those in front of the fuel tanks were lifted off of their feet and were dead before screams rose in their throats and they hit the ground 30 feet later. The first few blasts spat fire at those lined up on a wall to the left of the tanks, and they ran and rolled around shrieking hysterically. Chunks of debris killed more. Rounds blew up in their clips and Snake saw one man get shot in the foot to fall into the flames below him as he ran. The heat was intense, even where Snake was, and more explosions followed the first few. The more quick-witted guards were running towards Snake behind him, but keeping their distance as he still the grenade launcher. He turned, and kept them at their distance with his M4. Many ran to the safety of the buildings. When the remaining soldiers were either fled or dead, Snake threw down the M4 turned his attention back to the factory. The roof had broken in three main places, and as he watched, one slid off and fell into the children’s building, which was afire. The building’s wall cracked, damaging its integrity considerably. By now children of all ages streamed from the buildings, running, for the most part, to the exit; and avoiding the fire and the occasional explosions. Several children, Snake saw, had handguns pointing at him. One shot several times at him, all going high. Not taking chances, Snake shot him with the M9 Berretta, as well as the others he saw with guns. Holly was nowhere to be seen. Just as children stopped leaving the building, it collapsed. Another sound accompanied this; not another explosion from the tanks, but the factories own collapsed roof being torn away. Snake ran for his Stinger as the creature similar to the one he thought he had buried at Zanzibar stepped from the wreckage. It was easily twenty feet bigger than its predecessor, green, and its legs seemed to thicker, reinforced. Those, Snake remembered, had been Metal Gear D’s downfall.

This model, Snake saw from the large stamp on one leg, was METAL GEAR D II. Below this OUTER HEAVEN was stamped. These legs, Snake was surprised to see, ended in feet. Snake touched the inside of his Infinity Bandanna where a double barrel was stitched, and several crates of Stinger missiles appeared beside him. One final jump and Metal Gear D II was free of the rubble, pneumatics screaming. The tarmac tore from the ground when it landed. Despite its unusually thick legs, the machine was incredibly deft. “Solid Snake!” Snake realised that the voice wasn't coming just from the machine-there seemed to be loudspeakers all behind him. “From what I've seen and heard today, you are worthy of the name our father gave us!” Snake's blood seemed to freeze in his veins as his heart jumped. Was Naked Snake another clone? It seemed unlikely, it appeared that Snake was his creators' goal, and that Liquid had been the means to create him. One more clone didn't serve a purpose. Metal Gear seemed to inhale and exhale as Naked Snake continued his speech “But Big Boss did not train you, did not nurture you, did not father you as he did me. He put a gun and knife in my hand, weapons he had used in Russia in the 60s he said, and he taught me to use them! Without the skills he gave me, you will fall today, as boldly as you stand with a missile launcher in your hands!” Snake granted laughter. Naked Snake’s boldness was equally as justified given that he was sitting in thirty foot high bipedal tank. “You will notice that Metal Gear D II was not built for nuclear weapons, but for surface-to-air and ground combat, intended to fight armies of infantry and tanks in a squad of up to a dozen! This, we are told by our benefactors, is the future of what will be the Metal Gear pandemic! Mobile units will be marched into cities, and our opposition shall stay in their hidey-holes out of fear; and their pockets-our pockets-are limitless! We will march into Washington a year from now, and thousands will flock to watch us in awe as we hold the White House hostage. Our legs will not be our downfall again; and with the reinforced armour on them, and the feet with rotating joints I ingeniously added, they will succeed for us, just as they did for man! On this day, Outer Heaven will rise!”

Snake smiled, and decided to take a chance to provoke Naked Snake’s anger, blind his logic and strategy. “That won’t happen,” he said. “Your ‘benefactors’, who are they?” Snake had been talkiuuuuung at almost a mutter, but Naked Snake replied, and with doubt in his voice. “They are the Patriots, they affiliate themselves with Outer Heaven.” “But you depend on them,” Snake replied. “They can do what they like with you. And they sound like the type that use people with separate interests and agendas. They recognised you in your passion for the battlefield and they exploit it, but in the end, you will end up at the whim of another system of government, to be cast aside just as you claim the US did. Your ‘Heaven’ will be no republic, but a dictatorship. If I’m wrong-” Snake held out his arms, the end of the Stinger resting on his shoulder. “-You will kill me now, and create your false republic. But you’re in debt to them aren’t you? You let them buy REX through you so I would come to you to be killed by Metal Gear D II.” Snake hesitated, gathering his remaining words. “But if I’m right, my fight won’t end with you. If I defeat you, Metal Gear will become public overnight. We both intend to carry on our fight, but one of ours ends here, in Canada under this cold sun.” When Naked Snake next spoke, he sounded calm, but anger lurked before the surface, and this calculated manner made Naked Snake’s words and mind seem to live up to his psychotic demands. “It’s a shame you couldn’t come with us Solid Snake. You would be honoured in Outer Heaven, I think, even after Zanzibar.” Snake shook his head. “I have a responsibility to this world.” “Mmm,” Naked Snake murmured, and this sound coming from the loudspeakers seemed to reverberate in Snake’s gut. “Then the time has arrived to end your life, try to put up a fight Snake!” This was somewhat conceited, Snake decided, given that Snake had destroyed three Metal Gears previously, one a few times the height of this. He raised the Stinger, and the launcher found Metal Gear’s vital spots. When one, a spot on his chest, locked on, Snake fired.

The missile hit dead centre in the cancerous monster’s chest, and its legs rocked backwards, but it stayed in its feet as the feet remained squarely on the ground. It started sprinting ridiculously towards Snake, legs pumping, pistons working. Snake ran to the side as Metal Gear jumped with its thick legs bent forward. The Metal Gear missed, but Snake was hit with a large chunk of rock in the leg, but it was nothing he would feel while the adrenaline was flowing like a river down a waterfall. The upper part of Metal Gear D II rotated to face him, and duel rail guns were fired. Snake sprinted and dived behind a piece of fallen roof moments before he would have been ripped to shreds. He heard rockets being fired and Snake quickly climbed the four-foot high lump of roof and leaped towards the incoming rockets, which had been fired from the outer sides of Metal Gear’s legs, four in all. Two immediately swerved to flames near the torn-down factory, and the remaining two tried to swerve towards him, but went wide as Snake had hoped. Snake ran again and Metal Gear D II’s upper part rotated again, rail guns alight. Then D II’s legs turned to him and the machine was loping towards him. Snake jumped at the last moment and D II slammed into a building. He had a glimpse of a black box on the Metal Gear’s back, but had no time to fire a missile at it as D II rotated and turned its legs toward him. The whirring sounds of the Metal Gear rotating and its footfalls were punctuated with gunfire-like noises. Snake ran in the same direction as the Metal Gear had been turning and into the cover of the buildings. The machine needed to turn its legs and this slowed its spin. Snake tore through the complex in a relatively straight line as fast as he could, being weighed down by the Stinger missile launcher. He saw a flash of red and stopped. A ladder was welded to the nearest wall. Snake pushed the Stinger ahead of him as he climbed. There were a number of crates on the roof, and Snake used these as cover as Metal Gear approached. He heard buildings falling, and under this, shouts of soldiers. Snake peered over a crate, and saw the top of Metal Gear’s head. The man inside apparently saw him as a number of missiles were pumped out of his back. Snake hurried to a catwalk that joined this building to another, and then saw another which he also crossed. When the explosions seemed to have stopped, Snake ended up at the back-left of Metal Gear D II. He quickly aimed at the black box on its back with the Stinger and fired. Then he carefully dropped down from the roof without checking to see whether or not his attack had been successful. The Metal Gear was still making noises, so Snake, jogging now, followed the machine’s path of destruction back north.

Had Metal Gear D II not been impaired in any way, Snake wouldn’t have been able to beat the Metal Gear. The machine had created its own downfall in the debris it left behind, having to walk around large pieces of roof and wall because, Naked Snake was horrified to discover, its feet seemed to have become stuck. It was still standing, but navigating all the fallen buildings and jumping had become impossible. In addition, Naked Snake could not rely on any of the weapons he had had at his disposal a few minutes ago. It didn’t matter, he thought, if it came to it, he would squash Solid Snake with Metal Gear’s destroyed feet. The only viable route north seemed to be along the complex’s western wall. Metal Gear D II progressed slowly and cautiously. Naked Snake often scanned around him for the affliction that was Solid Snake. How could Big Boss’ son – his clone – be so ignorant of the fact that his battle and his cause were false? If he had Big Boss’ genes he would be worshipped among all soldiers on both sides of every conflict he encountered! He would be known for decades as the man who gave people a reason to fight in this government-manufactured Age of Peace. Naked Snake was still thinking these thoughts when Metal Gear D II’s screen went dark and the itinerant weapon fell.

Snake had been waiting for his final battle with this particular Metal Gear that would mark his constant war with the machine built not to win wars, but to stir and fuel them. Metal Gears, Snake had come to realise, were like people. They were thought to be superior to all others that came before because of their two legs, but they were just another means to fight. Men like Naked Snake suited a Metal Gear or two perfectly. They were two war-machines carrying on the eternal fight. When the crash came, Snake didn’t pick up his Stinger, but instead walked to the source of the noise. He found that Metal Gear had tripped over its own enormous legs, helped out by its paralyzed feet. Naked Snake was dying, but he would offer his explanation for what he did, would try to justify his actions. And Snake would listen.

Not all the children of Zanzibar were war orphans. Soldiers often came and took children from families affected by war. The day Naked Snake, who’s real name was Matthew, renounced his father was the day he and his younger sister were taken by men. He had cowered, and eventually ran when they came. Then Matt and his sister, Rachel, had been taken to South America with lots of other children, and were allowed to wander in certain areas of Zanzibar Land. The men were nice to them, some adopting favourites and giving them sweets when they passed. Holly White, the reporter, had been particularly nice to Rachel, who liked dressing up.
“You met Rachel, actually. You thought she was Holly,” Naked Snake breathed to Snake, who was leaning down to hear the dying man. Snake only nodded to allow Naked Snake to continue.

Big Boss also had a favourite. Matthew had been he. Even in his cyborg state he had trained the child personally, given him an M1A1191 and knife he had used in Russia during the Cold War, as well as his codename, Naked Snake. Then the other man came. Solid Snake. Matthew had seen him himself, asking questions to some of the children, who had responded pleasantly enough. A while later news swept among the children that the man with the eye-patch was dead, and that other men were coming, just like that Snake Man. These men took them away from their life associated with war, but not before Matthew stowed Metal Gear D’s plans. Men were everywhere; few of them appeared to be old or war-hardened enough to need war like junkies needed their fix. So Matthew, Rachel and the other children were removed, and scattered into relief centres, and children and foster homes.
“My sister and I were treated badly in children’s home. None of the children came near me; they saw the war in me. Same with some of the carers. I protected my sister the best I could.”

Finally, Naked Snake decided to find some of his Zanzibar peers. He wasn’t surprised that some had already found their way back to war; some were mercenaries, others were criminals. Some of them had money. They offered this money up to Naked Snake. One knew of an organisation called the Patriots. He wasn’t really clear what they did, but he approached them. They knew of Zanzibar and supported Outer Heaven.

“But Outer Heaven doesn’t end with me, Solid Snake, you must realise that. The Patriots have REX and they will release it. And as long as people remember Big Boss, and as long as people hear his story, people will follow his cause. We, too, are the children of Big Boss. Outer Heaven will always rise again. ‘As long as there’re people there will always be war...’” “How do you know that I said that?” Snake asked. There was no answer, and Snake straightened up. He barely heard the sobs before he heard the gunfire. The first two bullets smashed into his left shoulder and the others went wide. Snake had turned around before he realised he had been hit. It was Naked Snake’s sister, Rachel. She was trying to reload a Desert Eagle that looked ridiculously out of proportion with the rest of her through her tears. Snake drew the first gun that came to hand and fired. The shot took her in the head. The gun had been the SOCOM. The shock of being shot and his exhaustion his Snake’s mind and he collapsed.

EPILOGUE:

Ring, ring.
...
“Snake, you ok?”
“I’m fine considering how rough the guys you sent are.”
“Metal Gear?”
“Destroyed. But REX is in another organisation’s hands. See what you can find on ‘The Patriots’”
“I’ll get right on it. Who was behind this?”
“The Patriots, apparently. It seems they were using the Zanzibar survivors to start battles and to threaten Washington.”
“Would these guys have had a chance?”
“To threaten Washington? I think so. They were going to send a dozen Metal Gears to the White House to pose their demands: to start the republic of Outer Heaven.”
“And their leader?”
“Naked Snake. Dead. He was psychotic, spent way to much time thinking about what he wanted. Maintained his beliefs to his death.”
“And what about the other soldiers?”
“There seemed to be few left. They won’t try to rebuild Outer Heaven without a leader, and they will probably go to mercenary jobs.”
“Are you up for your next Metal Gear? If what you’re saying is correct, REX will be wide open in the next few weeks.”
“I’m shot in the arm. If the next Metal Gear comes that soon, I’ll be destroying it single-handedly.”
“Then it shouldn’t be anything you haven’t done before.”

THE END

Note:

I'm surprised if you've read this far, and I have to say thanks.

If you liked it, I'm planning a Big Boss era fan-fic that could be set anywhere between The Boss leaving him and the events of Metal Gear 1 at Outer Heaven.

Watch out, Tom Clancy.

:D

Joking btw.