Read Online Metal Gear Solid: Guns of the Patriot by Project Itoh - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Project Itoh
Ads: Link
voice said.
Snake realized that he knew her. He had killed her brother, his old comrade. Snake had first crippled him in Zanzibar Land and stood by and watched him die on Shadow Moses. He was given the code name “Fox,” FOXHOUND’s highest honor. He was Big Boss’s ally. Gray Fox.
Fox’s sister took a syringe out of her coat pocket and slowly injected it into her neck.
She was Naomi Hunter, the creator of FOXDIE.
Snake muttered, “Naomi,” but he couldn’t tell if he had actually been able to voice the word or not. His consciousness was slowly fading.
Naomi discarded the empty syringe and turned her back.
“Snake, if you don’t want to be a prisoner of your fate … then go. Fulfill your destiny.”
Snake reached out for her, but pain shot through the straining muscles in his arm and chest, and he collapsed again. By the time he could look up, she was gone.
On the roof of the building, Liquid was boarding a transport helicopter, with Naomi already seated inside. Liquid removed his sunglasses and looked down at Snake with naked eyes. His face might have belonged to Revolver Ocelot, but the resentment festering within those eyes was all Liquid.
Liquid flashed a smile and got in the aircraft.
Snake found his life flashing before his eyes. “It’s not just a saying,” he told me later. “It really does happen.”
In one instant he saw with complete clarity the events of his life. He began to slip beyond the plane of consciousness.
The Iraqi heat when he was a Green Beret disabling Scud missiles in the Gulf War. His infiltration of Outer Heaven, his first mission with FOXHOUND. When he’d grown tired of war and moved to Canada and was forced back into service to respond to the disturbance in Zanzibar Land. Shadow Moses, where he first met his brother Liquid. The tanker in the Hudson Bay he boarded on behalf of his anti-Metal Gear NGO. When he snuck aboard the Big Shell facility, home to the terrorist organization Dead Cell, led by his second brother, Solidus.
Somewhere inside Snake, a voice spoke.
Hasn’t this been enough for one life?
You’ve fulfilled your duty.
You’ve fought more than enough battles.
No one will fault you if you perish here.
It’s time for you to fade into the shadows of history, Solid Snake.
But Snake wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.
If he died now, he’d die a captive of his own fate.
Snake let out a deep roar from the bottom of his gut. He raised his Operator to the sky and blindly fired until no bullets remained.
“I’ll show you!” he shouted. “I’ll make it to the source of my destiny!”
As the last vestiges of consciousness slipped away from Snake, the helicopter disappeared beyond the city.
ACT 2: SOLID SUN
LET ME TELL you a story about another Snake I knew.
First, I’ll have to be clear—this young man didn’t carry the same genetic makings of Liquid or Solidus. He wasn’t a clone or even a designer baby. His parents were a normal, loving married couple who did as normal, loving married couples do, and he was given life as a normal fetus inside a normal womb.
He was forced to relive Snake’s battles—he was raised to become Snake. He was created in an attempt to produce another Snake, not through genes but through memes .
But he didn’t become Snake.
He rejected the transformation. He found his footing and decided to walk his own path, not Snake’s.
Because he met the real Solid Snake. Because he saw the other man’s battles, the other man’s life.
His name was Jack.
He was once known as Snake. And he was once known as Raiden.
We don’t pay much attention to Africa. By “we,” I mean most of the world. Even now, as I write this, the number of lives being lost there is staggering, and the widespread starvation is unimaginable.
More than half of the nations in Africa had an average life expectancy of under forty—a shocking difference when compared to our expectations of lasting into our seventies or eighties, with plenty
Snake realized that he knew her. He had killed her brother, his old comrade. Snake had first crippled him in Zanzibar Land and stood by and watched him die on Shadow Moses. He was given the code name “Fox,” FOXHOUND’s highest honor. He was Big Boss’s ally. Gray Fox.
Fox’s sister took a syringe out of her coat pocket and slowly injected it into her neck.
She was Naomi Hunter, the creator of FOXDIE.
Snake muttered, “Naomi,” but he couldn’t tell if he had actually been able to voice the word or not. His consciousness was slowly fading.
Naomi discarded the empty syringe and turned her back.
“Snake, if you don’t want to be a prisoner of your fate … then go. Fulfill your destiny.”
Snake reached out for her, but pain shot through the straining muscles in his arm and chest, and he collapsed again. By the time he could look up, she was gone.
On the roof of the building, Liquid was boarding a transport helicopter, with Naomi already seated inside. Liquid removed his sunglasses and looked down at Snake with naked eyes. His face might have belonged to Revolver Ocelot, but the resentment festering within those eyes was all Liquid.
Liquid flashed a smile and got in the aircraft.
Snake found his life flashing before his eyes. “It’s not just a saying,” he told me later. “It really does happen.”
In one instant he saw with complete clarity the events of his life. He began to slip beyond the plane of consciousness.
The Iraqi heat when he was a Green Beret disabling Scud missiles in the Gulf War. His infiltration of Outer Heaven, his first mission with FOXHOUND. When he’d grown tired of war and moved to Canada and was forced back into service to respond to the disturbance in Zanzibar Land. Shadow Moses, where he first met his brother Liquid. The tanker in the Hudson Bay he boarded on behalf of his anti-Metal Gear NGO. When he snuck aboard the Big Shell facility, home to the terrorist organization Dead Cell, led by his second brother, Solidus.
Somewhere inside Snake, a voice spoke.
Hasn’t this been enough for one life?
You’ve fulfilled your duty.
You’ve fought more than enough battles.
No one will fault you if you perish here.
It’s time for you to fade into the shadows of history, Solid Snake.
But Snake wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.
If he died now, he’d die a captive of his own fate.
Snake let out a deep roar from the bottom of his gut. He raised his Operator to the sky and blindly fired until no bullets remained.
“I’ll show you!” he shouted. “I’ll make it to the source of my destiny!”
As the last vestiges of consciousness slipped away from Snake, the helicopter disappeared beyond the city.
ACT 2: SOLID SUN
LET ME TELL you a story about another Snake I knew.
First, I’ll have to be clear—this young man didn’t carry the same genetic makings of Liquid or Solidus. He wasn’t a clone or even a designer baby. His parents were a normal, loving married couple who did as normal, loving married couples do, and he was given life as a normal fetus inside a normal womb.
He was forced to relive Snake’s battles—he was raised to become Snake. He was created in an attempt to produce another Snake, not through genes but through memes .
But he didn’t become Snake.
He rejected the transformation. He found his footing and decided to walk his own path, not Snake’s.
Because he met the real Solid Snake. Because he saw the other man’s battles, the other man’s life.
His name was Jack.
He was once known as Snake. And he was once known as Raiden.
We don’t pay much attention to Africa. By “we,” I mean most of the world. Even now, as I write this, the number of lives being lost there is staggering, and the widespread starvation is unimaginable.
More than half of the nations in Africa had an average life expectancy of under forty—a shocking difference when compared to our expectations of lasting into our seventies or eighties, with plenty
Similar Books
