Metal Gear Solid: Elements of Destruction

Title: Metal Gear Solid: Elements of Destruction- Chapter 1: Mission

Author: The Ice Goddess (FrozenBlueIce)

Fandom: Metal Gear Solid

Feedback: All feedback is welcome, whether it be
negative or positive. I’m trying to improve
on my writing so, please be honest: frozenblueice@yahoo.com

Pairing: The main
pairing of this story is Snake/Otacon, which is obvious to anyone who knows of my
fondness for Hal Emmerich, so therefore alright to disclose. There are others, but if I told you what
they were, it’d ruin the story.

Series: No.
There may be sequels in the future, but right now that is looking
unlikely due to time constraints.

Rating: PG (this chapter only)

Disclaimer: All characters appearing in previous Metal
Gear Solid video games are the property of Konami Computer Entertainment of
Japan, and of their creator, Mr. Hideo Kojima.
All new characters are the property of The Ice Goddess. This is a work of fanfiction, and in no way,
shape, or form will I receive any monetary compensation for it. It is for entertainment purposes only.

Type: Action/Shounen-ai

Summary: This story takes place one year after the
events of “The Big Shell.” New
information found by Otacon sends Snake back into action. (That’s all I’m revealing!)

 

Chapter 1: Mission

 

“Finally,” Otacon shouted as he jumped up from his
chair. His limbs, tired and sore from
hours and hours of sitting, felt numb as he stretched them out for the first
time.

Solid
Snake, who had been cleaning his Socom, looked up from what he was doing, and
peered across the room at his friend.
Not being a man of many words, he silently waited for Otacon to explain
his excitement.

Hal
turned around, a look of relief on his face.
Yet something else, maybe disbelief, burned in his eyes. “Snake!
Come take a look at this!” he said.

Dave
coolly stood up and walked over to the computer, not a hint of urgency in his
stride. Leaning over, he looked at the
computer screen. Otacon glanced over
his shoulder as if needing to read the information a second time. The usually calm, emotionless, Solid Snake
widened his eyes, then furrowed his brow, pondering the information he had just
read.

“Are
you sure this is accurate?” he asked, pointing at the screen.

The
scientist nodded, pushing his glasses back up with his index finger. “Mmhm,” he affirmed. “Come on, you know I never get things like
this wrong,” Otacon said, a bit of injury in his voice, “You should know me
better than that.”

“I
know,” Snake said, “It’s just, well… Antarctica, Hal?” Snake was puzzled. “Why Antarctica?”

Otacon
sat back down at the computer and began clicking away at the keyboard. Snake watched closely as various encrypted
documents were cracked, then translated in a matter of minutes.

“It
took me weeks just to find traces of anything suspicious. Then weeks more just to find my way through
the first 100 levels of encryption.”

Otacon
drew in a breath, then let it out forcefully.
Weeks and weeks of work, nights upon sleepless nights had taken their
toll on him. But that was what things
were like as the main information officer of “Philanthropy”. Now that the computer aspect was done, it
was going to be Snake’s turn for sleepless nights handling the physically
exerting aspects of the job. “This,”
Otacon mused, “is really going to push his limits.”

Philanthropy
had been watching closely over Russia since it was there that had the greatest
militaristic unrest of late. Russian
nationalist figures like Sergei Gurlukovich and Revolver Ocelot had recently
given them a lot of work to do.
Thankfully, those players were taken out of the picture. But who knew how many more dangerous
figures, potentially thousands of times more dangerous than the previous two,
were marching around in some secret base with Russian world domination on their
minds, and copies of Metal Gears in their arsenals?

“These
are some that documents I found,” Otacon said, pointing to several file names
in his archives. “Do you remember
hearing, about three months ago, about the disappearance of two Russian Army
Scientists?”

Snake
nodded, “Yeah. They were supposed to be
the greatest military minds of our time.”
Snake paused for a moment, mbermbering something that Hal had told him
earlier. He raised his eyebrow in
query, “I thought you said that you found U.S. military documents claiming
knowledge of their whereabouts, and that they had simply come to the U.S. for
sanctuary?”

“A
slight smirk crossed Otacon’s lips, “I did.
But that’s what they want the world to think right now.” Hal scratched the back of his head, “You
see, I really got to thinking. Wouldn’t
the world be in a panic if they thought that the two most intelligent military
scientists were being held by some militaristic group, making weapons for them
to wage war with?”

“What
are you saying?” Snake pressed on.

“Well,
I thought that the logical conclusion would be that these U.S. documents were a
decoy for the truth. You know, to stop the
world’s citizens from breaking down.”
Otacon pressed a few more keys and a new document pulled up onto the
screen. “So I went back to the start,
and found this.” The information
officer gestured for Snake to have a closer look. “It should have been more obvious earlier, but at least I finally
got to the trof iof it all. The
scientists were captured by the RNF (Russian Nationalist Force).” Otacon pointed to some technological babble
on the screen. “See, this is the source
code for this document. I pulled it
directly from the RNF’s top secret network.
And believe me,” he added with a bit of pride in his accomplishment, “it
wasn’t remotely easy.”

Dave
half smiled at Hal. He wondered if it
was at all possible for the slender man’s chest to appear any broader than it
did after he had made that last statement.
Snake had to hand it to him. Hal
Emmerich was the best at what he did, and he had every right to be proud.

“So,
they’re holding him in some underground base in Antarctica?” the mercenary
probed for affirmation.

“Yep,”
Otacon stated. “A bit more hacking, and
I found the location right before I called you over here.”

Snake
nodded and read on, his eyes scanning the document. At the end of the last page, he was still confused, and it showed
plainly on his face. Otacon, being his
partner and good friend picked up on it right away. Snake never really said much unless he felt it necessary, so Hal
learned to pick up on Dave’s facial cues.
He really felt that he knew “The Great Solid Snake”ter ter than anyone
else on this Earth. He was right in
assuming so.

Very
few people have heard much else than the generic epics that were circulating
about him. Fewer people had the
pleasure, or displeasure if they were on the wrong side of the battlefield, of
meeting Snake in person. Fewer still
could manage to get the battle-hardened man to engage in friendly
conversation. Well, as friendly as
Snake would allow himself to be. Hal
Emmerich was one of those few people, and was perhaps the best friend he had ever
had.

Otacon was a shy individual who carried a constant
burden of an emotional and rather painful past. Yet he never failed to be gentle and kind, if even a bit naïve. He was a hopeless optimist, and also a
hopeless romantic, believing he could help save the world one mission of peace
at a time. Being a part of it all made
Snake wonder sometimes, if a bit of that naïve optimism had brushed off on him. Hal could tell that this bothered him, so he
never brought up that point with him.

“You’re wondering, ‘So what exactly is going on’, right
Snake?” Otacon spoke for his friend.

The other grunted a short affirmative and waited for
Otacon’s explanation.

“Well, Snake, to tell you the truth, I couldn’t dig up
any information about the specifics.”

The
information specialist paused to summarize his words. He knew how much his partner hated lengthy, long-winded
explanations. Snake was a “right to the
point” kind of guy. “For someone so
trained and collected,” Otacon thought to himself with a silent mental chuckle,
“Dave is a rather impatient man.”

“All
I know is,” he continued, sliding up his ever-falling glasses once more with a
quick gesture, “The RNF kidnapped Drs. Anja Raznov and Mikael Chetnik, and have
them working on something called the ‘E. Weapon Project’.”

“The
E. Weapon Project?” Snake asked as his interest grew. “This might be interesting.”

“Yes. This is where the ‘I don’t know’ part comes
in. There are no other traceable
documents with anything containing the project codename.” Otacon shrugged, “If I don’t know anything
else about it, I can’t search any deeper than I already have.”

Snake
nodded. “Do you think that they’re
building a special type of Metal Gear?” he asked.

“It’s
possible,” Dave’s friend replied, “but when I entered in words like ‘Metal
Gear’, ‘Rex’, and ‘Ray’, nothing even closely related popped up.” Otacon knitted his brow in deep
thought. He spun his chair around to
face Snake.

Dave
was leaning casually against the wall digging in his pockets for
something. If Hal was correct, it was
his cigarettes he was searching for. As
Snake produced a small box of Newports, Hal found himself shaking his
head. “I always reprimand him about
those cigarettes when I should be more worried about bullets whizzing past his
head,” he mused. With a click of the
lighter, the cigarette was lit, and Snake took in a deep drag, savoring the
flavor. He held the draw in for a few
moments before slowly blowing it out into a billow of gray-white smoke. Otacon found himself subconsciously waving
the smoke from his face. Snake’s vice
really got on his nerves.

“Sorry,”
Snake said opening the window next to him, “I forgot.”

Half-lying,
Hal replied, “It’s alright.”

Solid
Snake was not used to living with someone else. Even though they had been living together since the end of the
“Shadow Moses Incidenand and the beginning of Philanthropy, Dave had to remind
himself time and time again that cigarette smoke made the pale, skinny man that
he called friend, ill. Unfortunately a
habit was a habit, and since Snake had picked up smoking before he had even
started puberty, he doubted greatly that he’d be able to quit now. Besides, he didn’t want to. That nicotine and menthol rush was just what
he needed sometimes to calm his nerves.
Snake took another drrom rom his cigarette. He supposed that he could have worse habits…

Philanthropy had
a total of three official members, and two or three others who occasionally
offered them some assistance.

There was Mei Ling, who
though good at gathering information herself, was more apt at coming up with
useless proverbs than offering anything useful. Anything she could hack in to, Otacon could hack deeper. However, Mei was learning Hal’s secrets, and
she was quickly becoming better everyday.
Another thing to make Otacon proud:
teaching his student well, and watching her bloom. The two could not be more alike either. Both had that juvenile naïveté that made
Snake roll his eyes at. He wondered if
either person had even seen a battlefield.
Mei Ling lived in her own place in downtown New York City. She had her place filled with all of the
same extensive computer equipment that Otacon had. She worked from there when Otacon needed a break, though he
usually had to go back over her work and delve deeper into whatever it was she
found.

Then
of course there was Dave, a.k.a. Solid Snake, and Hal Emmerich, a.k.a.
Otacon. The two lived on the other side
of town in a small two bedroom apartment.
It was a makeshift base, perfect for such a small group. Guns, knives, and weapons of all kinds were
splayed out across the living room and Snake’s bedroom. It was a rather impressive arsenal for a
one-man army. Then there was, what
seemed like, miles of cables, bundled together at places, lining the
floor. Each set of wires ended at another
delicate piece of computer equipment.
The main terminal, attached to the most powerful of all of the machines,
was sitting on a cheap, metal-framed desk in Otacon’s room. It was from there that he dove into every
secret military network in the world, searching for any evidence of a new Metal
Gear or equally threatening weapon.
After all, it was Philanthropy’s main objective to expose and destroy
all of these weapons that would tip the balance of the world’s delicate arms
race standoff. Of course, for hopeless
dreamers like Hal Emmerich, the ultimate goal of his group was world peace.

Snake
flicked his ashes and looked back at Otacon.
“So,” he said, bringing up the subject at hand again, “What do you think
that the ‘E.’ stands for?”

Otacon
was just as clueless as his partner, but he had to offer some sort of
suggestion. “Energy, perhaps?” he said,
taking a wild guess. “Maybe they’re
trying to harness a new kind of energy to power the weapon systems of a new
prototype Metal Gear?”

“It’s
a theory,” Snake said knowing that Otacon was just bluffing a guess so as not
to appear as clueless as that puzzled look on his face. “We’ll investigate more tomorrow,” he said,
snuffing out his cigarette. “There’s
not much else we can do tonight until we share this info with Mei Ling, and
come up with a plan.”

Otacon
opened his mouth to begin a protest, “But there’s still more I need to find,
and…”

“And
what?” Snake interrupted, “You’re tired.
You won’t do us all much good if you’re passed out at the keyboard.”

Otacon
blinked a few times, removing his glasses to clean them with his t-shirt. His hazel eyes were bloodshot and glazed
over with sleeplessness. Snake could
see it better now that Hal had removed his glasses. This only fueled him further to press the scientist into getting
some rest. He knew, however, that Hal
could be stubborn and rather insistent at times. Dave also knew that as a result, he’d have to resort to the usual
“Snake-like” persuasion.

“Ow!”
Otacon cried out as Snake grabbed his arm roughly, “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

“Putting
the baby down for ‘beddie-bye’,” Dave replied wryly.

“No
fair!” the skinnier man whined in protest while trying in vain to free his wiry
arm from Snake’s death grip.

After
realizing that his struggling was doing nothing but bruising his fair,
sun-starved skin further, he resigned his efforts and gave into his friend’s
demands. “Alright,” Hal said simply.

Snake
let a smirk cross his face. “He’s a
grown man,” he thought, loosening his grip a bit, “but sometimes he acts like a
big child.”

Dave
knew that Otacon was more than tired at this point to have given up so easily
this time. He tugged his friend along
over to the bed and sat him down on it.

“I’m
going to stand here until you lay down,” Snake said, crossing his arms over his
chest.

Otacon
looked down at his feet, a bit ashamed to be treated by his friend this
way. He untied his sneakers and removed
them from his feet. He laid them beside
his bed, neatly pairing them together, left shoe on the left, and right shoe on
the right. Next came his socks, which
he tucked away, one in each shoe.

Snake
laughed silently to himself. Otacon was
not only the kind of person to hate to leave a job unfinished, but he was a bit
of a neat freak too. He constantly went
around theirrtmertment reorganizing things.
Even now, as sleep threatened to overtake him at any second, Hal was
organizing his shoes and socks.
Normally Snake would have something smart to say about it, but he
figured that he’d save it for tomorrow.

Otacon
continued removing his unnecessary items of clothing. Next to go was his lab coat that he kept bleach-bright white at
all times. Otacon reached forward to
drape it over his desk chair, but he couldn’t quite reach. He dared not stand again, or Dave would just
push him down on his butt again. He
offered it to Snake, who in turn threw it on the seat of his chair. Not exactly what Otacon had in mind, but
it’d have to do. Letting out a sigh, he
removed his glasses and placed them on his nightstand in front of the alarm
clock. Leaving on his favorite green
t-shirt and black pants, Hal slid himself under the covers.

Satisfied,
Snake turned to leave.

“Goodnight,”
came a small voice from behind him.

“Night,”
Dave replied simply, shutting the door behind him.

As
Otacon lay there, he thought about the information he had uncovered. There was so much more he had to find out,
and so much planning they needed to do.
He seriously thought about sneaking his way back to the computer, but as
quickly as that last thought came into his mind, his eyes pulled shut
completely, and Otacon was fast asleep.

***

Solid
Snake went back to cleaning his guns.
He knew now that he was definitely going to have to have them in tiptop
shape for the mission ahead. Snake
narrowed his eyes. Another mission and
another bloody battlefield. When does
it all stop? Snake had been doing this
kind of thing almost his whole life, so he was used to it. That didn’t mean that he liked it. Snake cocked his Socom a few times to make
sure that the mechanism wasn’t going to stick up on him. It moved with ease, so he placed it on the
coffee table along with all of the others.

Dave
tried to stifle back a yawn, but it was too powerful. He remembered that his sleeping habits were no better than Hal’s,
and he grumbled. He hated sleep. His dreams were always filled with death and
shadows of a dark past. If he didn’t
wake up with a start from one nightmare or another, he’d wake up in the
morning, unrefreshed and just as, if not more, tired as when he laid down. Tossing and turning as violently as Snake
did in his sleep was enough to keep anyone fatigued. He knew he had to do it anyways.
Just as he lectured Otacon on his sleeping habits, the scientist never
forgot to give Snake the old “if you don’t get enough REM sleep, you’ll go
crazy” lecture. Snake scoffed at that
thought as he pulled himself out another cigarette. “I went crazy long ago,” he thought to himself.

Snake
lit up his cigarette and took a long drag, drawing the smoke deep into his
lungs, and then letting it out from both his nose and mouth. Dave closed his eyes and let the cigarette
work its magic on his nerves. He
supposed he’d try sleep again after he finished.

He
got up from the couch where he was sitting and headed for his bedroom. He didn’t bother turning on the lights, and
he still managed to expertly maneuver his way around his clothes and guns that
were strewn about the floor to his bed.
He finished his cigarette, and removed his tank and camo pants. Bare-chested and boxer-clad, he slid his
muscular form under his sheet, throwing his blanket to the floor. He anticipated a sweat, so he felt it best
to keep as cool as possible while he slept.
Snake closed his eyes, and let sleep come to him.

 

Author’s Notes:

This Chapter introduces the story and just gives the
reader a quick refresher about the characters and such.

Cover art for this story can be seen at
www.thefrostedrose.com/frozenwasteland/images/EODwc.JPG