Metal Gear Solid: Elements of Destruction

Title: Metal Gear Solid: Elements of Destruction- Chapter 4: Life Debt

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-13 for language (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 4: Life Debt

 

“Snake,
I’m coming with you,” Otacon said as soon as his friend hung up the phone. His eyes were intense, even with his glasses
on.

Dave
turned around to face the scientist, an eyebrow raised, “You can’t be serious,
Otacon.”

But Hal
was serious, and that fact was becoming quite apparent to the seasoned
warrior. Otacon adjusted his glasses up
the bridge of his nose, and stared deep into Snake’s vibrant green eyes. “I mean it,” he answered.

Dave
frowned a bit, wondering why Hal would say such a thing.

“What do
you plan to do in Antarctica… freeze to death?” he said in a smart manner to
try to lighten the mood a bit. It was
the only thing Snake could think of at the moment to say to him.

“If it
comes down to that, yes,” the scientist replied.

At this
point, Snake was beyond confused. Was
Otacon just joking when he said that, or was he really talking crazy? What the hell was he talking about? There was only one way he could knock some
sense into his friend.

“You’ll
just get in the way. You know me
anyways. I prefer to work alone,” Snake
reminded him.

“You can’t
talk me out of it,” Otacon came back, “I’ll do whatever it takes to prepare,
and I’ll fix the stealth camo too.”

Man, he
was a persistent bastard. Dave had seen
this stubbornness in Hal before. He
knew that the scientist meant well, but it would be too risky, no mater what
kind of scientific assistance he could provide. Snake was almost certain he could handle whatever it was with
just Otacon’s codec direction. Besides,
his partner was rather flighty, and probably would piss his pants at the first
sound of gunfire. He had already proven
that to him the first time Snake met Otacon at Shadow Moses. The poor guy was shaking with fear in a
puddle of his own urine.

He hadn’t changed much since
then, even though he had seen the casualties of war up, close, and
personal. Hal had been stained with the
blood of his own stepsister, as she lay dead in his arms. Snake had to admit, though, it took Otacon a
lot of courage to keep going and rescue those hostages.

“Dave, I want to help,” he said,
breaking Snake’s train of thought.

Hal flopped down on the couch and
put his head in his hands. Removing his
glasses, he rubbed some of the frustration and tiredness out of his eyes.

Something was definitely
bothering the man, and now the mercenary was one hundred percent sure. He walked over to the hunched over form and
laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Otacon, what’s wrong?” Snake
asked finally, after putting the question off long enough. “Something’s really eating at you
lately.” He sat down beside his friend. “Come to think of it, I believe it all
started right around the time that you had come across the early details of the
intelligence.”

Uncharacteristically of him,
Otacon had nothing to say. He simply
brushed the dark brown hair from his face, then replaced his signature
glasses. Dave sometimes wondered if the
man hid behind them.

Hal Emmerich did hide behind his
glasses. He was always so unsure of
himself, and his lack of self-esteem was forever apparent to anyone who looked
at the pale, skinny man. Though he had
spent most of his life alone, and he was a bit more used to it in his later
years, Hal had an immense fear of isolation.
Everyone he had ever cared about either died or betrayed him. Meeting Snake was probably one of the
happiest things to ever happen to him.
They had gotten really close, and each trustee ote other infinitely;
something Otacon was sure that Snake had never done before.

They had another battle ahead of
them, and it will be yet another time of uncertainty for him. Snake might not return this time, and he
might be left alone once more. No. He couldn’t just sit around and wait for
that to happen. This time, he’ll help
to better ensure that it won’t happen.

“Snake?” Hal began, his voice
barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, Otacon? I’m listening,” his partner replied.

Hal’s eyes still looked to the
floor. “You know, you’re the best
friend I’ve ever had,” he told him.

“You too, Otacon,” Dave
said. “I’ve never been able to say that
about anyone, ever.” He patted Hal on
the back, “You’re a good guy.”

“Me neither,” the slender man
returned. “That’s why I have to come
with you.” His eyes met Snake’s evenly,
a bit wet with the precursor of tears.
He was trying desperately to keep himself from crying. Hal already knew he was a bit of an
emotional person, but he hated showing weakness to the man he admired so much. Showing weakness now would only injure his
case, so he swallowed the lump in his throat down hard.

Snake leaned his back against the
back of the sofa, resting his arms behind his head in a casual manner. “I still don’t see where this is going.”

Otacon pushed up his glasses,
“Because I am your friend, I have to help you.”

“But you will be,” Snake
argued. “You’ll be directing me by
codec, remember?” He saw his friend
sigh and lean back to sit upright. His
hands rested in clenched fists in his lap.

“Damn it! That’s not good enough!” he snapped.

“Whoa! Easy friend,” Dave said, surprised at the usually mild-mannered
man’s sudden tone of voice.

“Sorry,” the other apologized, a
bit embarrassed. Fists still clenched,
Hal leaned over once more to try to hid his pre-tearing eyes from Snake.

The battle-hardened mercenary
admired his friend’s spirit and newfound courage, so he conceded, “Alright
Otacon. If it means that much to
you.” Dave patted Hal on the back. “It’ll be kinda like Shadow Moses again, you
and me working together, except a Hell of a lot colder.”

Otacon smiled, then let out a
chuckle, “Hard to believe anything could be colder than Alaska.”

“Cold as a witch’s tit on
Hallow’s Eve,” Snake said laughing.

Hal started laughing out loud at
that point. Dave was gladsee see his
friend in better spirits.

The scientist removed his glasses
and wiped away the fogging on his sweater from when his eyes were wet. He quickly placed them back on his face,
feeling naked and vulnerable to the world without them.

“I don’t expect you to understand
this, but it’s just something I need to do, okay?”

“Okay,” Snake replied simply, not
questioning Otacon’s motives anymore.
“Now go eat your breakfast, will ya?
You’re too damned skinny already!”

Dave stood up and went to grab
the plate of food that Hal had abandoned in his bedroom. He took it to the kitchen and placed it in
the microwave to heat up. The delicious
aroma of eggs and bacon filled the air once more, and it made Otacon’s mouth
salivate.

Solid Snake went to the hook over
the treadmill and got down his lucky bandana.
Tying it securely to his forehead, he positioned himself, one foot on
each side of the belt. He turned on the
machine, and started out at a slow jog.
Snake was going to have to get up his stamina for the mission
ahead. His body reveled in the
exercise, begging for more. He could
never be a sedentary person. A good
burn felt so good. Dave kicked it up a
few notches, tired of warming up, just below sprinting pace.

The microwave beeped, signaling
to Otacon that his food was ready. He
walked over and got his breakfast out, then sat down on the couch again. Placing a forkful ogs igs in his mouth, Hal
watched his partner run on the treadmill.

The other man’s body was perfect,
not a flaw to it, save for some bullet wound scars here and there. It glistened in the late morning sunshine
that was sneaking through the closed slats of the venetian blinds. It accentuated every muscular ripple and
contour. Though already soaked in
sweat, his breathing was still deep and even as he ran.

Otacon blushed with
embarrassment, then returned to his plate.
He bit into the bacon, which most would call under cooked. It just tasted better chewy. The longer you cook bacon, the more body and
flavor it lost. The first time Hal had
cooked bacon for Dave, he had said something to about trying to poison him, but
he soon learned to eat it no other way.

His plate was empty now, but Hal
still felt a void in his stomach. He
looked back into the kitchen to see half a pot of coffee still sitting on the
warmer. Ah, that’s what he needed: more
coffee. Pouring himself another double
mug, he gulped it down, savoring the warmth; warmth he was later going to beg
for in Antarctica.

He looked back up at his
partner. If it was at all possible,
Snake was actually running faster.
“He’s amazing,” Otacon thought to himself. “I wish I had the strength he did.” He looked down at his skinny limbs. How in the world did he think he could ever be up to the task of
helping Snake? He was too small to
fight, too slow to run or dodge bullets, and too chicken to hold a gun, let
alone fire one. He’d just be hiding
behind Snake like a useless shadow.

“I have to try,” he thought. “I have to do something for him. I’m tired of watching him face death and not
being able to do anything about it.” No
matter his self-doubting, Otacon would be by his partner’s side, and he prayed
that he wouldn’t let him down.

After half and hour, Snake slowed
to a stop, turning off the treadmill. Sweat
ran from every pore, trickling down the creases of his body, and the only thing
stopping the salty stream from assaulting his eyes was the gray-blue bandana on
his forehead.

He looked over to the kitchen to
see his friend still standing there, mug in hand, watching him. “I’m gonna hit the shower now too,” Snake
told him. Grabbing a fresh towel from
the linen closet, he headed for the bathroom and shut the door.

Otacon caught himself staring at
the space where Dave had been just a moment before. He sighed and moved to wash the dishes.

“I’ve got to get a grip, “ Hal
muttered to himself. “I can’t get
scared. I want to do this.” In a few short hours, he and Snake would travel
across town to brief Mei Ling on the situation with the RNF. “She’ll probably chastise me too.”

The slightly mysophobic man made
sure to get the water in the sink good and soapy. He turned up the heat to scald the dishes as he poured some extra
antibacterial soap into the already foaming water.

“God damn it, Otacon!” Snake yelled
from the bathroom. “That’s fucking
cold!”

Oops. He had forgotten about the shower. The scientist quickly remedied the situation, turning off the
flow of near boiling water. He heard a
contented sigh echo throughout the apartment.

If Otacon could barely pull it
together here, he imagined how he was going to fare in Antarctica. Shaking his head to temporarily remove those
thoughts from it, Hal got back to scrubbing the dishes, which he did twice
over, just to make sure that they were immaculate.

Just as he finished inspecting
them and placing them back in their respective cabinet or drawer, out came Dave
from the shower. Oddly enough, he had
shaven himself clean, and he was wearing a strong musk cologne. “Since when did Snake care about little details
like that?” Then he remembered: they were meeting up with Mei Ling
tonight.od ood ol’ Snake, getting ready
for another game of “flirt and conquer”.
Snake and Mei Ling couldn’t be more opposite, and he had even expressed
a great annoyance of her. Hal found
himself thinking a little too deep into it and blushed with embarrassment.

“Crack!” came the sound of the
wet towel, as it struck hard against Otacon’s rear end.

“Ow! Hey!” he cried out
indignantly as he readjusted his glasses that were jolted almost completely off
his face. He turned to see Snake, towel
in hand, standing before him naked. He
had risked his dignity to get a good smack on his frien
Da
Dave wrapped his towel back
around him, heading for his bedroom to get dressed. “I froze my ass off!” he said in a joking manner.

Otacon rubbed his stinging
backside. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Snake
called from the other room, sensing from his friend’s tone of voice that he was
taking this seriously. “I’m just
messin’ with ya!”

He emergrom rom his room wearing
not the usual casual camos or jeans and t-shirt, but in a half buttoned white
dress shirt and black business casual pants.
Snake was also smoking yet another cigarette.

Hal frowned. “What’s the use of you getting up your
stamina if you’re going to smother your lungs with those?” he asked, pointing
to the rest of the pack in Dave’s hand.

Snake just laughed, and went back
to his smoking. He sat down sideways on
the couch leisurely, with his feet up.

Otacon remembered then that he
had some things he wanted to wrap up before going to Mei’s that evening.

“I’m going to finish what I was
doing and pull together some notes for our briefing. I may lose track of time, so will you come get me when it’s time
to go?”

“Alright. Just take it easy, okay?” his friend
responded.

“I will,” Otacon called back,
halfway to his desk already.

He sat down in his chair,
spinning it around a few times. It was
almost, to him, a ritual of focus. He
liked to do it to loosen himself up before starting work.

The hacker began by reviewing the
documents he already had found. If
there was anything that he was missing, he’d find it. Otacon squinted a bit as he leaned into the screen. Why’d they have to type in such a small
font? Through with giving himself a
headache, he reformatted the documents in a larger font. That made things much easier, so he got back
to work.

Hal spent the next few hours
scouring the information. He found it
odd that there were no details to even hint him about what the “E. Weapon
Project” consisted of. There had to be
something there to aid his further searching.

Otacon pounded his fists on the
desk on either side of the keyboard.
“Damn!” he exclaimed, “What is it that I’m missing?” It was almost like the small dabble of
information was there to tease him, as if it was saying “I know something you
don’t know”.

Otacon removed his glasses and
rubbed his eyes. Though the text was
now readably large, it was starting to hurt to read it. He could swear that ever with his eyes now
closed, he could still see black on white running across the backs of his
eyelids.

A firm hand gripped his shoulder
from behind. “Come on. You’ve done enough,” Snake said. “Another thirty minutes ain’t going to make
a difference.”

Hal looked at the time displayed
on his computer. “I guess you’re
right,” he conceded. “We’d better get
ready to go.”

Solid Snake nodded his agreement.

The two pulled together
everything they needed for their briefing.
Dave grabbed an extra pack of cigarettes and a bottle of wine to go with
dinner. He would’ve preferred beer, but
formality always called for wine.
“Alcohol is alcohol,” he shrugged.

Otacon transferred all of the
relevant files into his laptop, then went back to the kitchen to pour the
remaining portion of that morning’s brew into a travel mug.

On their way out the door, Snake
grabbed a pair of sunglasses and put them on.
He liked to keep a low profile, and the dark, stylish shades seemed to
compliment him well, he thought.

Hal looked at his friend in
admiration. Snake always made
everything look good. He
self-consciously straightened out his lab coat and brushed out his pant legs.

Dave locked the door with a
click, and they left for the subway station.

“Damn, we’re late again,” Snake
commented. “Mei Ling’s gonna bitch
about it, I’m sure.”

 

Author’s Notes:

The
part about the bacon being “undercooked” is a little quirk of mine. I put that in there as a bit of a joke. The first time I cooked bacon for my
husband, he reacted the same way Snake did.
And, in the same way as I wrote, he now eats it no other way.

In case you didn’t know, Mysophobia is the fear of
germs/dirt.