Metal Gear Sunnydale: Snake’s Beginnings Chapter 1 'New Beginnings'
Disclaimer: I do not own anything you might see within this fic. Not the characters, nor the crossover itself, and nor am I making any money off of it. This is for fun, and I hope it is for all involved. I will, however, feel very slighted if someone tries to take the story without credit. Again.
*shakes his head* So sorry, folks. I managed to find Vergil’s ‘version’ of my work here, that just happened to be exactly the same as my fic, which I hadn’t updated in two years. When I posted a review pointing this out, the fic mysteriously disappeared.
In any case, it has ten chapters as it is. I’ve had very little time to work on fanfic, and I had lost my passion for it a while back. However, I hope you people do like this, and for those of you who like where I’d been taking this, feel free to pick it up if you want to. Just give me the credit. If you like the concept, but not how I put it, feel free to rewrite it. I wouldn’t have minded, if Vergil had asked me or if it had been different from my own work.
IF, and I stress this very highly, IF, demand is great enough, I may pick this up again. Don’t expect me to put out a chapter every few days as I used to before, though. I have bills to pay.
Twin Lakes, Alaska, 2006
The wind bit harshly at the lone figure, treading on his snowshoes towards the cabin in the distance. The cold air had literally turned the scarf tightly wound around his face white, due to the freezing of the moisture from his breath.
He was glad he wouldn’t be spending much time out in this cold. That is, if his old friend would actually let him in, and not simply shoot first and forget about asking questions at all. He could hear the sled dogs in the area, yelping and barking in his direction, although he couldn’t quite see them with the goggles on.‘Why the hell did I decide to walk in on foot, rather than just landing near the cabin? Right, because if I did, he wouldn’t even bother to ask questions and we’d never find him at all. He knows the area intimately after three years up here.’
The dogs increased the volume of their yelping, and the cabin door opened, a figure stepping out into the dark Alaskan night and pointing a shotgun at him. He rose his hands slowly, making no sudden moves.
“Snake, calm down. Can I come closer?”
The figure, upon hearing the rough, familiar voice, narrowed his eyes and stood up slowly, stepping back into the cabin. He nodded, setting the shotgun aside and yelling into the wind. “Come on in if you can, Colonel.”
Colonel Roy Campbell, retired, gratefully (if awkwardly) walked forward on the snowshoes to the cabin, closing the door and unwrapping his heavy winter clothing. While the cold Alaskan night had sucked away quite a bit of the heat inside, the large fire in the fireplace was quickly making up for that. Some of the sled dogs inside were happily chewing on bones, glancing at him almost suspiciously.
Here and there, there were the works of a carpenter. There were several figurines of people in marvelous detail. An older man with a grim expression, a tiny female figure holding something sharp, like a dagger perhaps. Another pair made out of a singe piece of wood, hands together. A male figure draped in a robe or a duster, that looked like it had been repeatedly poked all over with a needle.
Taking a deep breath, Roy examined the man he’d come a few thousand miles to see. The man who, in military elite circles, was a living legend. Solid Snake.
He was now in his late twenties, his brown eyes as cold as the Alaskan winter outside. They softened a bit upon seeing Roy again, but it had seemed as if something important to Snake had been taken away at some point. He turned to his cooler, fishing out a couple of beers and holding one out for Roy. “Want a beer, Colonel?”
Roy smiled a bit. “Snake, I’m not a colonel anymore.” He still took the beer from Snake’s outstretched hand though.
Snake actually grinned a bit. “Have it your way...Colonel.” He moved over to one of his chairs, also seemingly hand-made. “Go ahead and sit down, Colonel. Something tells me this isn’t just a social call.” He opened the bottle, taking a swig and examined Roy carefully.
Roy nodded, opening his own beer and taking a grateful drink. He let the taste wash over his tongue, trying to frame the orders he’d been given in a way Snake would accept. “Snake, I’ve been asked by the President and the Joint Chiefs to offer you a job. Something’s come up in the Air Force recently, and I think they can benefit from your experience.”
Snake just rose an eyebrow. “I’m no longer affiliated with FOX-HOUND, Colonel. You’re not my commander anymore. Why come to me with this? I’m retired. For that matter, so are you.”
Roy nodded again. “We’ve already assigned two members of FOX-HOUND to the place in question, One of them got killed on a mission, the other was badly wounded in combat and is currently recovering, though she won’t be in good condition for a month or so. That’s when I was asked to approach you, Snake. They were going to send somebody else, but they contacted me first, and I told them you wouldn’t listen to just anybody.”
Snake took another drink of his beer, scratching his chin. Roy could almost tell what Snake was thinking at this point. What could be so dangerous in whatever mission the Air Force was in that would take two FOX-HOUND members out of action? Almost by definition, FOX-HOUND members were one-man armies. A single operative was often good enough to handle just about anything that came their way.
Snake himself was almost the model of the perfect FOX-HOUND commando. Only one other man had been better than he was, and that man was killed during Snake’s last mission. Gray Fox. Riley Finn. By Snake’s own hand.
Finally, Snake spoke lowly. “So what’s this offer about, Colonel? You wouldn’t come to me and break my retirement just because some newbie stepped on a landmine.”
Roy nodded again, taking a drink from his beer and opened his jacket, pulling out a slightly warped vanilla folder, stuffed to the brim with files. “Snake, do you remember two bright lights in the sky about eight months ago?”
Snake nodded. “Yeah. It was a little hard to miss. I was out with the dogs that day.”
Roy smirked, opening the folder and handing Snake the first file. “Well, read for yourself, Snake.”
Taking the file with a skeptical look, Snake quickly looked at it and bit his lip. He narrowed his eyes and nodded slowly. “Two alien ships, huh? I’ve gotta commend the Air Force’s operatives for moving fast enough to take them out.”
Roy nodded. “Yes, but even so, they got lucky. Hence why FOX-HOUND members were assigned to their command. Still, Senator Kinsey is opposed to them, and we need to do what we can to get decent technology from the aliens and to do our covert missions. We’re at a big disadvantage here Snake. They’re way ahead of us, and the only reason we haven’t been ground into the dust already is because the aliens fight each other more often than they fight with us. Still, it’ll only be a matter of time before they come here and nuke us back into the Stone Age.”
Snake grunted. “All right, Colonel. You’ve made your case. How do you plan to put me under this..” He checked the file again. “General Hammond’s command? It’s not like I have a rank the Air Force would recognize.”
Roy nodded again. “You’ll be assigned a rank of Major, to be promoted at General Hammond’s discretion. You’ll also have a lot of leeway, Snake. You’ll get a large salary, plus danger pay of course. We tried to get Master Miller to come to help with the training, but he’s unavailable.”
Snake shook his head. “Don’t worry, I can take care of that end, assuming I don’t just trip and break my neck or something.”
Roy just smiled. Snake was about as likely to die by such a mundane accident as being hit by a lightning bolt. While fighting a helicopter. With nothing but tissue papers. And winning.
Considering Snake’s skills, however, it was entirely possible that absurd event just might take place.
Snake stood up and bundled up a bit, whistling to his dogs. They came towards him immediately, and he fondly patted their heads as they licked at his hands. “We’ll take my sleds back to town, Colonel. It’ll be a lot faster and a lot more comfortable than trudging back to your chopper. Besides, I’m not about to leave my dogs out here alone.”
Roy smiled, finished off his beer and set the bottle down on the floor. He stood up and looked at his dripping wet scarf with some distaste. Then he looked back at Snake and smiled a bit. “Well, I’m just glad you accepted, Snake. I’d feel a lot better with you working on our little problem out there, even with FOX-HOUND already tangled in the mess.”
Snake just shrugged. “Why not, Colonel. I might as well do something useful. I’m getting a bit bored carving furniture and little carvings. Speaking of which..”
With an almost evil grin, he picked up the little figurine that had been poked all over (usually in painful places, Roy noted as he saw it a bit more closely) and hurled it into the fire. He carefully picked up the other ones and stuffed them into his pockets.
“What was that about, Snake?” Roy asked, quite amused.
Snake just shook his head, picking up his bandana and tying it around his forehead. “I made that little figurine as a bit of a revenge on somebody I didn’t like back in High School, Colonel. The others are reminders of my friends, but I just kept that one around and needled it because I never got the chance to do it to the real guy back in the day.”
Roy laughed. “I never knew you were into voodoo, Snake.”
Snake just grinned as he put on a pair of silly-looking earmuffs. “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Colonel. Besides, this new job may be quite fun. As long as I don’t need to take on any fifty-foot snakes, cyberdemons, or nuclear-equipped walking battle tanks, I just might have a lot of fun with all this.”
As Roy tried to puzzle out the meaning of THAT statement, he followed along behind Snake to the sleds.
Sunnydale, California, 1998
Deep underneath the Lowell House in the Sunnydale campus, there was a great deal of activity. The location would, within a month or two, be completely prepared for the purpose of capturing, studying, neutralizing, and perhaps if they were lucky, even controlling some of the supernatural foes that ran around this city. At least, that was the hope of the NID.
That was also the hope of the one-eyed elderly man, although for very different reasons.
He walked past construction crews that were carefully filling in concrete, turning this natural cave into an Army base that would also double as a self-contained research facility. Some of the soldiers saluted him as he passed them by. It wasn’t hard to see why. Even without his uniform, he would be an imposing figure. In it, he was someone who commanded respect without even a glance.
Spotting the person he was looking for in the area that would eventually become the holding cells, he strode forward, ignoring the slight ache in his legs. He frowned to himself. Thirty-four years since Operation Snake Eater and his arm still hurt in cold weather, nevermind all the other scars on his body from that mission.
Doctor Walsh turned and took him in. He knew this woman’s opinion of him was low, no doubt thinking he was just some dumb bureaucrat who’d played a little too much with knives as a kid and poked out his own eye, but he didn’t bother to correct her.
“General Hayter, what can I do for you?” She spoke neutrally. He almost smirked. He knew she needed his backing to be in charge of the project, and she knew it too. He was the only one that could run an effective screen between the NID proper, and get the right people in from the Army for the muscle.
“I’m quite interested in your project, Doctor Walsh. I’m just here to tell you I’ve arranged for my best men to assist you in this endeavor. They’re quite a bit better than most of the green recruits you’ll get, and these two will bring your men up to speed as fast as possible.” He spoke, secretly enjoying the surprised expression on her face.
“Why thank you, General. This is quite generous of you.” She smiled at him. He made a little smile in return, knowing that as soon as she was out of his sight, she’d start doing extensive background checks on his men. “What are their names?”
“Lieutenants Riley Finn and Graham Miller. They’ve already been given complete clearance, but they’ll operate completely under your orders, doctor.” He made a mischievous little smile, a little intimidating because of his eyepatch. “I’d appreciate it if you brought them back to me in one piece when you’re done, Doctor Walsh.”
Maggie Walsh smiled a bit and nodded. “Very well, General. I’ll bring them completely up to speed when they arrive.”
He nodded. “We’re done here then.” He turned and made his way out of the facility, taking a cigar out of one of his pockets and lighting it as he went. Filthy habit, but he liked it and really didn’t mind. He never really expected to live this long anyway, he was going to enjoy himself.
Reaching his Jeep, he got into the back seat, glancing at both Riley and Graham who were sitting in the front. At least, that’s who they were out here.
Within High-Tech Special Forces Unit FOX-HOUND, they were the two top-ranking and best soldiers he’d ever had the pleasure of commanding and shaping. Riley was the only one to ever beat his performance guidelines, set when the one-eyed man was in his prime. Graham came under it by a small margin.
They had in every sense of the word, earned their code names. Gray Fox and Silver Snake. It didn’t hurt that they had known each other since before joining FOX-HOUND either.
“How’d it go, Boss?” Riley spoke, looking at him in the rear-view mirror.
General John Hayter to the world, Big Boss to those in FOX-HOUND, just kept smoking his cigar. He finally replied after a few moment’s thought. “She’s going to be suspicious of you both for a while. You’ll just have to act like a pair of country boys for a few months. Do your best to improve the men under her command, but keep your eyes open and report everything to me. I’m going to have Ocelot be your liaison with FOX-HOUND. He’s old enough to look like one of those farts who just want to retire in California.”
Riley shared a grin with Graham. Ocelot may have been old, but he’d still shoot someone faster than they could blink, even with antique guns. “Got it, Boss. If she gets out of hand?”
Big Boss shrugged. “Just have her killed. Try to hold it off until after you see if her research holds up though. If she’s actually onto something, we might not be able to afford to lose her.” He absently ran his fingertips over his eyepatch, thinking back to the day he’d lost his eye, in Russia.
“Sir?” Graham spoke, looking a little concerned.
Big Boss shook his head. “Just get me to the airport, you two can handle yourselves here. And for God’s sake, don’t piss off Ocelot...too much.” He smirked to Graham, getting chuckles from both younger men.
Just another year, and Outer Heaven would be ready. Hopefully, Walsh’s findings would prove useful there.