The Question Mark: Chapter 4


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A little late this Sunday, but I’ve just made the weekend trip back from wet Wales into snowy England. Yep, my news postings dipped while I was partying until 6am every night (and working, of course), but I also nabbed a place as the Games Editor for the university’s magazine. So hopefully you’ll hear more of my fingers typing over the next few weeks. In continuation from the previous three Sundays, here’s the fourth chapter to my fanfiction. Hope you enjoy.


Disclaimer: This story contains violent scenes that some younger readers may find disturbing. If you haven’t played the Metal Gear series, there will be spoilers in this story.


Meeting Master Miller

Snake’s vision blacked out.

The sound dissipated, but vague screaming was still apparent in the distance.

Scriptures. Information was flying at him. A dream before death? It was extremely faded and hard to make out, but his hearing was now returning to him. A consistent beep that howled into his eardrum. The pain. His sense of feeling was back.

He hit the metal-grated ground hard. The fire was still burning away at his new suit. Rolling about, the flames died away. Snake stood up, and Ocelot stood in-front of him, spinning his gun in his remaining hand. The wires surrounding Baker had been replaced, and Baker stood tied to the metallic strut once more, with burn-marks in his legs and suit. His face was scarred on one side, and he screamed in agony.

Snake had a gun. Where from? Had Jaeger given it to him?

Enough questions. Snake loaded the gun at lightning speed and aimed the gun barrel at Ocelot.

The man’s cloak covered his face in response to the sudden gush of ventilating air from a nearby duct. The husky voice once again prevailed “We shall meet again, Solid Snake”. His name was spat out in disgust, yet this man’s apparent need to meet in another location had Snake guessing whether this disgust was all true.

Nevertheless, the man ran out of the hallway and took the lift, and Baker had untied himself and was already sliding himself under the wires.

“Stop!” yelled Snake. However, his voice was more of a mumble. Excruciating heat and pain engulfed his throat.

“Toss the card-key”.

Baker fumbled about in his jacket pocket, and slid it out. Snake picked it up, as the man reached up for help, triggering the newly-placed wire.

Snake ran as the explosion chased him down the corridor.

Snake landed in the grit of the previous storage room. Something nasty had begun growing around the corners of each room, and his burnt hand felt soothed as he pressed against this dirt to pull himself up. The pain in his back, legs and neck was unbearable. Stumbling past a trap door, he hid behind a pile of metallic crates, panting wildly.

Someone moved towards him.

And time slowed.

The eyes within the hooded mask blinked slowly as they stared at him. A radio device was slowly lifted from the man’s belt, as he began running at Snake. He shouted into his device, slowly, giving Snake enough time to hobble around the other side of the crates. The lights went out, but soon flickered back with an eerie shade of red. In slow-motion, the soldier ran around the crate and Snake brought his aching fist to the man’s neck. He stumbled back. Snake never saw him as he reached out from the trap-door; begging for help.

The elevator doors opened down the hall. The only way out.

Time came back on his side, and he began a small jog, but what felt like a marathon sprint, to the electronic doors. One soldier screamed from his right as he leveled a machine gun at Snake. Ducking, the few bullets meant for David flew over his bandana, and hit the soldier opposite. Those increasingly loud footsteps approached Snake from behind, and he stuck out a leg, and landed a knife in the chest of the fallen family man.

The elevator doors closed. Back to the tank hanger. The tanks wouldn’t be there, he knew that. No. Exactly ten men stood facing the elevator doors within the hanger. Snake met them with both hands behind his head.

Four of the men moved round his back. One took his hands and handcuffed him. If this wasn’t the single most painful experience in David’s life, then it could only be the apocalypse waiting for him. Emotionally. This was the most insulting experience he had felt in a long time.

“How do you feel? Snake?” a voice echoed from the left of the empty, green, filth-ridden room. His neck clicked as he looked to meet Liquid’s face.

“Brother, you’re in a bit of a difficult situation. No?”

“I’ll agree with you there”, Snake agreed with his brother. The humiliation was neutralised by a deranged feeling of family bond. But it was soon broken.

What happened to time paradoxes? Snake thought.

But then he remembered the time he snapped the handcuffs free.

Liquid paced back and forth in front of Snake, lecturing him.

“You know, Snake. You should just give up now, and go back. I have my sources within your own network. My friends will take care of you if you fail to comply”.

“Miller”. Snake stated. “Master Miller”.

And for another first, he smiled. David felt it approach him quickly, uncontrollably, but un-noticeably nevertheless. His brother noticed it however, not returning the gesture. He was speechless.

Come on. You can do it. Snake was tearing his wrists apart trying to repeat the trick with the handcuffs.

Liquid released a nervous laugh. Time for a new plan. Fast.

Solid’s arms flung themselves in the air. Chunks of metal flew at the four guards standing behind him. His right arm disconnected his gun from his belt, and continued in its efforted swing towards Liquid’s kneecap.

The shot wasn’t silenced.