ACT 1 - CHAPTER 1

Early February 1981/ 21:34/ Mexico

The chopper flew through the darkened sky like a wraith, floating on the darkness. It made minimal sound, and the surface area was coloured in an opaque black; absent from any marking, identification or lighting. It was a ghost.

Before the day had begun, it had been a USAF UH-1N helicopter, designated for stealth missions. Tomorrow, it would most likely continue to be a USAF UH-1N. But tonight, it was strictly of the books, nothing more than a ghost. No more existent than the organisation behind its flight.

Behind the opaque windows, which gave the illusion of complete darkness inside the helicopter, were two passengers, save for the pilot. One of the two was a large, muscular man dressed in a jet black sneaking suit, carrying a backpack, who seemed to be in his forties - and hardened from combat. His companion was a woman, in her mid to late twenties, dressed in regular combat gear, with a large, ugly scar across her throat.

The bay was lit up by a single red light as the two worked diligently, sitting on opposite sides of the compartment, on their equipment, performing the last minute cleans, checks and loading required before a mission. Just like the helicopter carrying them, neither they nor the equipment wore any identification or markings.

A small stereo played music, but its volume was so low it was difficult to fully hear it. It served simply to add a degree of ambience to what was otherwise an environment not unlike a vacuum sealed tomb. The air carried an almost supernatural stillness, despite the whirring of the rotor blades and the vibrations of the Helicopter. Both had been on hundreds of combat missions, but both agreed that the silence before the mission was always the worst part, especially with the nature of their missions.

Not coming back didn't always have the luxury of being killed, and as a deniable asset that often meant an experience worse than death. They couldn't afford to let those thoughts slip in before the mission.

The man loaded his handgun, a slightly worn M1911, and holstered it before turning to his companion, who was across the bay loading her PSG1 rifle. "You ready, Quiet?" he asked in a hushed tone.

She looked at him, a steely determination in her eyes, exemplified by the glow of the red light in the helicopter. She nodded.

"ETA ten minutes! Sounds out, lights out!"

No sooner had the pilot shouted did the light fade from the helicopter, coating everything in a strangely alluring shadow, was the stereo was switched off by Quiet. The man, left with nothing but his thoughts for these last ten minutes, went over the details of the briefing once more, criticizing every minor detail.

Three Weeks Ago

Early January 1981/18:27/Washington DC

"Good evening, Boss" greeted Miller, with a neutral expression and a hint of sarcasm, as he hobbled toward the two from the stairwell he had exited. He was wearing the same outfit he always seemed to wear.

He had met them in a discrete and dilapidated office building on the outskirts of Washington DC, one that had been closed ever since the Depression during the 1930s, where it was least likely that anyone would notice or care about their presence. Big Boss had brought his operating partner, Quiet, to hear the details of their next mission, though both had made their way there separately and at different times. Both were sat, behind a table, on chairs they had found thrown about the place and both had had to wait some hours for Miller to arrive, and as such were slightly irate by the time of his arrival.

"What's the problem Miller?"

"Still all business I see," Miller's face dropped to a more serious glare, "We have a crisis."

"13 hours ago, a listening post in Mexico intercepted a coded transmission from Mexico City, from the offices of one Colonel Diego Hernandez, a rising star within the Mexican military." Miller threw an enlarged photo of him onto the table. Taken secretly, it portrayed him in formal attire during a gathering, presumably an upper class party. Visible only from the chest up, he appeared relatively lean for someone in the army, having a long face and short black hair. His eyes appeared, even at this social meeting, to carry a soft cruelty.

"This Colonel Hernandez, the transmission revealed, has been an exceptionally naughty boy – it contains an offer to partake in an upcoming coup of the nation's Government to one of the Mexican President's advisors. Now, Hernandez appears to have had quite a few contacts, as well as funds and allegiance pledges, as we have been able to confirm that parties like this serve as secret conferences for the plan."

Miller threw down another large photograph, depicting a column of Mechanized infantry units on a dust road, with Hernandez clearly visible atop the first vehicle.

"An organized coup could lead to a Civil War in Mexico in the best outcome, an anti-US Mexico at worst, since this Hernandez has made quite vocal in the past his dislike of America."

"Did we not pick this up earlier?"

"Look, if we had to assassinate everyone who said they didn't like America, half of the Free World and the majority of the Eastern Bloc would be dead." Quiet grinned slightly, whereas Snake gave an amused grunt. Miller paused, giving a glance to the two operatives seated before him, before continuing. "But that's beside the point, we need you to go in, and decapitate this plot by removing Hernandez; otherwise we're facing a worse situation than the Zimmerman Telegram. We need 'Naked Snake' to take care of this."

"It's been a while since we did wet-work," replied Snake, Quiet nodding in agreement, "We not needed in Afghanistan any longer? I thought we had a long term commitment"

Miller picked up a nearby chair, with some difficulty due to his single arm, and sat down on it. "No, we have separate operations taking over" he said in reply.

"Where is this Hernandez?" asked Snake.

Miller reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a small map. A pen-written marking at the bottom of the map, simply reading "Mexico" was the only indication to the location that the map was detailing. "Our pilot will drop you off in the area." He pointed to an area on the map marked by mountains. "There's been a large influx of troops into this region by military sects we suspect to be in allegiance to Hernandez, and they appear to be collecting here." He marked an undistinguished area, around 5 miles away from the LZ.

"Have they got a camp there, or is it a rallying point for further operations?" asked Snake, maintaining his professionalism.

"A permanent camp built and developed by Hernandez's allies, outside the knowledge of the wider military structure. Hernandez will be visiting the base in three weeks on what is officially a leave of absence in the area. We suspect he's beginning to finalise the coup, with worst case predictions placing it within the next few months. We miss this chance; we will have an unstable Mexico on our doorstep. Kill him, and then radio it in- we'll have some USAF assets purge the camp of any other diehard undesirables"

Quiet raised an eyebrow, and Snake leant back in his seat "And how is STRIKE going to cover up a bombing? They're quite high profile."

"Leave it to us. You have around two weeks to prepare. Good luck."

Snake stood up, and Quiet reached over to pick up the map. "Thanks for the Intel" said Snake, as he turned to leave. Quiet sat back down to continue studying the map for possible set-up sites, wanting to leave at a separate time to Snake, as a precaution. As Snake was about to leave the room, he turned back to Quiet, and shouted "Meet me at the waterfront." Quiet nodded her head, indicating her reply.

Miller followed Snake out, leaving the building together. "I briefed the President earlier, you know" he said, as he fumbled in his pockets for the keys to his car; a Volkswagen with blacked out windows.

"Yeah? Do you want a medal?" replied Snake shortly, waiting for Miller to source his keys. The sun was beginning to set on the city, and so the area began to be clouded in a melancholic yellow, a glow which reflected off the keys once Miller pulled them out.

"Aha! What? No, I don't want a medal, just thought you'd be interested. You know, meeting the most powerful man in the Western World." The two entered the car, Snake sitting in the driver's seat. The car had been modified slightly, missing a gearstick in favour of a new automatic system. Snake started the car up, and began to drive away from the office building, re-joining the ordinary traffic within minutes.

"Isn't he only half as powerful as the world thinks though? After all, we effectively do half his job."

Miller shrugged. "Yeah, but he's a figure-head. I mean, who else is going to stand up as head of NATO? You?"

The car entered a highway, and began to head toward the waterfront. "Point taken. I assume you'll make me get out in the normal spot?" asked Snake, referring to his departure for the waterfront. He usually, when catching a ride with Miller (as rare as that was) was dropped off a few blocks away from the safe house.

"Of course, unless you want to jump out while I drive past." replied Miller, with a ghost of a grin.

"But I'm driving" said Snake, with a heavy dose of scepticism.

"Then let's put my reaction time to the test, how fast can I grab the wheel." Miller gave no hint of amusement.

Snake chuckled softly to himself, and continued down the highway.

The Present

Early February 1981/ 21:44/ Mexico

He had met Quiet later that evening at a safe house he had near the waterfront, where they began the arduous task of planning for the mission, plotting routes, possible fire zones etc. A week ago they had been picked up by STRIKE from that safe house, breaking their near isolation, and after a week of final preparation and transport, here they were.

"Descending, grab your shit!" shouted the pilot, and instinctively both Quiet and Snake double checked they had all their gear attached. They felt the Helicopter descending, and prepared to throw open the doors of both sides when instructed.

"Go Go Go!"

Both Snake and Quiet threw open the doors of the Helicopter, albeit on separate sides, and threw themselves to the ground, each readying their respective weapon in case a threat unexpectedly appeared. Quiet sported her PSG1, while Snake wielded an M16 assault rifle. Both of them strained their eyes into to surrounding darkness; as they both felt and heard the helicopter that had borne them ascend into the night sky. Eventually, it had disappeared entirely.

Quiet got up first, her rifle still readied. She took one last look around, before backing slowly toward Snake, giving him a light kick with her heel. Snake then got up, and dropped his weapon slightly, no obvious threats appearing. Quiet did likewise, and both began to take stock of their surroundings.

The area they were in was encased in darkness, but it was clear that they were in the desert-like area that had been described t them. They could see the slight silhouettes of rocks spread randomly, of varying heights, stretching toward the horizon. To their left was a sharp drop, lacking the characteristics that marked the other directions. Instead, the drop went down about 8 storeys, with a beacon of light being visible in the distance.

Both Quiet and Snake, maintaining their silence, walked to the edge of the cliff, setting up a rappel rope that they had bought with them. Both of them maintained a lookout for threats during their work, keeping one eye on the equipment and another on their surroundings. Within minutes they were at the bottom of the cliff, their wire stashed at the base of the cliff behind some rocks, ready to continue.

Snake had his head under a waterproof jacket he had, looking at the map he had brought along with a flashlight, while Quiet stood watch. The helicopter, according to the map, had dropped them slightly further away than intended, a hike of about 6 miles ahead of them. "Quiet, we're around a mile east of our intended drop-off, although the terrain is similar. We have a 6 mile journey to the base, and another cliff to traverse if we want to stay off-road."

Quiet replied by nudging him in a hurried manner, which Snake understood was her telling him to focus on something. Within moments, he heard it.

The sounds of a motor creeping up in the distance, growing ever louder.

Snake instantly switched of his light, casting off the jacket and staying low, with Quiet doing the same next to him. In the darkness, he could see two illuminated eyes coming toward them, clearly following a faint track that wasn't clear in the dark. Snake prayed they'd pass by. From the looks of it, the trail curved a few feet in front of them, then going left parallel to the cliff.

"Quiet" he whispered. She turned her head around, nodding her attention. "Move to the bend in the road, keeping low, just in case they stop. Don't engage unless needed though, they could miss these guys." The car, a weathered Jeep, was coming ever closer, kicking up dust and illuminating the night. Quiet moved stealthily, crawling quickly along the ground, and reached her spot on the right just as the Jeep came to the bend.

And to both of theirs frustration, it stopped just before the bend, pulling up on the trail.

The soldier in the passenger seat got out first, carrying a G3 assault rifle with one arm, a small flashlight in the other. The driver followed, wielding a sidearm in a hip holster that Snake couldn't make out. The two were conversing in the Catalan language, as far as Snake could make out.

"Are you sure this is where the two were sighted, with the helicopter? " said the passenger, walking to the cliff edge with the flashlight, looking around the area. He passed within meters of Snake, unaware of the man holding his breath to avoid detection, the light never directly illuminating his figure.

"Certain, we had a witness" replied the driver, moving in the opposite direction, moving away from where Quiet was, scanning the ground. "Damn, does he know we're still here?" thought Snake.

"And do you know if this 'witness' is reputable? Do you even know who he, or she, is?"

"Not as such, but command – "

The passenger groaned, before breaking off his search and glaring at the driver. "No, we seem to get called out every week because some local thinks they saw an infiltration team, or the devil, or something. We're in the middle of nowhere, who even called it in?" He shone his torch along the base of the cliff. "There is nothing here…wait…"

The driver, now a short distance away (urinating) looked toward the passenger, and shouted "What? Found something?"

The passenger looked around wildly for a moment, before readying his rifle. "Shit, he found the rappel wire" thought Snake, looking at where his flashlight has faltered.

Before Snake could move, the passenger, who was retreating back to the Jeep swinging his rifle in each direction wildly, his flashlight forgotten on the ground, panicked as if an assassin would rush out of the darkness at him, tripped over the unmoving body of Snake with a faint cry. Snake seized the opportunity, quickly crawling on top of him, and breaking his neck, before he had a chance to see what he had tripped on, let alone realise he had found one of the intruders, and put up resistance. The soldier looked young. "Damn shame" thought Snake.

The driver stopped urinating, looking back at the area in front of the cliff, having heard the faint cry the passenger made. "Juan? You okay?" When no answer was received, the driver began to stride toward the last spot he had seen his companion, brandishing his firearm. "Juan!"

He was in front of the Jeep, silhouetted by the still lit lights of the Jeep, when he was tackled to the ground by a fast moving figure. There was no other noise, or disturbance, save a slight thunk, that was barely distinguishable. Snake stood up, keeping his M16 ready as a precaution, when he saw a woman's silhouette rise from the ground. "Not subtle, was it?" he quipped.

Quiet, putting her Combat Knife back it its small scabbard, simply shook her head.

Snake did a light jog to the Jeep, gesturing to Quiet to join him. "They're going to miss these guys in a few hours, we need to move." Quiet nodded in agreement, and got in the passenger's seat. They would have to risk the roads and get the camp quickly; else the absence of the two they had just killed put the base on alert.

With that thought blazoned on both of their minds like a fresh brand, the two sped away in the Jeep, the dust that was kicked up by the accelerating vehicle quickly settling, some falling on the hidden corpses of the car's former occupants.

A/N: Decided to keep Chapters about this length, around 3k words.