11: At the Edge of the Precipice

"What you just heard, that's all we've got. Any other distress calls, surveillance footages, or sightings of emergency flares in the area—nothing. We're completely cut off from our Atlantic FOB. Whoever got the jump on them sure knew what they were doing. And I'm pretty damn sure they let that one distress call from Winters reach us."

After his trusted officer finished, deafening silence pervaded the dimly lit Room 101. Seated by the steel table with Revolver Ocelot opposite him, Big Boss replaced his Walkman on his person, taking in the recording and what the other man just said.

"In that case, there's not exactly a lot to discuss, Ocelot. Is there any way we can hack the FOB's systems from here? Get some more intel? If we're putting one foot in a bear trap, we might as well know how to pry the damn thing open afterwards."

But the cowboy was already shaking his head, "The R&D and Intel teams tried every possible way to do just that, but none worked. Where things stand, they're dead in the water."

Big Boss rose from his seat, "That settles it. Contact Pequod now, I'm going in ten after changing these bandages. I want the Parasite Suit with five armor cartridges loaded onboard the chopper."

"'I'll do that alright, but not so fast, Snake. I know I can't convince you to stay on account of your present condition, but at least take the team I assembled. Ten of our best vets are waiting—"

"To get killed," the Boss cut him off, his retort dripping with venom, "Those things just took out several of our men. I won't risk any more lives Ocelot, and that's that. I'm going in solo."

The cowboy rose as well, resting both hands squarely on the table, "I expected more common sense from you, Boss. This isn't just some contract or wetwork op; do you realize how much is at stake here? You fuck this up, and we could lose an entire FOB, its remaining survivors, and even that thick head of yours. All because you refuse backup this time around? These men are well aware of the risk—"

"It doesn't matter whether they're aware or not; it won't make a difference once a glowing machete blade or bullets out of nowhere make a beeline for your head. So, spare the blood from my hands and just fucking contact Pequod. Time is not a luxury we have right now."

And with that, the horned man strode out of the room.

(-)

He realized there would be no other opportunity later, so he decided tending to old injuries before new ones could take their place. Walking briskly to the nearest restroom in the Intel platform, he entered and locked the door behind him. His vulnerability would only be ever privy to his partner, and not friend nor foe.

Reaching for the medkit in the shelf just beside the large mirror, he then unbuttoned his shirt, hastily removing the old bandages. The mirror came in handy, letting him accomplish his task without peering at his abdomen for long periods of time. As he tended to his recent battle scars, his gaze would occasionally hover on his face. Every time he did, he couldn't help but acknowledge the nagging feeling that a stranger was glaring back at him.

The phantom in the mirror continued to look at him, its lone eye scrutinizing the most desolate corners and recesses of his soul. The gaze was so intense that it cut through fog whose presence eluded him until now. What was this stranger trying to tell him? Snake already knew something was off, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it, bionic or otherwise.

Not that it mattered, truly.

The liberty of dealing with the existential crises and introspecting comes after the mission, he thought defiantly. As he finished with the bandages and buttoned his fatigues, he willed his mind to focus on the mission before him, on the lives he held in his hands. No more Diamond Dogs will get killed by those freaks, thought Snake as he opened the door outside.

The familiar sound of whirring helicopter blades was oddly relaxing. His ride was finally at the helipad.

(-)

"So to recap, bend the wrist down, aim, then press the now protruding button?"

A younger voice responded on his radio, "That's right, Sir. Besides that, keep in mind what kind of prey you're hunting. As you can see, the selector on the inside of your forearm has two options: "SKL" and "HMN."

Big Boss shifted in his seat in the ACC, "Yeah, I see it. Prey, huh? Like the sound of that."

"Got a little carried away with the labels, Boss. Anyways, select SKL, and these babies will home in on the One That Covers. HMN is for the rest of us mortals."

"Got it. Tell me about the operational range and the blast radius."

"Operational range is about 50 meters in our tests, and each missile will pack about the same punch as a C4 charge. But don't worry about CQC, Boss. You can still bash heads all day with your arm, and nothing will blow up prematurely. Redundant safety systems make sure of that."

"I'll take your word for it, Aguila. Break your promise, and I'll haunt the hell out of you."

"Aha, of course, Boss. Shall I clarify anything else?"

The Boss stroked his chin, "I think that's all I need to know. Thanks."

"Glad to be of help, Boss. And Boss, I know you'll bring back our surviving guys. Ingat po. Makatang Aguila out."

Big Boss tucked his radio away. I will. And I'll send the bastards responsible back to hell.

Thoughts of vengeance were abruptly interrupted by another call. Slightly annoyed, the Boss took out his radio once more.

"This is Snake. Occupied with a mission right now."

"Yes, I thought you would be. You must really hate the Seychelles for leaving so early."

"Quiet? So how are you? And what the hell's that damn noise? You near a helipad or something?"

Snake could have sworn he heard her grunt over the radio, "Something like that, and I'm completely fine. Just... look outside your window."

Oh crap, she didn't, Snake thought.

Snake hastily peered out of his right window, expecting to see a brunette hanging by the side of his chopper. His heart sped up when he saw nothing. His radio buzzed again, "Other window, Snake." He could already feel her smiling sheepishly at him despite the tension her body must have been enduring.

Snake wheeled around, and sure enough there she was, practically fluttering like a flag on an ominously windy day. How she held on for as long as she did, Snake had no damn clue. Knowing that however, was not exactly the most pressing concern at the moment.

"Alright, hang on tight. I'm opening the door now. Get ready to jump in."

He saw her nod slightly, and took that as a go signal. The door slid open, and before he knew it, Snake was tackled to the floor. He barked at the top of his lungs, fighting back the roaring wind, "Pequod! Doors, now!"

The open helicopter door automatically slammed shut, and the momentary silence was interposed by the pilot, "So uh, welcome aboard, Quiet! Glad to have you back around!"

The sniper only managed a shy smile towards Pequod's direction, not yet quite willing to disclose her reacquired ability to speak. She turned her attention back to Snake, who now looked less than thrilled at the recent turn of events.

Under more normal circumstances, she would have been flushed with embarrassment inadvertently crashing onto him. Trembling hands resting squarely on his broad shoulders, she looked him in the eye, and that was all that mattered for a split second. She was suddenly aware of how well their bodies fell into place, slender curves complementing lean muscle. Any prospect of conduct unbecoming of operators happening was shattered when Snake reacquired his bearings. Four little syllables sliced more deeply at her heart than she anticipated.

"Get off. Move it!" the Boss seethed.

And so she did, clumsily moving to her usual place while her partner did the same. Her legs—her whole body practically—were still shaky from clinging to the flying behemoth for quite a while. Even with her parasite treatment, she still felt like a walking bruise.

Snake began, his livid eye practically boring into her skull, "Quiet, what the hell is your problem with the chain of command? I gave you no order to come with me. Yet here you are, having dangled on the side of this bucket of bolts for how long? Five hours? Tell me what the fuck's going on. Concisely."

Quiet held her ground, matching Snake's withering gaze, but she was nonetheless taken aback deep down.

"It's only been a couple of days after you almost died, and you're already back on the field. How'd you expect me to take it? Tell me, Snake."

"And so you prove that you value my life by being reckless with yours? You had to wait till we're five hours in so I wouldn't have the time to take you back. That just about it?"

She would no longer have any of it. She rose from her seat, standing as tall as cramped interior allowed, and said, "Reckless? Look who's talking. I'm not the one marching to hell with barely half his strength and zero combat support. Are you beginning to understand me, Snake? How this absurd call of yours pisses me off and scares me at the same time?"

"No, because you're not diverting my attention from what's on trial here—your impetuousness. For now, let's say I set aside the fact that you bypassed the chain of command, again. What I can't ignore is how you needlessly put yourself in harm's way, again. If something happened before I realized you were there the whole time..."

He trailed off, finding it difficult to verbalize the wordless emotions coursing within him. It was like trying to translate a foreign tongue he was barely familiar with into his native tongue. He honestly never felt this strongly about the horrendous thought of losing someone very dear to him, not even with The Boss surprising as that might be to some. True, the phantom pain of losing his mentor was certainly there, but the thought of actively fulfilling her will gave him some solace. In a way, a part of her lived on as a part of him.

It was an entirely different story however, for Quiet.

She must have noticed he was drifting off again, for his preoccupied mind only now registered the woman kneeling before him, tentatively cupping his frowning face.

After a few minutes, her lips parted, "I'm sorry. I... I didn't mean to add to the overbearing weight of the world on your legendary shoulders."

Despite his temperament just a few moments before, he let out a small chuckle, "Listen, I know you mean well. I get that. But in this business, the chain of command still holds. When you have orders or lack thereof, I expect you to act accordingly."

A flash of impatience lit up in the sniper's eyes, "I know that! I just want to make sure you'll make it out of this one. You barely walked away from the last encounter, and now you're going against the Skulls again. You only pack that damned parasite suit when intel suggests big trouble ahead."

In hopes of being spared a lecture, it crossed his mind to lie and refute her claim. But he could not, not when this could very well be his last conversation with her.

"Yes. I am. Those men had different reasons behind joining the Diamond Dogs. I'd like to think most believe in our vision; some are probably in it for the paycheck; other probably have nowhere left to go, no other place to call home. All the same, none of them would have had to face those monstrosities if it weren't for me. They're dying because of me. A few scratches here and there won't stop me from pulling their asses out of the fire—"

"Then let me do it with you," she pleaded, throwing arms around him without a second's hesitation, "Please. I already lost everything before, then you changed all that. Let me be selfish this once when I ask of you—don't make me go through that again."

Much later on, he would have to convince her that his decision was for the best, that he in fact saved her life by not permitting her to march into hell and back with him. Snake was never the romantic type, but it would have been the truth had he told her, "I won't, but I also don't have the strength to lose you."

Those were his exact words as he plunged the needle into the small of her bare back.

The prick barely registered in her mind as she lost consciousness, almost instantaneously rather than gradually. Within seconds, her tight embrace around his shoulders slackened, and Snake had to support his partner's languid form. How long he held her in his arms and listened to her steady pulse, he could not say. After a while, he kissed her hair and eased her into her usual spot in the ACC.

As Snake changed into his parasite suit and prepped the rest of his gear, he never thought he would have to use the potent tranquilizer developed by the R&D and Medical teams, and in the situation he found himself now no less. Back in the days following Quiet's capture (it felt like a lifetime ago for all Snake cared, really), Snake placed an order for "a more powerful sleeping agent that could knock out 'enhanced soldiers' within seconds." The teams did not have Code Talker yet at the time, and they had very little to go on with. However, based on the results and analysis of Quiet's physical exam, the team was able to produce a data-driven tranquilizer dart, about as large as the 5.56 NATO round. It could be chambered in modified Renov or M-2000 platforms, was effective enough to get the job done, yet was not overly strong so as to be borderline lethal.

The dart however was never properly field tested; all those claims were based on educated calculations.

The more powerful tranquilizer was developed with a rogue Quiet in mind. Fate proved to be a consummate fox when it forced his hand not to stop treachery, but to prevent death borne of overarching loyalty.

"Never knew she could be so talkative, Boss. And uh, insubordinate to boot. Your charm finally work on her or something?" his pilot quipped, interrupting his thoughts.

Having already donned the entire suit save for the headgear, Snake was not expecting Pequod to chime in, "It's a... long story, Pequod. And that was private talk. Eyes and ears back to the sky."

Snake realized his mistake, but the pilot's stifled laughter and retort came even faster, "Private? Really, Boss? You're lucky we aren't back home, Boss. Whole base could have listened to your chat with all the yelling and growling."

"Now that's taking it too far, young man—"

"Take me with you, Snake!" said the pilot in a shrill voice, utterly unaware of the thin ice he set foot on, "I'll give you all the fire support you need that it wouldn't make sense for you to deny it!"

"Just fly the helo, Pequod. Only saying that once."

Having recognized the dangerously low voice of his commander, the pilot dropped his antic. However, he wasn't letting Snake off the hook so easily.

"To be honest Boss, Quiet does have a point there. I for one would feel a lot better if you had backup in the ensuing firefight."

"There isn't going to be a firefight, Pequod. I'll take out those bastards silently, get our boys, and go home with all survivors. That's it. Bringing her along would only create more problems. Everything clear?"

"As day, Sir."

After a few moments, Snake, having already donned the headgear, placed a small satchel beside the tense pilot. Big Boss spoke with an uncharacteristically deeper voice than usual, perhaps brought about by the suit's accessory.

"We still have a couple of hours before the ETA. I'm gonna get some shuteye. If she shows any signs of waking, give her one dose. And be quick about it. Once we get there, you're gonna keep this bird steady at 9,000 feet above sea level, and she's not going anywhere. She is not coming with me, and we play by my terms. I will personally light up the bastards that got our boys. Are your orders clear, soldier?"

"Orders clear, Boss."