chapter THIRTY-FOUR: Radio Silence
"Security in Moscow for START 3 would be heavy. It had been planned and agreed to by both governments involved that security would be equal from both forces. Russia was allowed as many security agents as the United States. However, it seemed as if such a precaution was a wary indication of START 3's importance. Neither of the nations trusted each other fully, but it would only get worse. And with the situation at Trinket growing out of control, along with the situation in Washington D.C., there was no safe bet that everything would go as planned. If it got called off, even, it wouldn't be such a big surprise, really. Pretending that everything was all right between the US and Russia was a foolish thing to do."
~*~
Desperado's cell phone started ringing.
"Hello?" he asked, standing and walking from the room of computers and file cabinets to the wide unfurnished living spaces. He had left his jacket in the other room. He was wearing a nice button-up, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and a faint scar etched up his forearm from a nameless mission some unimportant number of years ago. Tied at his waist was the chain of a silver pocket watch that disappeared into his pocket. "Hello?" he said again.
"Mr. West, we're connecting you with the President," a faceless voice said. It had the universal monotone of the president's security staff, and could not be mistaken as anything but a secret service agent. A few moments later, after Desperado thought of how they had tracked down his cell phone signal, there was a beep and then complete silence on the other line. It was another thirty seconds before a second beep sounded and the rattling of a receiver could be heard.
"Simon." It was the President. There was no mistaking him. He wasn't like the faceless secret service agents.
"Mr. President," Desperado said warmly but formally. "How is the flight?"
"It's been surprisingly eventful, which I regret a great deal. I am told that we touch down in a matter of hours – maybe three or four. But, anyway, how are things on the homestead?" He was smiling to himself, standing before the two phones – the cream one that he was using, and the red one.
"Eventful – just like you said." Desperado was careful placing his words. He wasn't sure what he should reveal to the President at this point. It was hard to keep the truth, however.
"Simon…have you spoken at all with Moore, today?"
Desperado leaned against one of the walls for a moment and tried to deny it, but he couldn't bring himself to say 'no.' Nervous energy bubbled under his skin and he pressed off the wall and began pacing, sweat beading at his brow. "I have."
"Has he seemed strange to you at all?"
"No, sir," he said quickly, hoping that if he got the words out fast enough he wouldn't have time to feel as if he was doing something terribly wrong by lying.
"Hmm. I spoke with him on the phone not long ago. He didn't seem quite himself." The President wanted Desperado to break here and begin talking, but Desperado said nothing at all. "Have you heard any news regarding Trinket in the past several hours?"
"No, sir," Desperado said, lying again. "Aren't you in command of the situation?"
"Well yes, of course, but I'm only here to say 'yay' or 'nay' to particularly extreme courses of action. I've not spoken with the leader of the operation since I boarded the plane."
"I understand, sir," Desperado said, still pacing. He kept quiet for a moment longer, but the President was unable to carry on the conversation without being truthful. There were certain things he needed to know, and Desperado was not going to tell him unless he made it clear that it was safe to speak further on the subject of Trinket and Alex Moore. And, so, he did.
"I realize that you must know what's happening, Simon. You're no fool, and I'm fully aware of your connections with Joseph Brant and Solid Snake. You know what's happening in Trinket better than I do. Alex has made a point of putting me in my place – and that puts me outside of the circle. Sitting on a plane, I don't have much control over the situation. I spoke with the Russian president a couple of hours ago and he sent Spetsnaz to the base to kill the commotion. Do you have any idea what has happened since then?"
Desperado felt uncomfortable discussing this so suddenly, but he had heard some things that the President would, undoubtedly, like to know. "A lot has happened since you left. The FOX-HOUND safe house was turned upside down. One of the agents in FOX-HOUND was apparently working on another's behalf. All agents besides Brant were killed, but the traitor got away."
"Who was it?" The President asked. He was very insistent.
"A man named Lexus. And, though I'm sorry to inform you, he was working under the command of the director of the NSA."
"William Beck," the President said slowly and softly. "That's no surprise. The bastard has been supportive of Alex ever since we moved into the White House. He's always thought of me as trite – not special enough for the office. I wouldn't have expected for him to act so rashly, though." The President thought for a moment. "What else has happened?"
This was the hardest part. He'd been afraid that it would come up eventually, the subject of his allegiance with the Vice President and his halfway-completed mission to knock off supporters of the President. He had hoped that it would never surface, that it would remain a secret, but he knew that it couldn't. It would come out eventually, and it would better for the President if he knew immediately. It was the right thing to do.
But he couldn't do it.
"Brant and a man named Frank Jaeger were pursued by the NSA, but managed to hide themselves. I contacted a supporter of yours and uncovered a little safe house in Charleston."
"The Red Shirts," the President said fondly. "They're a good group of guys. I've been in touch with one of their agents throughout the day. You should know him pretty well." The President was fully aware of the relationship the two had. "He goes by Otacon."
Something leapt in Desperado's chest. He hadn't spoken to Otacon in too long.
"He…gave me some unfortunate news, though. I talked to him just a moment ago, and it seems Solid Snake has…died."
Desperado didn't know. He didn't know what to think, what to do, what to say. He just didn't know. Dead? How could Snake be dead? He was a legend and legends didn't die. "Otacon told you this?"
"Yes," the President said sadly. "I'm sorry. Very sorry, in fact. I'm not exactly sure what's going to happen at Trinket, now. With him gone, and with Raiden unable to be contacted…"
Raiden's silence was also news to Desperado. What was going on?
"This has been the strangest day all ready. And all of it now – with START 3…it's terrible," the President rubbed his forehead. It was terrible. Nothing was making any sense anymore. The whole world was falling apart and the President was drifting through the clouds without any control over the situation. Half the government had turned on him anyway. And any attempt to shut down the Vice President would jeopardize START 3.
"Sir, I need you to answer a question – one I've been meaning to ask for a very long time. It's out of line, but at this point I don't really care what's fair game and what's not." Desperado took a short breath and the President hardened his appearance even though no one was there to see him. "Two years ago when I took out Snake – what was that about? What were you using him for?"
"Simon," the President hesitated, chuckling to himself, "that's high-security information. I can't tell you those sorts of things."
"Sir, you heard what I said. I haven't been playing by the rules for this entire day and I'm not starting now. Snake is dead, and I think that had something to do with it. Ever since then he's been forced straight to Trinket. It was you who took over the mission and assigned him to it. You wanted him there, specifically, and now he's dead." He paused for just one moment. "So, tell me, Mr. President. What was the tanker about two years ago?"
"I want you to know right now, that I'm still ashamed of what I did and the reason for which I did it," the President said, being entirely truthful. "But, I couldn't try and change it after it was put in motion."
"Go on," Desperado said.
"A little over two years ago I passed a plan from the NSA regarding Solid Snake. People at National Security knew that Snake played a large role in anti-terrorism, and had been loyal and upstanding – as upstanding as a one-man army could be, that is – for the past several years. But, as it is no secret to you or me, he's getting older…and…the NSA didn't like that. They wanted to keep him young, but that was obviously impossible. But there were other methods that weren't quite so 'impossible.' The NSA proposed the possibility of cloning Solid Snake. So, that's what they did. I put David Springfield on the team, because Alex had recommended him to the position, and he pulled you onboard. You did the dirty work, and Snake woke up a year later with his memory clean – everything following his capture was lost. He was held in a government prison and was then released to work with FOX-HOUND."
Desperado was appalled, but let the President continue.
"The NSA wasn't satisfied with the clone, though. They were not ready to accept that it was on par with any of the Snakes. And so, they wanted to test him. We set Solid Snake on the path to Trinket, and that was where it was all supposed to come together. I released Big Boss from confinement, and he was ushered to Trinket. Then, we helped get Liquid's body along to them, along with Solidus', and with the magic of the Perfect Cell they were up and walking again – or, so, that's how the plan was supposed to go. I'm not entirely sure whether or not it has proceeded as such, but sometime later Snake was to arrive. And then, we would set the clone loose and watch what happened.
"And now, Snake is dead. But, I've not heard from Spectral," the President ended.
"Spectral? Is that the new Snake?" Desperado asked.
"That's right," the President answered. There was a bit of shame in his voice, but he had not been destroyed through telling this. "But, more happened that night than I am allowed to know. I don't believe that Springfield was a reliable agent. He and Alex had worked closely over the years, and with Alex's hatred of me exposed, I cannot help but doubt Springfield's character. I am beginning to fear that they led one more onto that boat…" There was a very real fear in his voice, a dark and cold concern.
"Revolver Ocelot," Desperado said in quiet disbelief.
"Moments before the operation was given the go command several department heads met with Alex in a conference room – including William Beck of the NSA. And after our little briefing this morning, I began to worry. If Ocelot is not truly dead, then I see no reason for him to pass up the opportunity of reuniting with the old gang at Trinket. He and Snake have had unfinished business since Shadow Moses."
Desperado closed his eyes and shook his head. He had known hardly any of this just minutes ago. So much had happened that he'd never been told, and so much was happening at that very moment that he could not possibly know. Everything seemed so distant.
"Simon, I need you to keep a very close eye on Alex. If he does anything crazy, call me back. The number should show up on your phone. It would normally be blocked for security purposes, but I let it run through. Oh, hold on just a moment –" he said, as a door opened. There was silence for a few moments and then he came back on. "Simon…why are you calling from that house? You don't have clearance to the information there."
"Like I said, sir, I've been breaking a lot of rules today. But, I'll keep an eye on Alex, and if I hear anything new I'll call."
"Good," the President said, smiling to himself. "Stay safe, Simon. Watch yourself."
"You too, sir. I'll talk with you later." And with a muffled grunt from the President and a click, the conversation ended. Desperado slowly closed the phone and dropped it into his pocket with his pocket watch. He could not believe that Snake had died – most of all, that his role in capturing him two years ago had played one of the biggest parts in his death. Damn, how could he have turned his own friend over to the government? He remembered the joke Snake had made when they'd stood on the roof of a building in Manhattan so many years ago, and when Desperado had revealed that he was an agent of the President's private staff.
"I have a friend who is part of the U.S. government," Snake said with a laugh. "I didn't know that sort of thing could happen."
~*~
Otacon was gathering up some things from a table in the small room filled with computers and wires.
Nastasha stood in the doorway and watched as he sifted through the piles of junk that littered the room. They had set up in the apartment a little over two weeks ago to prepare, but they couldn't show their faces in public for fear of eventually being identified as agents of the President's semi-secret security organization, watched over by the Red Shirts. Whatever involvement they would have in the START 3 signing could not be tracked back to them. If something went wrong and they were positively identified, they could be imprisoned – or worse. So, for the last two weeks they had piled trash in their apartment to avoid traversing the streets and exposing themselves to the ever watching eyes of the government.
Today, however, was a single exception. Today, they would be the last line of security at the START 3 signing. They would be representing the Red Shirts in Moscow, assigned to keep an eye on any questionable attendants of the signing or anything like that. And, to remain familiar with the layout of the building where it would be signed, Otacon had to scope it out prior to the event. That time was now.
"Remember, don't start conversation with anyone unless it's forced on you. If someone says 'hi,' just leave them alone," Nastasha said. Otacon picked up his wallet from the mess and opened it, checking his ID. His name did not read 'Hal Emmerich' any longer – at least, not in Russia, and not now. This was the second time he'd had to assume an alias through work with the Red Shirts. The first time had not ended well, but he hoped this would be different.
"Get as many pictures as you can, and show your ID to one of the American guards – American, Hal. Like planned, the building's fortified by an equal number of US Secret Service agents as it is Russian security officers. But, you're not going to find sympathy with any Russians. Once you're inside, save your shots for the hallways and balconies. We need to see everything that the President sees from the front door to the show floor."
Otacon found a sweater vest and pulled it over the clothes he was wearing. Then, he put a cap on his head and slung a camera around his neck. Nastasha pulled a card from her front right pocket and slipped it to him. Attached to it was a long cheap chain. He hung it around his neck as well. The card showed a picture of Otacon smiling ridiculously with a camera around his neck, and along the side of the picture were the words 'White House Associated Press – Personnel #1603.' And lastly, he grabbed the tattered cloth out of his shirt pocket and unraveled it.
Nastasha disappeared from the doorway and he held the cloth in his hands, and he remembered where he'd gotten it from. Standing in Battery Park as the Triborough Bridge and Trebeca Sector A exploded into flames. And then, just afterwards, as they were parting ways – Snake going with Fox and Raiden to the Zero District – Snake tore his bandana down the center and handed Otacon a half of it.
A tear slipped down his cheek, but he wiped it away. He sniffed once and cleared his throat, crumpled up the bandana and slipped it into his pant pocket. Slipping a pair of sun glasses into his other pant pocket, he left the room. The wider room, where that single table sat with that single phone on it, had two more doors in its walls. One went to a bathroom, and the other opened into the hallway. Nastasha stood in the bathroom, the door open wide, looking at herself in a smeared mirror that hung over a rusting sink. She saw Otacon stop over her shoulder in the mirror.
"Good luck, Hal," he said, her lips just barely breaking into a smile. Otacon tipped the little cap on his head and went to the door leading into the hall. He turned the knob and walked out, and Nastasha just remained in the bathroom for a while longer, and when Otacon took the stairwell down to the first floor and stepped out onto the sidewalk, someone else – someone that no one knew of, someone that had been sleeping in the shadows of Moscow for the past two weeks, watching Nastasha and Otacon and monitoring their contact with Raiden – turned out of an alley and began walking after him, keeping enough distance to appear unsuspicious.
And someone else, an invisible voice hidden behind the walls of the apartment buildings across from Nastasha's and Otacon's residence, slithered through the person's ear as he followed after Otacon. "Keep your distance. And don't do anything rash. We're just wallflowers now."
~*~
Snake and Liquid and Spectral stopped at the end of the hall and looked around the corner, down the left corridor.
There were no Spetsnaz, no wayward soldiers who had escaped the slaughters of Spectral. The hall was silence and cold and the air did not move. A taste of staleness, however, lingered along the corridor as they turned down it and began walking. Liquid was walking easily, but the wound in his ankle was making it hard for him to continue on. He grit his teeth and clenched his fists, but he did not stop walking even as the blood was still trickling out of him and drawing a shaky line along the dusty cement floor. Snake had, however, managed to quell most of the bleeding by wrapping a piece of cloth around the wound. Still, every step was a sharp and searing stab in Liquid's ankle, and every moment he felt near to fainting.
But, Liquid didn't do that. He didn't faint. Snakes didn't collapse under their burdens. That was what made them so unique. No matter the handicaps, they didn't stop. They carried all the stress, all the tension, all the physical beatings. They were the purest and most ingeniously architected soldiers in the entire world. It was no surprise the NSA had wanted one more still.
When they came to the end of the hall there was a door ahead of them, a door to their left, and a door to their right. Over the door on their left was an old sign that read 'Kiergen'. Over the door ahead of them was a sign that read 'The Walls'. And over the door to the right was another archaic sign that read 'Ivan.' That name was familiar to all three of them.
"Ocelot?" Liquid said aloud with a sort of mocking humor in his tone. "He used to go by General Ivan…that bastard." Liquid looked down at his ankle and winced very slightly, then sucked a string of air through his teeth and shook the pain away. Snake readied the SOCOM in his hand and looked to the door on their left.
"Did anyone know a Kiergen?" Snake asked. Neither Liquid nor Spectral had. They both shook their heads and redirected their attention to the door ahead of them. "The Walls…that sounds a bit strange – certainly no one's name." Snake stepped back down the hall a few feet and looked over his shoulder to see if there was anything different at the other end. "So, what're we thinking?"
Liquid spun the SOCOM in his hand and pointed it toward the left door. Then, squeezing his finger on the trigger, he fired a round through the knob, Spectral proceeding to kick it off its hinges and send it slamming down on the floor. Snake made sure that when he smiled now, it didn't show to Spectral and Liquid. He couldn't let them know he was having fun.
The three of them piled into the room, and when they flicked on a light they saw what they were standing inside. It was an office, it seemed, but there was blood splashed on the walls, and two corpses lying face-down on the floor. Spectral seemed to remember something suddenly, and turned to Snake with a strange smile. "Sorry, it got a little out of hand in here."
"What?" Snake asked. "Is this your work?" It was funny how they called murdering 'work.'
"Yea," Spectral answered. "Come here," he said, and he led them back out of the room and to the door that read 'The Walls'. Turning the knob, that which was unlocked, he pushed the door open and greeted a great gust of freezing air. Snake and Liquid followed him through the doorway and into a long wide hall that ran perpendicular to the one they were all ready in. Stretching off to the left and to the right, there were a number of wide rectangular windows cut out of the wall, but they'd all been boarded up – all but one.
"I came in through there," Spectral said, walking to the square window with some of the wood planks busted apart. "This used to be a vantage point for the guards. Imagine if the wall wasn't boarded up – you'd have a corridor open to the frozen lake about a hundred feet below. If anyone attempted to infiltrate the building, you'd see them coming from a couple miles away. They kept this place pretty secure."
Snake walked to the opening Spectral had come through and stuck his head out of it, looking along the face of the cliff that fell down and leveled at the lake. Gray tracks ran down the face of the cliff, metal slants outlining the shape of a tunnel, as if for something to travel from the lake to the top of the cliff. "What's that?" he asked.
"Elevator tracks," Spectral answered. "They're out of commission right now, but if we could reach the power controls for this wing of Trinket, we could probably give it some juice. There's an entrance to the hangar for Metal Gear at the base of the cliff. It's a heavily fortified door, but if we were able to start up the elevator, we'd be able to unlock some doors."
Snake nodded and left the room. Liquid and Spectral followed him back into the hall. "So," Liquid began, "do we have any idea where the controls are?"
"As a matter of fact, I stumbled over them on my way in," Spectral said with a smile. Opening the door to General Ivan's office, as soon as he stepped inside there was an explosion in his ear and a brief wave of static. He grabbed his ear and looked at Snake and Liquid. "Forgot about that. From here on out, I don't think Codec will be a very reliable method of communication."
"Jamming," Snake said.
"Damn those commies," Liquid said, grinning. Snake laughed, but his face quickly became hard and grim. "Well, brother, aren't you going in?" Snake raised a finger to his lips and felt the pain in his arm, where he'd been grazed by a bullet from Spectral's gun, return very intensely. Then, footsteps were heard, and a door – one directly at the opposite end of the hallway – came flying open. And there, at the end of the hall, stood both Crais and Turkish, their bodies battered and bleeding. They did not look well, but they carried two hand guns each, which begged to differ.
"I've got a hand on him," Liquid said quickly, pointing his SOCOM at Snake and grabbing that which was in Snake's hand, acting as if holding him hostage. Spectral, who had all ready entered General Ivan's office, slid further inside and made himself disappear. "Did Ocelot send you?" Liquid asked, trying to keep the mood light. He had to play Snake off as an enemy or else Crais and Turkish would have to use their guns.
"That's right," Crais growled. "He was worried about you. Frankly, so were we. We were very afraid that this Snake may have gotten the better of you." Liquid frowned upon this.
"Surely, you aren't so bold as to claim him a better warrior right before my face?" Liquid hissed. "Just take him to Ocelot. I'm going to have a smoke before I join you, I think."
"With what cigarettes?" Turkish asked. Liquid hadn't been issued any cigarettes from Ocelot when he'd been returned. But as he pulled a pack from his pocket and held it up for them, Snake turned his head around in recognition.
"Funny, my favorite brand would show up in your hands," Snake said with indignation. Liquid laughed crazily.
"Well, of course I stole them from you, brother," Liquid said. "Here," he flipped open the pack and offered it out to Crais and Turkish. Reluctantly, Turkish took one from the pack after holstering one of his guns – a Hammerli – and pulled a lighter out of his pocket after holstering his second gun – a Marker. Crais took one more cigarette after holstering one of his dual USPs and waited for Turkish to hold up the light. Liquid, however, didn't wait for anyone.
"Let's smoke 'em," he said quietly to Snake, and they both grinned brightly. Liquid dropped a SOCOM into Snake's hand, and they both stepped back a little to take aim. It only took them a matter of seconds to fire off two rounds each – straight into Crais and Turkish's chests, sending them onto their backs, their eyes wide and the cigarettes toppling out of their mouths and burning out on the floor.
Turkish, life still beating in his chest, grabbed his Hammerli from his holster and jumped onto his feet, aiming it at Snake. He popped off a round, but Snake was dodging right, through the doorway into Kiergen's office, and landed haphazardly on his back before getting up and finding a safe position behind a file cabinet soaked in blood. Liquid had dodged left into Ivan's office at the same time as Snake had gone the other way, and they waited for a moment until Turkish and Crais had both stood again, their shirts torn to reveal heavy Kevlar vests underneath.
"What are you doing, Liquid?!" Crais hollered as loudly as he could, and when he had become quiet, something had burst through the air and landed on his face. He stumbled back, but Turkish saw nothing before them. Neither Snake nor Liquid had come back into the hall. But when Crais was standing evenly again, he felt a weight lifted from his left holster, and as he saw the USP slip from the holster, he saw it disappear into nothing. And then, he felt a hand wrap under his chin and the nose of a USP – his USP – press against his temple. He gagged and dropped his other USP to the floor.
Turkish turned to face him, aiming his Hammerli and his Marker at Crais. "What the fuck?!" he cried to Crais, but another voice shook out of the air, then.
"Liquid – try the closet."
In General Ivan's office, a perfectly arranged room, no files out of place or cabinets toppled over, Liquid spotted the closet doors behind the long oak desk. The room looked a lot like the one at Shadow Moses where Psycho Mantis had bled to death. Opening the closet doors, Liquid found more than he'd expected to find.
On the back wall of the closet were gray instruments and switchboards and lights, but to the left of the controls was a very narrow hallway, and when he passed through the tight quarters, he found himself in a wider lobby area, and before him was an indoor elevator, beside which read a sign – 'Hangar.' A broad smile stretched across his face and he hurried back through the narrow hall and to the controls on the back wall of the closet.
"What is it I'm looking for?" he said in a loud voice.
"There will be a master switch somewhere. We want to shut off everything, then turn everything on one-by-one – starting with the elevator. We'll give it the power first, so that we're sure it's working. If I understand the mechanics of the place, all the power-locked doors are accessed through a separate control panel, so as to ensure that they're secure. But, we should have some time, after shutting down and rebooting, to get through. The backup power they run on will most-likely delay any locking systems for a few seconds to a few minutes. So that's our window."
"How do we plan on doing this?" Snake asked, stepping into the hall and holding his gun on Turkish. "Put it down," he said, and Turkish dropped it. "First, we reboot. Then, we get the elevator running. Then, we turn everything else on and race to the elevator, take it down to the lake, and get into the hangar – that's going to take too long."
"Then we split up," Liquid said, once he found the main switch. Then, he came back to the hall. "If found another elevator that leads to the hangar. The two of you can get on the other one and come in from the lake. I'll use this one – they won't be expecting anyone through your door. I'll just stall. Sound good?" Spectral and Snake nodded, though Spectral was still invisible. "Good, then we kill these guys first and get to it."
Liquid raised his SOCOM and fired a round into Turkish's forehead. He crumpled to the floor and Snake looked at Liquid furiously. "What're you doing?" he growled.
"They won't work as hostages, because Ocelot won't care if they're dead. And if we keep them around, they can only make trouble. So, we kill them, and it's over with."
Crais began to struggle against Spectral's grip on him, but Liquid took aim with his SOCOM and put a bullet in his face. Spectral loosened his grip and Crais slid down to the floor. Snake grabbed Liquid's arm and stared him in the eye. He wanted to say something, but he didn't. He couldn't jeopardize their alliance right now. If any sides were to change, they couldn't change now. Not so close to the end.
"Let's go," Snake said, letting his hand off of Liquid's arm and forcing his anger aside. He had committed murder countless times, but he had never favored slaughter. And what Liquid had done, killing those two without a second thought, was slaughter. They were not armed, they were not retaliating – they were sitting ducks.
"Remember, brother, moments ago they were trying to kill us both," Liquid said. "You know as well as I that they could not have aided us. Besides, we have much bigger things to worry about, haven't we?"
"Right," Snake said, and he put his hand on Spectral's shoulder – something that was actually quite strange, for Spectral was still in stealth. "Take us to the elevator," he said to Spectral. "Good luck, Liquid."
"You too, brother," he said with a strange smile, and he turned his back and entered Ivan's office again. Then, Spectral flickered back to reality and led Snake to the Walls. They opened the door and felt the gust of cold wind bite at their skin again, but they were warm from the run-in with Crais and Turkish. The cold air was not enough to chill them now.
Spectral led Snake to the left and they continued on for a matter of seconds before coming to the door of the elevator – a long, tall, metal door. They stood there in silence for a moment before Snake snapped his finger and cursed. "Dammit! Liquid has my smokes!"
Just then, the power blinked off. They could hardly tell, for there was no electricity running along the Walls, but a low murmur had disappeared. Just seconds later, a panel to the right of the elevator door with two white buttons on it, came to life – a small white light blinking on above the buttons. Snake and Spectral looked at each other and nodded. Spectral pressed the 'down' button and they waited as the clanking of some very large thing became steadily louder and louder. And as it came nearer, the clock ticked down. The lock on the door at the base of the cliff would be enabled sometime soon, and they had no idea when.
The elevator buzzed and the long, tall, metal door slid to the right. And there was a single platform, completely exposed to the wind and the snow and the ice. Snake and Spectral ran onto it and Spectral pressed a button on another panel to close the doors. They took a few seconds to come shut, but when they did the platform began to move down the elevator tracks – descending, slowly, to the frozen lake.
As it continued down, Snake looked out over the lake and saw the slightest glimmer of sunlight die out in the sky. Even as day was rising, the dark gray clouds did not lift, and the snow continued to fall on them. It looked almost the same as it would at night. And Snake liked that.
And as he drifted down, he remembered that as soon as he passed into the hangar he would loose all communication with Fox or Brant or Desperado – or anyone outside of Trinket. But, when he had the sense to ring them on Codec, the elevator had stopped on the floor of the lake. Spectral was all ready running ahead, and he followed him. And there, almost hidden against the rock wall, was a door. But, it had no handle, no key slot – nothing.
Without waiting for them to open on their own, Spectral pressed his fingers between the crease of the two doors – they came together like those of a normal elevator – and began to slide them apart. And they moved easily, without a lock to deny them access. Snake helped, and once they had made a gap wide enough for both of them, they slipped inside. It wasn't for another twenty seconds that the locking mechanism was powered on and the doors came crashing shut.
And when they had come shut, Snake and Spectral found themselves in a long dim hallway. Snake turned to Spectral and sighed. "I guess we're walking from here." That was when his Codec fizzled out and went dead. "And I guess we're on our own." Out of contact again.
It would be radio silence from then on.