Metal Gear Mercenaries - Sons of Idiocy - Chapter I - Doomed Tanker Blues

The Hudson River. Two Years Ago.

We had classified intelligence that a new type of Metal Gear was being transported.

The whole thing stank, but our noses had been out in the cold too long.

*

The scene cuts to The George Washington Bridge in New York, situated over the Hudson River. The night is dark. Gloomy. The weather cold and bitter. Rain is pounding relentlessly across the state. The cold weather deters all pedestrians from strolling across the titanic bridge, bar one, clad in a raincoat that is slick from the rain.

Cars roll across the tarmac of the bridge, their lights glinting and reflecting off of the incoming rain.

The lone man walking across the bridge begins to jog, his raincoat flapping in the wind.

The raincoat flies into the air. The man underneath it has simply...disappeared.

Rain continues to batter New York.

A bungee cord is seen in mid-air, swaying from the George Washington Bridge. No-one questions this sight. Presumably because this type of shit occurs in New York on a daily basis.

The bungee cord tightens, hurtling straight for the Tanker that is rolling across the waves of the Hudson River. The bungee cord sways near the upper deck of the tanker, before it loosens, presumably because the weight has been loosened.

A metallic crash fills the air, followed by a slight electrical buzzing. The man has now appeared on the lower deck, crouched.

Solid Snake.

As he looks up, the blades of a chopper slice through the air. A Russian Kasatka. The Kasatka slowly approaches the tanker, and inside, the Kasatka is incredibly crowded, with an old man with a thick, combed moustache, clad in a brown dustcoat, clutching onto the open door of the Kasatka, looking down at the tanker.

Ocelot [Quietly]: ...Our boy is right on schedule. He'll know soon enough.

One of the mercenaries approaches him: Frank, still sporting his thick moustache and an even more untidy head of hair.

Frank: Well, he took his fucking time, didn't he?

Lynch, who is standing beside Ocelot and looking even more tired, the black bags beneath his eyes even more noticeable.

Lynch: We've been on hiatus for six months. I think it's safe to say WE took our fucking time.

Ocelot: What are you two blabbering on about?

Will emerges from behind Lynch, surprisingly wearing the plain orange, brown and black camouflage of the other mercenaries, albeit with a rabbit fur combat vest over his chest.

Will: Meta-shit.

Ocelot: ....Right. Whatever.

A sigh echoes from behind Ocelot. Lynch looks over at the stern-looking Jon, whose face appears more pissed than ever, his head freshly shaven down to the scalp which, judging by the small nicks on his scalp, was done with a straight razor.

Jon: Look, are we getting out or what? I'm cramped back here!

Ocelot looks over his shoulder. Jon's head is barely visible past several mercenaries, crushed against the opposite door of the Kasatka by Vince, who is busy scratching at his increasingly-unkempt beard.

Vince [Groaning]: Itchy! Itchy!

Ocelot: Hold on. We've got to wait for Gurlukovich and his men to land.

Frank: Why?

Ocelot [Shrugging]: Just in case it's dangerous.

Moe, the smallest mercenary, crawls between Ocelot's legs, looking down at the tanker which is just about visible in the pouring rain. Only three marines, clad in raincoats, are actually visible as security, and even then they aren't visibly armed.

Moe: Yo, boss, there's only three marines down there.

Ocelot: Yeah, but you've seen the movies! Maybe one of those marines is some...hardcore protagonist..some..one man army who could destroy our entire operation in mere hours!

Robbie: Pff. That's bullshit. One man can't do all that.

Moe [Pointing at the tanker]: Snake can.

Ocelot falls silent.

Ocelot: Yeah, well.....fuck.

Jericho: Why don't we go down and kill them? We outnumber them!

Ocelot: We're letting Gurlukovich's men take care of them.

Lynch: Why?

Ocelot [Chuckling]: Why not?

Sal: Sweet! No blood on our uniform!

A second Kasatka begins a close fly-by of the tanker, flying directly over it before cutting over it in mere seconds, flying off into the distance.

Maurice: Ee, lads, that was a quick 'un. We playin' chicken with the lads?

Ocelot [Confused]: .....What?

Sal: Are we just fucking about? There's no way the Gurlukovich crew could disembark without--

They watch as a Gurlukovich mercenary moves behind one disguised marine, quickly slitting his throat as the blood sprays into the air. The mercenary gently lays down the Marines body.

Ocelot [Pumping his fist]: THAT'S ONE!!

Moe: Wow, that's some really, really, REALLY crap security for something transporting an incredibly dangerous weapon.

Sal: How the--

Johnny: THIS IS BLASPHEMY!

Tim: THIS IS MADNESS!!

A Gurlukovich mercenary moves behind a second Marine, kicking him roughly in the back of his legs and catching him as he buckles, quickly stabbing him in the neck with a plume of blood spraying into the air. By now, Ocelot and the mercenaries can make out several Gurlukovich mercenaries securing the deck of the Tanker, with most of them heading inside the main body of the Tanker itself.

Lynch [Impressed]: Hm. They're efficient.

Ocelot [Rolling his eyes]: Yeah yeah..just because Sergei has ALL the money! But soon...soon..

The mercenaries watch as another Gurlukovich soldier grabs the final Marine from behind, leaning him back and repeatedly stabbing him in the chest as other Gurlukovich mercenaries, wearing thermal goggles, watch.

Lynch: DAMN!

Jericho: Stab stab stab!

The Gurlukovich mercenaries, having made it past the surprisingly paltry security for a tanker that's supposed to be carrying a bipedal nuclear-weapon flinging war machine, quickly begin to secure the deck. The Kasatka flies closer, and the mercenaries watch a middle-aged man with a thin moustache and a thick brown overcoat look over the mercenaries. He reaches into his pockets, pulling out a Russian ushanka hat and slotting it on top of his head.

Ocelot: Looks like Sergei's secured the tanker.

Samuel: Sir, shouldn't we disembark?

Ocelot: .....Wait a second.

Samuel: Why?

Ocelot: ....Just want to make sure the Marines are gone.

Lynch [Sighing]: Ocelot, we should just disembark. Sergei's guys have killed the Marines.

Phil: Three Marines guarding the deck of a tanker carrying a Metal Gear. I guess austerity measures have hit the armed forces.

Ocelot [Shrugging]: Makes our job easier. Though using three choppers really doesn't help the stealthy approach.

Lynch: You want to steal Metal Gear RAY and bust out of the Tanker with it when you do. I think a stealthy approach is somewhat out of the question.

Ocelot: Get ready to rappel down to deck. I want four of you to secure the deck.

Lynch: What about Snake?

Ocelot [Shrugging]: Use your imagination. The rest of the men should distribute themselves throughout the ship, avoiding the hold, obviously. You have clearance. Try and keep your ski masks on--

Lynch: But this ain't Alaska, it's New York!

Ocelot: Exactly.

Lynch shrugs, leaning down and grasping a thick black rope which is hooked to the floor inside the Kasatka. Lynch twists around, back facing the outside, and quickly jumps down, holding the rope tightly and rappelling down it, his feet hitting the lower deck of the gigantic tanker. Snake quickly ducks behind his cover as Lynch hits the deck, followed by Frank, Sal, Bill and Phil.

Lynch: Alright. We need four to secure the deck--

Phil: I'll secure the toilets.

Lynch [Underwhelmed]: Why?

Phil [Grimacing]: I really gotta take a leak!

Lynch [Sighing]: I told you to go before we got on the chopper...Alright! GO! NOW!

Phil quickly bolts across the deck, hurtling towards the door the Gurlukovich mercenaries entered through. Lynch rubs his eyes, raising a hand to the Kasatka and making a motion with his hand. Billy rappels down, followed by Dean and Samuel, with Karab following. All four men quickly hit the tanker, followed by Moe who hits harder than the others, falling onto his hands and knees but pulling himself up, dusting off his knees.

Moe: Can we put our ski masks on?

Lynch [Shrugging]: Sure.

Moe pulls on his ski mask, as does Dean. Samuel simply shrugs.

Samuel [Calmly]: I'm fine.

Dean: Lynch doesn't want your nose up his ass, Sammy.

Samuel: Fuck off, Dean.

Johan, Eligio, Brick and Jon rappel down, followed by Vince as the Kasatka adjusts slightly to make up for the strong headwinds pounding at it.

Vince [Rubbing his hands together]: Woo! Chilly!

Frank: No shit.

Vince: Actually, no..

Vince kicks his legs out slightly, scratching his rear.

Vince: Dying for one, though.

Will, Ivan and Steve rappel down, quickly followed by Johnny and Tim. The Kasatka wobbles violently as Maurice rappels down, hitting the tanker with a massive crash, causing several of the mercenaries to topple as the tanker wobbles slightly.

Maurice [Boisterously]: THAT'S POWER, LADS!!!

Robbie and Dave rappel down as Lynch looks up at Ocelot, cupping his hands around his mouth.

Lynch [Calling out]: So, what are you going to do?!

Ocelot: Take this bird elsewhere! I'll be there soon!

Lynch: Why not rappel with us?!

Ocelot laughs loudly.

Ocelot: And be seen willingly with you bastards? Hell no.

Lynch: I thought you liked us?!!

Ocelot [Shifty-eyed]: It's a complex relationship.

Lynch: I fucking hate you!

Ocelot: Exactly!

The Kasatka maneuvres slightly, flying straight over the tanker and towards the opposite end of the deck. Lynch turns to the mercenaries, who appear to be bristling under the vicious weather.

Lynch: Ivan, Sal, Will, Frank: You four on me. We'll...'secure'...the crew lounge. The rest of you, bicker and bitchslap eachother to find the prime spots.

Dave [Whooping]: WOOHOO!!

Dave turns around, slapping Bob roughly across the cheek and stomping him. While Dave is busy stomping away at Bob, the others simply make their way to the left, around the deck and towards a large metal blast door that is at the bottom of a set of metal stairs up the catwalk that surrounds the upper decks of the tanker. Dave stops, looking around.

Dave: ...I thought we were bickering and bitchslapping?!

Robbie [Rolling his eyes]: Grow some maturity, Dave.

Dave simply stands there, dumbstruck, as Robbie walks through the left-hand tanker door.

Dave [Scoffing]: MATURITY?! IN THIS COMPANY?!

As Bill goes to walk through the door, Robbie quickly slams the door shut, hitting Bill in the face and sending him reeling backwards into a crowd of mercenaries. Karab quickly shoves him aside, diving through the door.

Karab [Yelling]: NO SHIT SPOT TO PATROL FOR ME!!

Johnny grabs Brick's head, slamming it roughly off the door before quickly squeezing through. Dave simply smirks, giving a nod.

Dave: That's more like it!

Samuel quickly headbutts Dean, diving through the door as Dave dives forward onto the crowd of mercenaries, sending them to the floor. Ocelot simply walks by, looking down at them.

Ocelot [Sighing]: I really should have paid for the Spetsnaz as my personal mercenaries..

***

With the mercenaries in place, Snake begins to finish his Codec transmission. The transmission is interrupted by the sound of a shrill harmonica playing on the catwalk above him. Snake looks up, watching as Frank clutches a harmonica, playing shrill, haunting notes that contrast well with the horrendous weather as he taps his foot.

Frank [Singing out-of-tune]: And i'm just playin' me some..Doomed Tanker Blues.

Frank taps his foot, blowing into the harmonica a few times before Sal runs up behind him, grasping his legs and tipping him over the balcony. Frank screams wildly, hitting the floor of the Tanker with a vicious thud.

Sal [Angrily]: SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO SLEEP, YOU DICK!

Sal stomps off as Frank writhes on the floor, crying in agony.

Otacon: Seems like you have some friendly faces there, Snake?

Snake: It's those guys from Shadow Moses. The idiots.

Otacon: Well, they'll be the ones without the ski masks, so do not apprehend them in a physical manner--

Snake: Fuck that, i'm kicking them if they get in my way.

Otacon: Alright, i'll rephrase that: Don't shoot them. Shoot the ones wearing ski masks.

Snake: What if some of them are wearing ski masks?

Otacon: Then don't shoot them.

Snake: But the normal guards are wearing ski masks.

Otacon [Impatiently]: Then tranquilize the guards.

Snake: But I like shooting them.

Otacon [Angrily]: THEN JUST SHOOT THEM, SNAKE!!

Frank rolls up onto his feet, limping out of view. All that's left now are three of the mercenaries, Bill, Jericho and Billy, patrolling the deck of the tanker in place of the Gurlukovich mercenaries. Snake stands up out of cover, as there is no point in hiding himself with friendlies nearby.

Snake: Well, sneaking through should be easy. The Gurlukovich guards are going elsewhere. Our friends are guarding the deck.

Bill slumps past Snake, looking over at him.

Bill: Not by choice, Snake. Not by choice.

Snake: ...Proceeding with mission.

Snake moves his fingers away from his ears, ending the transmission. The mercenaries appear to simply sidle across the deck, dejected at being stuck out in the cold. Bill's walkie-talkie crackles and he reaches around his back, grabbing and answering it.

Bill [Yawning]: Nothing to report...

Lynchs Voice: What’s it like, men?

Bill: It’s raining.

Lynchs Voice: It is? Shame. I’ve got a mug of cocoa here. A good, steaming mug of—

Bill switches off his walkie-talkie, clipping it to the back of his belt and cursing loudly, turning around and walking a few steps, watching as Jericho walks over him on the top catwalk of the aft deck, nodding down at him.

Jericho: Lovely weather, eh?

Bill: ..No.

Jericho: I was born in Britain. THIS is lovely weather.

Jericho turns around, grasping the railing with both hands and leaning over it slightly, looking down at Billy.

Jericho [Yelling]: HEY! BILLY! ANYTHING TO REPORT?!

Billy [Shouting]: WHAT?!

Jericho [Cupping hands around his mouth]: ANYTHING TO REPORT?!

Billy remains silent for a few seconds.

Billy: IT’S RAINING!!!

Jericho shrugs, turning around and walking to the left, whistling to himself.

Bill: Pulling this shit. Can't believe this. Fucking cold. Fucking wet.

Billy: Trust me, bein' cold an' wet in New York is tha least of yeh concerns.

Bill: Oh yeah?

Billy: Oh aye: Yeh coul' get shot, stabbed, beaten, mugged...

Bill: Down in Alabama, we call that a family get-together!

Billy: Well, in New York, it's called the tourist welcome! And unlike Alabama, they don't have tha courtesy to feed yeh afterwards!

Snake walks behind Bill, tapping him on the shoulder. Bill yelps, twisting around.

Bill [Angrily]: WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT?!?!

Snake: If you assholes are here to help....Help?

Billy: With wha'?

Snake: Where's the new Metal Gear prototype?

Billy: Below deck.

Snake [Rubbing his eyes]: Is there an easy way to get there?

Billy [Bluntly]: Nope.

Snake: Well, how do I get into the Tanker?

Jericho [Calling down]: USE THE DOOR, DUMBASS!!

Billy: ...Follow me.

Billy leads Snake around the deck, following the perimeter of the Tanker a few feet before turning right, heading towards a large alcove which is marked by a set of metal stairs ascending onto the second floor. At the foot of these stairs is a large blast door with a circular handle. Billy motions towards it.

Billy: Door. Use it.

Snake walks over to the door, grasping the handle and twisting it around three times before the lock releases and Snake pulls the door open. Before Snake can shut the door, Jericho has run down from the catwalk and into the tanker. Snake shuts the door behind him as Jericho shakes off the rain, rubbing his hands over himself to attempt to restore warmth to his body.

Jericho: FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK THAT'S GOOD!!

Snake: ...Where are we?

Jericho: ..I think this is the Crew's Quarters. Deck A.

Snake turns left down a short coridoor, before walking north up a second short coridoor where a second blast door is. Sensing a shortcut, Snake walks over to the door, grasping the handle and wrenching it roughly. So roughly, in fact, that the handle is pulled away from the door.

Snake: .....Well, fuck.

Snake quickly slots the handle back into the door, jolting it slightly to keep it intact before turning around, jolting backwards into the metal as he comes face-to-face with Tim, busy patrolling the Crew's Quarters.

Snake [Scared]: FUCK ME!

Tim: No thanks, I'm in a very good relationship.

Snake [Narrowing his eyes]: .......Who are you? I don't recognise you, but your lack of a ski mask--

Tim: Mercenary?

Snake: Another man? You mean they actively recruit?

Tim: Well.....yeah.

Snake: That's a frightening thought. Where's your base?

Tim: Secret.

Snake: Middle East?

Tim blinks rapidly, frowning.

Tim [Coldly]: You're a dick.

Snake: Look, out of the way, I have a world to save and you're not helping.

Tim [Taken aback]: WE ARE!

Snake [Growling]: THEN HELP!

Tim: There's a Gurlukovich mercenary patrolling the coridoor past the locker-room. There. Helped.

Snake shoves Tim aside, storming past him as Tim quickly dusts off his shoulders.

Tim: You're an asshole, did you know that?

Snake: [Bluntly]: Yup.

Snake walks down the coridoor, walks right past the door and down into another coridoor, quickly unholstering his M9 tranquilizer pistol and flattening his back against the wall, slowly sidling past it before reaching the edge of the wall, looking around the corner: Nothing. Snake moves around the corner, slowly walking towards the edge of the second coridoor, past two polished metal doors and flattens his back against the wall to the right of the right-most metal door, looking around the corner and watching as a Gurlukovich mercenary slowly patrols up the coridoor. Snake swiftly leaps out, firing a tranquilizer which hits the guard in the back of the neck, knocking him out almost instantly and causing the mercenary to slump face-first onto the floor.

Snake [Smirking]: Gotcha, asshole.

Snake rushes over to the guard, gripping under the guards arms and lifting him slightly, walking backwards and dragging him backwards. Snake slowly drags the guards body through the right-most door of the doors he passed and into the lockerroom, which consists of four pairs of lockers, two pairs situated back-to-back in the middle of the room with a pair each on either side of the room. The door snaps shut behind him as he approaches the pair of lockers on the right-hand wall, opening the nearest of the pair. Steve is huddled inside, his arms around his knees. Snake sighs darkly.

Snake: Alright, what are you doing in a locker?

Steve: Stuff.

Snake: ................Like?

Steve [Hastily]: PLAYING HIDE AND SEEKAND LOOKING AT RANDOM UNEXPLAINED POSTER OF SEXY ASIAN LADY! NOW SHUSH!

Steve slams the door shut.

Snake: But where the hell am I gonna hide this body?!

Steve [Quickly]: THE ONE NEXT TO ME!

Snake hauls the body up, opening the door of the locker next to Steve's and throws the body in haphazardly, slamming the door shut. He turns around, only for the door to open, the body collapsing to the floor as the locker shuts. Snake spins around.

Snake: Did that locker spit my body out?!

Vince's Voice: Yes, because it tasted horrible.

Snake: Can you guys, y'know, FUCKING HELP?!?!

Vince's Voice: And break our cover? I don't think so!

Snake: ....What the fuck are you doing in there?

Vince's Voice [Hastily]: NO! DON'T OPEN THE DOOR! NO! NONONON--

Snake grabs the locker door and wrenches it open, revealing Vince in a tight powder-blue full-body lycra suit with a rainbow wig on top of his head. Snake slowly steps back.

Snake [Shocked]: What the fuck man.

Vince: .....It's Halloween.

Snake remains silent, his left eye twitching.

Vince [Quickly]: I WAS TRYING OUT SOME RAINBOW DASH COSPLAY!!!

Snake slams the locker door shut, slowly turning around and holding two fingers to his ear as the Codec rings.

Otacon: Is everything alright, Snake?

Snake: Otacon, would killing them be detrimental to my mission? Like, extraordinarily detrimental?

Otacon: Well, they are your only allies on the Tanker. They may come to your aid when you least expect it. I would highly recommend against harming them.

Snake: I might fucking shoot them.

Otacon: Snake. Temper.

Snake [Angrily]: FUCK YOU, WEEABOO!!!

Snake pulls the fingers away from his ear, shaking his head and emerging from the right-hand door of the room.

Snake: This is pure fucking insanity.

Snake continues up the coridoor, turning right and then left through two coridoors, approaching an automatic door and sidling through it. As he approaches through it, Snake quickly flattens his back against the wall: All he can see is a Gurlukovich mercenary patrolling through the crew lounge directly ahead of him, while several other footsteps indicate a larger presence within the lounge itself. Snake quickly leaps out, firing the tranquilizer at the guard facing him, the tranquilizer dart embedding into his forehead and knocking him out. A second Gurlukovich mercenary exits from the lounge, appearing mere feet away, but allowing Snake to shoot him in the side of the skull with a tranquilizer dart, knocking him out almost instantly. Snake listens intently, the smell of acrid smoke filling his nostrils.

Lynch: Well, those two have been knocked out.

Ivan: Ze Gurlukovich mercenaries are so useless!

Will: Must be like fox hunting for Snake.

Frank: Hehe, remember Shadow Moses? [Imitating Liquid Snake's British Accent]: In the Middle East, we don't hunt foxes...we hunt JACKALS!

Ivan: Vell, in VUSSIA, Ve hunt BEARS. I once found a bear, trapped its neck against a tree with a fork, and stabbed it in ze HEART!

Lynch: ..Why?

Ivan: MANLY HUNTING.

Hearing the chatter of familiar voices, Snake slowly walks down the coridoor, holstering his tranquiliser pistol and turning right into the crew lounge. A long wall with a glass window embedded into it acts as a divider for the actual lounge itself, with two gaps to the left and right of the window acting as entrances. Snake enters through the right, looking over a large bar stocked mostly with wines and a few spirits directly in front of him before turning left: Ahead of him are two circular tables, surrounded by four chairs, and beyond the furthest table, slightly visible, is a magazine rack, behind a leather couch which is facing a television set, curiously showing a live feed of the new Metal Gear prototype. To the left and the right of that couch are two other couches, the left of which Will is sitting back in, eyes closed and face content. Snake looks at the table furthest from him: Lynch is sitting at the table with a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label next to him and a half full glass of whiskey in his hand. Lynch looks over at Snake, waving.

Snake [Smirking]: Lynch! The one face I DO know!

Lynch [Happily]: SNAKE!

Snake quickly points his M9 at Lynch's head.

Snake [Angrily]: WHERETHEFUCKISMETALGEAR?!?!

Lynch [Calmly]: Below deck.

Snake: Oh.

Snake walks over to the table, noticing that Sal is sat in the couch in front of the television, reading a magazine with a cigar smouldering in his mouth. Frank emerges from behind the bar, stumbling forward and clutching a bottle of vodka. Snake sits at the table as Frank slowly sidles over to the television, watching it with an abnormal look of interest on his face. Lynch pours Snake a glass of whiskey, lighting a cigar for himself after he does.

Snake: ....I do have a mission, y'know.

Lynch: We know.

Snake: It's very important.

Lynch [Repeating himself]: We know.

Snake: Like, extraordinarily, save-the-world important.

Lynch: And?

Snake [Smirking]: ....Fuck the world!

Snake takes a quick swig of the whiskey, and the mercenaries watch as Vince, still clad in the skintight lycra suit, sidles by, his rainbow wig beneath his right arm.

Vince [Murmuring]: Yeah yeah, just watch..

Snake: Lynch, that isn't normal. I don't care where you're from, THAT isn't normal.

Lynch [Sighing]: It's normal for him.

Snake [Shrugging]: So, why are you here?

Lynch: United Nations sent us.

Snake [Eyes widening]: Wow, your jurisdiction grew?

Lynch: We were always at the top of the foodchain.

Will [Muttering]: Unless you're Frank. Then you're at the bottom.

Frank: Fuck off.

Will: Shut up, bottom feeder.

Lynch [Hissing]: SHUT UP, YOU FUCKING BABIES!!! [Turning back to Snake]: Anyway, yes, we're here to make sure your mission goes alright.

Snake: Good, because I have a request--

Ivan stumbles past the left side of the glass into the lounge, glaring at the coffee table in front of Sal.

Ivan: VELL, HELLO FLUTTERSHY!!!! I vought I killed you.

Snake [Blinking]: Who is he talking to?

Lynch: I hope he's talking to himself....Anyway, what's your request?

Snake: ...Right. Anyway, I need to get below deck, without being seen by Marines or killed by Gurlukovich's own mercenaries--

Frank: I have a plan!

Lynch: No, Frank, what you have are sporadic outbursts of stupidity that is less idiotic than your normal thought process.

Frank: ..That hurts.

Lynch: Please, you feel pain every single time you try to think.

Will: And every single time soap touches your skin.

Frank [Laughing sarcastically]: HahahahahahHA!! HOW FUCKING FUNNY!! THE SAME OLD JOKES FROM WILL!!

Will: Sorry, micropenis. I would come up with new material, but if I don't keep it simple or repeat myself, you 'ug' in confusion!

Frank: All bark, no bite.

Lynch: Alright ladies, break it up. We can help, Snake. But first....we drink.

Snake: How will this help?

Lynch [Chuckling]: Who cares?!

Snake shrugs, taking a quick drink of whiskey as Lynch grabs his walkie-talkie, clicking it.

Lynch: Billy, report in.

Static crackles on the other end, before a howling gust of wind precedes the transmission.

Billy's Voice [Crackling with static]: Nothing to report.

Outside, the storm is still raging, with the rain pounding harder than before. Billy slots his walkie talkie back onto the rear of his belt, clutching his AKS tighter and slowly walking over to the edge of the tanker, looking into the dark, rough waters below. A loud pop snaps into the air, and Billy twists around: Standing in front of him, clutching a baking tray, is the grinning face of Courtney, wearing a Leatherface outfit complete with the mask and an actual chainsaw strapped to her back.

Billy: Courtney.

Courtney: HI!

Billy: What do yeh want?

Courtney: I HAVE COOKIES!!

Billy: And I have a drowning jessie to save.

Courtney looks overboard to see what Billy was looking at earlier: Bill is incessantly splashing in the stormy water, flailing his arms.

Bill: HELP ME, DAMMIT! I THINK THERE'S TURTLES SNAPPING AT MY FEET!

Billy: Bill, it's New York, it's probably a condom wrapper!

Bill: I CAN FEEL MY DNA WARPING!! GET ME OUTTA HERE!!

Billy [Shrugging]: Left him fer a few minutes. If yeh cannae swim, yeh should'nae be a mercenary.

Courtney: Lynch wouldn't like one of his men to drown.

Billy: I think yeh'd find he would! But fair point, wee lassie.

Billy grasps a flotation ring which is situated near the railing that surrounds the deck of the tanker, gripping it like a frisbee.

Billy: CATCH!!

The flotation ring flies through the air, hitting Bill square on the top of his head. Bill yelps, quickly locking his arms around it.

Bill: YOU FUCKING IDIOT! WATCH IT!

Billy [Sarcastically]: Wah. Wah. Wah.

Courtney [Cheerfully]: Cookie?

Billy turns around, taking a cookie.

Billy: Cheers, lassie.

Billy pauses, taking a second one.

Bill [Spluttering]: DRAG ME IN! DRAG ME IN! I THINK I CAN FEEL A SWAMP MONSTER IN HERE WITH ME!

Billy: I think yeh'll find yeh are the swamp monster!

Bill [Angrily]: YOU FUCKING SKIRT-WEARING BASTARD!!

Courtney disappears as soon as she appeared, leaving Billy with two pumpkin-shaped butter cookies. Billy eats one whole before sticking the other one in his mouth, craning his head and looking towards the top of the tanker, onto the bridge where the head of Robbie peers over, presumably hearing the screaming. Robbie leans over the railing slightly, cupping his hands over his mouth.

Robbie: HEY! DOWN THERE! ANYTHING TO REPORT?!

Billy: NO! ANYTHING TO REPORT UP THERE?!?!

Robbie disappears momentarily, and Billy watches as a pastel yellow pony with a pink mane is flung over the side of the railing, hitting the deck with a crunch. Billy blinks rapidly, looking up at Robbie.

Billy [Angrily]: PONIES!!! REALLY?!?!

Robbie [Laughing]: FUCKING EVERYWHERE! IT'S LIKE SHOOTING FISH IN A BARREL UP HERE!!

Billy watches as Robbie disappears.

Robbie's Voice [Cackling]: NEW LUNAR REPUBLIC?!?!? BAD NEWS, BITCH, GOTT MITT UNS!!!

Gunfire echoes as Billy slowly shakes his head.

Billy: ...Fucking hell.

Billy turns around, coming face-to-face with a soaked Bill, whose fatigues are heavily discoloured from the polluted, atypical New York water. Bill glares at Billy, clenching his right fist.

Bill: ...Kiss goodbye to your teeth, you Scotch cunt.

Billy looks  at Bill before shrugging and shoving Bill overboard again, giving a cruel smirk.

Bill [Angrily]: I'LL FUCKING GUT YOU WHEN I GET ABOARD THAT SHIP!!

Billy [Singing jovially]: I'M AN EVIL SCOTSMAN, AND BILLY IS MY NAME! IF YOU DON'T LIKE THE RULES, DON'T PLAY THE FUCKING GAME!!

Billy laughs loudly, walking away from the side of the Tanker and whistling to himself as Bill splashes in the water.

***

Snake slams his glass down, getting up to his feet.

Snake: Well, that was fun, but i'm off.

Lynch; Why?

Snake [Coldly]: Your friend drank the fucking booze.

Lynch, Ivan and Snake look over at Frank, lying on a large pile of bottles with a half-empty bottle of red wine in his hand, a glazed look on his face and a dopey grin on his face.

Frank [Giggling]: BONJOUR COMRADES! I AM ZE WINE DRINKING SURRENDER MONKEY!!

Lynch: Well, there goes our French readers.

Ivan: Ve had readers?!

Lynch and Ivan suddenly burst out laughing before stopping.

Lynch: Yeah, the people from TVTropes--

Ivan: ALL THREE OF ZEM!

Lynch and Ivan burst out laughing again, only to stop suddenly.

Lynch: Right, enough fourth-wall breaking. SNAKE! GO COMPLETE YOUR MISSION!

Snake [Mumbling]: Yeah yeah..

Snake walks out of the crew lounge and heads up the set of stairs opposite the large pane of glass, turning left at the top of them and onto Deck B of the Crew's Quarters. Back in the Lounge, Lynch hears a pop near him, causing him to look over his shoulder: Courtney is standing behind him, cookie tray in hand.

Courtney: Cookie?

Sal: WOOT! HALLOWEEN COOKIES!

Sal bolts up to his feet, dashing over to Courtney and taking a handful of cookies before sprinting off down the coridoor, giggling like a maniac.

Lynch: ...That boy has problems.

Lynch reaches over, hesitantly taking a cookie before Courtney disappears in a blue haze.

Will: It's Halloween back home, Lynch.

Lynch [sighing]: ...Why do I have a bad feeling?

Will: Because you know this shit happens year in, year out.

As soon as Snake exits the door, he twists around, noticing a shadow on the wall just in front of him, as well as visible on the polished black linoleum. Snake takes a step back, carefully surveying the shadow.

Snake [Mumbling]: Damn Gurlukovich bastards are everywhere..

Snake quickly quietens listens carefully from above as a set of footsteps echo from the floor above, coming down a set of stairs and emanating from a coridoor to his right. Snake looks to the right, noticing the bottom of a set of metal stairs which vibrate slightly under the incoming footsteps.

Jericho: So, do you miss Wolf?

Phil: No.

Jericho: She had huge tits, though. Like, massive.

Phil: She's tried to eat me and kill me. Often, it occurred in that order.

Jericho: And after this mission, do you think some more of her past will be uncovered, and she'll go fucking nuts and try to kill everyone in Beale Street?

Phil: Without a doubt.

Jericho [Sighing]: Can't wait to get a drink when this is done.

Phil: If there's a bar left to drink from.

Snake turns his head, watching as Bob, Jericho and Phil emerge through the door. Snake lets out a small sigh of relief.

Snake [Quietly]: Assholes. Help.

Phil [Blinking]: We aren't trained circus monkeys, Snake. We're on our way to the toilets.

Snake points to the shadow of the patrolling guard.

Snake [Impatiently]: HELP.

Jericho [Hissing]: What a dick.

Bob: ...This will require skill, cunning, and thought.

Jericho [Stroking his chin]: ....So should I get Lynch, then?

Phil walks forward, turning left around the corner. The guard swiftly turns around, eyeing Phil and approaching him, stopping in front of him. Phil grins brightly.

Guard: ....Anything to report?

Phil [Cheerfully]: NOTHING!

Guard [Taken aback]: ....Well, can you move back to your patrol? This is my spot. Mine. I patrol this very small section of coridoor.

Phil: Why?

Guard: Just in case, for no apparent reason, an intruder should decide that he will pass through this coridoor, despite my shadow being clearly visible on the walls, where I will be able to shoot him. If I had a wider patrol range, I could not contain myself to such a strict search.

Phil [Raising an eyebrow]: ...That's...quite the observation.

Guard [Hysterically]: KILL ME!!

Phil: Okie dokie lokey.

Phil reaches into his holster, pulling out his USP pistol and shooting the guard in the forehead. The guard's head snaps back, spraying blood and brain matter across the walls and floors as his corpse flops backwards with a sickening splatter onto the polished floor. Bob and Jericho quickly dash round the corner, stopping inches behind Phil.

Jericho [Angrily]: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!?!

Phil: He said 'kill me!'!

Bob [Nervously]: What if a patrol walks past?! What if Ocelot finds out?! HE'LL KILL US, PHIL! HE'LL KILL US!

Phil [Angrily]: SHUT UP, BOB! I KNOW HOW TO SAVE OURSELVES, ALRIGHT?!?!

Phil walks over to the body, squatting down at its feet and wrapping his arms loosely around the corpses waist before lunging up, slinging the body over his shoulder. The exit hole from the gunshot in the corpses skull is so large that the remnants of blood, thick mucus and brain matter begin to slop out of the skull. Bob turns around, vomiting noisily on the floor as Jericho quickly dodges it.

Jericho [Angrily]: WATCH IT! THESE SHOES COST MORE THAN YOUR HOUSE!

Bob [Disgusted]: OH GOD, PHIL! OH GOD! THAT'S SICK!

Phil [Impatiently]: WAR ISN'T A GAME, GODDAMMIT!!

Phil stops, turning to the reader.

Phil [Knowingly]: Because, let's face it, Hideo Kojima has shoved that message down our throats incessantly since the beginning.

Phil looks over his shoulder at Bob.

Phil [Yelling]: SO GROW SOME BALLS AND HELP ME, DAMMIT!!!

Jericho [Rubbing his eyes]: Phil, stop breaking the fourth wall.

Phil looks over his shoulder at Jericho, his face suddenly crestfallen.

Jericho [Confused]: What?

A huge shadow falls over Jericho. Jericho stops, slowly turning around as the huge form of professional wrestler Big Van Vader falls over him.

Vader [Yelling]: IT'S TIME! IT'S TIME! IT'S VADER TIME!!

Vader disappears almost as quickly as he arrived, leaving a small pumpkin in his wake. Jericho leans down, taking the pumpkin.

Jericho: .....Halloween. Our eternal nemesis.

Back in the break room, Lynch shivers, suddenly looking up. Will looks over at him from over his magazine.

Will: What's wrong?

Lynch [Narrowing his eyes]: Someone broke the fourth wall.

Will: Not exactly a surprise. Seems to happen constantly at Halloween.

Will looks over at Frank, still gazing in awe at the television screen displaying a live feed of Metal Gear RAY.

Will [Sighing]: Is rummy gonna move, or will we have to zap his hobo ass?

Lynch looks over his shoulder, taking a puff of his cigar and blowing smoke from his nostrils.

Lynch: Leave him. The technology still shocks him.

Frank [In awe]: ...Why do they have a video feed showing a top secret weapon in the crews break room?

Lynch: Shit and giggles, rummy. Shit and giggles.

Frank: It makes no sense!

Back upstairs, Snake watches as Phil drags the body around the corner. Snake looks behind him at a second coridoor, colder and somewhat darker than the coridoor surrounding the crew's lounge.

Snake: Hey, could've just went around.

Phil [Hissing]: You really are a fucking asshole.

Snake simply shrugs, walking past them as they begin to drag the body away.

Jericho: He really isn't a nice guy, is he?

Bob: He's a dick.

Back in the Crew's Lounge, a pop sounds behind Lynch, who quickly looks up: Standing in front of him, wearing nothing but an apron and oven gloves, is Tavi, holding a pie dish filled with a neon-orange pie. Lynch stares at her, then simply shakes his head/

Tavi: Hi guys.

Lynch [Coldly]: Fuck off.

Frank: BONJOUR TAVI!! BONJO--WOOOOAHHH!!

Frank topples off of the pile of wine bottles he's laying on, hitting the floor with a thud.

Tavi [Frowning]: Well, that's not nice for someone bringing pumpkin pie!

Lynch: I fucking hate pumpkins.

Tavi [Sticking her tongue out]: I'LL GO SEE PHIL, THEN!!

Lynch [Impatiently]: THEN FUCK OFF!!

Tavi vanishes in a blue haze as Lynch sits there, looking down into his glass of whiskey.

Lynch [Sighing]: Whatever.

With Snake heading around the coridoor, and with Phil left dragging the dead body with Bob and Jericho towards the Crew's Quarters on Deck A. Bob is dragging his feet, covering his mouth. Jericho sighs, looking over his shoulder at Bob and shaking his head.

Jericho [Muttering]: Act like this is the worst thing you've seen..

Vince: SONIC RAINBOOM!!!!

Vince sprints past them, causing all three of them to stop, wide-eyed.

Bob: .....You're right, Jerry. THAT'S the worst thing i've ever seen.

Phil [Eye twitching]: I think I saw his knob.

A pop sounds near them and Phil quickly drops the body, twisting around: Feet away stands Tavi, clutching the pumpkin pie.

Tavi: HI PHIL! Pumpkin Pie?

Phil [Looking at the pie, then at Tavi]: Where's the booze?

Tavi [Tutting]: Come on! I baked it!

Phil: Pumpkin Pie's Thanksgiving, not Halloween.

Tavi: Shut up and take my pie.

Jericho [Sniggering]: Not the first time you've told him that, eh?

Phil reaches out, hesitantly taking the pumpkin pie and looking down at it.

Phil [Sarcastically]: Mmm. Yum.

Tavi: Take a bite.

Phil: Wha--

Tavi [Coldly]: Eat the pie.

Phil simply stares.

Tavi: Stop looking at my tits.

Phil: That's kind of hard to do. They're in my pie.

Tavi gives a small smirk.

Bob [Speaking up]: Tavi, we have to hide this body. Like, really soon.

Jericho [Sighing]: If you two are gonna flirt, do it elsewhere.

Tavi stands on her tiptoes, looking between Phil and Jericho at the dead corpse of the Gurlukovich mercenary. Tavi purses her mouth, glaring at Phil.

Tavi [Coldly]: Eat. The. Pie.

Jericho [Aside, to Phil]: Do it, she's a psycho.

Phil squeezes the foil case, popping the pie out and holding it in his hands, biting it like a sandwich. He chews on it, a look of disdain falling across his face, followed by disgust, and finally revulsion as he slowly chews it.

Phil [Muffled]: Mmph. Deliciouth.

Tavi [Beaming]: YAY! THANK YOU!

Tavi quickly disappears. Phil drops the pie, spitting the half-chewed mess onto the floor and retching slightly.

Bob: Wow, it's only pie.

Phil [Retching]: I FUCKING HATE PUMPKIN!!!

Tavi re-appears in front of Phil, her lips pursed and her arms folded.

Tavi [Darkly]: I am going to gut you like a fish.

Bob: ...LET'S GET OUTTA HERE!!

Phil, Bob and Jericho quickly twist around, running back into the coridoor they were originally in. Dave walks up behind Tavi, stopping inches away from her.

Dave: ...I'm not even going to ask why you're naked.

Tavi quickly spins around, grinning so happily at Dave that he instinctively takes a step back.

Dave [Disturbed]: That's fucking scary, man.

Tavi [Happily]: HI DAVE.

Dave: Not now.

Tavi: Why?

Dave: Lynch summoned me. I can sense I will hate this.

Tavi [Grinning]: HAVE FUN!!

Tavi disappears and Dave sighs, shaking his head, turning left and heading through the automatic door, walking down the steps and turning right, looking into the Crew's Lounge and walking forward, moving around the large room divider and into the Lounge itself, looking over at Sal who is laid on the couch, a cigar smouldering between his lips as he sleeps. Dave walks over to Sal, taking the cigar from his mouth and placing it into his own mouth.

Sal [Waking up]: Wha--Hey--

Dave: Piss off. I need it.

Sal quickly gets onto his knees on the couch, twisting around and leaning over it, looking at Dave.

Sal [Angrily]: GIVE ME THAT BACK! IT'S CUBAN!

Dave: No.

Sal: I WILL GO SUPER SAIYAN.

Dave holds up the V-sign inches from Sal's face.

Dave: How many fingers am I holding up?

Sal: Two, bu--

Dave twists the fingers around, poking Sal in the eyes. Sal screams, flopping backwards and onto the couch.

Dave [Smirking]: Man, there's something so satisfying about physically hurting complete morons.

Lynch: Dave, stop hitting defenceless children and get here.

Dave trudges over to the table Lynch is sitting at.

Dave: Wha--

Lynch: Get your ass up to Deck D. Now.

Dave [Whining]: But Vince is up there, wearing lycra!

Lynch [Coldly]: Go. Now.

Dave [Sighing]: I really don't like doing this job.

Lynch: Shut up and march, and be glad it isn't Maurice in lycra.

Dave slowly trudges away. A pop sounds behind Lynch, who looks over his shoulder at Big Bad Bobby, wearing a Bane costume.

Bobby: WHEN YOU COMPLETE THIS MISSION, YOU HAVE MY PERMISSION TO DIE.

Johan disappears just as quickly as he disappeared, leaving a dumbstruck Lynch to simply turn and look back at his glass, quickly swiping it off of the table and smashing it onto the floor.

Lynch: Right, I think that's enough drink for me.

***

Snake has finally reached Deck D, with the floor above being the bridge. Snake walks ahead, looking to his right as a door snaps open and another mercenary walks along, wearing his ski mask. Snake swiftly spins on the balls of his heels, aiming his tranquilizer pistol, but the figure quickly whips off their mask, revealing the rounded face and watery eyes of Johnny.

Johnny [Quickly]: Don't shoot!

Snake: You! Mercenary?

Johnny: Yep. With Lynch.

Snake lowers his pistol.

Snake: Anything to report?

Johnny [Shrugging]: Two Gurlukovich mercenaries in the cafeteria, but nothing else. Oh, and there's two devices erected on the wall around the right-hand corner: DO NOT GO THROUGH THEM.

Snake: Why?

Johnny: Semtex linked to laser-trip wires. You trip them, places goes boom.

Snake [Taken aback]: WAIT, WHAT?!

Johnny [Grimly]: Yes..

Snake [Ripping at his hair]: THAT'S FUCKING CHEATING!!

Johnny: That's what they all say.

Snake [Looking around]: ...Fuck. Gotta check up with Lynch, see if he knows anything about this. SHIT! PISS! FUCK!

Johnny [Shrugging]: Well, see you around, Snake.

Johnny turns around, walking into the cafeteria. Snake twists around, walking forward and turning his head right: Sure enough, mere feet away, two tall metal devices with various holes in them, extending from floor to ceiling, stand there ominously. The blinking of C4 upon a bundle of Semtex is barely visible, placed right near the foot of the right-hand laser device. Snake growls, tearing at his hair.

Snake [Angrily]: PLACES ARE ALWAYS RIGGED WITH EXPLOSIVES THESE DAYS!! WHY CAN'T THEY RIG SHIT WITH PARTY POPPERS?!?!

Hearing a small crash, Snake quickly turns left, heading up the rest of the coridoor and turns right, heading through a swiftly-opening automatic door, revealing quite a small room filled with various boxes advertising oranges, as well as sacks of flour and, oddly enough, crates of melons, placed upon a large metal rack in the center of the room, while the boxes are stacked high around the edges of the room. Just past the grate, Snake can see the figure of a mercenary. Snake approaches carefully, looking over at Brick who is hunched over a box, fiddling with something. Hearing the door open, Brick looks over his shoulder, his face brightening when he finally finds company that isn't in the form of a Gurlukovich mercenary.

Brick [Cheerfully]: SNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE!!

Snake: You...baseball cap, goatee....Uhh..Bill?

Brick: No--

Snake: Tim?

Brick: No.

Snake: ...Dave?

Brick [Impatiently]: IT'S BRICK!!!

Snake: Oh. Right. [Sniffing the air] Fucking hell, it smells like an ass wrapped in mould in here!! What the hell?!

Brick turns around, tearing apart a trash bag and scooping up some foul-looking orange liquid into a glass, holding it up and swishing it.

Brick [Grinning]: PRUNO!!!

Snake: What?

Brick:  Prison hooch. Oranges, mouldy bread, sugar, ketchup and water, all stolen from the mess hall! Want some?

Snake leans forward, sniffing the liquid before taking a step back, choking loudly.

Snake [Choking]: J-JESUS! S-S-SMELLS LIKE P-P-PAINT ST-STRIPPER!!

Brick [Grinning]: This will make your nipples spin like whirling dervishes!!

Brick takes a quick drink of the liquid, his right eye twitching manically as he sucks in air violently through his teeth.

Snake: ...Are you alright?

Brick: I CAN SEE THROUGH TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Snake [Underwhelmed]: ...Uh. Yeah. Alright. I'm gonna go.

Brick: BYEBYEBYEBYEBYEBYEBYEBYEBYEBYE!!!

Snake looks over his shoulder before shaking his head and leaving the room, the door shutting behind him.

Brick: I have fucking poisoned myself.

Brick stands there, blinking rapidly and looking around.

Brick: Man, I am not in Kansas anymore, Toto.

The door shoots open and Jon walks in, looking around.

Jon: I heard whooping and hollering. So this is where you got to.

Brick: YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!

Jon [Blinking]: Wait, is that the Pruno?

Brick: Whyyesitcertainlyisandboyisitsomegoodshitmanthetrashbagsreallyimpartsomeexcellentflavourintoit--

Jon [Narrowing his eyes]: Why are you talking like that?

Brick: Boyohboyohboyohboyohboyohboyohboyohboyohboy!!

Jon: Brick, is this safe to drink?

Brick: Wellitaintfuckinglegalthatsforsurejerryohboyohboy!

Jon looks hesitantly over his shoulder before taking the glass from Brick. Brick blinks rapidly, hissing in more air through his teeth.

Brick: ....Has a certain.....................................................kick to it.

Jon: I really am not sure about this.

Brick: YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!

Jon: Well done. Your intelligence is above a cabbage.

Brick blinks rapidly.

Brick: Dude, I can really taste the sugar in it.

Jon takes a quick swig of the Pruno, suddenly standing erect as he hisses in air through his teeth.

Jon: MOTHER OF FUCKING MARY!!! IT FEELS LIKE SOMEONE'S JUST HURLED A BRICK INTO MY THROAT!!

Brick: GOOD SHIT, AIN'T IT?!?!?!

Jon: DUDE, METAL GEAR IS BENEATH OUR FEET!!

Brick: AND THAT PUT AN END TO FLANNIGAN'S BALL!!

Jon: DUDE, WHY AM I SAYING DUDE?

Brick: DUDE!

Jon and Brick swiftly turn to the storage room door as it slides open: Ocelot is standing there, one hand stroking his moustache and his other hand gliding over the handle of the Single Action Army at his waist.

Ocelot: Tell me: What are you both doing? I've had complaints of noise from the guards. Are you deliberately trying to give the game away?

Brick [Hastily]: OH! SHIT! HIDE THE HOOCH!

Brick twists around, falling forward and slamming his head off of the metal shelves in the middle of the room which are holding several crates of melons as well as sacks of flour, collapsing backwards onto the floor as Jon quickly hides the glass behind his back.

Jon: ...We're.....checking the food. Make sure it's..not mouldy?

Ocelot narrows his eyes, grasping the handle of his Single Action Army.

Ocelot [Coldly]: Is that....alcohol?

Jon holds out the glass. Ocelot's eyes brighten.

Ocelot: ALRIGHT! PRUNO!

Ocelot grasps the glass, taking a quick drink of it before executing a backflip and hissing air in through his teeth.

Ocelot: FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK THAT'S STRONG!!!!

Jon [Grinning]: IT IS, ISN'T IT?!?!

Ocelot: WHAT'S IN IT?!?

Brick swiftly sits up.

Brick [Blabbering]: MOULDY BREAD, ORANGES, SUGAR, KETCHUP AND WATER!!!!

Ocelot [Cackling]: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! THE COLOURS!!!

Ocelot waves his hands rapidly in front of his face.

Jon: Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuude..raiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinboooooooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwww..

Dave, busy patrolling the area, stops suddenly and walks across the coridoor, turning left and heading towards food storage, glancing through the open door, watching as Brick spins in a circle on the floor.

Brick: DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDE IT'S LIKE A KALEIDOSCOPE WHEN IIIIIIIIII SPIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!

Ocelot quickly lays on his back, spinning around.

Ocelot: YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! RAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNBOWWWWWWWWWWWW!!

Jon lays on his back, spinning around rapidly.

Jon [Cackling]: IT'S LIKE I'M A BRUSH THAT IS PAINTING THE COSMOS!!

Ocelot stops spinning suddenly, retching slightly.

Ocelot; Dude...that's deep..

Jon: I knowwwww..Deeper than karma, maaaannn...

Ocelot: Kaaaaaaaaarrmaaaaaaaaaaa..duuuuuuuuuuuuuudeee......

Dave blinks rapidly.

Dave: This may just be the strangest fucking thing I have ever seen in my entire life.

Dave turns around, only to watch as Vince walks past in his skintight lycra suit.

Vince: Yeah, yeah..Gotta patrol the fucking bridge.

Dave: I fucking hate this job sometimes.

***

Back in the Crew Lounge, Lynch has his head in his arms, while Will is sitting next to him, drinking a glass of whiskey. Snake emerges from the door, slowly jogging down the stairs and walking into the crew lounge. Sal is sitting on the table to the right of Lynch's, clipping his toenails with a pair of scissors.

Snake: Lynch.

Lynch slowly lifts his head.

Lynch: What?

Snake: We have a problem.

Lynch [Frowning]: ...What?

Snake: I just went up to Deck D. Semtex has been planted.

Lynch: ....Semtex? Ocelot never said anything about Semtex.

Snake: Figured i'd check up with you guys. It's armed, right?

Will: No shit!

Lynch [Sighing, rubbing his eyes]: ....Well, don't touch the lasers--

Snake [Sarcastically]: Woooooow! Thank you for that totally awe-inspiring and useful piece of information!

Lynch [Impatiently]: What do you want me to do, disarm the bombs? Disarm the lasers? Dance a fucking Irish Jig? WHAT?!

Snake: HELP ME, DAMMIT! WHAT'S IT HERE FOR?!

Lynch: I don't know, alright? I don't know. I have no idea what Ocelot's plans are, we're just--

Snake [Angrily]: YOU'RE UNDERCOVER, YOU RETARD!! A LITTLE INSIGHT WOULD BE NICE!!

Lynch slams his fists on the table, glaring at Snake.

Lynch [Angrily]: I AM NOT YOUR FUCKING DANCING MONKEY, YOU LITTLE SHIT!! MY MEN OFFER AS MUCH HELP AS POSSIBLE WITHOUT COMPROMISING THEIR MISSION!!! MY MEN ARE ELITE, TRAINED--

Will sniggers, quickly disguising it as a cough.

Lynch [Slowly turning his head to Will]: I am going to shove my foot down your throat and kick your lungs out of your fucking asshole if you do that again.

Snake: Yeah, your guys really are trained alright, making prison alcohol upstairs.

Lynch [Angrily]: WHAT?!

Snake: The fat redneck's brewing something up. Not to mention the psychotic and mentally unstable mercenaries who--

A loud, heavy, metallic stomping sound begins to quietly echo around the Tanker. Lynch, Will and Sal lift their heads, looking around as the light fixtures tremble slightly.

Sal [Shaking]: Oh my GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!

Lynch: What?!

Sal: IT'S GODJIRRA!!!!!

Lynch rolls his eyes.

Lynch: Sal, shut up, it's not Godzilla, it's Halloween, which means that it's...probably.............[Laying his head in his hands in pure desperation]....Aw no.

Back upstairs in Food Storage, the odd metallic clanging is echoing around Deck D, which causes Ocelot to half sit-up, looking around. Dave has since taken to sitting on a stack of cardboard boxes, swinging his feet and looking thoroughly dejected at having to babysit his drunken mercenaries.

Ocelot: ....I hear...clanging...

Jon [Groaning]: Me too..

Dave [Sighing]: And me.

Brick [Yelping]: MAN IN THE BANANA SUIT!!

The clanking grows louder as the door to food storage opens. Sure enough, clad in yellow plate armor with a green helmet and the green flamethrower tank strapped to his back, is The Man In The Banana Suit, an almost-mythical being from the backwaters of Texas whose sole goal is to appear on Halloween and scorch various wrongdoers for very little reason.

Man In The Banana Suit: DAYUM! I DONE GOTS TO STOP SHOWING UP NEAR YOU, BRICK!

Brick: Dude, why are you here?!

Man In The Banana Suit: SWIRLY THINGY IN SPACE! AGAIN!

Jon [Giggling]: Man, I fucking love pointless plot devices like that swirly thingy.

Brick lashes his foot out, kicking Jon in the side and causing him to yelp.

Man In The Banana Suit: YOU DONE BROKE FOURTH WALL!!!

Dave: It's happening a lot.

Man In The Banana Suit: WHY AM I HERE?!

Dave: ..Well, if you're volunteering, there's a guard in the mess hall. And I think he said that Texas doesn't like steers and only likes queers--

Man In The Banana Suit [Angrily]: THEN HE BURN LIKE UNION CORPSES AT GETTYSBURG!!!

The Man in the Banana Suit stomps off through the door. Dave looks down at Ocelot, who is curled up in the foetal position, shaking like a leaf in a stiff breeze.

Dave: Damn, Brick, what the hell did you put in that liquor?

Brick holds his hands up to the lights, waving them repeatedly.

Brick [Cackling]: COOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dave [Underwhelmed]: Motherfucker.

The movement hasn't gone unnoticed. Johnny is the lone mercenary stationed within the mess room, a relatively small room with four metal tables in the middle of the room, with a small kitchen area to the upper left flanked with a various assortment of pans that hang precariously from pegs within the area. Several orange boiler-suited crew members are dead at the table, either slumped back in the seat or slumped forward onto the table itself, stab wounds visible in their back and chest. Despite this sight, Johnny is content to sit at the lower-left table, beside a crew member slumped back in the cushioned seat, busy passing a glass bottle of tomato ketchup between his left and right hand. Behind Johnny, visible on a small, three-feet long metal wall which divides the right-side of the room between the northern door to the food storage, and the southern door leading up to the bridge, is a security camera, remaining oddly stationary and once again pointing to amazingly lax security for a tanker supposedly carrying delicate cargo. Johnny suddenly narrows his eyes, watching as the tomato ketchup bottle on the table wobbles with every booming thud.

Johnny: .....What the FUCK?

A heavy fist pounds against the door into the mess hall, leaving a sizeable dent. The Gurlukovich mercenary quickly rushes over to the door, aiming his AKS at it.

Gurlukovich Mercenary: FREEZE!!

A second fist pounds the door, smashing it clean from its frame and sending it collapsing to the floor as The Man In The Banana Suit steps through the door. The mercenary opens fire, but the bullets simply deflect off of the metal plating. Johnny looks over his shoulder, his eyes widening.

Johnny: That. Is. Fucking. Insane............and it wouldn't surprise me if our guys were involved somehow.

The Gurlukovich mercenary swiftly pulls the magazine from the chamber of his AKS to reload, but The Man In The Banana Suit reaches forward with both hands, tearing the AKS from the mercenaries grip and snapping it in half with his strength before dropping it to the ground. The mercenaries eyes widen.

Gurlukovich Mercenary [Shocked]: What the FUCK are you?

Man In The Banana Suit: I IS YOUR RECKONING, SON!!!

The Man In The Banana Suit pulls the flamethrower nozzle from his back, shoving it into the right eye of the Gurlukovich mercenary, crushing the eye within the socket. The mercenary screams loudly, but its quickly silenced as a huge river of flame spews from the flamethrower nozzle, setting the mercenary alight instantly, essentially cooking him from the inside-out.

Johnny [Taken aback]: Wow, that's nasty.

Man In the Banana Suit: YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!

Johnny [Timidly]: ....Do you.....work for the mercenaries?

Man In The Banana Suit: I IS FREEBIRD!!!

Johnny: ....So that's a yes?

Dave emerges from behind The Man In The Banana Suit, sniffing the air deeply and taking in the unmistakeable scent of roasting human flesh. Dave laughs quietly, looking down at the burning corpse of the Gurlukovich mercenary and clapping his hands together.

Dave: Aww, he looks so peaceful!

Johnny: Yeah, because peaceful people have a scream etched across their charred face.

Dave: I didn't say his face looked like the nice kind of peaceful. More like the "Oh my God, Jimmy Saville molested me" peaceful.

Johnny: That's nasty, Dave.

Dave: I'm a nasty person, Johnny.

Johnny: I know.

Dave sits at one of the tables, shoving a corpse of a marine away from him as he grabs one of the ketchup bottles, pulling it towards him.

Dave: Tell Ocelot to get a move on. If he misses his opportunity to kill Dolph and Sergei, then we're up shit creek without a paddle. Kind of hard to make the most of an opportunity when you're drunk off your tits on alcohol which is technically a crude kind of vehicle fuel.

Johnny [Sighing]: Why can't YOU do it?

Dave: Because i'm lazy, and you're new. Now pay your dues, junior, and follow orders.

Johnny [Grumbling]: Didn't ask to be a butt monkey..

Dave: Yeah, well, it goes with being new.

Johnny pulls himself to his feet, walking out of the northern door and down the coridoor ahead, turning left at the end of it and turning right through the small door into food storage. Johnny walks over to Ocelot, who is busy waving his hands in the airs, his eyes suggesting he has sobered up somewhat.

Ocelot: Colours...colours..

Johnny: Mister Ocelot, sir? Aren't you supposed to heading below decks to, y'know, kill Scott Dolph and Sergei Gurlokovich?

Ocelot slowly stops, sitting up and looking around, belching loudly.

Ocelot: Oh. Right. THAT. And I suppose I better steal that Metal Gear prototype too.

Brick and Jon sit up too, slowly clawing themselves to their feet.

Jon: ...Yeah. That.

Ocelot: You do know there'll be a lot of pissed Gurlokovich Mercenaries when we double cross them?

Brick: Of course.

Ocelot: Let's split up.

Jon: Why?

Ocelot [Hissing through gritted teeth]: Because my street cred could be damaged if they found out I was drinking with all of you.

Brick: ...I see.

Ocelot: You infiltrate below decks, I'll take the long way around.

Jon: Why?

Ocelot [Angrily]: DO NOT QUESTION THE MAN WHO IS PAYING YOU TO HELP HIM STEAL A TOP SECRET WEAPON!

Brick: He's got a point, Jonny-boy.

Back in the crew lounge, Lynch is on his feet, AKS swung over his shoulder and draped on his back by the lanyard, stroking his chin thoughtfully as Snake waits.

Lynch: ...If you're going to the bridge, I'll need to make contact with the others. Make sure the Gurlukovich guards get taken care of for you.

Lynch snaps his head towards Frank.

Lynch: HEY! RUMMY! GET DOWN TO DECK A AND RE-ASSIGN THOSE FUCKTARDS TO THE ENGINE ROOM! WE NEED TO CLEAR IT!

Frank [Quietly]: Could just say it in your normal voice..

Lynch: NONSENSE.

Frank grumbles loudly, slowly stumbling towards the right-hand door that leads into the lounge.

Frank: I'm worth more than this..

Lynch: You're not even worth more than a fucking bag of Dorito's. [Clapping his hands together] CHOP CHOP!

Frank grumbles under his breath as he exits the lounge. Lynch grabs his AKS, switching off the safety and looking at Will, Ivan and Sal.

Lynch: Let's go.

Lynch turns to Snake.

Lynch: Alright, me, Will, Sal and Ivan will accompany you to the bridge. We've got a few men up there.

Snake [Underwhelmed]: I know.

Lynch: Sorry Snake, but we really can't afford professional soldiers.

Snake sighs, shaking his head as Ivan gets to his feet, a grin across his face.

Ivan: Kaboom time.

Lynch: .........Right, I'll deal with the Semtex when we come across it.

***

Back downstairs, Jericho, Phil and Bob are in the locker room on Deck A, standing in front of the pair of lockers on the left-most side of the room, forming a protective barrier near the locker nearest to the wall where a suspicious pool of blood is slowly flowing out from the crack in the locker door. Presumably falling the trail of blood which is notably visible from the right-most door of the locker room towards the locker itself, a Gurlukovich mercenary slowly walks in, his head bowed as he follows the trail of blood. His head suddenly snaps up, looking over at the mercenaries crowded around the locker.

Guard: What are you three doing in here? Why are none of you patrolling?

Bob [Nervously]: Well--uhh--y'see---I---uhh--

Phil: We're...locker inspectors.

Guard [Underwhelmed]: ....Locker inspectors?

Jericho: Yep.

Guard: You DO know the locker your standing near is bleeding, right?

The three mercenaries look down at the growing puddle of blood around their feet.

Jericho: .....Hmm. Well i'll be.

Guard: So, why are you inspecting lockers?

Jericho: Someone...might be hiding in them.

Guard [Taken aback]: What kind of fucking idiot would be stupid enough to hide in a small, cramped locker?

Phil: There's some strategically placed pictures of half-naked Asian women in some of them.

Guard: Wait, what?

Phil: It's true.

Guard: Why? No-one even uses them.

Jericho: Strategic placement to lure in unsuspecting terrorists!

Guard [Snorting]: That's bullshit. Half-naked Asian women in lockers..

Phil: It's true! Look!

Phil turns around, grabbing the door of the locker behind him and pulling it open. Dean is standing there, his fatigues around his knees. The guard screams, as does Snake and the mercenaries.

Bob [Disgusted]: OH! JESUS!

Snake: CLOSE THE DOOR! CLOSE THE DOOR!

Guard: INTRUDER! INTRUDER!

Jericho: FUCKING HELL! DO SOMETHING!

Phil looks around, hastily grabbing his USP and unholstering it, pointing it at the guard and pulling the trigger. The guard's head snaps back violently, spraying blood and shards of bone against the wall behind him as he clutches his throat.

Bob: OH GOD! MORE BLOOD!

Bob twists around, vomiting violently onto the floor as Dean grabs the locker door, quickly pulling it shut. Jericho steps backwards away from more blood, wiping the soles of his feet off on the door of the locker that Dean is hiding in.

Phil [Angrily]: WILL YOU STOP PUKING, YOU BLOODY DIV?!?

Jericho: You're supposed to be a mercenary! How can blood make you puke?!

Bob [Shuddering]: Been way too long since i've seen it..

Jericho [Rolling his eyes]: You pussy..

The door to the locker room suddenly shoots open as Dave rushes in, clutching his AKS and aiming down the sights.

Dave: FREEZE MOTHERFUCKER!

Bob: ...What?

Dave lowers his rifle.

Dave: Oh, you killed him.

Jericho: Yep. What are you doing here?

Dave: Gotta go down to the engine room. We all do.

Phil: ...Has anyone seen Steve?

Steve's Voice: HI GUYS!!

The room falls silent as the mercenaries look around.

Jericho: Steve? Where are you?

Phil [Sighing]: He's probably gotten into the walls again..

Dave turns around, walking over to the pair of lockers against the other side of the wall, opening the locker closest to the door. Steve is huddled inside, arms wrapped around his legs. Steve looks up at Dave, beaming brightly.

Steve: HI GUYS!!

Dave: Why are you hiding?

Steve: Hide and seek!

Dave: ........With?

Steve stops to think.

Phil: Steve, get out of there.

Steve: OKIES!!

Steve stumbles forward, getting to his feet and waving ecstatically at Phil.

Jericho: The boy sure is hyper.

Phil: C'mon, lads. Let's get to the engine room and contemplate our mortality.

Phil, Jericho, Dave, Bob and Steve exit the locker room, walking out into the coridoor and turning right, walking up towards the coridoor that leads into the lounge area.  Phil suddenly stops and narrows his eyes. A pastel pink pony with an adorably-fluffy pink mane has appeared mere feet away from them.

Dave: Shit. Remember her, Phil?

Jericho: We all do.

Pinkie Pie: HEWWO!! ^,^

Dave [Angrily]: I. FUCKING. HATE. EMOTICOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNSSSSSSSSS!!!

Pinkie Pie: Can I has your eyeballs? o.o

Phil: Stand back, I got this shit.

Dave: Phil, you don't even have a razor! I don't think you have this!

Phil: We sure could use a man.

Jericho: A man..

Phil: ...In a Banana Suit..        

A bolt of lightning strikes the ground mere inches away from Phil, and the hulking form of the Man In The Banana Suit stands before them, arms raised to the sky.

The Man In The Banana Suit [Screaming to the heavens]: GEEEEEEEEEEETTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEMMMMMMMMMMMM DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

Dave: ....Fuck me, that's cool. How did you do that?

Phil: I...don't know.

Dave: I DEMAND A PIZZA!!

Dave holds out his hands, grinning and waiting, only for his hands to spontaneously set on fire.

Dave: FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK!!!

Phil [Grinning]: Should've summoned, not demanded.

Dave screams, running down the coridoor and flailing his arms.

Steve: Mmm, bacon!

Jericho [Sighing]: Sometimes, this random shit is just too much.

Phil: Come on! Surely the sight of Dave with his arms on fire put some joy in your heart?

Jericho [Smirking]: ....Alright, it did.

The Man In The Banana Suit stomps forward, glaring down at Pinkie Pie.

The Man In The Banana Suit: YOU IS CUTE!!!

Pinkie Pie: YAY!!

Jericho: If this plan has backfired, I will cut off your testicles and force them down your gullet.

The Man In The Banana Suit [Ominously]: TOO. CUTE.

Phil [Grinning]: Looks like my testicles will remain mine.

The Man In The Banana Suit slowly pulls out the flamethrower nozzle from atop of the fuel tank, aiming it down at Pinkie Pie.

The Man In The Banana Suit: IT'S BARBECUE TIME.

Pinkie Pie quickly twists around, bouncing off with 'poing' sounds with each bounce she does. The Man In The Banana Suit, clad in thick armor, slowly stomps after her.

The Man In The Banana Suit [Impatiently]: STOP, LITTLE PONY! ARMOR DONE MAKE ME SLOW!

Phil: Fucking hell.

Jericho [Underwhelmed]: Well, that plan backfired.

The Man In The Banana Suit [Begging]: STOP, LITTLE PONY! CAN'T WALK TOO FAR!

Jericho: Fuck it, should we just get down to the engine room and wait for the others?

Bob: May as well.

Bob, Jericho, Steve and Phil turn around, walking down the hallway as the slow, pounding footprints of the Man In The Banana Suit continue to rattle the Tanker.

The Man In The Banana Suit [Desperately]: I'M GOING TO ROAST YOU, PONY!!! ROAST YOU!!

***

Up on Deck D, Snake and Lynch with his men have stopped in the break room, watching as Johnny lays on a table, arms behind his head as he stares up at the lights. Lynch walks over to Johnny, grasping his ankle and shaking it.

Lynch: Oi, newbie, what the fuck are you doing?

Johnny [Mumbling]: Tired.

Lynch: Boo fucking hoo, GET PATROLLING!

Johnny: Why? The guards are dead. Patrolling is pointless.

Lynch [In disbelief]: Well, fuck me, you stick around for a few weeks and suddenly you're truly a part of the team! I oughta kill the guys who taught you that laziness is next to godliness!

Ivan [Coyly]: Vell, you vouldn't have a team left if you did that.

Snake [Sighing]: Your men aren't filling me with confidence here.

Lynch: They don't fill me with confidence either.

Frank: HEY!

Lynch: Quiet, hobo.

Snake: So, what's the plan?

Lynch: Karab, Samuel, Johan and Eligio are below deck. Phil, Dave, Jericho and Bob are heading down with them. I'll get Billy and Bill off the deck to provide some help. We'll clear a way for you to get to the tankers hold........Where the fuck is Dean, anyway?

Dean: Right here, boss.

Lynch blinks at Dean, randomly appearing at his side. Dean gives a cheeky grin.

Dean [Cheerfully]: WHY, HELLO THERE!!!

Lynch: Where the fuck have you been?

Dean: Neither here......nor there.

Lynch: Fapping.

Dean [Taken aback]: WHAT?!!! HOW DID YOU KNOW?!?!?!

Lynch [Sighing]: That ain't hair gel in your hair.

Dean places his hand against the side of his head, feeling a long string of clear goo on his hair. Dean looks at it and screams.

Will: Man, if that's how you act to your own semen, I'd hate to see what a woman does!

Lynch: ....What did I do to deserve this fucking company?!

Snake: What did I do to deserve this backup?!

Johnny: Moe's on the bridge. Go and ask him.

Lynch [Gritting his teeth]: Why I oughta slap the taste out of your fucking mouth..

Lynch lunges at Johnny, who quickly scrambles up, falling off of the table and hitting the floor with a crash. Lynch walks towards the door to the lower-right of the room, emerging on the opposite coridoor which has an open doorway in the middle of the wall to their left with a set of metal steps leading up. Lynch stops, listening intently.

Lynch: Can't hear anything..

Ivan: Ve've probably killed them all, Lynch.

Lynch: Why?

Ivan: Vhy not?

Lynch slowly ascends the stairs up to the bridge, flanked by Will, Ivan and Frank. Snake remains at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at them.

The bridge is simply a small control room, roughly the same size of the control room they encountered at Shadow Moses, but a lot less technologically advanced, with three control panels in the middle of the room, inches apart from eachother, with a steering wheel ahead of them, fixed to the wall below one of the many windows that dot the walls to the left and right, as well as ahead of them. In the upper-right of the room, a slightly longer control panel with a screen flashing on it is erected against the wall. The cabin is also a lot more blood spattered, with two orange boiler-suited crew members dead within the room. One is doubled over the control panel to the left, while one is curled up behind the control panel to the right, each with blood leaking out of their mouths and stabwounds on their bodies. Moe is standing near the top of the stairs, arms clasped around his back as he looks down at them as they ascend the stairs.

Moe: Hello lads. It's a bit messy in here.

Lynch: Shit, little man, did you do this?

Moe: Nope.

Moe jabs his thumb over his shoulder at a Gurlukovich mercenary, pinned to the window via two knives jammed through his eyesockets.

Moe: Did that.

Lynch [Narrowing his eyes]: ...How the fuck did you reach up enough to reach the guys eyes?!

Moe [Coldly]: Trade secret.

Frank: What kind of trade are you in?!

Moe: Let's just say that killing is my business.

Lynch: Well, yeah, you kind of are a mercenary, y'know. OI! SNAKE! GET YOUR ASS UP HERE!

Snake quickly jogs up the stairs behind Lynch

Snake walks over to the left-hand window, looking out of it and watching as a Kasatka hurtled over the tanker.

Snake: ...So, it is the Kasatka. Russian choppers...!

Lynch: Wait, what?

Lynch, Frank, Will and Ivan walk over to the windows ahead of them, looking through the pouring rain into the foggy near-distance, watching as the Kasatka's make a flyby with open doors. Several Gurlukovich mercenaries begin to rappel onto the deck below, presumably as reinforcements to their comrades already onboard.

Lynch: Awwww CRAP!

With a lot more reinforcements having rappelled onboard the tanker, the Kasatka's fly off as quickly as they arrived.

Frank [Bluntly]: Well, we're boned.

Snake walks over to the control panel in the upper-right of the room, looking over the screen and examining it before holding his fingers over his ear.

Otacon: Did you find out where the ship is headed?

Snake: Thirty-five degrees longitude, latitude around fifty-eight.

Lynch: Which is..?

Ivan: Probably the middle of nowhere.

Snake [Looking over his shoulder]: It's in the middle of the Atlantic, now shut up and let me make this Codec call.

Moe: Middle of the Atlantic? Bloody hell, I guess this things complete!

Lynch: What the fuck do the---[Eyes widening]--Oh. Fuck.

Will: What?

Lynch: Well, if we complete this mission successfully, when we return home, guess who will suddenly discover they have blueprints to a fully-functioning Metal Gear prototype?

The cabin falls silent as Snake continues his Codec call.

Frank: Aw crap.

Ivan: Chyort.

Moe: So, why don't we just destroy it?

Lynch: Won't matter. Marine Corps. will have the blueprints.

Moe: Ironic: We're supposed to be fixing our world, and yet we're fucking it up even more. Imagine if the United States go ahead and make Marine Corps. a PMC to rake in extra money.

Snake looks up, distracted as he walks over to the left: Through the windows, the mercenaries can just about make out the form of a pale woman with short silver hair, wearing little more than a striped shirt and camouflage pants, as well as a military cap, in the horrendous weather.

Snake: Hm?

Frank: You'll need some help with her, Snake.

Snake [smirking]: I've dealt with tougher women.

Frank: We all have.

Frank, Will and Lynch exchange nods as Snake walks to the lower left of the room where another door is located. Snake twists the handle, pulling the door open.

Snake: If you must do something...watch my back.

Frank: WILL DO, FRIE--

Snake [Angrily]: Call me friend and I will shove my foot down your throat and kick your lungs outta your asshole!!

Frank [Hastily]: Sorry.

Snake sighs, slamming the door shut behind him and closing it with a loud screech.