Metal Gear Mercenaries : The Blast In The Past - Chapter I - The Rumble in the Jungle

After the end of World War Two,

The world was split into two – East and West.

This marked the beginning of the era called the Cold War.

The camera pans across a glowing auburn sky, the sun’s first light kissing the sky and highlighting the smallest wisps of clouds that hang in the air.

The camera suddenly pans down to the floor of a large forest. The sky is no longer visible, with only visible rays of light shining down through the canopy providing any visibility. Emerald leaves slowly flutter down to the forest floor, leaving a rotting covering across the dirt and mud, providing an unmistakeably musty smell that hangs in the nostrils.

Leaves crackle, branches and snap and animals let out their cries. All of that is undisturbed as, in a small clearing, emerges Marcus Lynch. He slowly brushes off a thick covering of dust from the arms of his woodland camouflage fatigues, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms revealing heavy nicks and scratches from the jungle. He coughs loudly, a cloud of dust rolling from his mouth before he spits onto the floor.

Lynch [Impatiently]: HOW LONG HAS IT FUCKING BEEN?!

Lynch listens intently: Silence. He adjusts the waistband of his black tactical belt, strapped to his body by shoulder straps, and takes a step forward, clutching an AK-47 in his hands as he looks around.

Lynch [Impatiently]: I SAID…HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN FUCKING BEEN?!?!?

Quiet Voice [Croaking]: Foreverrrrrr……

Lynch: Bill, just get out here.

From behind a tree emerges Bill, wearing the same fatigues as Lynch with his sleeves rolled down and a red bandana tied around his head, a goofy grin across his face. Lynch looks unimpressed as he gazes up at the bandana.

Lynch: Do you think this is Vietnam?

Bill: I need something to keep the hair out of my eyes--

Lynch [Pointing to Bill’s shaven scalp]: Hair?

Bill: No bully.

Lynch: I’ll bully if I fucking want to.

Bill: Come on, Lynch, it’s been--

Lynch: Yeah yeah, I know: Forever. But we’re finally moving!

Voice: WE CERTAINLY ARE!!

A bush rustles nearby and Frank emerges, re-fastening his tactical belt around his waist.

Lynch: Well, I guess we’re all here in Tel…Chel….Sa………..A big fucking Russian forest.

Bill: That’s some good English, boss.

Lynch: Why are you even here?

Bill: Well, you did bring along the entire company. Or most of it.

Lynch: Oh. I forgot I brought along the retards.

Bill: Fancy yourself as a new Big Boss?

Lynch: No, I just would have liked the quiet.

Bill: Well, it’s kinda quiet--

Lynch: You’re still talking, Bill.

Bill: Is that a hint?

Lynch: Bill, you know me: That’s a threat, boy.

Bill [Cocking an eyebrow]: …I don’t quite understand..

Lynch grasps the collar of Bill’s fatigues, wrenching him close.

Lynch [Quietly]: It means shut the fuck up and start providing exposition, or else I gut you.

Bill: Exposition?

Lynch: One of us needs to be an exposition machine.

Bill: Why can’t it be you? You actually know stuff.

Lynch falls silent before looking somewhat sorrowfully at Bill.

Lynch: Man, that actually hurt to hear. Do you value yourself that little?

Bill [Shrugs]: Hey, I’ve got talents. Talents best spent at home, drinking.

Lynch: Well, we’ll be home soon enough.

Bill: Really? Cause I’m expecting this shit to take forever. I’ve heard stuff about ladder climbing that--

Lynch [Ignoring him]: Soon, Big Boss will be making his way here by means of a HALO jump.

Frank: Bunnyhopping?

Lynch: No, you curly-haired fuck, High Altitude Low Open Parachute jump. It’s so he won’t be detected considering, y’know, this is a very sensitive mission.

Frank: How sensitive?

Lynch: Frank, did you even study history? This is the Sixties. We’re Americans. We’re deep in Russian territory trying to find the Philosopher’s Legacy, a huge fucking cache of loot.

Frank: Aren’t we here to make sure Big Boss completes his mission?

Lynch: Loot first. If he succeeds we’ll call it a bonus. Anyway, I digress, this is the Cold War. Tensions are rife between America and Russia.

Bill: You mean they aren’t in our time?

Lynch: Yeah, but this was a time when we thought the pinkos would nuke us to kingdom come. Now all those weak Lenin dicksuckers do is hack our websites and ruin our online first person shooter games with broken English and aggressive commands. As such, it is a very, very, very sensitive time.

Bill: What if we get caught? Don’t we have cyanide pills?

Lynch [Chuckling]: Of course not! Mother wouldn’t supply them. She expects you to do the honourable thing of dying in a blaze of bullet riddled glory so that she may greet you in Valhalla.

Frank: Can we turn the gun on ourselves?

Lynch: Well, yeah, but that’s not nearly half as fun.

Frank: So why is Big Boss here?

Lynch sighs and reaches into the back of his pants, pulling out a thick script entitled “METAL GEAR SOLID 3: SNAKE EATER” and opening it, scanning through it.

Lynch: Right, basically, there’s some Russian scientist called Sokolov who wanted asylum in the West. He got asylum in the West. He was working on top secret projects and shit. After the Cuban Missile Crisis and the respective concessions to remove our missiles and not kill eachother, they had another concession to return Sokolov. Otherwise we’d be plunged into nuclear war.

Bill: So, basically, the Russians pulled out of Cuba just for one guy?

Lynch: Yeah, the stupid commie fucks pulled out of punching range just for one guy. Because he’s working on a major weapon.

Bill: Ooo, can we have spoilers?

Lynch rolls up the script, batting Bill on the nose and causing him to yelp.

Lynch: Shut the fuck up. We’re doing this properly. So, anyway, Big Boss is here to ensure the safety of Sokolov and we’re here to steal shit.

Frank: A truly noble cause.

Lynch: It is for us. Now, let’s get moving. I want to find the others before they turn their guns on eachother.

Frank: You say that as if we haven’t already completed two high-profile missions.

Lynch: I know that, it’s just you can never underestimate the sheer stupidity of a bunch of retards. That’s how we got the modern Russian state.

Frank: You really don’t like Russians, do you?

Lynch: Not in the slightest. Right, let’s move.

Lynch points forward towards a pathway flanked by two large rocky outcroppings before walking forward, flanked by Frank and Bill.

Bill: Ah, the sun is rising…and I hear something.

Lynch: That’s the C-One Thirty carrying the legend himself. Carry on.

Frank: We’re not gonna meet up with him?

Lynch: Fuck no. Like I said, we have our own mission. Mother wants those funds so she can kick the Patriots back to the Stone Age and kick the United Nations squarely in the dick. I say we put on her boots. Right now, we’ve got two goals: One, find the rest of the company because they’ve all wandered off somewhere. Two, get that fucking Legacy. Got it?

Frank: Got it.

Lynch: FINALLY! Now let’s go, men. We shall find the rest of our crew.

Bill: Do we have to?

Lynch: Yes. Follow me.

Lynch slings his M16 over his shoulder, marching forward and followed by Frank and Bill. Bill gazes up, looking across the canopy of leaves and branches that blot out a good portion of sunlight, only allowing a few flickering rays to shine through.

Bill: Purty.

Lynch: Shut the fuck up.

Frank: Lynch, why can’t you be nice?

Lynch: I’m nice in my own special way. That way being keeping you fucking idiots alive.

Bill: I mean, that is a good point.

Lynch: Where is my third in command? Where is Fabien?!

Bill: We’ll find him, I’m sure. If he’s not hanging from a tree somewhere, screaming at the top of his lungs.

Lynch suddenly stops, as do Bill and Frank. Lynch gazes around the jungle, remaining quiet.

Frank: Lynch?

Lynch [Quietly]: You guys hear that?

Frank: No…

Lynch: Exactly. This place is supposed to be locked up like a citadel and yet I don’t hear anything. No idle chatter, no marching, nothing.

Bill [Narrowing his eyes in concentration]: No..I hear something…

Lynch: What?

Bill: …British accents…

Lynch: Right, let’s turn back--

Frank: No, Lynch. Those accents can mean only one thing.

Lynch: Our day’s about to get worse?

Bill: Potentially.

Lynch sighs, hanging his head and grumbling before marching forward. After a minute, they come across a small clearing in the jungle, in which are Jericho, Crazy Ivan, Phil and Steve, all sat in a circle. Phil is clutching a packet of McVitie’s Digestive Biscuits, and all four of them are eating their biscuits slowly. As soon as Lynch approaches, every member of the group turns their heads.

Jericho: Hey Lynch.

Lynch: Yeah, it’s the Limeys.

Ivan: I’m not English!

Lynch: Whatever. You may as well be if you’re eating……Wait, what are you eating?

Ivan: Zis…is a digestive biscuit.

Jericho: McVities. Lovely jubbly.

Lynch: Phil, did you bring contraband with you?

Phil: Lynch, McVitie’s Digestives were around in the Sixties.

Lynch: Did the USSR develop them?

Phil: No--

Lynch [Angrily]: THEN PUT THEM AWAY, YOU FUCKING CUNT!!

Jericho: I’m not eating raw snake, Lynch! This is our sole source of nourishment as Brits!

Steve: I’m American.

Ivan: I’m Vussian.

Jericho [Coldly]: Shut the fuck up, smile and nod.

Lynch sits cross-legged in the group, placing the butt of his rifle on the ground and sighing.

Lynch: Shut up and give me one.

Jericho hands the packet over to Lynch who snatches one, quickly stuffing it into his mouth.

Phil: Hungry?

Lynch [Grunting]: Mm.

Steve: Probably not a good idea to let our guard down.

Phil: Yeah, cause this place looks really well guarded.

Lynch: Well, we passed a few dead guards earlier.

Phil; So did we. They were like that when we got here.

Bill: That old excuse?

Phil: No. Seriously. They were like that when we got here.

Jericho: Well, somebody can watch our backs while we munch biccies, eh?

Bill: I ain’t doing it.

Jericho [Sighing]: Should’ve brought Emilie along, she would have done it..

Phil: Where is Emilie anyway? She hasn’t been put on a bus after all the shit we did to bring her to life, has she?

Jericho: Of course not. She’s taking care of our house.

Phil [Eyes widening]: Jesus, wonder how she’s doing with our fathers there.

**BEALE STREET – THE PRESENT**

Standing outside Jericho, Phil, Steve and Ivan’s Bungalow is David Ross, staring up the five stone steps and the wooden door atop them. Flanking him are John Chevrolet and Michael Kingston.

David Ross: Alright men, we’re going to avoid this bungalow for there is an unspeakable evil within it.

John Chevrolet: What is it, Davey?

David Ross: Well, I was sleeping on the couch and it stood over, hissed something about “pure Victorian bloodlines” and the next thing I know, a rat was chewing on me nose.

Michael Kingston: And you’re SURE you weren’t drugged up?

David Ross: Mate, the only drug I touch is life.

John Chevrolet: And hard liquor.

David Ross: And hard liquor.

Michael Kingston: Bloody hell, Davey, the only thing in there is….well, supposed to be me young lads lassie.

David Ross: Why isn’t she with the rest and why is she a ghost?

Michael Kingston [Taken aback]: Wait, what? A ghost?

David Ross: Look, you doubt me? Go in.

Michael Kingston shrugs, jogging up the three steps into Jericho’s flat and thrusting the door open, stepping inside. Within seconds, he’s thrown back out and the door is slammed and locked shut. John and David crowd around Michael who is laying splayed in the sands, staring up at the sky.

Michael Kingston [Smiling]: Son, you’re living the dream: You found a woman who can beat the shit out of you.

David Ross: C’mon, Mickey, get up. And don’t doubt me again, yeh piece of shite.

**TSELINOYARSK – 1964**

Jericho: She’ll be alright.

Lynch: I’m more worried about Maurice and Moe. And the furry.

Phil: Tavi'll be fine. She'll kill anything that gets between her and Stephen.

Steve: Moe and Maurice will be fine too. They’re tough. [Bitterly] Which beggars the question as to why we didn’t bring them.

Lynch: To be fair, we’re pushing it bringing you lot. If it was up to me alone, there’d be at least ten more of you left at home.

Steve: Like who?

Lynch [Snapping]: You if you don’t mind your fucking business.

Steve: Like who?

Jericho: Leave it, Steve, none of us are going home yet.

Steve: A man can try.

Phil: You mean you aren’t excited to traipse through a forest filled with Russian soldiers?

Steve: Well, when you put it that way..

Lynch: Alright, enough lollygagging, we need to find the others.

Phil: Can’t we just do the mission ourselves?

Lynch: And leave the rest stuck in the timewarp?

Phil: Yeah.

Lynch: Trust me, I’ve thought about it many times since arriving, but it probably doesn’t seem to be a good idea to really fuck with time. Like, really fuck with it.

Jericho: Yeah, the very fabric of the space-time continuum seems like something you don’t want to kick in the bollocks.

Lynch: Up and on me. They can’t have gotten very far.

Steve: It’s a big jungle.

Bill: For--

Lynch: If you finish that sentence, I will snap your neck. Now shut the fuck up and follow me.

Phil: But—

Lynch: Stand up. Shut up. Follow me.

Phil, Jericho, Ivan and Steve grumble amongst themselves, rising to their feet. Lynch marches forward past a fallen tree, heading North through a small cut between two large rocks. As he walks forward through a large patch of grass, his foot hits something, causing him to stumble. He stops, twisting around and looking around the area.

Frank: Everything alright, Mar--

Lynch [Coldly]: Don’t you fucking finish that sentence….

Ivan: Ah, vell, I see ze problem.

Lynch: Which is?

Ivan leans down into the grass before pulling up the body of a Russian soldier with several bulletholes riddled into his torso.

Ivan: Zis soldier has a case of death.

Phil: One of ours?

Ivan: Clumsy spray? Loose grouping of wounds? I vould say so, da.

Lynch: Let’s keep moving, then.

Lynch marches forward once more, through a second patch of grass before stumbling again.

Ivan: Zere is another one--

Lynch: Look, let’s just ignore the corpses, there’s bound to be more.

Lynch leads the group around another fallen tree, split close to the base of the trunk with the rest of the tree leant against a large, craggy rock. The clearing leads to the right, but a patch of grass to the left, this time with a body half-hidden inside of it, indicates the correct path. Slowly trudging up a small hill, they eventually reach the top of a small embankment. Lynch throws his right arm up, forcing the mercenaries to stop.

Phil [Quietly]: What is it?

Lynch [Quietly]: There’s a soldier manning that bridge.

Phil [Quietly]: Should I take the shot?

Lynch [Quietly]: No, the soldier’s slouching so I think it’s one of ours..

Phil [Quietly, after a small pause]: ….I reiterate the question.

Frank [Quietly]: Who are we shooting?

Lynch [Hissing]: You if you don’t shut up!

Steve [Quietly]: The soldier isn’t even moving. He’s just standing there..

Lynch [Quietly]: Right, cover me.

Lynch slides down the embankment, followed by the others. As soon as the other soldier notices the mercenaries, he grasps his ski-mask and rips it off: Standing in front of the rope bridge is none other than Jon, assault rifle at the ready as he glares ahead, tossing his ski mask aside. To his right is a dead Russian soldier, splayed on the ground and riddled with bullet-holes. Jon’s eyes don’t move an inch, glaring straight ahead. The man himself stands still and resolute, not moving a single inch even as the other mercenaries approach him.

Phil: Aw, look, the troll’s guarding the bridge.

Jon [Angrily]: FUCK YOU!

Phil [Mimicking a troll’s voice]: “WHAT IS YER FAVOURITE COLOUR?!”

Jon [Lunging forward]: I’LL GUT YOU!!!

Phil: I thought you’d club me and eat my bones?

Lynch: Phil, stop taunting Jon! Jon, what are you doing here?!

Jon [Aiming down the iron sights]: I have express orders to guard this bridge.

Lynch: I gave no such orders!

Jon [Looking down at the corpses]: These guys told me they were guarding the bridge. Then I shot them.

Lynch: So you shot a soldier and took their place because….?

Jon: I figured you guys would come this way. Or somebody would. If nobody did, I would be the guardian of this bridge forever.

Lynch: You’ve gotta stop injecting nanomachines, they’re making you madder than Ivan and we’ve given him the epiphet “Crazy”.

Jon: No. And stop using fancy words.

Lynch: Sorry, bridge troll, my education’s showing.

Jon [Grimacing]: Let’s just go and find the others.

Lynch [Impatiently]: THEN FUCKING MOVE!!!

Jon spins around on his heels, pointing ahead across the bridge.

Jon: Then let us move.

Jon takes three steps across the bridge before it starts to sway gently.

Phil: Yeah, I’m not crossing that.

Lynch: It’s just a rickety rope bridge suspended over a chasm, what could go wrong?

Phil: You literally explained it all in what you just said!

Lynch: Where’s your sense of adventure?

Phil: Back home, in bed!

Lynch: Right, here’s what’s going to happen: We’re going to cross the bridge. If you do not cross the bridge, I am going to shoot every single one of you and complete this mission myself.

Jericho: That’s just not nice.

Lynch [Switching the safety off on his rifle]: I’ll give you to the count of three--

The mercenaries slowly start to file ahead across the bridge, with Lynch following up the rear and Jon bringing up the front. The bridge sways slightly in the gentlest of breezes, the rickety planks creaking beneath their feet. Lynch grasps the ropes to either side of him.

Lynch [Laughing]: SHALL WE SWING?!

Jericho: If you do, you’re going over the fucking bridge.

Phil: And he may not have a choice in it, given how fucking rickety it is.

Jon [Glumly]: There’s nothing wrong with death.

Ivan: Shut ze vuck up.

Phil: Jon, you’re making Bob sound like a perfectly cheerful and well-balanced individual. Do you want to talk about it?

Jon: So you can call me a troll again?

Phil: You know we’re joking, ya dumb fuck.

Jon: Shut up and keep walking, you fucking hobo.

Phil: See? We’re all friends here.

Lynch: Keep walking, stop talking.

The mercenaries slowly continue their slow march across the bridge.

Steve: Y’know, I hate heights.

Jericho: How are you coping, then?

Steve: Poorly.

Phil: Just keep walking, Steve. What’s the worst that could happen?

Jon: Bridge could collapse and send us plummeting to our death.

Phil: See? Things are looking up already!

Jon [Scowling]: And you fucking insult me for being suicidal?!

Phil: Because I’m not glum about it. Nor am I particularly serious about it.

Jon: Neither am I!

The group slowly sidle off of the end of the bridge and, thankfully, back onto solid land. Steve sighs shakily, dusting off his legs as Lynch turns to the group, scanning over them.

Lynch: Don’t worry, we’ll doubtlessly have to do that several more times.

Steve [Sighing]: Yeah, I know.

Lynch: Relax, as long as I’m here, nobody’s gonna get thrown off of it. Now come on, let’s find the rest of these retards.

Lynch turns around, walking into a large clearing. The clearing winds around to the left, and then to the right, flanked by trees and moss-covered rocks. Cutting through patches of grass and between the titanic trees standing guard, Lynch leads the men through the winding path and into Rassvet.

***

The group emerge into Rassvet and, clearly, where Sokolov is held, as a large abandoned factory simply sits in the forest. The factory, to use the term loosely, is mostly blown apart: The brick walls that once surrounded it blown apart and without a roof to speak of. Most of the factory merely consists of a large steel frame, sitting atop broken concrete flooring. The wind whistles around them, causing the frame to creak ominously and the grass peering through the broken flooring to rustle quietly. Lynch scans the rusted steel skeleton of the factory, nodding to himself.

Jericho: So, why are we here?

Lynch: Big Boss will be here soon to find a scientist named Sokolov working on a top secret weapon for the Russians and bring him home to the United States.

Steve [Confused]: …..And this scientist was…working here?

Lynch: ..Can’t be. Must just be hiding him here.

Jericho: Right, let me get this straight: The Russians are hiding Sokolov here.

Lynch: Supposedly.

Jericho: Rather than in a highly guarded base?

Lynch: ..Supposedly.

Jericho: Does nobody..NOBODY else get a feeling it’s a trap?

Jon: Hold on. He’s right. Where are the guards?

Lynch: On me.

Bill dusts off Lynch’s back. Lynch stops, a vein pulsing in his forehead as he slowly closes his eyes.

Lynch [Quietly]: Please tell me that you were doing that as a very stupid joke.

Bill: …Yeah.

Jon: Liar.

Walking out of the clearing, a long iron fence juts forward from a rock to their right, encapsulating the factory area. Hung over two barrels just ahead of them is another Russian guard, neck visibly broken and arms hanging limply. As they move forward into the main area, they notice a second guard doubled over one of the blasted brick walls of the factory, a bullet-hole between his eyes.

Lynch: Hm. Looks like the sentries have been dealt with.

Jon: Efficiently, too.

The group of mercenaries slowly approach the factory. Phil walks over to the body, grasping the head and lifting it slightly.

Phil: Damn, right between the eyes.

Lynch: Must be a crack shot.

Jericho: So Big Boss is already here, then.

Phil: Must be, unless—

Almost on cue, a figure crawls out from beneath the sizeable gap in the broken concrete floor and lunges up, wrapping its thick right arm around Phil’s neck and pulls him close. Lynch sighs, watching as Fabien stands up fully, eyes darting around.

Fabien [Angrily]: I HAVE ZE YETI!!!

Phil: Uh, Fabien, it’s me.

Fabien stops, looking down at the top of Phil’s head.

Fabien: Oh. Bonjour, Philipe.

Phil: Bonjour Fabien.

Fabien quickly releases Phil, dusting himself off and clearing his throat, clicking his heels together.

Fabien: I apologise.

Lynch: There’s my crazy French bastard! How’s it going, froggy?

Fabien: Is veally quiet here, my friend! All I have heard is some whining!

Lynch: Ah, so you’ve found the rest of the company then?

Fabien: Zey are all here.

Fabien leads Lynch to the right around the factory, where one of the blasted out walls connects to a fully-formed room, the upper-right most room of the entire complex, complete with a broken window. Nestled in this outer corner of the building are the rest of the mercenaries, huddled around two large trees and talking amongst themselves.

Sal: Hey boss.

Eligio: Hola.

Robbie: Guten tag.

Will: What they said.

Lynch counts quietly to himself before stopping, his eyes darting across the group.

Lynch: Hang on, where’s Vince?

Billy: We lost ‘im.

Jon: How?!

Billy: Well, we did stop paying attention on purpose.

Lynch: Good point.

Jon [Pointing at the window]: I’m gonna take a guess and say Sokolov’s in there?

Johnny: Well, we have heard the sound of things being burnt. And the smell of smoke.

Billy: So it could be any of us, aye?

Sal [Nodding]: He’s got a point.

Frank: Hang on, none of you have actually checked?

Bob: Ain’t our job. We’re not getting paid per task here.

Lynch: Seriously, can someone find Vince?!

Brick [Laughing]: You don’t think he’s gotten that far, do you?!

Lynch: Have you seen the Special Olympics? Them fuckers are FAST!

Mustafa [Wincing slightly]: Fucking hell, boss.

Marcos: I chuckled. Slightly.

Lynch sighs, looking around before stopping: Huddled against the iron fence, directly to the right of the mercenaries, is a bush. The “bush”, however, is slowly inching northwards up the fence. Lynch sighs, motioning towards the bush.

Lynch: Really?

Bob [Turning his head]: See! There he is!

Voice [Suspiciously close to where the bush is]: You see nothing!

Sal slowly walks over to the ‘bush’.

Sal: Wow. This bush is moving.

The ‘bush’ stops. Sal sighs, unzipping his pants.

Sal: Better water it.

Vince: Please don’t.

Sal: FOUND HIM!

Vince [Whining]: C’mon, guys, i’m trying to be sneaky!

Sal: For what purpose?? There’s an entire company of mercenaries here!

Vince: Just in case we get snuck up on—

Gravelly Voice: Boo.

Vince screams for a few seconds before stopping and fainting. Standing up behind Vince is the chiselled figure of none other than Big Boss, wearing khaki army fatigues with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms and a black utility belt with a holster attached. Holding his pistol in his right hand and his knife in his left, he slowly drops his arms by his side, watching the mercenaries with suspicion.

Tim: Big Boss!

Big Boss [Confused]: …What?

Fabien: Isn’t zat your codename? Big Boss?

Big Boss: …No. It’s Naked Snake.

Robbie: How quaint.

Fabien: How erotic!

The mercenaries look aside at Fabien.

Fabien [Confused]: Vat? Zat’s vat we say, isn’t eet?! Because snake is slang for his penis--

Phil: Leave the sex jokes to us, we’ll leave the killing to you.

Lynch: How did you get here so fast?!

Snake [Shrugging]: I snuck past a group of retards eating biscuits.

Bill: That explains that then.

Steve: We were hungry, what can we say?

Lynch: We’re all just happy it wasn’t an enemy or anything.

Snake: So, are you with Major Tom?

Lynch: Who now?

Snake: Major Tom? Or The Boss?

A silence descends across the mercenaries.

Frank: We’re on your side.

Snake: My side?

Will: Yeah. Think of us as your insurance policy.

Phil: In that you don’t ever fucking need us, but boy would you be fucked if you didn’t have us.

Snake [Nodding]: I guess that clears that up. Slightly. So, where’s Sokolov? Is he alive?

Billy: Well, we took care of the sentries--

Fabien: Zat vas me and Billy. Ze vest stood lookout.

Marcos: Hey, I threw a guy into the air.

On cue, a huge thud echoes throughout the area as, around the corner to the right of the mercenaries, the body of a Russian soldier collapses onto the dirt.

Bobby: That was some good air you got on him.

Marcos: Nah, he just got caught in a tree.

Snake [Impatiently]: Is. Sokolov. Alive?!

Brick: Yeah, he’s burning shit in that there room.

Snake walks past the mercenaries, grasping a piece of floor left unprotected by a wall and wrenching himself up onto it, turning right and walking through a doorway into the ruin of the factory.

Lynch: Hold up here, I’m gonna accompany him. Fabien? You’re in charge while we do.

Frank: But what about me?

Lynch [After a short pause]: …Fabien, you’re in charge.

Lynch turns, pulling himself up onto the floor and turning right, walking forward and following Snake who turns right into the room with the window. On the northern wall is a large metal door, heavily rusted. Snake slowly approaches it, flanked by Lynch.

Snake: This your mission too, huh?

Lynch: As we said, we’re your insurance policy.

Snake: So who on Earth is your CO?

Lynch: Someone higher than Zero and the Boss, that’s for sure.

Snake [Grunting]: Hm. If you say so.

Lynch: You get the honours, Snake.

Snake: Alright.

Snake slowly eases the door open: On one knee in front of a cast iron stove, flicking through several papers scattered around his feet, is Sokolov. Wearing a black leather overcoat with a brown waistcoat, trousers and a grey striped tie, the aging Russian scientist squints from behind a monocle as he examines a piece of paper before casting it into the fires.

Snake: ..You must be Sokolov.

The scientist twists around, wrinkling his nose and rustling his moustache.

Sokolov: Are you one of Volgin’s men?

Sokolov proceeds to stuff more papers into the fires which roar furiously.

Sokolov [Angrily]: You’ll never get it from me!

Snake wrinkles his nose, opening his arms.

Snake: No, I’m CIA.

Bill’s Voice: HE’S A BIG G—

Bill’s voice is cut off by a tremendous crack, followed by a thud. Lynch walks over to the window, looking out at Bobby who is clutching a large plank of wood and standing over Bill.

Lynch: Thanks, Bobby.

Snake: I’ve come to escort you to the other side of the Iron Curtain. Y’know, the good side. With fun. And less blown-up buildings.

Sokolov [Rising to his feet]: You’re CIA?

Vince’s Voice: FOR Y--

A second crack, followed by a thud is heard. Lynch turns to the window, looking at Eligio who is standing over Vince clutching a blackjack.

Lynch: Thanks, Eligio.

Snake: Yeah, I was sent by Major Zero. Y’know, the Limey who got you out two years ago before we gave you up.

Sokolov: Zero..

Snake: I have a message from him: “Sorry for being so late”.

Sokolov smirks.

Sokolov [Quietly]: Did he now?

Snake: Yeah. What does it mean?

Sokolov: It means he’s a man of his word….but we’ve got no time for this. You’ve got to get me out of here before THEY arrive.

Snake: ..They?

Sokolov: Colonel Volgin of GRU. You in the West know him as ‘Thunderbolt’.

Lynch: That’s a stupid fucking name.

Snake [Confused]: Yeah, never heard of no ‘Thunderbolt’.

Sokolov: He’s a member of the Russian Army’s extremist faction. A man who seeks to seize control of the Motherland. Ever since the Cuban Missile Crisis two years ago, Khrushchev has been pursuing a policy of peaceful co-existence with the West. Despite resistance and criticism from hawks in the army, and from the provincial authorities, Khrushchev has managed to suppress the opposition so far, but the failure of his agricultural policies has put him in a precarious position and, on top of that, the tragedy last November…

Snake: President Kennedy’s assassination…

Sokolov: Precisely. In a sense, Khrushchev has lost his biggest partner, and his power base is rapidly crumbling away. A certain group is plotting to use this opportunity to seize power by rallying the anti-government forces, overthrowing Khrushchev and installing Brezhnev and Kosygin in his place. The mastermind behind this plot is Colonel Volgin of GRU.

Lynch snorts.

Lynch [Under his breath]: Man, if only you know that Brezhnev fucker and his eyebrows would hold power for eighteen years..

Sokolov: He has control over another top-secret weapons facility, much like this one: OKB Eight-One-Two, known as the Granin Design Bureau, and is using it to further his plans. But that isn’t enough to satisfy him: He’s planning to seize the secret weapon I have been developing here and use it as leverage in his bid for power. The intelligence says that they are going to make their move during the test.

Snake: So, the soldiers outside…or what was left of them…

Sokolov: They wouldn’t need that many men to keep me inside. Their orders were to prevent Colonel Volgin from capturing me. Even if it meant killing me in the process..or so it would seem.

Sokolov approaches the window, looking out of it. Lynch remains straight-faced until Sokolov paces away.

Lynch [Hissing]: Fuck, knew we shouldn’t have killed ‘em..

Sokolov: Volgin will come. I am sure of it. You must get me out of here before then!

Snake: No problem, leave it to me.

Sokolov: By the way, your Russian is superb. Where did you learn to speak it?

Snake: ..From my mentor.

Sokolov: Is that so? America is truly a frightening country.

Snake [Patting Sokolov’s arm]: Having second thoughts?

Sokolov [Coldly]: No. I have no love for this place. Let’s go.

Snake nods, getting on one knee to communicate with Major Tom. Lynch slowly walks outside, vaulting over the broken wall and into the group of mercenaries. Vince and Bill are now sat up, rubbing their heads.

Fabien: How are we?!

Lynch: Fine. We’re getting ready to head out.

Dave: You think it’s gonna be that easy? Oh, my sweet Summer child!

The door creaks open and Snake lunges out, aiming down his Mk. 22 Tranquilizer pistol and looking around. The mercenaries follow Snake as he makes his way through the building, flanked by Sokolov, and out into a small, open area close to the factory.

Fabien: I sense danger.

Robbie: So do I. It’s obvious.

Eligio: Can anybody else say ‘obvious trap’?

Joseph: Yep. It’s clear as day. Five..

Marcos: Four.

Fabien: Trois!

Steve: Two.

Frank: SHOWTIME!!

As they take a few more steps, the rattling of weaponry is heard. The mercenaries let out an exasperated sigh.

Soldier: FREEZE!

Suddenly, several khaki-clad soldiers, wearing hooded jackets and face covers, move out into the open, encircling Snake, Sokolov and the mercenaries and aiming down the sights of their AK-74 rifles.

Dave: Yeah. No shit.

The mercenaries respond by raising their rifles, aiming at the soldiers.

Snake [Quietly]: Hold your fire, we need Sokolov back alive.

Lynch [Quietly}: You heard the man: Don’t pull those triggers.

Young Voice: So this is the legendary Boss..

Spurs clatter as boots march forward. Twirling a Makarov in his right hand via the trigger guard, a young man, clad in a black officers uniform with a scarlet beret, marches forward. With two medal pins on his right chest and several medal ribbons on his left chest, the man is clearly a formidable opponent despite his fresh, young face and cold blue eyes.

Soldier: You…you’re from the Ocelot unit of Spetsnaz!

One of the soldiers gasps, backing up slightly.

Soldier: What’s a GRU soldier doing here?

The young man stops spinning his Makarov.

GRU Officer [Disgusted]: Soldier?

The man points a red leather-gloved finger at the Russian soldier before adjusting his beret.

Second Soldier: That’s the Ocelot unit’s commander.

GRU Officer [Chuckling]: That’s Major Ocelot to you.

The man spins around with a flourish, spreading his arms.

Major Ocelot: And don’t you forget it!

Jon: Oh God please let me just fucking shoot him.

Time seems to freeze. Ocelot, Snake, the Russian soldiers and the mercenaries exchange awkward looks before the Soldier finally speaks up.

Russian Soldier: Sokolov is ours. Now get out of here.

Major Ocelot: An ocelot NEVER lets his prey escape..

Jon: JUST ONCE!

Lynch [Hissing]: Shut up!

Russian Soldier: What?!

Lynch: Boys, hit the dirt.

Will: Good idea.

Snake shoves Sokolov down and the mercenaries leap to the ground or, rather, fall into a mass dogpile as Ocelot swiftly pulls back the slide of the Makarov, firing five shots, the speed of which causes his beret to fall from his head. Every soldier surrounding them is killed with the exception of the first soldier, who is wounded in the shoulder and writhes on the ground, groaning. Another soldier, on the roof to the upper-left, gasps and watches. Ocelot spins the Makarov by the trigger guard before aiming at the soldier who yelps, ducking down behind a wall. Ocelot smirks, turning to a steel beam on the roof and firing at it. Defying physics, the bullet ricochets off of the beam and hits the soldier, causing him to collapse off of the roof and hit a metal storage box on the way down.

Bill: That’s fucking insane!

Ocelot approaches the wounded soldier, firing his Makarov down again and killing the soldier. Ocelot kicks the body aside, leaning down and taking his beret before placing it on his head.

Major Ocelot: I can’t say it feels good to kill a comrade, even if it is for the GRU.

Sokolov whimpers as Snake climbs to his feet.

Snake: Sokolov, take cover.

Sokolov swiftly runs off. Ocelot opens his arms before bending forward slightly, looking into Snake’s eyes and grunting somewhat.

Majoe Ocelot: You’re not the Boss, are you?

Snake remains silent. The mercenaries slowly rise to their feet.

Lynch: Johnny, Tim, Bill, Jon: Guard Sokolov.

Johnny, Tim, Bill and Jon rush off to find Sokolov. Ocelot turns around, rolling his head and letting out what can best be described as the weird cry or call of a wildcat. The mercenaries and Snake fall silent, hearing boots thunder around them. Several soldiers, clad in the same uniform as Ocelot with the addition of black ski mask, swiftly surround them, aiming down their weapons at him.

Phil: Fuck, it’s our worst fear.

Jericho: It can’t be…

Lynch: Yeah, it’s--

Vince [Screaming and pointing at Ocelot]: A FURRRRRRYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The scene fades to black.