Chapter Text
When Snake wakes up, it is in a pod of liquid with tubes in his nose and mouth. The clear lid of the pod unseals with a hiss, opening up. He's left to blearily stare at the dark ceiling, green lights blinking in his periphery. It takes him a moment to realize he can see out of both eyes, the right side of his vision feeling foreign and almost overwhelming considering how many years he's spent blinded in that eye. He pulls the tubes out sluggishly. The liquid around his body feels heavy and sticky, like molasses as he tries to sit up. In the dim glow of the room lights, he can see the sheen of the liquid on his skin.
It's blood.
He feels a sudden wave of nausea at the sight and leans over the edge of the pod in time to throw up, bile spilling from his lips. Snake gingerly wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, gripping the pod's rim tightly with the other. He climbs out, his bare feet landing on the floor with a wet squelch. He feels a bit off-kilter, not quite in full control of his own limbs yet. His muscles feel like they're drawn tight, tense all over his body. His head hurts.
Snake forces himself to keep walking, acutely aware of how vulnerable he is like this. The room is still dark but there are lights flashing over the entrance. It gets easier as he keeps going, the pounding in his head starting to dull. His limbs gradually feel like they're loosening up and responding to him. He hits the switch next to the door and it opens to reveal a dark, narrow hallway with another door at the end, signaled by a gold light overhead.
Snake grits his teeth and keeps going.
The door at the end of the hallway opens into a small dimly lit room with warm lighting. There's a table in the center with supplies on it: clothes, cash, two silenced pistols, rations, water, a small case, and a small bag to carry everything. There's also a small rectangular device on the table's surface, reminiscent of the iDroid he used to handle. It has earbuds already plugged into it.
He uses some of the water to rinse the blood off of his body, watching as translucent red pools at his feet. He gets dressed and shoves the cash, rations, and the rest of the water into the bag, still feeling too nauseous to try and eat or drink anything yet. He tucks the silenced pistol in the waistband of his pants, the handle resting against the small of his back. Snake puts the silenced tranquilizer gun into the holster on his side under his trench coat. His hands feel a bit steadier now, his body more his own. The case contains a small lighter and some cigars. He tucks it into the deep pocket of his trench coat. There's an eyepatch left on the table. He picks it up, rubbing his thumb over the fine stitching on the backside. It says "eden" in small cursive. He hesitates for a moment before slipping it on.
Snake picks up the iDroid-like device last and thumbs in the earbuds.
He hits the play prompt that pops up.
The videos and files left by EVA, Ocelot, and Naomi helped to start, but there would be no replacing seeing things with his own eyes.
According to the three of them, the Patriots recovered his body after Zanzibar and induced a coma using nanomachines, keeping him in perpetual stasis. The Patriots had kept his burnt body as a symbol and for their own genetic testing experiments. When EVA managed to recover his body, she set about the task of rebuilding him by using parts from Liquid and Solidus.
Solidus was a well-kept secret, created sometime after the twins were born. Snake never knew about his existence. His body isn't really his own after all— he's an amalgamation of three bodies and very little is left of his original body. Snake presses two fingers to his eyepatch, still feeling odd about the fact that he was brought back with both eyes. It makes him feel sick that they used his sons as little more than spare parts, flesh to be cut and passed around. They were born as tools and died as tools. And even in death were used as tools.
And truthfully, he doesn't know how he feels about being brought back at all.
Even after his body was rebuilt, the Patriots' nanomachine-induced coma kept him effectively braindead. Knowing this, Ocelot worked to infiltrate the Patriots under the guise of possession. Naomi served as the geneticist expert the entire time, working closely with him to figure out how to break nanomachines from the System's grasp.
And it took them fifteen years, but they succeeded.
Looking at the state of the world now, it seems obvious to him that Outer Heaven wasn't the noble endeavor he wanted it to be— he wanted a place for soldiers and victims of war. There wouldn't be half as many victims of war if not for him perpetuating the cycle. He hadn't learned from his mistakes, choosing to make a Metal Gear to "protect his interests." David stopped him once and he tried again anyway in Zanzibarland, stuck in his ways, forgetting everything She ever said about her desire for a unified world.
Snake thumbs over the screen of the phone, staring at the still image of Ocelot from the paused video.
Each of them left a short video recording with a personal message to him, with all three of them saying some variation of "in case I'm not there." He tries not to think about how much they've sacrificed to bring him back. He's not sure he deserved it. When they pulled the plug on the Patriots, part of Snake feels like he should've died with them.
He's sitting now on the rooftop of a condemned building, watching the sky darken with clouds. He turns the phone off and puts it face down against his thigh. None of them were there when he woke up. It could mean they were busy tying up loose ends. Or it could mean worse. He thinks he knows which it is though and the thought of it makes his heart feel heavy.
The first drops of rain start when he gets a codec call from an unknown frequency. He closes his eye and leans his head back against the cold brick. He lets it ring for a little bit before finally answering it.
"Boss?"
It's Naomi's voice, her crisp accent crackling through the call. Relief floods through him. He opens his eye, sighing.
"Naomi. It's good to hear your voice."
"It's not safe to talk for long, even on codec right now," she starts explaining. "I just need to tell you a few things. The rest we can discuss in person. First, EVA and Ocelot... didn't make it. I'm sorry."
He's silent for a long while, just breathing slowly as the rain starts to come down proper.
"And I'm sorry to ask this of you," Naomi continues quietly. "I'm sending you the coordinates. Come meet me at The Boss's grave after it's done. See you soon."
He didn't have to ask to know what she meant.
Zero died a quiet death.
Perhaps it was more than he deserved.
But looking upon the frail, braindead husk of a man Zero was in that wheelchair, any hatred or bitterness or anger faded entirely from Snake. It was a sad state for anyone to be in.
He's standing in front of The Boss's grave now, staring solemnly at the tombstone. Naomi hasn't arrived yet.
There was so little left to live for. EVA and Ocelot were gone. While he was at the facility housing Zero, he dug through the computer system there for any info on Kaz, wondering, feverishly, if there was any chance he could see the man again.
The files on Shadow Moses, however, made his heart sink. It listed the details of his murder in 2005. Gunned down in his house where he lived alone. A clean shot to the head and then several in the heart, as if done so with a vengeance instead of efficiency. No culprit listed, but Snake already knows who was responsible.
During the early years of Foxhound, Ocelot warned against keeping Kaz too close— he had said there would come a day they would need to kill Kaz. Snake remembers vividly his furious response, snapping at Ocelot that Kaz was "off-limits."
Maybe it was just what he deserved after years and years of using Ocelot's infatuation for him to his advantage.
Snake clicks the safety off and presses the silenced muzzle of his pistol under his chin.
1990 - Foxhound HQ - 21:09
"Stop following me around," Kaz snaps, his lip curling up in a derisive snarl. His eyes are milky white, glimmering with anger under his aviators.
He's so beautiful. Snake has always known that.
What he doesn't know is why he ever chose Outer Heaven over him, or how to fix the chasm between them. He wears his hair so long now— Snake wants to run his fingers through it while he finds forgiveness in the bite of Kaz's teeth on his lips and tongue. He wants absolution, even if it tastes like blood in his mouth.
"Don't be so cold," Snake says, catching him by the elbow of his left arm.
Kaz moves instantly, slamming him into the wall, crushing his throat with his bionic forearm. "Don't. Fucking. Touch Me," he growls, his voice low and dangerous.
He's so close that Snake thinks he would smell his cologne if he could. "You're a sight for sore eyes, Kaz," Snake murmurs, despite the pressure on his windpipe. "Are you well?"
"It's always got to be about you, doesn't it?" Kaz spits, all fire and vitriol. He lowers his voice to a hiss. "I've never been a snitch, but the only reason I haven't told anyone the truth about you is because I owe it to the Diamond Dogs you fucking absorbed into Outer Heaven." His lip twitches up and he leans close to whisper his next words near his ear. "My Diamond Dogs. Mine and Venom's."
The mention of Venom makes anger spike hot down his spine and prickle beneath his skin. Kaz had convinced Venom to leave with him after they both found out the truth, retiring to Alaska for awhile until Kaz returned to become a Foxhound training instructor. Snake hadn't needed Ocelot to tell him for him to read in between the lines, to figure out the nature of their relationship.
"Kill me if you want to be sure I keep your secret," Kaz continues, sneering. "I know that's what Ocelot wants."
"I'd never let him touch you," Snake says before he can hold his tongue. He can almost taste the surprise and realization in the way Kaz twitches at his words. "Never."
Kaz pulls away from him with a humorless chuckle, something darker than disgust in his expression.
Snake can already feel how his throat will bruise and the pain is oddly grounding as he watches Kaz walk away.
"Naomi," Snake greets when he hears her footsteps behind him.
His pistol feels heavy where it rests tucked against the small of his back. The phantom weight of the trigger is still cut into his finger. It still feels cool under his chin where the cold muzzle pressed into his skin.
It would've been cruel to leave Naomi to find his corpse.
She is the closest thing he has to family left besides David, and he knows how David feels about him. And if he killed himself, it would've meant that EVA and Ocelot died for nothing. Fifteen years dedicated to him and their lives forfeited too.
Still, he wishes he could be selfish. The tension in the trigger right before he was about to pull it felt like relief.
He turns to look at her, taking in her visage. She was barely twenty when he last saw her in 1999 before he died, and now she's fully grown. Her hair is long now, past her shoulders and feathering around her stomach. She used to look so frail and haunted, but her dark skin has a healthy glow to it now. She doesn't have bags under her eyes anymore and she doesn't walk like there are ghosts clinging to her ankles. If anyone deserved peace after everything, it's her.
"You look good," he says, and he hopes she can hear how proud he is.
She smiles, a warmth to her he doesn't remember seeing before. "It's good to see you, Boss." She stops in front of him, a wondrous look in her eyes. "They really did it. You look exactly as I remember."
He huffs, tapping a finger to his eyepatch. "This is new. Imagine my surprise when I woke up able to see out of both eyes for the first time in thirty something years."
Naomi nods. "Courtesy of Liquid. He had both eyes when he died." She looks away, folding her arms. Her expression pinches in regret. "I used Sn— I used David to... kill him. With FOXDIE."
"I wish I'd met him," he says, and he himself is surprised by how much he means it. David and Eli never deserved his disdain or hatred. They were born as tools, with no choice in their creation or existence.
"He was cruel," she replies finally after a moment. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, thoughtful. "Charismatic, brave, and brilliant... but ultimately cruel."
"Inherited all of my worst traits, huh?"
"Boss," Naomi scolds with a huff, her voice disapproving. "I wouldn't even be alive if it wasn't for you and Frankie."
But Gray Fox would still be alive if he wasn't loyal to me, Snake thinks.
"You've done good too."
He's not so sure of that anymore.
"How much time do I have?" he asks instead.
She shifts on weight on her feet, hesitating. "You're mentally 64, the same age as when you died. Zero preserved you perfectly in that regard. EVA used parts from Solidus and Liquid to rebuild the parts of you that were damaged. Solidus had even more accelerated aging than Solid and Liquid, so he was about your age when he died. But Liquid was preserved in cryo since he died and he was 33."
"Altogether, you're actually rather physically healthy.... It's mostly Solidus' body cosmetically. We used Liquid's organs where possible to replace the ones that were damaged. We couldn't use all of Liquid's organs... some of them were damaged by the FOXDIE. The remaining organs are from Solidus. Your actual physical age might be closer to 55. You probably will age very slowly as well thanks to enhancements EVA made."
"Hm. Decide to make me look my mental age, huh?" he jokes.
Naomi chuckles. "Would you have preferred to look younger?"
"Naomi," he says, and he feels weary suddenly, tired. He feels sick again at the thought that he's the stitched together flesh of his sons, who hold no bodily autonomy even in death. He thinks about the weight of the pistol against his back. "What should I do?"
"I think you should live, Boss," she says gently. "It's what EVA and Ocelot fought for. To give you that opportunity. Enjoy your second chance."
He shakes his head, giving a humorless laugh. "It's my third or fourth chance now, depending on how you count it. The least I can do is clean up my mistakes."
Naomi steps closer, putting a hand on his arm, squeezing it to get his attention. "The Patriots are gone."
"No," he says, shaking his head again. "David stopped the Patriots, but he wouldn't have had to if it wasn't for my mistakes. Mine and Zero's. And we both know the collapse of the war economy is going to have far reaching consequences for the entire world. There will be new problems. More turmoil."
He turns to look at her and gives her a tired smile. He hopes it's convincing enough to her so she'll stop fretting so much.
"So don't worry. I will live. To bury the Patriots for good."
"You'll have time to live a normal life too, in between that," Naomi insists quietly. "I want you to. EVA and Ocelot would want you to too."
"I'll try," he says evasively, noncommittal. "I owe you all that much."
Naomi smiles. "Who knows, maybe you'll find love too. I'd love to see that— if someone could make Big Boss settle down."
Snake snorts, unable to bite back his own smile.
"There's a limit to what I can do," Campbell says, "but I was able to pull a few strings. She won't be happy about it, but I was going to have you take over training Rat Patrol. It's the unit my daughter leads."
"Your daughter?"
Campbell is silent for a long moment before giving a heavy sigh, "Yes. Meryl... I told you before that she was my niece, but the truth is she's my daughter. We're... not on speaking terms."
Snake doesn't say anything. He's not going to judge Campbell on any mistakes he's made during his lifetime.
"Meryl leads Rat Patrol 01. It probably doesn't surprise you to know that every country is scrambling in the wake of the Patriots' disappearance. The US government was planning on having her take over training soldiers from primarily the Army. There's a lot of paperwork and logistics to go through right now. She and her men are doing fine, but a lot of the ones who didn't desert are being put through mandatory psychotherapy before they're allowed to return to training."
"It won't just be Army soldiers though. The US is trying to capitalize on PMCs breaking up to recruit mercs and warhounds to prevent any remaining PMCs or other government militaries from snatching them up. So it will be a mixed bunch. Some who are more used to the regular structure of the US military and some who are used to the slightly laxer standards of PMCs."
Snake grunts, adjusting the cigar between his teeth. "Hmm... feels like nothing's really changed after all in the last fifteen years." He blows out a stream of smoke between his teeth. "You want me to take your daughter's position? Seems harsh. Punishing her because she won't talk to you?"
"Jesus," Campbell exhales heavily. "No, it's not like that. She'll be your XO. The higher ups want to keep an eye on you and they trust her to do so without bias."
"Fine by me," Snake says, pulling his cigar out for a moment to take a deep breath of fresh air. "I'm done with Outer Heaven. I got nothing to hide."
"They were pretty generous," Campbell continues with a chuckle. "Guess the Patriots' collapse really scared them. You're getting a house and a sizeable monthly stipend to live on."
The truth is EVA and Ocelot saved his leftover funds from Zanzibar. He doesn't know how they managed it, but they squirreled away the money and gave him access to the bank account. It's more money than he knows what to do with. But he's hanging onto it as a contingency plan in case he falls out of good standing with the US. He thinks they know better than to try and crush him under their thumb, but it's hard to say what the future of politics will bring with the collapse of the Patriots.
"About Meryl," Campbell continues, sounding fond. "It'll take some time to earn her trust and respect, but I think you'll like her. She's a good soldier. And she's got a good heart."
"At least one of us does."
The training facility they assigned him to is an older one, but it's in great shape. The walls are sturdy and the rooms are spacious. He takes his time walking through the empty facility, inspecting it. He gets his own office, bedroom, and bathroom, separate from the communal ones for the rest of the soldiers. For now, it'll be just him and Rat Patrol before they send more soldiers to live here.
There are barracks, but interestingly, the US is letting soldiers choose where they want to live. The barracks are available to them if they want, but they're also allowed to live in their own space and commute to training. Something about increased freedom and flexibility in the wake of the collapse of the System. He's mentally going over the drills and schedule he wants to run when he hears footsteps behind him.
"Oh! Snake!" The male voice is cheerful and excited, and certainly not one he recognizes.
He reacts automatically at the sound of quickening footsteps, grabbing the arm of the man with both hands, one near the shoulder, the other on his wrist. Snake sweeps his foot and knocks the man to the ground, pinning the man's own arm down across his chest with one hand and securing his other hand on his throat. A blonde man blinks back up at him, winded and shocked.
Snake's first thought is he's pretty— long lashes, wide blue eyes, light scruff hugging the slant of his angular jaw. His blonde hair is slicked back with little tufts of fringe falling along his forehead. He looks— He looks a little like Kaz. But where Kaz was effortless confidence, charisma, and sensuality, the man staring up at him is clearly flustered, cheeks pink, a bewildered look in his eyes.
"S-Sorry," the man manages, squirming a little beneath him. It doesn't seem like he's scared or trying to get free though. "I thought you were Snake— Solid Snake, I mean."
"What's your name?"
"J-Johnny!" he says, offering an embarrassed smile. "But sometimes the others call me Akiba."
Snake strokes his thumb over the side of his throat, feeling his pulse jump under the pad of his thumb at the action. Johnny swallows, his Adam's Apple bobbing underneath his palm.
"Well," he says, squeezing his throat lightly as a parting gesture, "looks like I'll have my work cut out for me training you."
He gets up, straightening up and peering down at him. Johnny props himself up on his elbows, still looking dazed and flushed. He stares up at him and there's something faintly adoring and awed in his gaze. Not the kind of adoring idolization he is used to seeing from soldiers, but something... different.
"Do you know who I am?"
Johnny blinks. "Big Boss?" he mumbles, sounding a little unsure. "That was Liquid Ocelot's goal— to bring you back. That's what Snake— um, Solid Snake told me..." His expression suddenly twists in realization. "Oh. You're who they sent to replace Meryl? She didn't tell me who it would be...."
"She'll be my XO."
Johnny finally shuffles to his feet and opens his mouth to say something when the door slams open behind him.
"You!" Meryl, he assumes, enters and immediately jabs an accusatory finger at him as she storms over. She radiates a bright, explosive energy. "You motherfucker— You think after everything you've done you can just trounce in here and take my position?!" She jabs her finger right into his chest, getting up into his face. "Fuck you and fuck Campbell for screwing me over!"
"Meryl," he says evenly. He offers his hand and smiles when she slaps it away. "It's good to meet you."
"Spare me," she hisses, all bared teeth.
Campbell was right— he does like her. She has a temper, but he can tell from the way she carries herself that she has the skills to back up her pride and ego.
"I'm sure you know that I'm at your mercy," Snake offers, still smiling. He tucks his hands into his pockets. "I'm under your surveillance after all."
Meryl scowls. "Glorified babysitting," she spits out.
He shrugs, diplomatic. "It's important. I'll take over training for CQC, but I'll let you lead firearms training. I'm not interested in taking your position forever anyway. I'll be out of your hair as soon as the dust settles with the Patriots."
Johnny gets up and awkwardly shuffles between them. "Um, I'm excited to work with you," he says with a nervous glance at Meryl. He holds out his hand.
Snake grins, taking his hand and squeezing it firmly. Johnny flushes a little while Meryl folds her arms across her chest, far from impressed.
Snake tsks. "Nanos have made you weak and dependent." He peers at the lot of them, winded and in pain on the ground. It's their first day of training. "A real soldier needs to be able to tolerate pain and maintain a clear mind despite it. Nothing can replace battlefield experience."
Meryl sits up, still catching her breath. "We have the experience," she protests.
"You never experienced the full range of sensations and emotions while in battle," he counters. "You've been operating at your 'best' because the nanos suppressed any pain and exhaustion you felt as well as your emotions. You've never had to fight or infiltrate while tired, hungry, or injured nor have you had to feel fear or stress during a tense battle. You need to learn how to master yourself so you can be prepared for any situation, no matter the condition you find yourself in."
Begrudging silent acceptance from three of them. They all look exhausted. Johnny in particular looks faintly nauseous.
"Get up." He snaps his fingers. "We're going again."
He sends Rat Patrol home with bruised egos and sore bodies. The skills are undoubtedly there, but they just need to be refined. They are good soldiers, but they're sluggish in reaction speed from years of nano dependency.
Except for Johnny, who has never had nanos. He's just clumsy and airheaded, with two left feet. He'd normally dismiss a soldier like him, but it's a feat in and of itself that he's survived for so long without nanos. That and no matter how hard training got today, Johnny gets back up every time.
He admires persistence.