|Metal Gear: Son of Snake
Author: George Aldersson PM
2030. Solid Snake, the now Legendary soldier of the 21st Century, is lost to the world. The planet is once again tilting ever closer to a new era of war, and the world needs someone to turn to. From shadows of a remote corner of the Earth, a new hero will rise. An unbaptised hero with history, with heritage and with honour. He just doesn't quite know it all yet.Rated: Fiction K - English - Adventure/Suspense - Meryl S. & Otacon - Chapters: 11 - Words: 6,994 - Reviews: 13 - Favs: 3 - Follows: 2 - Updated: 04-17-13 - Published: 10-08-12 - id: 8592785
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Metal Gear: Son of Snake
The sound of fresh and glistening white snow crunching under foot would never get old to John. It seemed so natural, so unadulterated. A simple pleasure in a world where everything was becoming so complicated. This was the life. Well, as much as one could strive for in the current climates. The world had seen many natural disasters and disease, but none more devastating to a generation of people like war.
It is a certain irony that as the world enters a new phase of war - the likes of which have not been seen for many years – that, John was in (in his opinion) one in of the coldest and most remote parts of the world. And this was just how liked it. Or was it? He couldn't help that underlying feeling, that almost feral instinct, that he had a certain responsibility to help somehow, or at least try and help. And by being this far away from everything was making him subconsciously unnerved. After all, it was in his cold loving blood. Snakes don't run.
Sunrise in Alaska is something that must be witnessed. A glorious array of sunlight stretching and flexing its mighty shafts of light over the fresh sea of white. The shadows are cast long and the sled dogs yawn with the knowledge that a new day is dawning. John was already up, as he always was when he couldn't sleep, working in the yard and on this particular occasion, chopping firewood. It helped steady his thoughts, a release from the world by reverting back to the primitive.
Jessie was sleeping indoors. She wouldn't notice he was gone for at least another hour or so. John thought that no matter what might happen; that he was lucky. He had a good life here. But is that the same as a purpose, was he meant for more? The thought had done more laps in his head than an Olympic swimmer. His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, unnatural and artificial sound. The phone. The harsh rings rattled through his head and forced him to grit his teeth, it was his one connection to the civilised world. It would either wake Jessie up and she'd answer, or he would miss it. The sound eventually reverted back to the singing morning, the symphony of silence. Jessie came out, still half asleep and in make shift outdoor wear, clutching the receiver in one hand.
"John" she called out "it's for you, someone named Meryl"…
Shivers ran down his spine like a drop of ice-cold water, and it wasn't from the cold. He knew this day was coming, but like some things inevitable, it still came as a shock. Meryl. A name from the past. A name that he had hoped would stay in the past.
"Meryl?" John asked quietly and sharply.
"Yes Meryl now are you going to answer?" Jessie said impatiently, not knowing the full extent of what this name means.
John heard a bird cry in the distance. He looked up puzzled, but all he could see was the morning sunlight as he put his hand up to shield his eyes. He swore it was the crow of a Corvus Corax, the Raven. This moment seemed to last a lifetime, everything around him slowed to just a fraction of its normal speed. He eventually picked up the receiver as Jessie turned and walked back into the warmth of the cabin. Without even saying a word a lady's voice shattered the silence, cold and efficient.
"John." The voice said bluntly. "There's no time. They're on their way."
Meryl. John had learnt the history surrounding the name a little while ago. She was the one who had divulged more of his own 'history'. She was the new commander of Foxhound, a spec ops military unit, like her father before her. This unit was responsible for both saving the world, and conspiring against it. Men and women of Legend. Almost mythical, like the battles of Gods in Roman times or ancient Greece. Meryl had seen and been through a lot… and she knew John's father. Without saying a word, John pressed the button on the handset to end the call. Nothing more needed to be said. He turned toward the house but then looked back at his chopping block where he previously stood. Guess it'll have to wait he thought to himself sarcastically. Nothing lasts forever, not even peace. He continued toward the log cabin where his partner awaited, and knew that it would be a while until he saw her again. If he saw her again. The cabin grew larger; the shadows that were once innocent had now taken on a more ominous appearance, engulfing John as he walked. He approached the threshold and with a deep breath of free air, he stepped inside the open doorway, through the darkness and into his destiny.