Izmir, Turkey

Out of the vast expanse of the sky emerges the hint of purple that singles the approach of dusk. The darkening sky contrasts with the lights of the city as they begin to turn on one by one in the distance. A little while from his location the sounds of the city transitions from the rattling of mufflers of busy motorists and the hustle of the day to the ambient mix light patio music and the arguments of grown men on the events of the day or the their passion of their respective sports franchises; whatever suits their mood tonight.

He stands on the street corner watching people as they go by. He pretends to be an American; he pretends to be waiting for someone. To varying degrees, both those things are true, just not the whole truth and definitely not the most relevant truth right now. His eyes darts from one figure to the next with the littlest of movements, he is… adaptable.

"Do you see him?" The codec crackled.

"Not yet." He answered. "Are you sure he's here?"

"Yes, security cameras show that his car is still in the parking lot." The codec replied.

"Alright, radio silence. Let's not draw any more attention this way." He replied.

A man catches his eye. He seems familiar. He has seen him in the photos. That is him. Dark, semi-long hair, rimless glasses, lanky build, slouched posture; identity confirmed. He walks by careful not to make eye contact but also careful not to look down. He opens the door, for a brief moment in eternity he considers turning around and putting a bullet in the back of his skull. He decides against it.

He took off his hood as he stepped inside the air conditioned building. The fluorescent lights flickered on an off occasionally. There were five people seated in the lobby chairs, each minding their own business, reading or just staring blankly at a wall. He considered for a moment if he should just wait in line but then considered the urgency of his task.

"Do you speak American?" He said in a deliberately pompous voice to the woman at the reception desk.

"You're one of the American pilots?" She asked in a slightly accented English.

He just nodded.

"Sorry, but Dr. Aydin just left for the day." She said with a disinterested tone.

"Will he be in tomorrow?" He asked.

"Probably, but you'd probably have a better chance of finding him at the base." She noted.

"It's a private matter. Do you know where his office is?" He asked.

She looked up at him with an uneasy stare.

"I'd like to just slip this under the door." He said as he held up an envelope.

She exhaled as her eyes returned to her work, "Third floor, room 305."

"Thank you." He said simply.

He exited the elevator and peaked out both sides. The hall was empty and the lights in that section of the hallway had been turned off. He confidently strolled down the hall until he found room 305. On the stained glass window read Dr. Firat Aydin underneath. This was definitely the right door.

He remembers although Dr. Aydin probably hasn't even realized. He remembers just a few minutes ago as he passes him just a few inches away. He turns his body to avoid colliding with his shoulder. He remembers his sleight of hand as he lifts the key card from Dr. Aydin's pocket.

He slid the key card into the automated slot. A moment later it beeped and a green light responded. He could hear and feel on the handle as the lock mechanism unclenched. He entered the dusty, crowded office. He was careful not to disturb the piles of paper that populate the doctor's meagre working space.

"I'm in." He said as he could hear the codec channel crackle on. "Do you want me to get copies of any of these files?"

"No, let's just grab what we need and go." The codec replied.

"Alright, I'm at his desk." He said as he sat down in the creaky office chair that has been leaned on far too many times.

"Great, just insert the USB key and I'll do the rest." The codec said as he did.

He watched as the screen began to process on its own. A dummy password was entered and yet it logged in. Terminal windows one after another popped up at lightning speed, codes and encryptions, none of which meant the slightest thing to him popped up slid across the screen and just as quickly were gone again. All the windows closed down and a .pdf file opened up. A photo of silver haired toddler popped up onscreen with a full profile, name, age, gender, blood type, it was all there. But there was only one thing he cared about he scanned the document. It took him a moment but he found it. Under notes it read, real name: Sunny Gurlukovich.

"Otacon, are you seeing this?" He asked.

"Yep, good work Snake." Otacon replied over the codec. "She's being kept at a Turkish national juvenile detention center just outside the city. We can get her out tonight."