Sui
Tank
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- Jan 15, 2004
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Err... yea. I don't have a name for this yet, but the title is the jist of the story. If I didn't say that, you would probally have no Idea what It was about 
C&C is welcome, etcetera. Bear in mind that I wrote this at one in the morning and I was fairly uninspired This is only the first draft.
The sound of bullets shredding their way through Adrian Shepard’s soft flesh echoed down the dark, clattered hallway. Discarding his last clip, the victorious marine clanged forward, his sweating body striving to run under a heap of green metal, his hulking legs striding over a grated metallic floor. The marine slapped Adrian’s gun away and pulled the wounded soldier towards him, face to face, eye to eye.
For a moment, while Adrian’s limp body dangled from the marine’s steady hand, there was silence. The acknowledgement of defeat spread across Adrian’s dull face; one final sigh in a battlefield of screams.
Snake watched the murder from within a dusty vent. This whole damn facility had erupted into war only a couple of hours ago; and now there were only a few scattered warriors remaining. Some sick bastard had decided to pit them all against each other in this god-forsaken place; an abandoned research lab in the middle of no-where. Power was out, and all hell was lose. Real cliché’ stuff, reminded him of some Sci-fi horror movie made a couple of decades back.
Snake spat blood and looked at his stained hands. Shaking his head, he wondered where everything had gone so wrong. One minute he was feeding the huskies out on the snowy fields of Alaska, the next he’s… here. It was sick. Disturbing. Yet the one thing that was hounding him the most; twisting his mind, forcing him into a crazy depression-
Was that he felt at home here.
Bang. An explosion sounded somewhere outside the vent, and a lifeless body flew through the air, crashed into a bent pipe, and crumpled into a heap- quickly being engulfed by spewing steam. Snake shuffled closer to the dull light; peeking out at the unfortunate corpse. On closer inspection, he was muscular- bulging veins emerged from swollen muscles. The upper body was disfigured by the scolding mist- but the figure’s handgun caught Snake’s eye. Not because it had an elaborate grip, or was particularly well crafted for a desert eagle; but because it was made of gold.
Snake shook his head, laughing softly. This was turning into a regular circus freakshow. Amongst the firefights he’d witnessed maniac gang members, overly confident army recruits, strangely silent marines clad in huge green armour… and as footsteps clanked towards the lulling body, Snake couldn’t help but wonder “whatever next”.
Once again, snake felt himself thinking those three simple words. What the hell. Pacing in front of the vent was a slim fellow; his face exposed to the darkness, a sheet of pink against stained grey walls. Thick laboratory glasses settled in front of placid blue eyes, and a light goatee hung over straight, stern lips. Somehow this frail little man was bearing a strange, heavy looking suit of metal. It was really an extraordinary sight; flaking orange paint contrasted metal grey plates ; cutting off into straight, silver arms, and black gloves grasping a bloodstained crowbar.
By the time this peculiar figure had turned off the damaged pipe and knelt before the corpse, Snake was already behind him. Out of the darkness he lurched; twisting back an arm, choking tight a neck, embracing the man so close Snake could practically taste his sweat. Twisting the cold silencer into bare neck, Snake spoke violently, in his usual gruff voice;
“How many are left? WHAT’S going on?”
The man opened his mouth to speak, gasped quickly, then clenched his teeth. Unimpressed by the silence, Snake bellowed “ANSWER ME,” and yanked the man’s neck so hard it almost came off.
Silence.
Pushing the man away, Snake raised his gun with a swift movement and squeezed. A bolt of lead streaked through the air, smacking into a head, crunching through skull, spewing scarlet tears over the dry walls. The pressure forced the figure to it’s knees, and after a short pause, as if a breeze broke the tension of death, the body lulled onto its side- and bled.
“There can’t be many left now.”
The darkness answered.
“Only one”.
Snake spun around, gun readied, eyes darting, searching for the deep American voice that just spoke; but nothing was there. The empty corridor stretched off into black infinity- the floor was littered with bent pipes, ripped tubing, broken glass, discarded weapons and a hell of a lot more junk that had been sitting in the darkness for an eternity.
“Nothing.”
The emptiness beckoned Snake to lower his gun. His muscles ached from fatigue; cuts and bruises sent trickles of blood down the tattered sneaking suit. He must be imagining things. The darkness is getting to him.
No, he tells himself- There was a voice. I heard it. I know I did.
SMACK. A hulk of steel crashed into Snake’s face like a jeep, sending him flying backwards into a rock hard wall. A wave of pain crashed into him, over him, around him so that he was submerged and every inch of his body felt broken and old.
Time stretched on, seconds merged together and the sensation of sleep crept into Snake’s mind; so tempting just to let go…
But he pushed it away, lashed out, cried desperately and concentrated every ounce of energy in his body towards opening his eyes. As the red haze lifted from his vision and he was suddenly aware of his vulnerability, Snake was given a second shock.
Standing about eight feet tall, head among the cables dangling from the ceiling, body casually towering above Snakes… was a superhuman. An array of sleek green plates were clamped onto his black armour; a suit of metal that must have weighed a ton, despite proving no hindrance to it’s bearer. A firm helmet that evoked a stylised astronaut’s helm stared back at Snake; an expression that could not be read bore into his mind.
Snake had seen him before. crushing trained soldiers with bare hands, slaughtering war heroes with the slightest of ease. Bullets had bounced off that perfect green armour, desperate men died just like that. Just a regular circus freakshow, Snake thought.
For a moment, he was reminded of somewhere else… a remarkably similar situation, with a freakshow of it’s own… just for a second, snake let his thoughts slip off his tongue, and to his surprise found himself uttering a word that he had never excepted to say again.
“Ninja?”
“Master Chief”.
Just like that, the image was gone. Snake was back in the present, painfully lifting himself to his feet, ignoring the crippling pain that engulfed him.
Snake muttered those three words again, and this time, the darkness answered.
“Fight to the death, winner escapes.”
The helmet looked around slowly.
“Sorry about this; nothing personal, but I’ve got somewhere to be.”
And with that, the Chief drew back his arm to strike, and released pure power into the wall, sending shards of metal and stone scattering down onto Snake, who had only just ducked in time. Summoning all the energy left in his legs, Snake dived to avoid a kick; but failed under his own weight and ended up rolling into a crouch. Twisting back, he found himself staring into the barrel of an unfamiliar rifle while he scrambled for his gun.
The Chief hesitated, as if to wonder what an old, broken fool could possibly achieve when staring death in the face.
The Chief had obviously never met Solid Snake.
Just he pulled the trigger, from the spot right next to him, the spot where Snake had lain in defeat, erupted a grenade explosion that sent debris hurtling in all directions and the Chief stumbling. A spray of bullets missed the point in-between Snake’s eyes, instead ripping through Snake’s left leg, then continuing into the darkness. Snake had already started to jump back, and he melted away as the Chief regained his senses.
Any other human would have been blown to shreds. ‘Superhuman’, Snake thought. ‘But still only human.’
The Chief pursued the trail of warm blood picked up by his infa-red sensors into a large laboratory. Pausing, he scanned the neglected tables to find smashed bottles and dripping liquids. Shelves had fallen into disarray, cabinets lay open to reveal a selection of lab equipment, and a wounded male was cowering behind doors labelled “Liquid Nitrogen”. If you could see the Chief’s face, he would have been smiling.
He casually walked over to the doors, opened one, peered in and said;
“Boo.”
Snake smashed the canister of Liquid Nitrogen into the Chief’s head so hard, the canister was ripped apart, spewing white fire over that stupid stylish helmet. Dropping the twisted metal, Snake hastily limped out of the lab, leaving the Chief to wrestle blindly with his burning helmet. It flung off, crashing into a table, spilling chemicals on the floor. He wasted no time in following the bastard Snake, enraged at his own idiocy.
Snake was breathing hard, desperately grasping at his injured leg, trying to stop the endless flow of blood. He stumbled and fell, sitting up to meet a familiar burnt corpse. Glancing behind, the Chief had caught up. Crawling backwards, Snake bumped into a wall- and started searching for a weapon… anything.
The Chief’s exposed head was a silhouette that couldn’t be made out. He was walking firmly, anger fuelling his strides, a steaming white cloth draped over his shoulders. He had no weapon. He didn’t want one.
Snake’s hand fell on something cold; and without hesitation, he grasped it, raised it with two hands and squeezed the golden trigger.
Snake wins.
C&C is welcome, etcetera. Bear in mind that I wrote this at one in the morning and I was fairly uninspired
This is only the first draft. The sound of bullets shredding their way through Adrian Shepard’s soft flesh echoed down the dark, clattered hallway. Discarding his last clip, the victorious marine clanged forward, his sweating body striving to run under a heap of green metal, his hulking legs striding over a grated metallic floor. The marine slapped Adrian’s gun away and pulled the wounded soldier towards him, face to face, eye to eye.
For a moment, while Adrian’s limp body dangled from the marine’s steady hand, there was silence. The acknowledgement of defeat spread across Adrian’s dull face; one final sigh in a battlefield of screams.
Snake watched the murder from within a dusty vent. This whole damn facility had erupted into war only a couple of hours ago; and now there were only a few scattered warriors remaining. Some sick bastard had decided to pit them all against each other in this god-forsaken place; an abandoned research lab in the middle of no-where. Power was out, and all hell was lose. Real cliché’ stuff, reminded him of some Sci-fi horror movie made a couple of decades back.
Snake spat blood and looked at his stained hands. Shaking his head, he wondered where everything had gone so wrong. One minute he was feeding the huskies out on the snowy fields of Alaska, the next he’s… here. It was sick. Disturbing. Yet the one thing that was hounding him the most; twisting his mind, forcing him into a crazy depression-
Was that he felt at home here.
Bang. An explosion sounded somewhere outside the vent, and a lifeless body flew through the air, crashed into a bent pipe, and crumpled into a heap- quickly being engulfed by spewing steam. Snake shuffled closer to the dull light; peeking out at the unfortunate corpse. On closer inspection, he was muscular- bulging veins emerged from swollen muscles. The upper body was disfigured by the scolding mist- but the figure’s handgun caught Snake’s eye. Not because it had an elaborate grip, or was particularly well crafted for a desert eagle; but because it was made of gold.
Snake shook his head, laughing softly. This was turning into a regular circus freakshow. Amongst the firefights he’d witnessed maniac gang members, overly confident army recruits, strangely silent marines clad in huge green armour… and as footsteps clanked towards the lulling body, Snake couldn’t help but wonder “whatever next”.
Once again, snake felt himself thinking those three simple words. What the hell. Pacing in front of the vent was a slim fellow; his face exposed to the darkness, a sheet of pink against stained grey walls. Thick laboratory glasses settled in front of placid blue eyes, and a light goatee hung over straight, stern lips. Somehow this frail little man was bearing a strange, heavy looking suit of metal. It was really an extraordinary sight; flaking orange paint contrasted metal grey plates ; cutting off into straight, silver arms, and black gloves grasping a bloodstained crowbar.
By the time this peculiar figure had turned off the damaged pipe and knelt before the corpse, Snake was already behind him. Out of the darkness he lurched; twisting back an arm, choking tight a neck, embracing the man so close Snake could practically taste his sweat. Twisting the cold silencer into bare neck, Snake spoke violently, in his usual gruff voice;
“How many are left? WHAT’S going on?”
The man opened his mouth to speak, gasped quickly, then clenched his teeth. Unimpressed by the silence, Snake bellowed “ANSWER ME,” and yanked the man’s neck so hard it almost came off.
Silence.
Pushing the man away, Snake raised his gun with a swift movement and squeezed. A bolt of lead streaked through the air, smacking into a head, crunching through skull, spewing scarlet tears over the dry walls. The pressure forced the figure to it’s knees, and after a short pause, as if a breeze broke the tension of death, the body lulled onto its side- and bled.
“There can’t be many left now.”
The darkness answered.
“Only one”.
Snake spun around, gun readied, eyes darting, searching for the deep American voice that just spoke; but nothing was there. The empty corridor stretched off into black infinity- the floor was littered with bent pipes, ripped tubing, broken glass, discarded weapons and a hell of a lot more junk that had been sitting in the darkness for an eternity.
“Nothing.”
The emptiness beckoned Snake to lower his gun. His muscles ached from fatigue; cuts and bruises sent trickles of blood down the tattered sneaking suit. He must be imagining things. The darkness is getting to him.
No, he tells himself- There was a voice. I heard it. I know I did.
SMACK. A hulk of steel crashed into Snake’s face like a jeep, sending him flying backwards into a rock hard wall. A wave of pain crashed into him, over him, around him so that he was submerged and every inch of his body felt broken and old.
Time stretched on, seconds merged together and the sensation of sleep crept into Snake’s mind; so tempting just to let go…
But he pushed it away, lashed out, cried desperately and concentrated every ounce of energy in his body towards opening his eyes. As the red haze lifted from his vision and he was suddenly aware of his vulnerability, Snake was given a second shock.
Standing about eight feet tall, head among the cables dangling from the ceiling, body casually towering above Snakes… was a superhuman. An array of sleek green plates were clamped onto his black armour; a suit of metal that must have weighed a ton, despite proving no hindrance to it’s bearer. A firm helmet that evoked a stylised astronaut’s helm stared back at Snake; an expression that could not be read bore into his mind.
Snake had seen him before. crushing trained soldiers with bare hands, slaughtering war heroes with the slightest of ease. Bullets had bounced off that perfect green armour, desperate men died just like that. Just a regular circus freakshow, Snake thought.
For a moment, he was reminded of somewhere else… a remarkably similar situation, with a freakshow of it’s own… just for a second, snake let his thoughts slip off his tongue, and to his surprise found himself uttering a word that he had never excepted to say again.
“Ninja?”
“Master Chief”.
Just like that, the image was gone. Snake was back in the present, painfully lifting himself to his feet, ignoring the crippling pain that engulfed him.
Snake muttered those three words again, and this time, the darkness answered.
“Fight to the death, winner escapes.”
The helmet looked around slowly.
“Sorry about this; nothing personal, but I’ve got somewhere to be.”
And with that, the Chief drew back his arm to strike, and released pure power into the wall, sending shards of metal and stone scattering down onto Snake, who had only just ducked in time. Summoning all the energy left in his legs, Snake dived to avoid a kick; but failed under his own weight and ended up rolling into a crouch. Twisting back, he found himself staring into the barrel of an unfamiliar rifle while he scrambled for his gun.
The Chief hesitated, as if to wonder what an old, broken fool could possibly achieve when staring death in the face.
The Chief had obviously never met Solid Snake.
Just he pulled the trigger, from the spot right next to him, the spot where Snake had lain in defeat, erupted a grenade explosion that sent debris hurtling in all directions and the Chief stumbling. A spray of bullets missed the point in-between Snake’s eyes, instead ripping through Snake’s left leg, then continuing into the darkness. Snake had already started to jump back, and he melted away as the Chief regained his senses.
Any other human would have been blown to shreds. ‘Superhuman’, Snake thought. ‘But still only human.’
The Chief pursued the trail of warm blood picked up by his infa-red sensors into a large laboratory. Pausing, he scanned the neglected tables to find smashed bottles and dripping liquids. Shelves had fallen into disarray, cabinets lay open to reveal a selection of lab equipment, and a wounded male was cowering behind doors labelled “Liquid Nitrogen”. If you could see the Chief’s face, he would have been smiling.
He casually walked over to the doors, opened one, peered in and said;
“Boo.”
Snake smashed the canister of Liquid Nitrogen into the Chief’s head so hard, the canister was ripped apart, spewing white fire over that stupid stylish helmet. Dropping the twisted metal, Snake hastily limped out of the lab, leaving the Chief to wrestle blindly with his burning helmet. It flung off, crashing into a table, spilling chemicals on the floor. He wasted no time in following the bastard Snake, enraged at his own idiocy.
Snake was breathing hard, desperately grasping at his injured leg, trying to stop the endless flow of blood. He stumbled and fell, sitting up to meet a familiar burnt corpse. Glancing behind, the Chief had caught up. Crawling backwards, Snake bumped into a wall- and started searching for a weapon… anything.
The Chief’s exposed head was a silhouette that couldn’t be made out. He was walking firmly, anger fuelling his strides, a steaming white cloth draped over his shoulders. He had no weapon. He didn’t want one.
Snake’s hand fell on something cold; and without hesitation, he grasped it, raised it with two hands and squeezed the golden trigger.
Snake wins.
