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Brothers in Arms	By : ktatters Category: +M through R > Metal Gear Views: 3912 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Metal Gear, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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I remembered the line from the Hindu scripture, the Bhagavad Gita: "I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds." I suppose we all thought that, one way or another. - Robert Oppenheimer

1980: Iraq attacks Iran. The Algeirs Accord is cast aside.
1982: Iran attacks Iraq after Operation Ramadhan.
1985: Iran uses American hostages in order to ransom weapons from the United States.
1986: Iraq and Iran fight bitterly over the Middle East.
March 26, 1986. Chernobyl.

Night 0: Chernobyl to Kiev

"Oh shit!" The power went out. "Fuck. Oh, no, no, no," Arthur punctuated his last comment with a hit to the table.

A sound like a giant's hammer blasted its way through the room. Arthur blinked stupidly for a moment. "It's my fault. My fault," he whispered as he stood up and closed the window, breathing shallowly. "I knew it could happen, we both did, we all knew, but I never thought it would happen here, not to us, not when so much is at stake--" Arthur shut his mouth. He couldn't bear to go down that train of thought.

He reached for the radio transceiver with trembling hands. "Boss? You there?"

There was nothing but static at the other end of the line. "It's worth it all. It has to be. Boss?" He could hear his voice sounding more frantic. "Boss!?" But there was no answer. "Damn it!" He hit the table again. It shook.

"I've killed them. All of them." Arthur sat down heavily in the chair and stared at the now unresponsive monitor. "They weren't far enough away. What the hell am I supposed to--" He stopped and looked at the ceiling, his eyes following the grooves for a few seconds to try to calm himself.

"I have to get out of here." Arthur rubbed his head, his hand shaking slightly. He needed a drink. "They'll be evacuating this town by morning, maybe before that, so I'll need to beat the rush. Get to Kiev. Maybe..." He turned off the radio, fingers trembling. The static was more than just depressing or frightening--

Blood. He'd just bit through his lip.

He consciously pulled his teeth out of his lower lip and patted around for a cloth and, finding a used towel, held it to himself carefully. "Maybe it's just mechanical failure," he said, his voice unnaturally loud against the background of the terrible, silent accusations. "Interference from the radiation..." He had to fill the room with something, even if it was just his voice. "Yes, that might explain it. Not dead."

Arthur stood and rubbed the back of his neck as he took a look around the room. "I'll just pack everything up and head off to Kiev. He'll be waiting there, he said he would be. He's never missed a meeting."

The hotel was really just a hole in the wall as far as Arthur was concerned. The accommodations they usually found were much better. Big Boss made a point of it because it helped morale so much for the men to be in good quarters.

This place, on the other hand... a bare four-by-four foot room, and this was the double. The blankets on the bed were slightly soiled, and the paint was peeling off the window ledges. Even in a Communist country, the hotels were usually better kept than this. It had been the best they could do on short notice, but the whitewashed walls and uncomfortable, if functional, beds were hardly the quality he was used to on a mission. At least it would be simple to clean.

The tape backups were strewn about the floor. Arthur picked those up, as well as most of the plans they'd made regarding the operation, and threw them all on the bed next to his motorcycle helmet, then opened up the USSR standard military rucksack they'd purchased from the surplus stores along the way. He couldn't count the number of times he'd laughed at Big Boss for putting all the useless military junk into them. He couldn't count the number of times he'd groaned and complained about having to carry his through to the mission: after all, he had a lot of other equipment to bring with him, usually, and it was much more important and useful.

Today, however, it seemed that Big Boss' plans for the worst were going to be useful. Arthur dug around in the bag and pulled out a Geiger counter. He turned it on and swallowed deeply. Already, there was enough in the area to poison him twice over. He attached it to his belt.

"I have to get out of here. If this mission is fucked up, I--" He stopped himself again by taking a deep, shaky breath. "Time to go."

He grabbed the tapes and plans and stuffed them into the pack. The computer he left sitting there, along with the radio. Neither of them would work, and it seemed unlikely they would matter in the larger scheme of things. Then he grabbed his helmet and casually started out. Well, as casually as one could start with a hundred pound weight on one's back. He didn't bother to lock the door as he got out into the hall and quickly walked down the stairs, taking them two at a time, then walked out without saying a word to the clerk still on duty.

As he got out the door, the radiation monitor let out a painfully loud squeal. Arthur turned it off-- he already damn well knew about the radiation-- and got on the motorcycle. He was riding before anyone had really begun to wonder why the lights were out.

For the first half hour, he went as quickly as he could. He passed by the tall apartment buildings, several of which were so new that paint was still drying on the upper floor railings. The amusement park was behind him as he sped through the empty city streets.

Tomorrow, people would be waking to find themselves telling their children that there would be no more trips to the park. They would be leaving their homes behind, and who knew where they would go? Families displaced and evicted because Arthur Emmerich hadn't covered all the bases. Because some idiot somewhere didn't know what to do with their reactor and thought they could cut corners. Because the damned Iraqis were blackmailing them.

Them. Arthur and Big Boss. If Big Boss even made it.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and pushed the bike to go faster. It wasn't fair .

When he opened his eyes, he had to slow down to make a curve in the road, only to be confronted by lights blocking his way forward. He wrenched the handlebars to the side to avoid them, skidding across the paved surface. The pack was overbalancing him, but he managed to stay upright as the turn skidded him out of control. The bike had turned almost entirely around by the time the skid ended.

He took a moment to catch his breath before turning to face the lights. Five lights about the right height for motorcycles, and another pair that looked like they might belong to a personnel carrier of some sort. Arthur did a quick estimation in his head, automatically assuming that he was dealing with Russian army regulars. He didn't like the numbers he came up with: between seven and twenty men stood behind those lights. He gazed at the group with his hands firmly on the handle bars of his bike, hoped it was a standard road block, and waited for one of them to approach him.

He didn't have to wait very long. "Coming from Pripyat?" asked some formless man from the center of the lights.

Arthur nodded cautiously and moved his hands from the bars, letting them drift down towards his belt and the gun he kept there.

"Hands on the bars," the man said sharply. Arthur nodded and slowly raised his hands back, putting them down lightly. "What's your name?"

"Dmitri Radenkov," said Arthur quietly. "I have my identification and travel papers in my front pocket."

There was a pause, and Arthur could see movement in the silhouette of the carrier lights, could hear two voices murmuring too quietly for Arthur to pick up the words over the sounds of the motors.

"We have a picture of an American capitalist, Arthur Emmerich. You look like him."

Arthur frowned as if in concentration and worry. "They say everyone has a twin," he said slowly. There was a lot of undergrowth to the side; if he darted in there before they could get a good shot off, he'd at least negate the effects of the light... The problem was, even with their advantage gone, he wasn't going to win. Big Boss' last test had rated him as capable against one man with special forces training... three men without it... in a best case scenario, there were still too many for him to deal with himself.

The only option was running, and he wasn't good enough on his bike that he was all that comfortable with that option through forested terrain with at least five men behind him...

The sound of a hammer cocking got his attention back on the men. He waited, trying not to appear tense, then threw himself into the bush as the shot fired.

"Shoot to kill," ordered the man.

And then Arthur heard them, more than a dozen weapons being cocked. He felt a certain clarity to the world. He was going to be shot full of holes, and there was nothing he could do about it. He closed his eyes as the first shots began to ring through the night.

A moment later, the shooting stopped and Arthur opened his eyes, amazed to still be alive. He peered out from behind the bush. "Emmerich?" came a raspy voice and then a few steps with a clinking sound. Arthur pulled his head back. "I'd hate to think I killed my countrymen for Dmitri Radenkov."

Arthur raised an eyebrow and pulled out his gun before standing. "Who are you?"

The man was between Arthur and the lights. Arthur couldn't see much of the man. "My name is Ocelot. Revolver Ocelot." He could hear a clinking sound as Ocelot stepped forward.

Arthur shook his head. "Why do you all pick such absurd names?" The other man chuckled. Arthur could see the other man's gun being twirled around his finger. He kept his own gun trained on Ocelot. "So what do you want?"

"My men and I," at this he gestured and three men came out of the shadows, "want to join your organization."

"What do I look like, an army sign up clerk? You don't come to me to join anything."

"Must have been misinformed," said Ocelot. His voice sounded so superior that Arthur felt like punching him. "But I thought--"

The sound of a gun hammer being pulled back interrupted Ocelot. His gun pointed at Arthur and Ocelot fired before Arthur could think to move, but the bullet did not tear into him. Arthur looked around, confused for a moment.

His eyes caught sight of a bullet beside him, and he heard a faint moan from behind the motorcycles. He looked at Ocelot with widening eyes. "You didn't just... shoot that bullet out of the air... and ricochet it... to hit..."

Ocelot gestured at one of his men, who ran to the unlit area. "I was going for a head shot. My aim today isn't very good." Another shot broke the silent night and the moaning stopped.

"Not good today?" said Arthur in disbelief. "I..." He licked his lips and looked at the downed man. The bullet had hit him just under the heart. "What did you say your name was?"

"Ocelot."

Arthur nodded absently. "And your men?"

"Introductions can wait. I don't like that sky over there."

Arthur looked back towards Pripyat and Chernobyl where the sky was bright from what must be towering flames. "Right." He put the safety back on his gun and holstered it, then picked up his bike. "Any gear with you?"

"No more than you." He gestured and his men got on bikes around them. His spurs clinked on the ground as he got on a bike of his own.

Arthur took a moment to study Ocelot. His blond hair was starting to grey, and his eyes were a startling green. He was about half as muscular as Big Boss, a quarter more than Arthur himself. He even sat with a sense of well-earned arrogance. But there was something about him...

Something... special. And oddly familiar.

Arthur shook his head. Familiar or not, the fires lighting the sky weren't getting darker, and he would bet the Geiger counter wasn't displaying any lower. "Right. Let's go."

He started his bike with a muted buzz. Behind him, Ocelot and his men started their cycles with a thunderous roar behind him. Arthur frowned in annoyance. Apparently, he was the only one who knew to be quiet in dangerous situations.

Arthur moved out and led the way on the road, pushing his bike to a level that balanced sound and speed. "Ocelot," he called out. The other man moved forward so that they were almost on top of one another. "Why do you want to join up?"

"I don't want to be on the losing team," Ocelot called back. Arthur didn't think he'd had much practice talking on a bike, since most of the sound went backwards. "Mother Russia isn't gaining any more. It's you capitalist dogs that are managing to defeat her at every turn."

"We aren't with the US. If you want to defect to them, you're really talking to the wrong guy," said Arthur, pitching his voice to fly forwards and to the side. "We're a mercenary company more than anything else."

"Mercenary?" asked Ocelot. He was a quick study. His voice was already starting to keep itself from disappearing behind them. "Looks more like a terrorist organization."

"That..." Arthur paused. "It wasn't supposed to go down like that."

"Oh? How was it supposed to happen?"

Arthur bit his lip. The man could still be a spy. Big Boss had warned him not to take anyone's ethnicity at face value, and still less someone's word. Sure, Ocelot had saved Arthur's life, but... trust was earned by more than a single bullet. "How much do you know?" he countered.

"Your mercenary group paid off more than 15 men. Was it worth it?"

Arthur's breathing sped as the horror of the situation overcame him, but that fear was quickly replaced by anger. How dare he ask that question? He didn't know the stakes they were playing, had no concept of the players or what they could win or lose. "Are you here to debate ethics?" snapped Arthur harshly. "We obviously missed the operator of the plant, so it didn't work out."

He pulled ahead of Ocelot. Arthur didn't want to discuss the mission until he knew how badly it had gone. When he met up with Big Boss, which he would , they could discuss it then. Or later. Better yet, they could discuss the entire thing once they'd gotten on an airplane away from Europe and the Middle East. Some time in South America might be nice.

The darkness of Kiev was rising up ahead of them now. When they'd left for Pripyat two days ago, it had been bright and shining, a jewel of the Ukraine. Now, with the darkness that had been imposed upon it, it seemed more like a bit of used-up coal, black and lifeless. The sky behind them was still bright.

Arthur led the group speedily through the streets until they got to the makeshift base. His breath caught as he looked at the parking lot. There were none of the transport trucks with hidden cargoes of nuclear material, no motorcycles lying unattended.

He pulled into one of the many empty spots. "We'll wait out here," he said once the other four men had caught up with him and parked their own bikes.

"This is your base?" asked Ocelot.

"What? Of course not. This is just a stopover." Arthur walked to the curb and stared out, looking for any sign of lights between the buildings and distant smoke stacks. Being on top of a hill made it much easier to scan. "They might be a bit farther away," he said quietly. Ocelot came up beside him. "Chernobyl is a few miles away from Pripyat, and they might have had to worry about fire trucks or military or..."

"You expected them here before you?"

"No," said Arthur, again too forcefully. He forced the tension out of his voice. "No, I didn't. I just need them to get here so I can assess the situation. You have men under your command, surely you can understand that."

"Hm. You're the one in command?" asked Ocelot.

"Second in command," said Arthur, distractedly while searching again for lights. "There! That must be them." He pointed a few streets over and did a quick count. "I think everyone's made it," he said, relief coloring his voice. Arthur and Ocelot watched for a moment as the light trucks came up the street. "Off the road," said Arthur with a quick nod of his head. The three men who'd come with Ocelot did it without an apparent thought. Ocelot looked at Arthur with half-lidded eyes before he did the same.

Arthur waved the trucks in with an expansive gesture. The first one stopped and Big Boss got out. He looked as relieved as Arthur felt as he walked into the street. When Arthur had waved the last of the trucks in, Big Boss' arms went around him.

"Why didn't you radio?"

"It wasn't working," said Arthur, turning into Big Boss' embrace. "I thought you were dead ." He brought his own arms up around Big Boss. They stayed in that position for a moment or two before the sound of a clearing throat distracted them. Big Boss turned.

"Ah, this is-"

"Ocelot," said Big Boss, his gun snapping up. "Also known as Shalashaska. I recognize him."

Ocelot left his gun in its holster. It was a mark of extreme skill or extreme arrogance. The man had both in spades. "I'm not here to fight you. I want to join you." He motioned to his men with his head, his arms spreading to the sides. " We want to join you."

"Don't believe you. Get out of here."

"Boss," Arthur said in a very soft voice, "they want to join." They'd decided long ago that they would never argue in front of the men, but some disagreements, like this one, had to be faced when they happened.

"I can't trust him, and I'm not accepting them," he replied just as quietly.

"He saved my life," said Arthur. Big Boss just shook his head. "Fine... then I'm vetoing."

"What?" Ocelot raised an eyebrow. The sound had clearly carried. In a whisper, Big Boss continued, "you have one opportunity to call me on a bad decision every six months, and you're going to override me on this ? And what about this mission? You're willing to sacrifice it?"

"We're not sacrificing anything. He shot a bullet out of the air! We're keeping him with us," said Arthur decisively.

Big Boss still looked like he wanted to blow the other man away, but he lowered his weapon. "We don't have rooms for you..."

A wail across the street distracted Arthur from the logistics of the situation. A man and a woman were walking on the other side of the road, a fussy child in the man's arms. Arthur took a step towards the trio, then put his hand on his gun and stopped, feeling suddenly that it was too cold in the evening Ukranian evening air. It was unlikely the parents would appreciate the approach of a strange man with a weapon, even if they didn't notice him.

They looked so peaceful though, despite the cries... Peaceful even in these warlike times. The times were always warlike, weren't they... Sometimes, Arthur wanted nothing more than that domesticity, that simple life that was absolutely impossible as long as he was with Big Boss. And he didn't want to leave Big Boss, either. He just wanted... both.

"Arthur?" Big Boss said softly into his ear.

"What?" The father seemed to have figured out what the child wanted, as the howls were slowly getting quiet, the infant placated with... a bottle, perhaps? Just by the gentle rocking arms of its father?

"Let's go inside. We have an early morning tomorrow. To make sure these get delivered on time." A hand came down gently on his shoulder, its warmth barely offsetting the cool breeze.

"Right," said Arthur slowly. His eyes lingered for a moment longer before he allowed Big Boss' careful pulling to bring him up the external stairs and into their room. "We've only got five days."

Notes
A big shout out to my beta-er Evie-vie. A hug to Valentine Angel on the occasion of her cameo. And... please leave me some nice reviews to inspire my writing of chapter 23!
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Brothers in Arms