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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.

Chapter List
- 29
- 30
The Clarity of Dream

Don't let it end like this. Tell them I said something. -- Pancho Villa

"Toss me out, will he?" Ocelot fumed under his breath while he polished his gun. "How dare he?" After all the work I put in for his causes, after all the double talk and scheming-- After I damned well put my neck out on the line for him, he just sends me away to deal with the refuse? I let him keep his idiotic scientist, didn't I? I don't even complain that I end up taking it more than I give it. "He thinks he can just send me away--"
Ocelot threw his gun in the air and pulled the other from it's holster. I find his traitors, I find his saboteurs, I find his Patriot spy and he ignores me? "Go deal with them, Ocelot," he mimicked. "I've had enough of your failures. Bah!" Failures? He has no idea how much I've protected him! Who stopped them from taking action on the Japan fiasco? "Me, that's who."
At least he'd had the fun of seeing the secretary's eyes widen in horror as he'd raised the gun. At least he'd had the pleasure of Petrovich's delirious, pained chattering. And he was going to get rid of that damned idiot Bludstun before that one could turn on him.
He turned a corner in the scientist's buildings and walked into Arthur's office without a moment's thought and started rifling through the man's papers. "Where do you keep your maps, Emmerich?" he asked sourly.
A beeping distracted him momentarily, and he looked up to see the red light flashing on the camera above the desk. 'What are you doing in my office? Get out. -- Arthur Emmerich. '
"I'm looking for your maps, you pathetic waste of air," Ocelot said to the camera. "You go home and then monitor your office?"
'Bottom drawer. And then get out of my office. '
Ocelot pulled it open and rifled through it. He's been here, thought Ocelot, annoyed. That damned spy . "Don't worry, Arthur. I know you care more about Boss than that. You probably just put this camera in the wrong room. I'll tell him you care enough to talk to me and not him."
The computer beeped again. Ocelot grinned at the camera and then picked it up and threw it on the ground, satisfied at the sound of the lens breaking. "Fuck you? Hardly a comeback, Emmerich," he said as he walked out, juggling his guns again.
Bludstun: three corridors down, second office on the right.
Ocelot walked quickly, ignoring the security cameras again until a panel beeped beside him. 'I have taps to all the cameras, Ocelot. If you do anything to one of my people, I'll be on the phone to him in seconds.'
Ocelot bared his teeth at the little red light that was turned to him, then shot it. "I'll remember you have control over the cameras then," he muttered, then shot out the next one that was starting to point in his direction. "I'll take security apart if I have to," he said loudly when the third began moving towards him.
'And I'll call Big Boss if you start doing that. We'll see which one of us he agrees with. '
"He's the one who gave me the orders. Go away, Arthur. Go on, tell him that you don't like me. Tell him you're letting your personal feelings get in the way of your profession. He'll like that."
The cameras shut themselves down. Ocelot walked quickly towards Bludstun's office and kicked the door in angrily before shooting out the three cameras and shutting the door. His face was twisted as he glared at Bludstun, who was looking back at him with a confused sort of questioning look.
"Why didn't you get the job done," asked Ocelot dangerously. "If you give me a good reason, maybe I won't shoot you and go back to kill your hostage too."
"You-- You people told me not to finish it!" protested Bludstun.
"What?" Ocelot felt himself go cold.
"You told me not to destroy the thing, just to damage it! I did that!"
"Who told you that? And when did they change the order?"
"I-- just a call over the radio, I don't know. And... a few months back. Really, it's true," he said earnestly.
"They gave you the pass-phrase when they did that?" he asked faintly. As soon as the man nodded, Ocelot shot him in the head. "You really should have talked to me first," he said quietly. He pushed the body out of the chair and sat down to think for a moment.
So. They had set this up to fail. They knew who his operatives were, always had; it wasn't as though he'd hidden them. When you ordered something taken down, you wanted to know who was doing it, and They were even more particular. In case of failure, they insisted that things should be modular. If someone failed, someone else could take over.
And someone had.
Damn them. It wasn't a Patriot spying on Big Boss. They were working against him . Personally. No, not even working against him, not entirely. They'd have killed him by now, or at least made the attempt, if that was what they were doing. What were they trying for?
He stood and left the office. Ocelot closed the door carefully to make sure that Arthur's cameras couldn't see in. Nevertheless, 'you killed him didn't you,' appeared on a screened panel across from him.
"No," said Ocelot. "Just tied him up."
Ocelot continued walking and the cameras continued to follow him around. Where are you going?
"I'm busy right now, Dr. Emmerich. No time for chit-chat. Why don't you go play football with your boy or something."
'He's watching more of those cartoons. What are you busy doing?'
Ocelot grit his teeth. "You control these cameras so well," he said, pushing his face into a smile. "What do you think Big Boss was doing last night? Cursing your name for leaving him at a critical time."
'I know what he was doing last night. You've got some nerve to say he was thinking of me while he was doing it. '
The cameras turned off.
Arthur knew then. Well. It looked as though Ocelot's tryst was over. Just as well, really. Made the choice between Big Boss and the Patriots much more clear-cut.
Fuck them all. It was more than time that Ocelot started working for himself alone.
Ocelot already understood that Big Boss would make the wrong choice. He was allowed to choose the wrong thing, had done it time and again in his personal life. Small wonder the man insisted on keeping his personal and professional life separated: his brilliance in war was equaled only by his stunning lack of intelligence in his attempts at relationships. The truth was, Ocelot had no problem with choosing the Patriots over him. It had always been a con. But first-- oh, first he had to kill someone. Monkey.
They'd been manipulating Ocelot ? Who knew for how long. Monkey was a messenger, but there was a reason for the old saying: killing the messenger tended to leave a lasting impression on future mailmen.
Get the man separated from Big Boss. Kill him. Hide the body somewhere discreet, but not too well. It had to be found, after all. What was the point of leaving a message if no one knew you'd left it there?
He had to be sure though, that this had been the Patriots and not some dissenter who'd betrayed the Patriots' cause. One required revenge on the highest levels; the other simply meant killing a man who had as much sense as a lone indian aiming his little wooden sticks at a cowboy with his six-shooters.
Ocelot opened the door to the other man's well-appointed office with a growl and began to look on his desk. When that search proved fruitless, he moved to the drawers, and then the filing cabinet. Clean. The computer was similarly void of information.
'You know, one might think you were looking for evidence. Maybe you should have tried it while you were busy convicting Dr. Madnar. '
"Back again , Emmerich? I thought I'd hurt your feelings."
'You were trying to hurt my feelings? Maybe you should try harder.'
"Oh, I see. You don't care?"
'Of course I care. I can't believe he did this to me. But what am I supposed to do about it, huh? '
Ocelot smirked at a camera. "Not a thing." Ocelot looked around the room and frowned. What had he missed? Nothing. Any evidence Monkey had he'd be carrying. "His room," he said. "Where's Bludstun's room, Emmerich?"
'Scientists' barracks area. A private room. Two buildings south. '
"You won't be able to track me on my way," said Ocelot. "I'll miss you," he said as he left the room.
'I'll meet you there ,' came the response on a screen nearby.
Ocelot smiled and walked out the door to where the security cameras wouldn't be monitoring him, waited a few seconds, then walked back in. "Goodbye, Arthur," he said with a smile and walked back to Big Boss' office. By the time he reached it, the secretary's blood was congealing on the floor, the eyes open and staring accusingly at him. Not that he really cared if they were accusing or not. It had felt good to shoot the bitch.
Another part of him thought bitterly about how much better it would have felt to torture her instead. "Can't always get what you want," he said quietly, staring at the body, then sighed and opened the door to Big Boss' office. "Boss, I--"
"This is Big Boss," the man said loudly. "Solid Snake! Stop the operation. Switch off your MSX at once. This is an order. Over."
Ocelot sat down. "MSX?" he asked dubiously after Big Boss had set the radio back to receive.
"Oh, it's a M--"
"Sir, we have to send Coward Duck now if we're going to send him," said Monkey, interrupting Big Boss.
Big Boss looked at Monkey, his eyes sharp. "Right," he said dully. "Let's see... 130.22... Duck?"
"Yes, Boss."
"Solid Snake's coming your way. Don't underestimate him."
"Sir, Machine Gun Kid is better than I am. I can't win this fight," said the other voice.
"Do your best. Big Boss out."
Big Boss looked at Ocelot from his chair. He looked worn out. "What do you want, Ocelot?"
Ocelot stared at him for a moment before deciding it didn't matter. "I need to speak to Monkey for a few minutes."
"No," said Big Boss, head shaking quickly and suddenly looking more alert. "You're finished your job here, Ocelot. It's time for you to go. I'll send your next orders sometime soon. Get yourself to--"
"It's not a problem for me to talk to Ocelot," said Monkey.
"There's no need for you to talk to him," said Big Boss.
"He wants to talk to me. I have nothing to hide." Monkey smiled at Big Boss. Ocelot narrowed his eyes. What the hell was going on here...? "Don't worry, Boss. We'll be back before Duck's finished, and we'll both help you with the Snake."
Big Boss shook his head unhappily-- If there was something going on, why hadn't he just killed Monkey? Well. If he couldn't take care of it, Ocelot would . "Hurry up, then," said Big Boss just as unhappily as before.
As soon as the door was closed behind them, Ocelot pulled his gun out and began twirling it around on his finger. "So," he said slowly. "I've never seen the Boss so spooked."
"Positions on the board change all the time, Ocelot. A pawn becomes a queen, two knights get knocked off the playing field... You know how it works," said Monkey, walking a few steps out in front. "Nice work with the secretary. They didn't tell me about her. Were you holding back?"
"I don't like chess," said Ocelot. "Too simple. The asian games are much better. But the truth is, we don't play any of those. Did they tell you to set this up?"
"Of course," said Monkey, turning. "Do I look like a grandmaster? I followed orders: got you into this unit--"
"I got myself in here."
"Ha. I killed three men to get us in. Almost managed to do Emmerich in too, but you got in the way. I guess that secured your position, after all, but--"
And suddenly, something clicked in Ocelot's head as the man continued to talk. They'd been manipulating him for thirteen years, hadn't they: they'd set him up to fail with Mir-- how else could he have failed that mission? Who knew how long they'd been planning this: since Algeria, when he'd failed to kill Big Boss the second time? Since Naked Snake's original debriefing when he'd told them about the blank? He knew they worked long term, but this... They'd given him the perfect opportunity to infiltrate Big Boss' unit... they'd had Monkey-- no, Edik-- kill and sabotage on the way to get Emmerich's son back then... why?
"I'm sure it would have been much more dramatic, but accidents are hard to do when you're talking about superior officers. Besides, they wanted Metal Gear," continued Monkey, patting a pocket. "They're only preliminary, someone else will have to continue the work, but for now-- we have a definite tactical advantage."
Because they wanted Metal Gear? But that couldn't possibly have been it. Thirteen years, or even more... Ocelot could have easily stolen the plans from the base. And besides that, they'd been paying for the whole development process: they probably could have just asked. So what was it they wanted? What could possibly require thirteen years of manipulation?
"They wanted me to give you this when you figured it out," said Monkey after a moment, handing an old, glossy photograph to Ocelot.
Ocelot glanced at it and folded it up, putting it in his pocket, after reading the words 'next target' on the back. Unexpected. Children. And yet, it made sense, when he thought about it. "This is what they wanted?" He shook his head.
It was a test, of grand proportions. He'd always thought his excuses were unbelievable. Really, since when had Ocelot been unable to get things done? Only since he'd started working for Big Boss. They weren't sure who he was working for. So they'd orchestrated a test. They wanted to test his loyalty. The bastards thought they could decipher his true intentions.
"I understand now. Taking ten years to set it up is the height of inadequacy," said Ocelot. They'd completely misread him. This was nothing, not even a hardship. "There's only one thing I don't understand: if you're a Patriot, why were you talking to the Russian Bratsvo?"
"I'm not a Patriot agent. I'm from the Philosophers." Monkey shook his head and laughed. "There are two tasks left."
Two tasks? Ocelot's mouth pursed. He wasn't going to kill Big Boss. There was no way he'd do it. Big Boss was his friend, his lover, his-- no.
But They might be listening. So how could he-- ah. There was always a solution. They never liked loose ends. "No, my friend," said Ocelot with an awful, answering smile. "There are three."
The bullet ricocheted off the floor, the ceiling, three window frames, and of course, the heavy metal door behind him, before finally finding it's way into Monkey's right hand. His eyes were wide with shock.
Manipulate me , will you?
Ocelot shot again, hitting the man's left hand, and shot once more, forcing the man to collapse to his knees. "What do you think you're doing!? They'll kill you!"
Ocelot smiled again. "They spent ten years setting up a test of my loyalty. That's a long time to spend on someone disposable." He fired again, bouncing the bullet off of the ceiling and into the man's gut, grazing his lung. Two tasks. One was killing Big Boss. "The clone's supposed to win, isn't he..."
"You... you won't get... away with it..."
Ocelot smiled again. "You were my contact. I should have seen it, with you talking to yourself about Emmerich, with how close you stayed to me during my investigation. You were on the radio with me. You set me up, didn't you?" The man coughed up blood and began a gurgling wheeze, precluding any answer he might have wanted to give. Ocelot smiled savagely at the sound. "I'm not going down. You might even have won , if it weren't for those meddling kids.¹"
The door opened behind them. "Ocelot! What the hell are you doing?"
Ocelot turned to Big Boss and fired a shot that bounced it's way into Monkey's brain. "Dealing with your Patriot spy."
Big Boss shook his head and swore. "Do you ever ask ? Never mind. I should know you don't. What did he give you?" asked Big Boss.
He'd heard the whole conversation, hadn't he... had waited for Ocelot to nearly murder his contact before interrupting. Big Boss was trying to test his loyalty too. Big Boss was worse than They were. He'd been manipulating Ocelot for those same ten years, trying to take advantage of what he could in loyalty and information and pleasure . Big Boss didn't love him, would choose Arthur over him in a heartbeat-- And now that Arthur knew, he was going to do it. Ocelot turned and glared at the dead body. He'd liked his illusions, but it would never be said he didn't know when to give them up.
Ocelot pulled a note out of his pocket and handed it to Big Boss without turning to face him. "They want you dead," he said. It was true, Monkey had given him the note. It just wasn't the truth Big Boss was asking him for. Big Boss wanted the picture with the writing on the back.
Well, he can't have it. It's mine.
Ocelot wanted the kill. Not with Big Boss' death too, of course, so he'd have to do something else to get around that, some kind of explanations; at any rate, there was no way the old mercenary would let Ocelot do what he had to do if he knew the other target. But when he was finished, it'd look like an accident, and they'd fight Them together, and--
"All right," said Big Boss softly. "If that's what they want..."
"Excuse me?" Ocelot turned sharply. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Big Boss shook his head and leaned against a wall. "How much do you hate Arthur?"
"He's a non-issue," lied Ocelot with an indifferent shrug that belied his concern at the changing topic of conversation. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"If something happened to me," said Big Boss carefully, "I want there to be someone he can trust."
What a stupid thing to say. On a number of levels. "You're joking. I'm not killing you."
Big Boss nodded. "Of course not." He stared at Ocelot for a few moments, then walked over and kissed him gently. "That clone of mine is coming."
"Boss, you're better than a man who's been put together piecemeal out of technology." Why was he even arguing? Big Boss wanted to kill himself, let him do it! The Patriots would be pleased, damn it!
"I am, yes," agreed Big Boss. "Arthur doesn't want me to kill him though. That might make things more challenging."
Well, Arthur is an idiot. Who cares what he says? He'd already decided whatever it was he wanted to do, Ocelot could see it in his eyes. But there was no choice. How could he let Big Boss go through with this? "There's no reason for you to fight him," he said, working hard to keep the desperation out of his voice.
Big Boss smiled, pulled Ocelot into an embrace and shook his head slowly. Condescendingly. "You need to stay in place," he said into Ocelot's ear. "I need you to take over."
How could he let the other man do this? Big Boss would be dead. He'd die alone with nothing but his useless clone to comfort him. And yet... Big Boss wanted him to take over... what, Outer Heaven? Or his little war against the Patriots? It meant he had to stay with Them, for Ocelot had a certainty that the only way he was going to destroy them was from the inside.
And... If Big Boss wanted him to take them down... How could he not let Big Boss go through with this? It guaranteed his place. And Big Boss didn't care about him anyways-- why was this hard? He'd already decided to let it happen! It--
Ocelot looked down and bit his cheek. What were the words? There had to be words to convince Big Boss that he had to live.
"Metal Gear has been a mistake," Big Boss said after a moment, while Ocelot's words refused to form. " They were using us , and I didn't see it. Sometimes, Ocelot, we are blind to what we don't want to see."
"You could have kept both eyes and still been blind," whispered Ocelot. He had to fight the tears welling up, but he'd had plenty of practice on that front when he'd been a child. You'd still have been blind to what I am willing to do. His teeth ground. Ocelot felt well and truly lost. There was no way to stop Big Boss. When the man was determined to do something, it was always attempted, and usually done.
Big Boss stood up. "My clone is already going down to the basement. I think I'll take the elevator," he said. And then, "I need you to take care of Arthur and his family for me."
"What--"
"I trust you, Ocelot. You're not one of them. Monkey's a Philosopher's agent. And I'm not giving them Metal Gear." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny blue GPS transceiver. He stared at it for a moment, then pressed it into Ocelot's hand. "Take care of them if I can't, Ocelot. There's a helicopter outside waiting to take you to whatever airport you'd like."
"Boss... he's just a clone," he said, letting the desperation finally enter his voice in hopes of convincing Big Boss that he was still needed. "The Patriots won't win over you, but you have to keep fighting them."
"You've slept a long time, Ocelot. Rip van Winkle," he said in a teasing voice. "Remember that even a sleeper agent has to wake up eventually."
Ocelot watched Big Boss leave, his shoulders set, his position firm, then looked down at Monkey's dead body. He pulled the Metal Gear plans out of the man's front pocket and stared at the elevator. A part of him wanted to go down, to watch as Big Boss threw this fight.
He's worse than Them , thought Ocelot. They create weapons and set them on each other. He only has the knife, but he gets it in and twists it till you don't know how to get it out.
Ocelot sat on the floor, staring at the cameras as the lights blinked slowly on and off.
It wasn't until a self-destruct alarm began to ring out through the base that Ocelot decided to leave.

Arthur had been sitting on this park bench without moving a muscle for almost two days. Well, it wasn't quite true. He'd gotten up to go to the bushes several times, and he'd laid down on the bench overnight, sleeping like some hobo without even a blanket. He hadn't slept well.
Big Boss hadn't called. His transceiver wasn't working. It indicated that his heart had stopped, which was clearly incorrect. That fall he'd taken during that fight with Snake, before the cameras went out, had certainly been temporary.
Arthur glanced again at his cell phone, then closed his eyes and leaned back. In another few hours, he would have to leave the park where they had set up this meeting spot years ago in order to fill up the batteries. Two days.
When the transceiver stopped sending Big Boss' signal, he'd called for about three hours. Then he'd tried to distract himself for another two. Then he'd come out here. To wait.
"Dr. Emmerich," came a voice behind him. Arthur's eyes snapped open and he turned his head.
"Ocelot?" He looked around in slight panic. The man still had his guns, hidden slightly but-- children were in this park! Ocelot sat down beside him and poked him in the chest. Arthur looked down a little stupidly at the red dot. "Oh."
"Looks like you've finally done it, Emmerich. You managed to kill the legendary Big Boss. Don't kill your clone, Big Boss!"
Arthur looked down, then shook his head. "He'll be here in a little while," he said. "I just haven't waited long enough. He loves me. He'll come."
"No," said Ocelot casually. "Do you think your supposed love is going to stop death? There's no such thing as miracles, and there's no such thing as love."
Arthur's eyes widened. "So... you don't even love him? How could you do that to him!?"
Ocelot shook his head. "Get up," said Ocelot.
"No," said Arthur. "I'm waiting for him."
Ocelot frowned and said something into his jacket. Arthur watched with a sickened feeling as the red light moved towards a child in a sandbox. "I'm waiting, too, Emmerich."
Arthur stood with a scowl. "Where are we going?"
Ocelot smiled tightly. "Why, home, of course. You know, he had a last request. He wanted me to take care of you ... and your family." Ocelot put a friendly arm around Arthur's shoulders. "I'm only too happy to do it."
"Take care of--" He stared stupidly at Ocelot's arm, before his eyes widened. "No. You can't!"
"Go ahead. Beg," said Ocelot, a gleeful smile on his face.
"You think it's funny, don't you..."
Ocelot pushed them both forwards. " They've told me to take care of you as well," said Ocelot, his voice soft and sweet as though he were relaying sweet nothings. "The order came down as this little piece of worthless plastic stopped working," he said, pulling out one of Big Boss' transceivers and waving it about before putting it back into his jacket. "This will make a nice souvenir, I think. The day I defeated Big Boss and Arthur Emmerich."
"This has all been about killing us?" Arthur asked. "If we'd known, we'd have struck first," he muttered.
"Don't dramatize. This isn't about you. The tragedy is that it isn't even about him . It's all about me proving my loyalty. And unlike you, I actually am loyal to something more than my own pathetic little life."
Arthur nodded and tried to size up his chances. He looked down and noticed that the red dot had disappeared, but that didn't help-- fighting Ocelot would have been throwing away his life whether or not someone was waiting in the wings. Convincing the man to betray the Patriot's on his behalf was equally unlikely to work. There was no love lost between them: in all honesty, if he'd had a snowball's chance at defeating him, Arthur would have killed Ocelot too.
"Big Boss wouldn't want this," he said finally, settling on the idea that Ocelot must have truly had some love for the old man. "He cares about me."
Ocelot continued forward, and the arm on his back forced Arthur to walk alongside. "And you cared more about his clone than him." Ocelot's smile faded. "You think you're too good to beg, Emmerich?"
Arthur shook his head. "Will it work? If so, then please . I don't deserve to die."
Ocelot smirked. "We agree that you don't deserve to have me kill you. Death itself? There I think we disagree."
Arthur bit his lip. He needed to try this from a different angle. "My family..." he breathed. Ocelot had a heart, what man didn't? He wouldn't kill a family man. " They don't need to die. Julie and Emma have never seen a battlefield, Hal doesn't remember them--"
"Oh, no, he doesn't. And I remember Boss disagreeing with you about him. You think he's too good for the battlefield." Ocelot laughed. "You know what, Emmerich? Just for that, I won't kill him. I'll bring him out onto the battlefields. I think Big Boss would have liked that."
"No! You can't-- he won't survive!"
Ocelot shrugged and gave a sideways smile. "I'll make it a game. I'll come to your grave and make a mark for every year he lives. Every five years, I'll bring some flowers."
"My... grave? Ocelot, I wouldn't kill you, you know that," said Arthur in a panic. "You-- you owe it to Big Boss! To not kill me! It was his dying wish!"
"If I owe something to that man, it's to finish you off," said Ocelot, his smile widening as they rounded a corner. "I can see your house from here," he added. "And there's still the wife and daughter to convince me not to kill."
Arthur's eyes moved from the house to Ocelot. "But... Emma's just a little girl. And she needs a mother. And... if you're going to leave Hal alive to put him on a battlefield, he still needs a parent. He's not old enough to be without one." This was a nightmare. He could see the answer in Ocelot's eyes: he could take care of Hal. Arthur appealed to the other man's practical side. "And you'd hate being a father."
"I'd probably kill him," said Ocelot with a sardonic, superior smile. He pushed open the gate in the white picket fence that led to the backyard. "A pool, Arthur? Do you like to swim?"
"Of course I--" Wait, why was he asking that? He wasn't even going to it cleanly. Julie was going to come out to a literal pool of blood. "What's wrong with you? Don't want to waste a bullet on me? Maybe you don't really want to kill me, maybe--"
Ocelot laughed. "You're almost funny. The Lalilulelo don't think I'd want to kill you either, so that was their test. Show me a photograph with the next target so that I wouldn't want to do it, but so that I'd do it regardless. As though seeing children's photographs would make me like you."
"What?"
"We're brothers, Dr. Emmerich. Not in anything so petty as thoughts or skills, but in blood. Ah, the oaths of little children." Arthur looked at the man and a boy with blonde hair flashed through his head. "It's a small world, isn't it, Dr. Emmerich."
Ocelot grinned. "But it doesn't change my mind." He pulled a syringe out of a pocket and a hand calloused from gun tricks froze Arthur's arm in a steely grip. "They don't want anyone knowing how or why you died. Quite specific about the terms of this. I'd rather shoot you, but orders are orders. And I've been thinking: reading about your suicide in the back page of tomorrow's paper will make me laugh and make them happy."
"You don't want to do this, Ocelot. You can't want to do this! We were friends, you just said so--"
"We've never been friends," he said conversationally. Ocelot pushed the needle into Arthur's arm and pressed the liquid down. "Friends don't steal from friends. I saw him first, and he'd have been much better off if he'd chosen me."
Arthur's knees buckled and he tried to ask for mercy, but found he couldn't say a word. Ocelot pulled Arthur up the stairs to the pool. "Parting is such sweet sorrow," said Ocelot. He looked up at the house, then back at the man in front of him. "You should take better care of yourself while waiting for Big Boss," he said with an insincere smile. "You look thirsty." He pushed Arthur into the pool, his smile growing so that he looked on like some mad cheshire cat. Arthur's arms and legs felt like weights. He tried to cry out again, but it only served to fill his mouth with clean, chlorinated, burning water. Ocelot's smile grew indistinct, but his parting taunt sounded clearly through the waves: "Have a drink."
This is the way the world ends, this is the way the world ends, this is the way the world ends, not with a bang but a whimper. -- T. S. Elliot, The Hollow Men

Notes

1. Props to Scooby Doo!
2. Okay, so here's where I thank all the people who've helped me. Most of them I've thanked through the course of the story, but of course, there's Charshy, who did me the favour of reading the whole third part in one shot to make sure it was okay.
3. Thank you to my loyal reviewers. You make me feel happy!
4. Well, I'm actually just filling space here. I don't think I can fill enough, can I?
5. Hm. I'd like to thank the academy... oh, wrong liner notes...
6. You know, this is why credits in movies and video games are so much easier. You can write and write and write, and it's all just people's names. I wonder if they duplicate the names sometimes in order to lengthen things? Probably they just make it scroll slower.
7. I wonder if anyone's reading this...
9. What happened to eight? I dunno. The joke's supposed to be that seven ate nine, but, maybe in this case, 7 was impatient and couldn't wait for after eight.
10. A great big thank you to all the musicians whose lyrics I stole in order to title the various chapters of this story. I don't own the titles of the music I've used, and I swear to you, every title in this fic was from a song.
11. Oh yeah! Should I finish off the PG13 version on ff.net?

Epilogue: Everything will always be all right
It was a bright, sunny day on the MIT campus, and Hal was proud to be at the top of his class and the youngest graduate student to complete his studies in the whole history of the university. The fact that he was alone with his robotic models after successfully defending his doctoral research paper didn't really bother him much.
"Hal Emmerich?"
Hal turned to see a much older man in cowboy boots walking up to him. He nodded with a bright smile. "That's me."
"I'm here on behalf of a company called ArmsTech. I was wondering if you had some time to talk about your future. I read your thesis, and I think you're going to have some really impressive things to say about robotics in a few years."
"Um... cool! Of course!" Hal hadn't expected the job offers to start yet. "I didn't even send out a resume," he said happily.
"No," said the man offhandedly. "And if you come to work for ArmsTech, I don't think you'll ever need one."
Who is he? One of what we all are, Pelly: less than a drop in the great blue motion of the sunlit sea. But it seems some of the drops sparkle, Pelly! Some of the drops do sparkle! Run, boy! Run, boy! Run! Oh, run, my boy. -- King Arthur, Camelot
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Brothers in Arms