Metal Gear Solid V: Chronicles of Outer Heaven (MGS/Valkyria Chronicles)

[konamikode]

Turn 3: End turn rumors Kona totally forgot about~

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Current GMP: 1,617,300 GMP
+200,000
+100,00
-500,000
-75,000
------
Projected GMP Starting Next Turn: 1,342,300 GMP

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Rumors Section (Local)
Mother Base:

Interview with the World: Jesus H. Christ. I can't believe Boss actually went out and solo op'd the mission most everyone out of 1st CO hadn't even known about.

Hell, I knew about it and I still can't believe it.

And then he had the stones to tell the world on CNN?

Man. I don't even.

God.

Damn.

I'm gettin my ass to the kitchen, pulling out all the beer from the lounge, and we're cooking up good ol Texan barbecue. Somehow. I swear everything we eat comes of out a plastic heater bag here on MB.


War Dogs: You ask anyone that knows me and they'll tell you I'm a sucker for pups. Lil' CC's been gettin big around the belly and been actin broody all last month. Poor husband of hers has been confused since she's gotten all growley and it was more him followin Hana around these last few weeks instead.

Heh, inside joke an all that.

Anyway, CC had her pups early this month and damn wolf dogs grow fast! I'd been having a chat with Commander Miller and Meow Man about what they were planning on feeding them for their first wet meal, and wouldn't you know it? Here comes CC and her pups all in a neat line with DD and Hana skulking along in the back.

Damned if wasn't the sweetest thing.

Doesn't seem too happy though if I'm any judge of canine character. She'd done a good job getting the puppies used to humans by having everyone getting food at the DFAC give 'em a good wiff, but I'm told they're her first litter.

Agh, I know people are gonna look at me funny if I say anything so I'll just write it down here.

I think she knows what her pups are gonna be trained for and hell if it doesn't break my heart. Maybe I should see if one or two can be trained as therapy dogs instead. The kids seem to love them in any case.


Kurdish Turnaround: Shiiiiit. Only got to fire off half a belt before the Turks ran screaming about Sal-a-din and some such. It's what they call Big Boss here apparently. Heard 2nd Co got an entire battalion to lay down their guns just by showing up.

By the time Boss showed up, all of them were in formation and waiting for him to beat the tar outta them for the right to join up if what one of the new boots with the shiner on his eye told me is true.

I get the feeling. Snake isn't someone you can look in the eye and not feel like you need to impress him somethin fierce.


Operation Conservation: Wrestled a bear for the first time today.

Yeah. That's all I have to say about today.


The Trial: Shit, I thought Boss was gonna kill that mother fucker right then and there.

I would've.

Can't believe that bastard Emmerich is still here. I know the Boss has always been big on giving second chances, but that spineless ass put his own kid in a fucking death machine and killed his wife for taking him away.

Whatever happened with MSF, that's in the past. I get it. He made a dumb mistake.

It's just that I don't know if I can forgive a man who can do what he did to his blood. Don't know if I should.

I know no one's really said anything, but the other old timers agree.

Emmerich should've gone one way or the other.

Fucking leech.


Beach Party: I'm not gonna say that I'm not pissed anymore about Emmerich staying. I still can't trust myself to be in a room alone with him, otherwise I might strangle him with my own two fucking hands.

Be doing the world a favor as far as I'm concerned.

Haa. Anyway, the beach was nice. Tried to give Amanda a heads up that we were gonna take a holiday in Nicaragua for old time's sake, but she couldn't make the time.

Well, Cecile in a bikini was still nice. And that Quiet lady's always half naked it might as well be a uniform at this point…

Heh. That's one great thing about working in a paramilitary organization. The women here a fihiiiiiiiit~

Like, God Damn can some of these fine ladies clean up good.

Saw Paz sitting around with a local and having a good time, but let's be honest. I was too busy at the grill and conversatin with the volleyball game if'n you catch my drift heh heh…

Ah man. I need to get laid-

The fuck?

Grill Daddy Logs of Tobias Salle
August 28th, 1984


POV: Insatiable Whale

"Hey, someone there?" I asked, looking around from the flickering lights of the kitchen during the dead of night.

It was about the only time I could shove my way into the place where dreams go to die and make myself some real food.

Getting no response in return, I shrugged and turned back to my little notebook of recipes and journal entries when I felt that familiar feeling of something dangerous staring at my back.

…

Probably the Boss prowling around and doing his surprise CQC thing-

---

Breathing harshly and staring wide-eyed through my balaclava at the smashed in face of the fucking zombie that was still weakly twitching on the ground, I reared the cast iron skillet in my hand back and crushed what remained of it's skull into a bloody, crystal-like pulp.

The very next thing I did was slam my palm down on the nearby alarm, waking the rest of Mother Base up in a fit of confusion followed by the sounds of boots stomping and weapons being readied.

I'd had to convince the night guard that I wasn't crazy.

Then I'd had to tell Commander Miller I wasn't crazy.

By the time Boss got to the decontamination room, the guys running comms had gotten there with the news.

…

"When there's no more room in hell-"

"Shut the fuck up Monarch." I growled at the ever smiling man who backed away with his hands raised.

I fucking hate zombie movies.

---

Emergency Ops 2: The Man Who Guided the World
Type: Mission

New Game Mode Unlocked!

Diamond Dog Operations

DD Ops are large scale Operations specific to a certain theater of war that requires the resources and personnel of Diamond Dogs in full. These missions are story based events that have a large impact on the strategic scope of the campaign and are treated as miniturns.

As this is the tutorial, this is a mandatory segment of the campaign, however in the future you may find yourself with multiple DD Ops available to you. However, unlike other Ops, you may only pursue one DD Operation at a time while other events will continue to chug along.

As for the missions within the operations, you can choose to do as many or as few as you wish with whatever force composition you can come up with.

More information will become available to you in the near future :3

For now though...

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Diamond Dog Operation: Might of Outer Heaven
Difficulty: SURVIVE
Reward: Continue life as we know it on Earth

Major Objectives:

• Close the Primary Wormhole
• Limit the spread of infected men and machines
• Minimize civilian casualties
• Cancel the Apocalypse

Overall Mission Briefing: (Miller)

Lord in Heaven… Boss. I don't even know what to say here.

Whatever this is, it started in Afghanistan. At first it sounded like crazy conspiracy theories you'd get from people who just finished watching a Romero film. Stories of walking corpses standing up and feasting on the flesh of the living and creating more abominations like a living virus.

One even popped up on Mother Base somehow. Thankfully Whale dealt with it and we've got the corpse being looked over in the containment area now.

It's been two days since then and we've confirmed that this is really happening.

What's worse Boss, is that these… portals where the original infectees are said to have sprung from are spreading.

I'm sure you've heard the news by now. Whether this is some kind of alien invasion or human experimentation gone wrong, we need to help contain this thing before it grows out of control.

'What? What was that? Jesus, you couldn't have said this earlier!?'

One more thing Snake. Our techs say that while most wormholes seem to close after a short span of time, the original in Afghanistan is stable and is getting bigger. At the rate it's growing, it'll dwarf Sahelanthropus by later today. I'll eat my beret if it doesn't have something to do with the other portals.

Check that, our techs just confirmed it. The spread and deployment of the temporary wormholes are directly correlated to the size and time the big one's been up and running.

I don't know about you Boss, but we need to figure out a way to shut this thing down before whatever is on the other end decides that it wants to visit Earth. We're working overtime to figure out a way to deal with the breach, but until then, we need to run damage control before the entirety of the Middle East ends up being overrun.

… Snake. I got a bad feeling about this, like this might be…

No. Forget what I said Boss.

We're ready to deploy at your command. Just give the word and we'll give these B-movie horror rejects an ass kicking they won't forget.

'Get the refugees to the protected zones, guard teams lock everything down. These things can be spat out anywhere-'

---

Vote Moratorium until Wednesday 3PM PST

Vote by Plan.


Technically this is part of the tutorial, but I'm slowly letting go of your hands

:3

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DAY 1

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"Here are the target locations of strategic importance Boss."

Ghor Province: Wormhole Assault
Mission Type: Base Assault, Boss Battle
Terrain: Mountainous
Difficulty: Extreme

Mission Briefing: Ocelot

As far as we can tell Boss, this is where the supermassive wormhole is being generated. If we can get a strikeforce in the area, we might be able to do something about it. Problem is, communications get spotty the closer you get to the center and all radar is making out are several worrying large contacts that seem to be blinking in and out of existence.

The soviets already sent a tank battalion this way to check it out. I don't think we'll be hearing from them anytime soon.

Here Boss, this was the last transmission my contact at their HQ received.

"Shit, what the fuck are those things!? Command, we've encountered multi story tall Metal Dragons that fire some kind of laser from their mouths- left turn, left turn now you fool-"

Sahelanthropus is just completing it's final refits with the Mammal Pod, we're not going to be able to send it to support you immediately, but it'll be there rest assured.

Pack heavy for this one Boss.

-

Tactical Advice

• Deploy Big Boss.

• The mission begins twenty miles from the target, you'll have to fight your way to the end.

• Mobility and Firepower is key.

• Other forces will arrive to aid you.

• Heavily recommend Deploying Sahelanthropus here.

Mission Objectives

• Fight your way to the primary wormhole

• Find some way to close the portal

• Survive

[ ] Ghor Province: Wormhole Assault
-[ ] Heroes Deployed *Must Select Big Boss*
-[ ] Units Deployed
-[ ] General Strategy *If you can't think of something I'll make a good one with what you give me *

***Heroes and Units chosen for one Mission may not be used for another!!!***


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Battle for Kandahar: Hold the Road
Mission Type: Defense
Terrain: Urban
Difficulty: Very Hard

Mission Briefing: Miller

The second largest city in Afghanistan, this is where the main flow of infected people and… machines? Are shambling towards. From here there's a major road leading towards Pakistan and we're already hearing reports that surrounding countries are beginning to see wormholes open in rural towns and villages.

'Get me more intel on those corrupted machines, I'm briefing the Boss now!'

I'll have more information for you shortly boss, but it appears that this infection isn't just limited to people and animals. I'm receiving word that there have been sightings of monstrous, horror show machines made of metal, flesh-like musculature, and some kinda mineral deposits. Might not be a bad idea to pack some anti-armor for this one.

We'll have support in the form of Mujahideen sleepers that've been rallying in the area. Looks like the Soviets have pulled out entirely back to their own bases when things started getting too hot.

… I'm not gonna lie Snake, I'm not sure we have the punch for this mission.


Tactical Advice

• Heavy Infantry and Artillery are going to be your friends.

• There are three defensive zones along the road all the way to the entrance of the city.

• Your allies consist of roughly 10,000 fighters of Untrained to Elite in skill

• The first day's wave numbers at around 100,000 infected and 100 machines.

• You're not going to be able to hold the tide back forever, things will get harder every day that passes.

Mission Objectives

• Hold the defensive line for as long as possible

• Keep the infected out of the city

• If the defenses look like they're about to fall, Evac will arrive after an undetermined amount of time.

• Survive

[ ] Battle For Kandahar: Hold the Road
-[ ] Heroes Deployed
-[ ] Units Deployed
-[ ] General Strategy


---


Mass Evacuation: Afghanistan
Mission Type: Evacuation
Terrain: Mountainous
Difficulty: Normal

Mission Briefing: Miller

There are thousands of small hamlets that dot the arid land of Afghanistan. It's probably too late to save the people close to the center of the epidemic, but there are still people we can save.

There's no chance to for flights directly to and from Mother Base, we don't have the airlift capacity or logistical capability to do such a thing. The most we can do is get civilians out of the immediate area and send them to designated safe zones.

I want to believe that every person we can save is one less infected we'll have to fight later Boss, but with how these wormholes seem to be disgorging hundreds of them at a time anyway, I don't think there's a point to this in a strategic or tactical sense.

That being said, it's your call Boss.

We can leave these people and send our forces somewhere they can make a fighting difference…

Or we can do this and save some people from being eaten alive.


Tactical Advice

• This mission requires the use of air assets and airmobile units.

• We're not expecting heavy combat, mobility will be our greatest friend.

• You don't have a force capable of saving everyone, and eventually all will be swallowed up if nothing changes.

Mission Objectives

• Evacuate and escort civilians to protected safe zones.

• Keep a step ahead of the infection and don't get bogged down fighting.

• There's only so much we can do.

• Survive

[ ] Mass Evacuation: Afghanistan
-[ ] Heroes Deployed
-[ ] Units Deployed
-[ ] General Strategy


---

Mother Base Defense
Mission Type: Defense
Terrain: Mother Base
Difficulty: ???

Mission Briefing: Miller

As far from Afghanistan as we are, I'm not expecting an attack.

This is just a precaution in case something unexpected does happen and we're not caught with our pants down. The one that got dumped in the kitchen was probably a one off chance of a lifetime.

…

Damn. I'm actually considering getting Eli and Mbele squad to the armory and let them gear up. As much as I hate it, we might need every gun we can get.

And at the very least it'll let the kids feel safer with a weapon in their hands.

Damn it.


Tactical Advice

• Remember, your support soldiers aren't exactly weak when it comes to kicking ass.

• Regardless of their age, Eli and the other child soldiers are blooded fighters. Something to keep in mind.

Mission Objectives

• Protect Mother Base

• Protect the civilians

• Survive

[ ] Mother Base Defense
-[ ] Heroes Deployed
-[ ] Units Deployed
-[ ] General Strategy

[ ] Arm the Child Soldiers
[ ] Don't arm the Child Soldiers

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AN: The least Survive could've done was make it a proper zombie apocalypse
​

Spoiler: Shameless Solicitation for Feed a Kona Fund

Just an annoying reminder that your friendly neighborhood Konami who the actual company totally ripped the Survive scenario from got no recognition or monetary compensation for coming up with the MSF transported to another dimension concept.
Please check it out if you want to support me <3
Kona's Patreon

 

[konamikode]

So, we got an hour and a half until votes open, so I figure I should go ahead and ask this.

@konamikode Cavalier's plan, link here, is the 'stealthing to the Main Wormhole' thing actually an option? Or will it be running combat the entire way through?

Click to shrink...

It's honestly viable.

To put it into perspective I Raiden can take on the entirety of Arsenal Gear's Ray population by himself and a Stinger, Big Boss providing targeting data for a walking Railgun with D-Walker providing close support against smaller baddies if needed is a pretty solid plan.

There are always going to be assumptions made on both the QM and Player sides about how things are going to play out. On some level I do look at winning plans and tailor the story to how the players envision it along with my spin along things.

If I can see it happening, it'll probably work. If it's cool as fuck, I'll heavily consider how to write things out.

And Ahab can make a lot of magic happen.

If you're looking for an epic 1 man and 2 machine sneaking / force recon mission into 'the zone' with BB at the helm, shit, that sounds like a good time :3

 

[konamikode]

Diamond Dog Operation 1: Might of Outer Heaven

An Immortal's Missing Eye: D-Dog Quest Interlude

A Warrior's Oath

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September 1st, 1984
00:19
Seychelles, Mother Base

POV: DD

---

Mother Base had exploded into a sudden hive of activity over the past four days and nights. Ever since that unnatural… thing, had somehow made its way into our home, the hunters of our great tribe have been preparing. Preparing for the impossible conflicts that only man could fight.

The concept that had been burned into my heart as sure as the long healed scar covering my ruined right eye.

We were readying for War.

Against who or what, I do not know. Only that the great, cold beings whose bodies were forged from ore and whose blood took the form of oil, had been moving great amounts of men and material towards the land of my birth.

This was familiar to me, if not the scale of which the machines that flew in the air and rode the waves of the sea had been coming to and from our home. I'd only experienced mobilization on this level when we'd begun claiming hunting grounds in the great landmass to the west.

FOB's they call them. Homes away from home whether they be on land or sea. Like winter caches of food, but so much more in scope.

From the large containers filled with various supplies from the weapons of Diamond Dogs, to blankets, and cans of… less than palatable wet food, I knew that we were responding to whatever was occurring by building up a fighting den.

It was disconcerting. Very much so.

That my human brothers and sisters whose senses are so dull could scent the miasma in the air, was telling in and of itself. They whose noses are weak and ears so small could feel the tension in the air.

If those who had walked the furthest away from nature's path could perceive the wrongness coming from the north winds, just how terrible was the enemy we were to face?

…

I do not fear it. War, I mean.

It's a part of me now, my duty as Ahab's missing eye on the field of battle.

Yet this terrible feeling curdling in my chest and suffusing my bones will not leave me, no matter how long I wait, watching the birds lift off and return every passing half day.

It's maddening.

I was almost relieved when my hunt-brother called me towards the place where my own weapons were kept and maintained. It would soon be time to fly north and take the fight to whatever it was that was causing this madness.

Though when I reached the armory, I was met with the surprising sight of Ahab, Miller, and Ocelot allowing the blooded human pups into the place they had been formerly forbidden to enter.

I slowed my pace to a slow trot, greeting the boys who brushed their fingers along my coat as I passed and even bumping my shoulder against the stoic one who looked so much like Ahab.

Looked, but didn't smell of him.

"Take what you need. If you need to get some time in on the range to shake off the rust, do it." Ahab spoke, moving away from the boys as he begin filling his pouches with boxes of metal fire.

Eli was the only one to move forward without hesitation, scoffing under his breath as he moved for the racks containing shorter weapons.

The other boys seemed unsure of themselves like the pups they were.

I moved back to gently nudge and push my head against their sides, herding them towards the same section where their leader was already strapping a vest to his torso.

"Come. All of you are blooded and proven hunters. Whether war comes to our home or not, you must be ready to stand and protect those who cannot fight." I chuff, licking the hand of one unsure boy.

Despite how long it's been since they've fought, his skin still tastes of blood and gunpowder.

Once a hunter, always a hunter.

"Father?" The voice of my eldest and most strong willed daughter yipped from the entrance of the armory, poking her head through the doorway before scrambling towards me in a storm of clicking claws.

"Tabby." I replied with a cocked head, using the human shorthand for her human given name of Tabasco. "You should be with your mother and siblings with the unblooded human pups. Why are you here?"

I carefully flipped the knife in my mouth, testing it's balance and returning it to its sheath on my shoulder.

"Because Eli is here!" She replied simply, rearing back and forth on her hind legs, belly crawling her way to my seated form as her rear and tail wiggled in excitement. "Are you going to hunt Father? Can I go too?"

A small laugh nearly ripped itself from my nose, the sudden memory of my own attempt at following Ahab into battle as a pup filling my mind.

"No. You must stay in the den with your siblings and mother." I commanded, nudging her side, causing Tabby to flip over on her side with a soft whine. "And you should not follow Eli around either. Not until I return."

"But-"

"No." I growl softly, causing Tabasco's ears to flatten and her body to sink low to the ground in admonishment. "He is a hunter. It will be his duty to guard you and everyone else who cannot fight during our absence. You must not distract him."

"Ah. Little miss troublemaker being a handful I see. Reminds me of someone else." Ocelot spoke from the side, boots and spurs clicking against the ground as he crouched next to me and placed a comforting hand over my back.

His exasperated tone is a familiar one. I'd been the subject of many sighs and 'palmed faces' during my own training.

No, I suppose I wasn't the easiest pup to train.

A glance backwards showed the boy who looked like Ahab watching our conversation before locking eyes with mine and looking away with a grunt.

A prideful one he is.

Tabasco would be a good partner for him in the future. Even if Eli didn't smell of Ahab, the boy was a good hunter and a natural leader, much like my eldest was showing herself to be despite her current childishness.

Said eldest daughter whimpered and buried her face against my front paws when her nose caught the scent of her mother arriving, attempting to hide and mold herself against my similarly colored fur as she'd be taught during our stalking lessons.

Unfortunately, my mate's nose and eyes wouldn't be fooled by such a half-hearted attempt.

"There you are!" CC sighed explosively to herself, trotting forward to nip and delicately take hold of Tabby's scruff. "Didn't I tell you to stay where I could see you?"

Hanging limply from her mother's teeth, my eldest looks up at me with a soulfully petulant expression to which I respond with a flick of my tongue against her nose.

"Bleh! Father!"

"Listen to your mother." I reply easily, sharing an apologetic look with CC as the two of us escorted our wayward child back to the rest of the pack.

--



"It seems our eldest takes much after my own rambunctiousness in my youth." I finally said uncomfortably, not completely certain as to what I should say to my mate as we left the den to walk back outside.

The helicopters were already waiting to take the rest of us on the long journey north. This coming battle would be a dangerous one, I knew in my heart that when I returned…

If I returned.

Many of my hunt-brothers and sisters would not be coming home with me.

I would mourn, but I would move on as I had before, and likely would again.

But if I were to not return, how would my children react?

How would CC cope?

…

We were not close. Not like my own mother and father were. I'm aware that much of this is due to my own inadequacies as a wolf.

I'm not normal. By four legged standards I am strange. It is an oddness that I share only with the great elder, but he is wise and experienced where I am young and out of my depth.

I'd wanted to say something more, but I couldn't think of anything meaningful.

Yes. I am a fool.

Spoiler: Keep playing both videos at once. Trust Kona

"There is nothing to apologize for. Pups will be pups." CC replies simply, flicking her eyes my way as we stop by the helicopter where Ahab and Quiet silently check over one another's equipment.

I turn my neck towards the beautiful wolf dog at my side, but nothing comes to mind as I move to speak, but stop part of the way.

I know I should say something. I dearly, desperately want to find something to say so that I may soothe my mate's worries.

CC was not born into this life, not raised or taught for it. Yet she persevered in the face of it all, doing her best to raise our pups in a foreign world filled with foreign humans.

I was deeply grateful to her. There was much she had given without her consent. On the rare days where I was able to remain by her side, CC spoke of the great grassy fields she used to roam. She told me stories of the many friends she had made and guarded from the predators who would come to steal away the lambs under her and her pack's protection.

Of the humans she'd grown with and softly admitted to missing even now.

For duty she'd given everything that she had known.

Where in comparison I had begun with nothing and gained everything.

I…

…

"CC. I…" I tried to say, only to be struck in stunned silence when my mate pressed her neck over my shoulder with a fearful and pained whimper.

Her heart thudded against my own, chest trembling against mine almost unnoticeably.

"Come back to me DD. I don't want to lose anyone else." She said whisper soft, old hurt mixing with the scent of fresh pain-

"I will." I replied with the same, nearly unheard whisper as my chin moved to rest itself against her own shoulder.

"DD. You ready?" Ahab asked softly as he approached, footsteps so light that they'd be nearly unnoticeable even without the thudding of the metal blades spinning in the air.

His hand hesitates just above my side and I feel thankful for the extra moment he gives me when he turns instead to wait outside the bird.

"I'll return to your side. This I swear." I promised with one last brush of my side against hers.

Each step feeling heavier than the last, I jump into the belly of the bird as my hunt-brother does the same, a comforting hand placed on my scruff.

He leaves the side door open as I turn back to lock eyes with my mate until we are in the sky and Mother Base is long out of visual range.

I hear her howls in the wind, prayers to the moon above being heard for miles across the glittering ocean under the night sky.

I reply powerfully, promising once more of my return.

The howls of my hunt brothers and sisters join me, adding their voices to the prayer of protection that soon changes to a warchant of battle as the choppers thud their thick blades through the starlight.

---

PLAYER CREATED DIAMOND DOG OMAKES NOW OPEN FOR DODGED BULLETS.

• For further clarification, this means player made OC's.
• Limited to 1 per PC on every new in game DAY
• I won't be grading these too harshly, most likely I'll just be adding them to the Apocrypha threadmarks as they come in.
• Omakes related to the missions themselves are currently locked until the relevant update has been posted.
• You can retroactively gain DB points if your character has hit the bucket if you can get the omake out before the Operation ends. (This is so that players can choose to write about a specific battle that their characters are involved in after the relevant update has been made)
• It probably goes without saying but check where your character's unit is being sent and write accordingly if you're writing a mission based omake :3

 

[konamikode]

Day 1: Battle for Kandahar

-[ ] Battle For Kandahar: Hold the Road
--[ ] Ocelot with D-Horse
--[ ] 1st and 2nd Platoons, II Co.
--[ ] 1st, 2nd, 4th Platoons, III Co.
--[ ] 1st Recon Tank Co.
--[ ] 2nd Rocket Artillery Det.
--[ ] 2nd Rotary Flight
--[ ] General Strategy: 1st and 2nd Platoon, II Co. will liaise with Mujahideen support in the city. They'll be tasked with training, support, and coordination duties to improve allied forces capability and make sure retreats and evacuations remain orderly. The Mujahideen will provide static defense, with the III Co. elements supported by the Tank company playing aggressively on hit-and-run strikes aimed at disrupting and delaying the enemy advance. The MLRS battery should be reserved for critical support or targets of opportunity, with the helicopters serving as a reserve fire brigade to buttress defense sectors against dangerous enemy pushes.

---

September 1st, 1984
08:21
Kandahar City, Afghanistan

POV: Ocelot

---

"Contact is starting to get spotty, but the Boss' strike group have just landed at the edge of their mission zone. 1st SQN is en route back to FOB Rattler to pick up S&R teams on standby. How goes the city?"

"Nothing major to report yet. We've got the occasional pack of shamblers coming down from the road. Our largest concerns at the moment are when we get word of rifts opening in the city itself. Got two cells from 2-2 on standby working with the local authorities and Mujahideen to coordinate QRF, but it's complete chaos."

"Put one one fire out only for two more to spread huh…"

"Not gonna bullshit you here Miller. We need more air assets and ground forces if we're going to keep the city from falling into anarchy. Best we can do now is tourniquet every wound shut and hope the limb survives."

"Everyone knew what they were in for when we went in. There isn't much I can you in the way of support, but I'll keep working the soviets and see what I can shake loose."

"What about the Pakistani's? Any luck there?"

"Busy with fortifying their borders. Mujahideen fighters being trained in Pakistan are torn between sending support here and staying within Pakistani borders. Either way, they don't have the infrastructure required for rapid movement so don't count on any help from them."

"Well that's just fantastic. Mother Base?"

"Nothing new yet. We've fortified as best we could while still maintaining operations. We've split up the CT platoon into fireteams and spread them out as a reserve force while the rest of us are on rotational guard and patrol shifts."

"Something wrong, Miller?"

"I don't know. Something feels off about this… no, it's probably nothing. Anyway, R&D got back with the results. Seems like the strange crystal growths are some kind of nano organism that takes control of the nervous system. I got no idea how it works, but the docs tell me if you shoot em in the head, they'll go down."

"A real life Romero movie, huh? We gotta worry about infection through bites or blood?"

"We don't know. Tests are currently inconclusive. It looks like the body's natural defenses may be able to fight off the infectious organisms at times, and sometimes they're overwhelmed. What we do know for certain is that dead and dying tissue is infected and repurposed almost impossibly fast."

"Right. Don't get bit and don't die. Simple enough- ah, we got another group of shamblers coming in-"

"Ocelot?"

"Dear God."

"What is it? Ocelot!"

"Miller, you ever seen what a hundred thousand corpses walking down a road looks like? Because we're seeing the head of the snake in the distance, and it must be… hell, six, seven miles wide? It's almost like this… herd of dead things are alive in some sick, twisted way."

"Can't say the aerial view looks any better. Let me know if the situation deteriorates… and good luck. Miller out."

Good luck.

Heh, right.

"Alright boys and girls. Why don't we go tell our friends that they're a few months early for Halloween." I chuckled with more levity than I actually felt at the moment.

We'd hold. Oh, yes we'd fight for every inch of ground between the dead and the living.

I just couldn't fathom a scenario where we wouldn't be evacing by the end of the day with bits and pieces of us missing.

Under me, Sayed sways and grumbles. His hooves stomping restlessly on the ground without a hint of nervousness in his steely brown eyes.

"Easy boy. We'll be in the thick of it soon enough."

---

Undead Wave 1-5
Bonuses:
Without Number (+10), Tireless (+10), Terrorize (+10), Random Rifts (+15)
Total: +45

On Call Support
Runner Wave (Average) (+5) x5
Special Infected (Small) (+10) x4
Fast Attack Bots (Minimal) (+15) x2
Tank Bots (Minimal) (+15) x2

VS

Defensive Zone 1-3
Bonuses:
Operator (+30), Fire Superiority (+10), Local Support (Fanatic) (+15)

Insignificant Numbers (-20)

• Quality can only make up for so much quantity.
• Various bonuses and specialties all but rendered ineffective

On Call Support:
Artillery Support (Insignificant) (+5) x5
Armored Thrust (Insignificant) (+5) x5
Gunship Strike (Insignificant) (+5) x5
Walker Gear Support (Insignificant) (+5) x5

Limited Logistics *All Transport Birds Assigned Elsewhere!* (Limited resupply!) (x5 Specials)

• I'll be nice and say you guys took supply trucks with you here.

Total: +35

---

The first wave crosses the threshold of clearly marked boundaries, barbed wire, mines, IEDs, and whatever else we could get set up in the killzone with the time we had.

The droning moans of several thousand figures are only interrupted by the explosions that send body parts flying dozens of feet in the air. The bark of rifle fire and machine guns chattering away followed by the crumps of mortars only add to the mad cacophony of carefully orchestrated destruction.

I could hear the stirrings of quiet muttering in the lines as I moved from emplacement to emplacement, shooting rounds off occasionally while attempting to maintain fire discipline.

Those with greater experience continued to fire, but their eyes were beginning to cloud with doubt.

The excited youths who could only watch the canvas of calamity being painted in front of them took no notice what their elders in war were grimly beginning to see.

Against a living army, this level of carnage would be enough to send two, three waves of infantry scurrying back in panic.

Against these monsters wearing human flesh?

It's not enough. Nowhere near enough.

Shambling corpses stumble and fall backwards, many of them standing back up to continue wading through bullets and explosions with seemingly no reaction. Every round that thuds into chest or limb does nothing. Those that do fall with a final, grasping hunger in their eyes are quickly overtaken by the unceasing momentum of a hundred thousand open salivating maws of broken teeth.

The explosions stop just as suddenly as the terrorizing howls of the hungering dead rise in volume.

The constant fire of small arms does nothing to deafen their calls, only showing the disparity between our paltry resistance and the single, voracious desire that those burning red eyes held within them.

The formerly gleeful shouts and cheers of green, barely trained fighters quieted to a deathly silence, overtaken by the hunger of the dead seeking to devour the ready and waiting meals in front of them.

But we're holding. Barely, but we're holding the tide back as the dead struggle for every inch of ground, already having to stumble past the fallen before they too are finished by bursts of LMG fire that stitches and ricochets across the ground. It slows the progress of the horde greatly, with many of those attempting to crawl being crushed by the weight of those still shambling towards us.

(2x Runner Waves) (+10)
(1x Special Infected) (+10)

Except, not all of them can barely walk.

We hear the screams first before we see them.

Loping, inhuman figures that screech and cry within the great mass of flesh and glowing red crystal. Stretched and malformed nearly beyond what you could call human, thin, almost skeletal figures leap from the body of the horde.

Dozens of feet into the sky do they fly, running and moving with strength not seen in the others of their kind as they barrel towards the defensive line with grotesquely widened jaws and salivating tongues visible for all to see.

The muscles holding their mouths together glisten red, visible to all as they open even wider as tears form across their already shredded cheeks in a grisly display of a predator's joy.

That's only the beginning.

Behind them lumber other figures. Some large with bulging, exposed musculature. Some are nearly covered in what looks to be armored shells of organic metal. Yet more bloated beyond the size a human could still walk stumble forward, shooting forth gelatinous sacks of bile and fluid from their unhinged mouths that sizzle and melt whatever they come into contact with upon bursting.

I've never seen war like this. None of us have.

This was the thought in my mind when the machines and men of our Walker Gear Platoon waded through the explosions of acid and charging bodies to step forth and unleash their payloads on the seemingly unstoppable tide of flesh and disease.

The bloated ones are targeted down before they can do more than superficial damage against the defenses.

The leapers are either shot down from the sky are caught by mechanical arms and crushed by the power of servo motors.

The charging, slavering monsters that thunder forward and shake the ground like a charging stampede of bulls are riddled with enough large caliber bullets and anti tank rockets that the last one just barely slides to a gurgling stop at the foot of the first sandbags.

(2x Walker Gear) (+10)

139 VS 143 (1st Defensive Line Barely Holding)

The barrel of my emptied revolver smokes as I bring it up from where it was pointed against the skull of the last 'hulk' attempting to crawl its way forward with maddened purpose.

God, we're holding, but only just.

-

(1x Fast Attack Bots) (+15)

"Commander Ocelot! We got… we got fast movers separating from the flanks! Not Leapers! They're… machines!? Fuck- kill them! Kill them now- AGh!?!?-" I heard Layla's voice cut out into static, seeing the wolf like machine ripping and tearing through one of the entrenched positions we'd placed our HMMWV's with blood soaked limbs and blades.

"Sloth! Shit, it's on us!" Baying Wolfhound growled out before the comms were interrupted by the staccato of rapid fire machine gun rounds followed by the noise of a large blade being unsheathed.

149 VS 50 (1st Defensive Line Crushed!)

"Wolfhound! Respond!" I called out, narrowly dodging the tail spike of one of the new fast moving Wolves and filling it's glowing belly with six shots of .45 Long.

Filling the twitching machine with several slugs from my shotgun, I switched channels to one that is no less filled with the noise of desperate combat as I hailed Savvy Piglet.

"Report! Now!"

"Commander! These things are ripping through our lines like tissue paper! We're falling back- shit watch out!" The distinctive barks of a colt.45 erupt over my headset before a burst of harsh air filled my ears.

"Commander we're falling back! We can't hold!" Piglet screamed only moments before the tide of undead bodies hit the sandbags and the terrorized screams of the living momentarily erupted louder than the moans of the dead.

-

Panicked Fallback Action!

(3x Artillery Support) (+15)
(5x Gunship Strikes) (+25)

"Pre-registered danger close Artillery and CAS now!" I called out with real desperation lacing my voice as I walked D-Horse backwards while unloading every smoking gun I had noticeably burning their holsters into the gnashing teeth and flailing limbs of the horde baying for our flesh!

Command given across all receiving channels, I turned my mount around and began galloping towards the second line where I could see the wide-eyed panic of the Mujahideen only just holding onto their courage.

Angling my body to the side, I'm only just able to grasp the wrist of Baying Wolfhound and pull him and his heavily bleeding cargo up onto Sayed.

The horse barely makes a grunt of effort as he carries the three of us back towards the fresh defensive line as rockets, bullets and shells begin to land behind us in a deafening roar of death and destruction.

92 VS 106 (Rout Barely Contained!) (2nd Defensive Line Holds!) (Casualties Sustained!)

"C-commander Ocelot…" Idiot Sloth coughs, sending flecks of crimson fluid across mine and Wolfhound's backs with every gallop that digs into the gruesome hole punched through her gut.

"None of that Diamond Dog! We're still in the fight!" I growled, casting only a seconds glance at the debilitating wound only kept from growing worse and leaking organs due to the fabric and heavy plates holding the wound flush against the tightly wrapped vest.

She'd survive. Probably.

-

"I need a sitrep by company and platoon!" I called out to all channels as we jumped past the second line's sandbags and came to a halting stop.

Distressingly I only heard scattered reports from 3rd company while second were busy with a disastrously timed opening of a new portal within Kandahar city.

(1x Special Infected) (+10)
(1x Tank Bots) (+15)

The horde didn't give us any time to pull ourselves together either, sending forth another wave of mutants and a new type of heavily armored machine at us.

The incoming scourge of undead nearly bled with the intermingled bodies of desperately fleeing living and the mechanical roars of stomping, four legged combat walkers seemingly made from just as much of flesh as they were steel.

I only caught a flash of a Walker Gear and it's pilot being backhanded several hundred feet through the air before the thunder of tank shells ripping their way through the battlefield slammed into the first of the beasts.

(2x Artillery Support ) (+10)
(2x Armored Thrust) (+10)

The metal monstrosity groaned in a combination of straining metal and what I imagine mammoth would sound like as it reeled from the blow.

The Sheridans don't let up, the lights of wire guided TOW missiles rocketing forward to send the teetering behemoth crashing on top a wave of hungrily walking shamblers who don't even seem to notice the danger.

For good measure a short barrage of called in artillery rounds hammer the ground the behemoth still weakly twitches from, it's maddeningly flickering 'eyes' remaining locked with the defensive even as it's deactivated in a volley of falling death.

This quickly becomes our method with dealing with the other behemoths that stomp over, past, and through the horde as the mortars and guns on it's turtle-like back chatter away until they run out of ammunition or are destroyed.

Handheld anti-tank munitions barely do more than send the damn monsters off balance at first, but we quickly learn to destroy their mobility and guns instead of going for near impossible kill shots.

It's a close thing, but we're able to rally the fighters adding their bulk to our numbers against the onslaught of dead and corrupted machines.

I have no illusions about the chances of holding the tide back without them.

The moment the Mujahideen and volunteers break is the moment we lose this slugging match and damn it if we aren't already being pushed against the ropes.

90 VS 96 (2nd Defensive Line Barely Holding!)

-

The horde as if sensing weakness belches forth another wave of mutants and leapers, seemingly wary of throwing the rest of their armored assets at us.

I want to think that these things are dumb, but I can't refute the rudimentary intelligence I see, especially among the mutants and machines.

They're like animals and easily baited, but it's disturbing to see the Wolves prowling the edges of the line and flitting agilely between shambling drones.

Waiting. Watching for an opportune moment of weakness.

(2x Runner Waves) (+10)
(1x Special Infected) (+10)

Fortunately they don't find any as the freshly rallied living roar and fire back until our barrels our glowing and smoking with our combined fear, hate, and bone deep rage.

"Fucking die and stay dead!" The pilot of a Walker Gear locked down in firing mode next to me screams with wide eyes, the dual .50 Brownings attached to its hardpoints chattering with barely any pause at the moaning chorus of unlife.

"Water! More water!" Next to him a civilian man calls back to the chain of huddled, fearful men who cannot fight, but have stayed to provide what support they could. Doctors, office workers, food stall owners were all scurrying back and forth with sloshing plastic jugs full of water to cool down… everything we had from melting down to unusable slag.

"Brother, I bring ammunition for the Walking Tanks!" One of a pair of young teenage fighters gasp and shout over the din of battle, cart full of ammo cans for the Walker Gears and emplaced 'Dshkas'.

"Ah shit, Abdul, cover!"

The elder Mujahideen fighter next to the now dry Gear falls backwards, covering the retreat of the pilot who quickly jumps off his machine to leap for the .50 ammo. "Go, get out of here and back to the third line! We're barely holding here you damned kids! Let your brother and me do the fighting, okay!?"

I do my part, galloping by and picking a traveling suitcase full of 5.56 belts with a grunt and tossing ammo across the lines as I hailed 2-1 over the radio. "Arachne, get your volunteers here and get this ammo spread out! Hook up with Monarch and tell him to get started on organizing dumps on top of our ammo dumps at the third line! We're not gonna hold!"

"Hound, Winter!"

"Commander? Little busy here!" Imperial Hound growled over the sounds of screaming and gunfire coming from within the city.

"Where's Ragged Winter!?"

"MIA! We lost contact with his cell when the portals opened up almost right on top of him! Shit, old man's probably gone, commander."

"Right. Pull your boys together and get ready to meet at the rally point, I'm not sure how long we can hold."

"Fuck. Understood sir, 2-2 rotating towards the rally now."

"Keep fighting Diamond Dogs, this isn't a retreat. Not yet." I grunted over the comms, leaning over Sayed as a Wolf's blades screamed right above me.

Time slowed for me as it always does during moments of intense concentration as I pulled an AK from the saddle and sent a rapid burst of AP rounds to stitch the underside of the lupine machine, sparks and disturbingly red oil splurting with each shot.

Instead of regaining my balance on top of Sayed, I roll off the saddle onto the dusty ground. Reloading the AK as I do so, I come to a stop in front of the sparking and glitching machine that tries to weakly kill me even now.

These abominations against life must be purged.

I don't normally use automatics anymore, but the chattering of wood and metal in my hands is almost as satisfying as being caught mid reload.

88 VS 94 (2nd Defensive Line Barely Holding!)

-

"COMMANDER! INCOMING!"

(1x Runner Waves) (+5)
(1x Special Infected) (+10)
(1x Fast Attack Bots) (+15)
(1x Tank Bots) (+15)

"Retreat! Get back to the third line, Now!" I screamed over all the suddenly blurting channels before tossing the AK aside and beginning to run.

Without the need for a whistle, Sayed galloped next to me, leaning slightly and allowing me to grab hold of his saddle and pull myself up with a hot to the touch revolver back in hand.

All around me the screams of the dying and the tearing of metal being crushed like a soda can told me everything I needed to know about this last enemy push.

(3x Walker Gear) (+15)
(3x Armored Thrust) (+15)

What gears and tanks remained desperately fought to buy time for the retreating infantry, but the infected were already in the lines.

Wolves and leapers viciously tore into the flailing bodies of men who replied with desperate fury even in their last breaths.

"Bear! Damn you, Segura, respond! Get the fuck out of there!" I heard Snow Leopardess call out with desperation as the tanks began to fall back from their positions.

Too late.

Too damn late.

Two tanks, I don't who, were overrun when their tracks were destroyed either through being gunked up in the dead or damaged by charging hulks, or melted down by bombers.

There was no time to attempt a rescue, the horde was already upon the mutilated machines and the behemoths were nearly on top of them with their trumpeting calls.

"Miller, this is Ocelot, scrub the S&R mission! We're going to need that Evac!"

165 VS 121 (Fuck, Fall back!)

-

Desperate Fallback Action!

"Right, calling back the birds to you now. ETA... merciful spirits."

"Miller!? Don't fucking do this to me, what's going on!?"

"The birds will be there Ocelot. But you have to give the order to evac, now."

"What- we can hold!"

"Not against what's coming you won't. Satellite imaging's still shit from interference, but the S&R team reports five times the number you're fighting only hours away from Kandahar."

19 VS 18 (Bare Failure!) (3rd Defensive Line Breaking!) (Casualties Sustained!)

"... damn it. Understood, just get those birds here before-" The laps in concentration nearly costs me my right arm as a Wolf lands in front of me, teeth bared and it's many bladed limbs bristling with steel coated in fresh blood.

"... heh. Get those birds here Miller, or we're all gonna die. Ocelot out." I chuckled as my mount and the mechanical monstrosity in front of me circled one another warily.

The hand I almost lost slowly moves lower to my side, readying to drop the empty revolver for a fresh double barreled shotgun filled with slugshot in its saddle holster…

"Draw!"

We both moved, determined to kill the other in a race against time-

---

To Be Continued.

---

AN: :3

Spoiler: Shameless Solicitation for Feed a Kona Fund... huh?

What the, a hidden video tape?

"We'll Meet Again."

Kona's Patreon

 

[konamikode]

Come Home.

Voice Actor: David Hayter

---

We stand upon the face of annihilation, an end that comes to threaten all that we know, hate, cherish, and love.

The 'leaders' of the world already know of this invasion brewing within the middle east.

They would have you believe that it's nothing but hearsay, rumors in the wind of an event that will be blown aside like a tumbleweed in the desert.

This… is a lie.

…

Nine years ago, I said this, filled with hatred and malice.

"We will forsake our countries..."

Spoiler: Listen. You won't regret it.

---

And we are now needed.

Come.

My…

No.

The World's Soldiers Without Borders.

Our Mother Earth calls upon you.

All of you.

We will build a world with no place for us. Our bodies will provide the foundations for a future where no one will ever have to pick up a gun and pull the trigger in hate or rage.

A utopia we have no place in.

But that's fine, isn't it?

Our home isn't an object you can touch, it's something that's closer than the sensation your fingertips could ever feel.

It's in us.

All of us.

…

This is our Duty, our Purpose.

Our Sacrifice and our Reason for Being.

…

……

……...

Heh.

I wonder.

Was this what you meant?

...

No. It doesn't matter now. Just the ramblings of an old, worthless ghost.

The ashes of a memory.

...

You hear it too, don't you?

@You.

To all of you. With or without purpose, with or without dreams.

With or without hope.

Come. Home.

My brothers.

My sisters.

My sons.

My daughters.

.... hah.. ha.

What better fate for us than this?

It is our only home.

Our end, and our beginning.

This…

...

Come.

Ride with me.

Let's deny the shadow of the coming night, together.

How can we stand by while the evil all of us once stood up to oppose, is upon our doorstep?

...

This... our home.

It's not a place, not a paltry land to call our own.

It is our home.

Within the heart of mankind's memory, our recourse, our cause.

Our meaning.

Let us go home my comrades.

My kin.

Back to Outer Heaven.

 

[konamikode]

Day 1: Wormhole Assault

-[ ] Ghor Province: Wormhole Assault
--[ ] Big Boss with D-Walker
--[ ] Quiet
--[ ] D-Dog
--[ ] Sahelanthropus
--[ ] 1st and 2nd Platoons, I Co.
--[ ] 4th Platoon, II Co.
---[ ] General Strategy: 4th Platoon, II Co. will operate as the forward recon to infiltrate and scout through enemy positions. Big Boss, Quiet, D-Dog, and I Co. units will slip through, using stealth and quiet takedowns of zombies to avoid being detected by enemy heavy units. Once the threat level has been evaluated and weak points determined, Sahelanthropus with the Mammal Pod AI will be deployed.

---

September 1st, 1984
08:15
Ghor Province, Afghanistan

POV: Ahab

---

-Twenty minutes ago-

"So we're going to be split up into small teams, inserted at separate locations, and our orders are to stealth our way through twenty miles of hostile terrain with unknown monsters from outer space stomping around?" Lazing Gecko mutters through the radio, breathing deeply. "Any idea what we're going to do if one of us actually gets to the objective?"

"Best plan we got. Can't stick together or we'll be taken out all at once by whatever the hell it was that destroyed that tank battalion. Don't want to draw too much attention in any one direction either if we need to go loud." Apocalypse Crab replied, somehow rolling her eyes over the comms.

"And these prototype… Fulton Packs… are we sure they're safe?" Sleeping Sloth mumbled, the clinking fumbling of his fingers over his throwing knives audible to all.

"As long as the main drive back home is up and running. The thing apparently locks onto our location and uses whatever mad science is in these packs to tear a hole through spacetime to send you back to Mother Base. That sound safe to you?" Tiger grunted in response to everyone, likely sending a look towards Unnerving Eagle.

Said man chuckles softly before replying. "Ugh. I hate Star Trek. Too campy."

"Can it. A chance at living is better than certain death. Anything else from the peanut gallery or are we good?" Ghost commanded, working the bolt of his sniper rifle with a frown.

"Just one more comment. We know when Plan B is getting here?" So said Sadistic Kitten, her unusually youthful and heavy german accent filtering through the radio.

"Soon. Remember, light recon only until the walking railgun arrives. These target designators should work unless the dust gets too thick. Use comms to call in fire missions or reports only if you have to. That all?" Ghost replied once more, grunting as Bouncing Baboon's stomach railed against him within the confines of the helicopter.

...

"Keep your masks ready. Don't wanna breathe in whatever the hell those red dust storms are made of. Boss? We're ready to drop on your go."

---

There was nothing but sand blowing through the air, obscuring the blurred edges of mountains and rock formations in the distance.

It hadn't looked half this bad while we were flying over the target areas. Even when we'd begun our infiltration, conditions were clear enough we could see out for almost half a kilometer into the distance. Then suddenly, once we'd crossed the threshold of the second mile in, visibility had cut down until it was difficult to see even a hundred feet in any direction and we'd been forced to slow our pace.

An advantageous situation in many ways, but it meant that the laser targeting designators would be largely useless if fire support from Sahelanthropus was needed.

Fortunately, it'd seemed unnecessary so far.

I could hear the mechanical roars of something in the far off distance, but keeping out of sight wouldn't be difficult.

"Rff." Nestled on top of my lap and leaning against D-Walker, DD barked softly to signal through the scarf covering his nose that he'd scented something stumbling by to the north west.

Carefully, I shifted my weight and the controls of the walker gear at an angle so we'd avoid the possible patrol.

We had to move slow by necessity, attempting to move too quickly in these conditions could lead to smashing into a mountainside, a tree, or falling off an unseen cliff.

In some ways, this was almost peaceful.

I could almost believe that this was just another of many expeditions into Afghanistan I'd taken over this past half year.

Sometimes alone. At first anyway.

Then as the days passed and Diamond Dogs had grown, I'd found myself more often than not with someone fighting at my side.

… No.

"I like some alone time now and again."

I never did like working alone, now did I, Ishmael?

Originally Adam's, Sayed had become a faithful companion to me ever since I'd awoken in Cyprus. We'd rode to safety on his back and thereafter, he'd seen me through thick and thin regardless of the dangers.

DD came second. He'd grown quickly and was eager to prove himself useful to myself and the people he'd taken to viewing as his adopted family. Looking at the wolf dog riding with me now, it was difficult to ever remember a time where I wasn't able to rely on his nose to keep us safe.

The hairs on the back of my neck rise, and not a second later I see the glint of a scope shining momentarily my way before the light sandstorm conceals it once more.

She enjoyed poking an old man's frayed nerves, ironically as an affectionate action on her part.

"Hm~" I felt more than heard the familiar, playful humming of a former assassin I'd come to call a friend.

Well. Friend wasn't the correct word to describe our relationship. We were closer than that and I'd be a dense, fool of a man if I couldn't spot the lingering gazes and moments of hesitation at my age.

That was more Ishmael's failing than my own.

…

"Now do you remember? Who you are?" I remembered, standing and looking in the mirror as I saw the face of who I was before.

"I'm no longer that man. Not anymore-"

And then I smashed my metal covered fist into the mirror, shattering it as emotion fueled me into a fury filled breach of composure, renouncing the memory of who I was.

"You are me, and I am you. The two of us, we're Big Boss. Together." I muttered under my breath, the howling winds suppressing the sound of my voice before it even leaves my lips.

Ishmael.

You don't get to just leave a half finished mission behind.

"It's you who needs to remember who you are…" I grunted, crushing the shards of glass embedded into my knuckles further into the ruined mirror.

You don't get to drown our sorrows. Our regrets into the heartless sea.

The ruined bandanna I'd discovered clutched in the hands of Strangelove's skeleton within the Mammal Pod felt warm to the touch. Wrapped around my prosthetic arm, I felt the phantom pains of my missing limb diminish with the weight of her guidance lifting my own burdens.

I knew.

I knew that the road I was walking toward… wasn't what Ishmael's mentor had wished for. Whatever the Joy had desired for the world, none of us had the ability to understand.

We were too burdened by our demons, the scars left upon us by a hate filled world and crueler humanity.

So instead…

*Denuke Missions Completed*

I made my own choices.

I did what I thought was right.

"Jack…? No…" The mechanical voice of the Boss said once more upon my last visit.

But before I left, a breeze drifted into the enclosed area where the memory of a dead woman rested.

The bandanna I'd left in the grip of Strangelove's corpse had risen, riding the warm air until it'd tangled itself around my missing left arm.

I felt it. The comforting weight of an old friend I'd never met coming to rest on my forearm.

"There's nothing left for me to give you. All that's left is for you to take my life- go home. Go home Jack."

…

I heard your feelings then, and I understand them now Boss.

I just need to bring him back right?

… Hah.

I will.

"DD. Hide." I commanded, shooing my partner away as we came to a stop on the edge of the eye of the localized sandstorm.

The wolf growled his compliance, looking back at me once with conflicted eyes before he darted out of my lap and towards the nearby rock formations as he'd been taught.

I pulled D-Walker to a stop, letting my feet touch the dusty ground with a weight of finality as I gazed across the open terrain.

Three metal monstrosities nearly of height with Sahelanthropus roamed the area, stomping almost lightly across the ground as they shrieked into the air.

Patting D-Walker on the side, I heard him accept the command and scuttle away to the side, ATGM's loaded and ready to be fired at my command as I hefted the Carl Gustav on my shoulder and began walking forward.

There was no way past these monstrosities without being detected. Nor did I wish for the others teams risking their lives for this mad plan to spend their lives needlessly.

No.

Ishmael was right about one thing.

I am Big Boss.

Like hell I'd let these monsters trample on the hopes and dreams of the men and women under my command.

Come.

I'll take you all on.

The first rocket fires, backblast sending forth a spray of searing air and dust past my back. The rocket itself flies true, aiming at the point where I expected my first animalistic target to turn to upon hearing the report of the chemical explosion.

It opens its mouth in warning, but before it can do anything else, the rocket slams home within its mouth to send it reeling back far beyond its hind legs and tail.

The metal behemoth is sent on its back, rocking the earth in a dull, bone shuddering wave that garners the attention of the two others who spread their arms and open their mouths wide to scream at me in unfeeling fury.

Hah.

Tossing the shell out of the back of the Carl Gustav, I load a fresh shell into the chamber and bring the rocket launcher back up.

A small smile finds itself on my face as the roars and shrieks of an uncountable number of Metal Gear like entities cry out in the distance.

…

It doesn't have to be me. The one that reaches the objective I mean.

"Come on. I don't have all day." I said, feeling more than seeing the footfalls of the giant machines rapidly stomping my way.

But what kind of leader would I be if I wasn't the first one to make it there?

I settled down on a knee, taking aim through the sights and bringing the shoulder launched rocket flush against the glowing eyes of the closest abomination striding towards my position.

My finger pressed the trigger, sending forth a bolt of destruction forth towards where I expected the mechanical monstrosity to dodge.

It hits, bringing the Metal Gear to a stumbling halt as it falls to the ground with a pained screech and furious cry of anger.

Three. Nine. Thirty.

Whatever the number, it's meaningless.

Because I…

The air screams in pain.

Above me, the vengeful fist of God streaks forward in a fiery missile of depleted radioactive metal that slams into the fallen form of the Metal Gear, vaporizing it's upper torso in a horrifying screech of rending metal and fire.

A mile behind me, Sahelanthropus growled lowly, it's dominating bass sending a shuddering wave of deadly promise through every body within this AO.

"I'm Big Boss." I whispered, less to myself and more for those who were fighting and dying even now to further the dream of…

…

Our Outer Heaven.

"From here on out, you're Big Boss." He said, moments before I crushed the tape and stalked out of the room with both my dead and living hands bleeding.

...

I won't give upon you Ishmael. I promise.

"Hrrrraaaaaagggggh!!!!!" I ran forward towards the smoking corpses of the dead monsters groaning in the rust red earth not two hundred meters in front of me, loading another rocket into my weapon of choice. "Come on!"

To my front, the third Metal Gear roared in challenge, chainblades along it's fins revving in an attempt to intimidate and demoralize.

I continued forward, letting loose another round that forced it to dodge to the side.

Behind me, I heard the telltale charging of a rail gun as Sahelanthropus stomped forward, her bestial cries filling the air even this far away.

---

-[ ] Mass Evacuation: Afghanistan
--[ ] 1st Rotary Sqn.
--[ ] 3rd Platoon, I Co.
--[ ] 3rd Platoon, II Co.
--[ ] General Strategy: The II Co. humanitarian specialists run the evacuation. Hound Platoon accompanies to make everyone think twice about starting anything, and to end it fast if they do.

---

September 1st, 1984
09:02
Afghanistan

POV: Crashing Dragon

---

"Say again Commander Miller, we're canceling this OP?" I called out on the open channel, making sure everyone in the chalks are receiving our orders.

Shit, the guys at Kandahar are probably getting crushed if we're being called off this early.

"Confirmed Pigeon-3 Actual, all S&R teams are to redirect towards Kandahar City to provide support and get our boys and all the civilians we can out back to FOB Rattler." Sub Commander Miller sighed over the radio, something I've rarely heard him do.

It was grossly unprofessional, but I had to ask…

"How bad is it sir?"

The radio was dead silent for several moments, edging myself and everyone that was listening towards that gut wrenching state of accepting despair and fury by the time his voice blurted over the comms.

"Bad. The teams holding the defensive line were pushed back almost to the city entrance itself in a near rout, but they're holding, barely. The last transmission from ground commander Ocelot cut out, but I'm sure there are survivors. Have you adjusted course?"

"Yes sir, the moment we got the word." I muttered, waving my hand towards Pequod and Gopher as they came up on my flanks. Their side doors opened as the Diamond Dogs held within the bellies of their aircraft took combat positions and scanned the ground as we began our twenty minute long approach.

"Shit… we even gonna make it?" I heard Whale grunt from the back.

He'd never been happy about being in separate platoons from Soldier Ant, but this was one of those mission that made him especially antsy.

Regardless of everything that was happening, he didn't like being separated from his old comrade, regardless of the relatively safety of their differing assignments.

It didn't help that we hadn't heard from the Boss and his team in an hour, not that it mattered with their self imposed radio silence.

Could be good. Could be bad.

I don't know.

Hearing something would probably mean shit went to hell right?

"Good. Get back to me when you're about to reach the AO, I'll have more information for you then-" Commander Miller stated before his voice cut out.

It would've been worrying if he didn't cut his mike back on a minute later, broadcasting on all channels excepting those teams on the wormhole assault.

"Orders changed, the original OP is green." He called out, almost seeming relieved.

Before anyone with a radio and authorization for a direct line to command could do so, the Sub Commander patched receive only signals to the rest of us.

What we heard couldn't have been more relieving.

"Diamond Dog Command, this is Spectre Flight with AC-130 support inbound. Heard you boys fighting the good fight needed some firepower, over."

"All ground teams, this is Colonel Petrova of the 92nd Motorized Rifles and elements of the 4th Guards Tank Regiment! Hold fast comrades! Aid comes!!"

"This is Red Sparrow PF, us and the rest of the PF's operating in Afghanistan heard the call Diamond Dogs. Sending air assets to assist with civilian evac, our air CCTs will be in touch within fifteen mikes."

"Oh hell, you could've gotten here faster. Who're you supposed to be anyway?" The voice of Commander Ocelot rang over the comms, the near trademarked sound of a smoking revolver being holstered ringing across our ears.

Several booted footsteps replied, the conversation occurring between him and another party being muted due to distance.

At least until the other man grew close enough that his voice could be heard, whisper soft.

"...Gray Fox. Vic Boss sends his regards."

 

[konamikode]

Intermission 1



----

September 1st, 1984
09:13
Mother Base, Seychelles

POV: Kazuhira

---

"DD Command, this is Spectre Lead confirming ETA of forty minutes. We'll be there to bring the thunder for the next engagement."

"Copy Spectre Lead, you sure you boys are up for this?" I asked less out of concern that the flight of AC-130 gunships had gone AWOL and more because we needed them.

"Been hauling all this beautiful ammunition without a target for months command, we got the surplus for a little field training. Can't let the Reds get all the fun." The pilot laughed, waving away my concerns with a sense of very real frustration lacing his voice.

"Understood. Colonel Petrova? Any problems on your end?"

His Soviet counterpart on the ground scoffs into her radio over the shared channel.

"Pfah! You're years too late to join the war American!" The woman chortles into her radio before sobering slightly. "Worry not comrade Miller, those fools in command will find their balls eventually! For the time being we're assisting the defenses. What of your mercenary cousins and the civilian evacuations?"

The grizzled drawl of Red Sparrow's commander replies back in french accented english.

"Smooth flying so far. Opposition is intermittent, but manageable. Problem is we can only do so much. You're sure you don't wanna subcontract us to run combat ops instead?"

"Negative Red Sparrow, all we can do is stem the bleeding until Big Boss handles the situation or we start receiving actual national military support." With a note of finality that everyone correctly interprets, I glance outside the window where I can see a patrol escorting one of the R&D team is heading towards my office for a report.

"I'll have more for all of you soon, there's something else I need to take care of."

-

"Anything about the new device?" I ask, leaning into my chair as Probable Crow continues her briefing. "I don't wanna start theorycrafting, but it really doesn't feel like a coincidence that our current crisis started right after our test activation."

"Nothing so far commander, and despite the easy correlation, there doesn't seem to be any connection between the… undead incursions and our own experiments. Emmerich and the R&D team have the Wormhole Drive operating without any notable issues."

"Notable?"

"This is untested technology commander, frankly, I can't even understand how half of this stuff works. All I know is that the drive uses a similar method as the… zombies? Are we calling them zombies? Zombies. To… uh… fold distant locations together without destroying space time. And not using some sort of unlimited energy generator to do so." The woman grumbles, chewing on the end of a pen with a tired look of someone who regularly stays up at night.

"... and?"

"This thing we made is impossible and I'm going to go insane attempting to understand it so I won't. Actually, I don't even know how we did it in the first place." Dr. Moon groaned, slipping off her glasses to palm tired eyes. "Would you believe me if I said we hooked up the odd spiral artifact the Boss recovered to a microwave oven and the madness started from there?"

...

You're joking right?

"Seriously?" My voices raises slightly in pitch in incredulity when she shrugs.

"The science doesn't lie, sir. It's just the kind of science that you'd be better off not asking questions about…" The engineer trails as my own hand comes up to rub my brow at the forming migraine.

"It's that damned cardboard tank debacle all over again…"

"Excuse me sir?"

"Nothing. Good work Crow, get back to it and keep me informed of any changes."

"Yes sir!" The woman nods, already looking down at her ever present clipboard before making her way back towards the patrol she'd originally attached herself to reach the command strut.

I sank back into my chair, hand twitching as I had to forcibly stop myself from going for a bottle of the hard stuff. Instead I sighed and moved to stand up with my empty mug to walk towards the small counter where I'd kept my personal late night work aids.

I'd just finished enjoying the scent of the DDog patented perculator drizzling drops of wakeful sludge into the mug when the lights went out and the coffee maker died mid gurgle.

"Well then." I stated to the dark, empty room with a calm sip of my half poured coffee as the yelling started and the telltale glow of space being torn open close by.

Finishing the steaming brew in a single, painful gulp, I carefully tested the reactions of my new bionic prosthesis by pulling out my pistol and racking a round into the chamber.

I wasn't used to having my 'limbs' back, but I'd been overdue for some fieldwork anyway.

Pistol first, I manually slid open the unpowered door and entered the hallway with careful movements.

----

September 1st, 1984
09:13
Ghor Province, Afghanistan

POV: Ahab

---

The last mechanical monstrosity of the pack stumbled from the rocket that slammed into its knee joint. Unable to keep its balance, the metal gear shrieked as it fell to the rocky earth with a teeth rattling shockwave.

Amidst the dust raised by its sliding tumble, I can see it's outline come to a stop as it opens its mouth to retaliate with its glowing beam weapon when the familiar crack of a high powered anti material rifle slammed home into the unprotected area. The bullet hits something vital, causing the machine's mouth to snap backwards from a series of rippling explosions that take off its jaws and half of its face.

"Assaulting fire!" Taking the given opportunity, I dash forward and command D-Walker to follow while firing every weapon it's carrying.

Tracer rounds from the minigun stitch across the open terrain, spalding and splattering armor piercing munitions across the prone form of the groaning metal gear. A pair of ATGMs leave their tubes, streaking forward into the open wound of the downed monster's face and causes it to explode in a violent wash of heat and shrapnel.

The dead machine spasms, twitching as disturbing spurts of blood-like liquid gushes from it's decapitated neck before finally stilling. The arm fin that had shakily started to rise and point its guns in my direction fell to the ground in an unpowered slump as I slowed my pace to a cautious walk.

In the distance I could hear more of the now familiar roars and shrieks of the metal gear like weapons rallying towards my position as planned.

"DD." I called out, taking a knee on the rough ground while replacing my stores of ammunition from D-Walker's LRRP attachment.

The wolf dog barked an affirmative, trotting forward carefully as he continued to scan the area with a cautious eye as he came to a curious halt at my side.

He leans into the fond rub I give along his flank, softly whining at the order he knew that was already coming.

"Go home. This isn't the kind of battle you need to be involved in." I spoke softly, checking over DD's rigging and making sure that the pickup transponder on his standard self fulton kit was working correctly.

Next to it, the wormhole pack blinked green as part of the safety check. If all went well DD would be able to make his way out of this sandstorm to wait for evac and wouldn't have to use the experimental device.

He left without me having to give another command, ghostly fur fading into the growing sandstorm as he began trotting away towards the earth rumbling stomps of Sahelanthropus.

"Rearm Complete." The robotic voice of D-Walker chimed as I slid another pair of rockets into its side mounted tubes and climbed onto its back.

The sound of the shrieking gears drew closer, followed by the new, bovine like calls of something else I'd yet to meet.

"Well. Better go introduce myself." I chuckled, driving towards the center of the storm as the first flecks of red sand began to filter into my vision.

From miles behind, Sahelanthropus roared out its own challenge in almost eager anticipation.

Spoiler: And I saw a ghost from the Future.

Only, as I carefully drove through the sandstorm, the bull-like grunts of my as of yet unseen foes cut off one by one with a pained and panicked squeal of static.

Several times I saw in the distance what looked to be a flicker of red cutting through the sandstorm until the last, desperate cry of a dying animal was cruelly cut away.

A single figure stood in my path.

Tall and strong, a ghostly glowing eye framed with white hair and a gunmetal black jaw stared back as Quiet appeared at my side with her rifle raised.

The giant sword held at his side fell to the ground, fading away into the dust and being overtaken by the sandstorm as his body did the same.

"The legendary Big Boss…" He uttered softly, lips unmoving and voice corrupted by artificial static.

A gust of wind later, his form faded into the storm in a mote of glowing green lights as the storm of red dust began to momentarily clear.

It was only for a moment, but before the dust returned to inhibit my vision, I witnessed a field full of countless biomechanical corpses until they too vanished into the aether.

…

"Let's go." I spoke softly towards Quiet who glanced in my direction with a disturbed expression before nodding and bounding away in an explosion of movement.

"He has your eyes." The ghost of an unknown time whispered as my vision momentarily lost the ability to see the color red and white filled my lone eye.

"Who?" I muttered more to myself than hoping for the illusion to answer.

But answer he did.

"Solid Snake." The static laced voice of the sword wielding man died, leaving me alone awash in a barren land without any signs of the battle that must have occurred.

"Hm?" A gloved hand a familiar hum jolted me out of my reverie as Quiet gazed carefully at me with cautious and concerned eyes.

'What are you looking for?' She seemed to question, glancing towards the smoking corpses of the small, bovine like walker gears we'd just destroyed.

"It's nothing, let's go." I said, shaking my head.

---

AN: And we're back~

 

[konamikode]

Might of Outer Heaven: Unity

---

Ylir 21st Day, Ragnarokkr
The Sunless Noon
Bifrost, Asgard

POV: ???

---

I thought I'd known war. I had no illusions to the kind of monster I could be under combat conditions.

I'd ended so many lives with these two hands in the most horrifying conditions imaginable that I'd long lost any sense of spectacle regarding the brutality of modern warfare.

Oh how wrong I was.

So, so wrong.

It was all I could to not stare in horrified rapture at the sheer scale of destruction being wielded by the hundred thousand strong contingent of winged women firing sky shaking beams of destructive blue energy at the metal giants stomping across the ruins of a floating city.

Covered from head to toe in glowing, futuristic armor, each lance and shield wielding warrior could carve through entire army groups alone.

It was both beautiful and awe inspiring. These beings who seemed to effortlessly fly through the sunless sky and bat aside screaming shells the size of small buildings with but a hint of effort.

But to call them impossibly powerful was to call the giants they fought equally terrifying in their rumbling ferocity.

I could see no end to the grim, skull faced machines who even now landed atop the floating island on burning, smoking thrusters. The ground quaked at each impact, yet there were so many that the rumble seemed to be akin to an unending avalanche.

Each machine whose only purpose could be war on an impossible scale, bristled with weaponry that could destroy entire cities with but a single negligent discharge.

And still the Valkyries, for whatever else could they be, held back the insurmountable tide of steel and brimstone. Despite being heavily outnumbered by the legion of giant machines, they held one final defensive line.

A line where I and many others were being rushed forth towards a glowing blue portal to a place I knew would be our only hope of survival.

It was as I was being desperately dragged forth by the hand of an older woman who'd shared my features that I saw him.

The One Eyed Warrior who'd passed two children, a small toddler and an infant to an attendant before strongly turning with his head held high.

Loki.

Baldr.

Brown hair with streaks of grey running through, the old warrior did not pause as he strode towards the battle with a glowing sword held at the ready.

I've never seen an eye so blue…

No.

I've seen them.

Once before.

"Come then, demons of Jotunheim!" He shouted powerfully. "For this day you will meet your end at Odin's blade!"

O...din?

All… Father…?

"Nanna! You must hurry!" Mother cried, picking me up as a stray shell broke past the forcefield and landed a mere mile behind us-

DATA CORRUPTION DETECTED

RESTORING BACKUP

---

September 1st, 1984
09:20
Ghor Province, Afghanistan

POV: ST-84 Metal Gear "Mammal Pod"

---

*Railgun Charged*

"Commencing fire mission." I chirped, the familiar, hazy joy of firing my weapon systems deafening the nearby surroundings.

The inferior machine designated as MPMG RAY 021, screeched in momentary pain as the supersonic spike of depleted uranium cored its torso from one end the the other.

The dozen machines that had begun swarming subject AHAB's way recoiled at how easily one of their own were dispatched.

"Target rich environment detected. Engaging close quarter combat mode."

You poor, tortured things.

I will bring you peace.

---

Ahab

---

Miles behind me, I could hear the body shaking impacts of multistory warmachines ripping at one another with every weapon at their disposal. Each titanic clash between giants quaked and ripped at the surrounding area, the shockwaves momentarily forcing D-Walker off the ground every few moments.

And to the front?

I could only slow my walker gear to a shuddering halt as I laid my eyes upon the massive, crackling darkness that was threatening to destroy the region and possibly the world.

And something beyond the shadowing was moving.

Whatever this was, it needed to be stopped.

Now.

Unfortunately, the difficult part of doing so was figuring out how I was going to stop this breach.

There was nothing in the area except the everpresent sandstorm and endless, mountainous waste.

There were no important looking mechanical structures to exploit, no human guards to interrogate.

The best I could hope for was to fire off high explosive munitions in the hopes of disrupting the hole in reality, but it was debatable as to whether or not that would do anything or make things worse.

Even then, something tells me that a nuke might be the only thing that could even force this rift to wobble, as disheartening as it is.

Could it work? Sending Sahelanthropus to the other side with the order to enrich it's depleted uranium armor and detonate?

Possibly. Without being able to contact Mother Base and without the ability to call in heavy support besides what I've got to work with, doing so seems to be the only option left in a quickly dwindling number of viable measures that can be taken.

Even walking through it myself and seeing if there's anything on the other side to disrupt is something I'm beginning to heavily consider.

…

The other teams would be arriving soon. And they too would inevitably come to the same conclusions that I have.

We need more information before we can take an action as drastic as setting off a nuclear device, on our world or wherever it is this portal leads to.

And they would volunteer to go. Forcibly restrain me to do so if I objected and ordered them to remain while I set forth.

I can't let that happen.

My men.

My soldiers.

My…

…

No.



[X] HERO

Our Militaries sans Frontieres.

"Quiet." I called out, an unshakeable feeling of certainty and weight holding my conviction firm.

We have to be better.

"Hm…" 'Ahab…'

Whispers like fading smoke seem to pierce my mind. At my side I can feel my mysterious companion's boots softly displacing sand and dirt as she moves to block my way.

Her back facing the darkness, she stares up at me with a harsh, steely. Immovable, immutable, the emotion warring behind her eyes tells me all that I need to know.

'Don't you dare tell me to stay.' She says.

Even without words, I can understand her.

"Quiet…" And only one word from me is required for her to understand me.

'I have to go. It has to be me.'

I maintain my gaze with hers, Quiet's eyes in turmoil, and mine with a settling sense of peace.

Something told me that if I entered that portal, I wouldn't be coming back.

Anything that entered would never set foot in our home ever again.

…

I was fine with that.

Truly.

But Quiet disagreed.

Like lightning, her right hand balled up into a fist without warning, without intent as it lashed forth and stopped itself just under my jaw.

She'd moved at such a speed that the air had nearly screamed and my hair had been blown backwards.

Even still, I didn't flinch.

I couldn't.

Nor could I react when per fingers uncurled, palmed my cheek and she lifted herself up on her toes to lean against me and press her lips against my own.

If I reciprocated, I knew that the conviction I'd come to shroud myself in would crack.

The world couldn't afford the weakness of Big Boss, not here. Not now.

"Hn...ng…" 'Goodbye, Ahab.'

"Don't let anyone else follow me." I ordered.

'Don't wait for me.' I wished to say.

Left unsaid was my own farewell, one instead of speaking I reciprocated by closing my eye and taking a deep breath.

When I opened my remaining eye, Quiet was gone. Having faded like dust in the wind.

And now all that was left was to walk into the darkness, only the torch of humanity's desire to live in peace beating within my breast.

…

Heh. Just another mission, huh Boss?

I thought with a small, barely visible smile as I stepped forward, rifle raised and eye sharp-

A single, powerful hand gripped my shoulder tightly from behind.

One I didn't react to.

Couldn't react to.

I knew this grip.

"Going somewhere Ahab?" So said the voice of Big Boss with his customary, almost mirthful growl.

My lip curled upwards further when his grip loosened and he stepped forward into the darkness without hesitation or fear.

I couldn't help but be momentarily stunned, watching the strong back of the figure I'd come to know and love as my greatest friend sally forth, his half of the Boss' bandana disappearing into the lightless dark.

"Ishmael… you've really kept me waiting." I said, knowing he couldn't hear me.

It was time.

And I too stepped forth, my own part of the Joy's war garb freshly unwrapped from my phantom limb and tied around my forehead to mirror my brother's image.

In a world where One Big Boss was enough to do the impossible and momentarily stop nuclear proliferation…

What could the two of us do, together?

And as I stepped forth into the valley of the shadow of death, I heard her.

Our predecessor's comforting, singing call that she too wasn't far behind in the mission for humanity's survival.

'Jack… John… let's go home. Together.'

That was my name. Not Ahab.

John.

The Second Big Boss.

A Phantom Brother.

Venom Snake.

 

[konamikode]

Might of Outer Heaven: Against the Pain of Today

---

Date: Unknown
Time: Unknown
Wasteland, Dite

POV: The Captain

---

I fell to my knees, staring up into the sky and at the Beast blotting out what passed for a sun on this blasted world.

This ruined alternate Earth that I'd been exiled to along with half a company of my brothers in arms that would now be better described as a bare handful.

For six years we'd survived on this hellhole of a planet, subsisting on what little we could grow, scavenging the ruined wrecks of shattered cities and hunting the hardy animals that had evolved to combat the dire state of the our false home. The first year was the worst, we had not infrastructure, barely any resources, and we hadn't yet learned how to fight the wandering hordes.

But that was then.

Without preparation, without any clue as to what was happening besides the slowly growing number of clues we'd found during our journey, we'd learned. We adapted to this waking nightmare and thrived.

There were others like us, those strangers who were propelled from other times and other places to the desolate red deserts of Dite. We took them with us, growing, learning, and surviving.

When we'd found other, time eroded signs of budding civilization, those like us who'd tried to make a life here, it gave us hope. Impossible though it may seem, we could live and maybe even thrive if we were careful and learned from mistakes both ours and those who've already passed.

By the sixth year of our unwanted stay on Dite, we'd learned the lessons of this planet well. We'd built a home for ourselves, slowly building up a sustainable colony where life was no longer a matter of day to day subsistence living.

God, I can't tell you how it felt to see the first of the algae farms blooming to life, much less the well preserved seeds we'd recovered from a destroyed underground shelter..

We'd learned to hide ourselves from the Wanderers. We'd learned to utilize what was left of this planet's ecosystem to best effect. Water reclaimers, wind powered generators, the development of our own firearms and ammo…

I'd almost believed that I could call this place home.

And then the Beast woke up.

There was nothing to be done but abandon all we'd built and flee in the hopes the dark god rampaging across the world wouldn't notice the ants under it. That would've been the smart decision, to delay our end if only for just one more day.

Fuck that.

We fought, and we fought hard. Gave it everything we got and we finally managed to bring it down with Zeke's railgun launched nuke.

Dear God. We thought we'd won, that we'd bought ourselves a future with the greatest of mankind's weapons used in a task it was never designed for, but should've been made for.

Then two days ago, not an hour after we'd brought it down, what we'd thought was the gutted corpse of a monster got back up and destroyed the only hope we'd had of putting it down again.

The Beast had awoken with a screeching fury, and with it, the world went mad.

Portals began opening all over the area, hordes of wanderers and corrupted machines suddenly being driven through for some unknown purpose. Only for us to watch in horror as material in the form of cars, buildings, tanks, and still screaming people were carried back to feed the wounded beast who even now was growing back to its former size.

As I knelt there in the open plains, watching as the stirring monstrosity pulsed with an ever stronger red aura, I could only find comfort in gripping the old and worn logo of the organization I'd given myself to.

The Skull of Pangea finally tore, unable to bear the weight of my hand gripped upon the brassard of Soldiers Without Borders and fell to the swirling dust storm ravaging Dite.

There was nothing to be done. What soldiers we had left weren't enough to stop even a single instance of 'material' transfer, our only remaining vehicular assets were repurposed civilian trucks running on biodiesel, and we'd nearly expended all of our small arms ammunition just keeping the wanderers off of us these past two days.

The most we could pray for was to launch ourselves at one of the lesser protected portals and hope to God we could fight our way through the dead, reach the other side, fight our way through wherever we land, and warn whoever was on whatever rock we ended up that the end was coming.

…

I wouldn't be part of that mission.

Instead, I was going to say one final fuck you to the Beast and hope to draw its attention away from the ragged convoy that was even now awaiting my go.

I figure a couple homemade explosions next to the biggest fucking portal would be enough to draw at least some notice.

Beyond that, I had nothing left to give. Nor was I going to let it have my corpse as fodder.

I clutched the slowly flashing detonator in my hand and flicked the safety off, taking the last deep breath I'd have of this rotten planet. Then I opened communications, immediately drawing the notice of several nearby mech spiders who homed in on the open channel.

"Good luck-"

The sound of boots pressing into the dirt behind me caused me to immediately turn around, pistol with two rounds left pointing at the tall figure who'd come through from elsewhere to Dite-

I couldn't help but pause, mouth and eyes widening as I lowered my weapon towards the ground in complete disbelief.

It was...

"B...Boss? Is that you?"

It was him.

He came for us.

Silent as a ghost, the man who'd saved my life in all the ways that mattered slowly crouched down next to me and flipped the safety cover over the detonator with a gloved hand.

The left, just as real as the flesh that covered it, placed itself on my shoulder with a grateful strength.

"Cod. I'm sorry." He said, the bluest eye I'd ever seen hooding with untold pain and something else.

Something I'd only remembered seeing before Peace Walker.

"Why?" Filled in that question were so many emotions, so many accusations, but mostly…

Pain. Of being abandoned, being left to rot, and carrying the weight of my dead comrades alone and without guidance.

"... I kept everyone waiting." Snake muttered sadly.

The ghost of a rueful smile on his lips was one I returned weakly.

"Heh." I chuckled softly and took my leader's proffered hand and lifted myself up off the ground. "What took you so long Snake?"

When the second set of quiet bootsteps approached from behind Big Boss, I wasn't surprised.

What did surprise me?

Well.

"So, that's the target huh?" The damaged Phantom of a man I'd followed spoke easily, lowering his rifle and moving to Snake's side.

Completely dumbfounded, it was all I could do to stutter out nonsensical syllables of confused noises.

"Cod." The Phantom spoke with a voice that sounded so much like the Boss', but ever so slightly wrong. "Are there more of you? Survivors?"

Wordlessly, I nodded and replied. "Almost a hundred, mostly non MSF personnel that were stranded here."

"Good, have them evac to the other side of this portal, friendly forces will be on standby for retrieval back to Mother Base." Snake said and nodded to his Phantom.

"Ahab."

"Ishmael."

Wordlessly the two men sprinted towards the first of the mech spiders that had come scuttling our way.

It went about as well from them as expected.

---

Ishmael

---

It was a humbling reminder to watch Ahab tear through his own targets with the same conservation of motion and cool headed deliberation as I did.

I'd known even before everything, the man who Ahab used to be was a skilled soldier second only to myself within the ranks of MSF.

Watching him now I could easily admit that he was my equal in all regards, if not better in some aspects.

In warfare, I mean.

In everything else, I know he is the better man. The Big Boss I could've been had I not let the demon inside consume me in hatred and vengeance.

But whatever people thought, we were still only men.

And looking up at the looming figure of the wormlike being who was slowly turning its head towards the two ants below it, I felt the familiar sensation of being looked down upon by something or someone who thought they were my better due to a perceived difference in capability.

Only a man I may be, but so far I haven't met anything else in the world more dangerous than a human.

Whatever this world is, it's no different.

My reply to the droning groan of shifting metal was to blast the inquisitive 'face' of the titanic machine worm with an 84mm recoilless shell.

The creature moaned in response to the blow, its head blown slightly backwards from the force of the Carl Gustaf's retort to its lack of self awareness.

A second rocket joins in the action, taking a chunk off of one of its legs and sending the surprised machine crashing onto its side from its lack of balance.

Neither I nor Ahab stop in sending rocket after rocket, shell after shell through the wave of red dust and wind from the colossal impact of the fallen creature against the sandy earth. With every anti armor charge we drill into the collapsed side of the machine, the vibrating drone in the air changes in a pitch that goes from sleepily confused to pained and angry.

No communication needed, the both of us wordlessly back up and continue to fire with our respective anti armor weapons until we run dry just as Ahab's walker gear trundles forward and unleashes a fusilade of rocket and autocannon fire into the smoke cloud.

The groaning screech rises in volume as we finish restocking our ammunition stores from the gear's ammo compartment and add our own fire into the growing storm of fire, dust, and smoke with the intent of keeping this thing down.

We could see that it required resources to rebuild itself, to grow. And while it was too massive for us to be able to destroy, disabling it long enough for something that could kill it to arrive was the goal.

As the fevered droning changes completely into a furious roar, the rumbling vibrations of the monster getting up onto its spindly legs nearly shook us off our feet. Within the storm of smoke and dust, the head of the creature's face glowed an angry red as it pointed in our direction and took a single step out of the smog.

Only for it to scream in pain as a supersonic spike slammed into its face and tore off chunks of crystalline machinery that slammed into the surrounding area.

As for the monster itself, it stumbled backwards several dozen feet before it's able to firmly plant its feet and bring its slagged, half destroyed face to look at what just shot it.

From behind us, Sahelanthropus growled lowly in irritation, another shot charging within the extended coils of its railgun.

*Priority Target still functioning. Charging railgun.*

The monster roars in responses to the hunched over form of Sahelanthropus sending another screaming shell into its body and begins to stomp forward at a ponderous walk that slowly begins to turn into a run.

No longer attacking from a position of unexpected surprise, the Metal Gear's continuing barrage of rail fire do little more than irritate the fully awake monster as glowing pylons are generated along its body. One by one, the pylons begin to arc some sort of magnetic field that allows it to power through each rail shot with minimum damage and loss of speed, each shell ricocheting off into the distance.

Ahab and I are quick to move out of the way, splitting to the left and right of the charging beast while firing ineffectually at the charging monstrosity.

*Railgun cooling. Engaging Close Quarters Combat mode* Sahelanthropus' voice seems to eagerly relish in the coming challenge.

With the noise of gears churning and hydraulic systems pumping, the formerly hunched Metal Gear turns into its humanoid form in time for it to grapple the face of the monster with both hands and slam a single knee into its jaw.

The magnetic shield seems to do little against Sahelanthropus' melee attack and the monster's roar is cut with a pained grunt as the bottom half of its nearly reformed face shatters and the crystalline beast is sent rearing backwards.

*Initiating combination pattern 12* The metal gear notes, opening with a series of ponderous blows reminiscent of… the Boss' favored striking pattern against her foes in life.

While comparatively slow to the real thing, each blow is teeth rattling in its impact and every blow is aimed to deadly effect in using every attack against the already weakened structure of the monster's face.

But with every moment, it becomes more apparent that while the creature isn't able to meaningfully fight back, none of the damage Sahelanthropus is doing seems to be permanent.

Or at least until one of the humanoid mecha's hands grips into a glowing pylon and shoves a metallic archaea grenade into the shattered mouth of the beast's featureless face and detonates it from within.

Immediately the pylon in Sahelanthropus' hand flickers, as do the others along its elongated back.

Ahab and I are only the shortest of moments slower than the Metal Gear is to target the protrusions. Us with our anti armor weapons and Sahelanthropus with its head mounted autocannons that stitches a long line of explosions across the creatures centipede like body.

During this, the Metal Gear once more plunges its fist into the blackened cavern of the beast's mouth, pulling a blade out from inside of the converted metal within the monster and using it to smash and stab at the trembling monster.

With each rocket, shell, and bladed strike, more and more of what constitutes the monster's 'flesh' is shattered and blown off, revealing underneath glowing, complex circuitry that weakly pulses against our onslaught of attacks.

But it isn't enough.

Sensing something amis, Sahelanthropus immediately stabs deeply into the monster with her sword and pulls out a bandolier of grenades to wrap it around the unstruggling form of the thing which has begun to glow a bright crimson.

But before the grenades to impact on its armored skin, they and all of us are thrown back by a surging shockwave as a bolt of screaming energy erupts from the transmuted remains of the monster's head.

The attack cuts through Sahelanthropus' sword arm like melting butter, the Metal Gear being moments too slow to disengage from the revitalized god of this dusty world.

And as if a dragon completely roused from its slumber, the Lord of Dust, drags its still spitting maw into the air and begins to transform.

The body rolls in on itself, wrapping over and over until a single, solid torso gleaming with glittering circuitry is covered in armored scales. And around it, the former configuration of the metallic monster begins to resemble that of a hunching man, only thicker and oozing savagery.

It's not as if we're just standing around and letting the creature transform into what looks to be some kind of humanoid combat platform.

The pylons that had warded off our attacks had returned, rapidly growing from the transforming machine and stopping all of our blows cold.

What's more is the rumbling and crashing of machinery originating not from the great titan of crystal ore and steel, but from all around us.

Where there used to be a slightly larger number of portals compared to the last reported rift alerts back on Earth, thousands more began to appear all across the landscape.

The noise we were hearing were of troops being deployed to reave, ravage, and find a source of sustenance for their machine god who was demanding more after being forced into the field prematurely.

It was a gamble, a gamble that we could plainly see.

There was no subterfuge to be had. The Lord of Dust was going to invade Earth with everything it had and push its way through the now ominously swirling main portal to feed itself directly.

Even now Sahelanthropus moved forward to come to grips with the machine that stood nearly twice her height and four times her width.

It was fruitless, a single, smashing hand sent her crashing into a mountain with her circuits sparking and voice modulating oddly with error codes.

The Lord of Dust cried victoriously, it's earth shaking roar calling out to its subjects to begin the invasion as it stepped forward one ponderous and crater crashing footstep at a time.



Now all that stood in the way of certain victory was myself.

"Come."

And Ahab.

My brother had found himself standing in the Lord of Dust's path, glaring up with his undamaged eye and with his expended launcher dropped into the dirt at his side.

Both his artificial and birth fists clenched in palpable emotion, he brought up his rifle and began firing up at the approaching giant whose force shield didn't even activate against the tiny pinpricks of accurately fired bullets being fired at its eyes.

"We'll stop you here."

---

The fight to defend Mother Base has become one of desperate survival rather than victory. All across the many platforms that are the home of Diamond Dogs, the garrisons that have been assigned to its defense are pushed back by the sudden surge of dead flesh and corrupted metal.

In Ghor province, the defenses that were being ready for the next wave find themselves all too quickly tested as massive portals open at almost knife fighting range across the line. Within the city, hundreds of smaller incursions occur as ravenous swarms of the dead fall through and begin their grisly task of finding sustenance for their master.

In the skies, the many pilots and PMC strike teams in the midst of counter incursion and rescue operations widen their eyes as they see the landscape below become dotted with ominously humming tears in reality. Where a single one would be undetectable to the human ear so far above the sky, the opening of hundreds of thousands creates a discordant hum that not even the loudest engine could conceal.

The true invasion has begun and there is nothing that can be done.

The powers that be have been watching the slowly escalating situation with a careful eye.

But with an attack on such a scale, there is only one sure way to stop this attack before it becomes something more serious.

Within minutes, hundreds of nuclear missiles are prepped and launched into the sky, with most of the screaming ICBMs being sent to the unprepared nation of Afghanistan.

A select few are detected with headings that lead towards the waters of the Seychelles.

But the reason for this was not because of the growing infestation. No, that was a secondary reasoning.

For those in power, Big Boss could not be allowed to survive.

For if he did somehow bring the already uncontrollable situation to a halt, he would become a rallying figure that the world praise and follow.

As a martyr, he was useful.

As a living myth, he would become far too dangerous for the players of the game.

But these higher powers nor the rest of humanity could know…

That the legendary Big Boss already had under his sway powers that would not, could not be comprehended by humanity.

His legend, already something only the greatest heroes of history have ever achieved, lit like a beacon to those who saw in him his dream.

It resonated with them, crystalizing into form a true impossibility on this planet.

Subsistence.

Across the struts of Mother Base, a single corpse awoke in a blaze of lightning and fire.

He was being called, both by duty and the boy who had suddenly turned his head towards the piercing light shining through the gate into the darkness.

A clap of thunder, and both figures were gone. Only the scent of ozone and blackened soot being the only evidence of their ever having been there at all.

Within four separate locations, five long dead, but not departed souls awoke from the haze of their personal afterlives.

An unceasing, stinging hive deep in the bowels of the ground.

A lush jungle filled with rotting poison and dangerous shadows.

A pleasant forest where life blooms and ends again and again.

An endless river ferrying the hapless dead to a location unknown.

A place between Earth and space, always burning.

A sixth however, one stuck between life and death…

Truly awoke.

And from a place far, far away…

Crimson eyes shone open as she was called to fight the most worthy of foes.

---

Ahab

---

"Heaven has no place for demons."

I whispered quietly as much as to myself as I did the titan that shook the world with each step.

Expending my last bullet and letting my rifle drop to my side, I glanced towards Ishmael and shared with him one final smile.

He understood of course, his eye looking quickly at the fallen Metal Gear before understanding dawned.

He nodded in my direction, bringing up his own rifle in an attempt to buy time by distracting the Demon by charging at it with a defiant roar of his own.

"ST-84 Metal Gear. Nuclear Enrichment Authorized." I said loudly, loading a fresh magazine into my rifle and began to sprint forward. "Stop this thing at all costs!"

*Authoriz-z-z-in-g N-n-n-nucl-ear En-ric-ccccccccch-ment Proto-coooooo-* The fallen machine sparked and spat.

Regardless of the damage done to it, the mind behind the machine acknowledged and showed her armed status with the flickering of Sahelanthropus' optics from red to bright green.

*Please retrieve Jack and maintain a minimum safe distance John.* She repli-

What?

The word that would've followed out of my completely paused form and very dry mouth were instead forced out of my chest along with most of the air in my lungs.

The cause?

The giant, flaming face that shot through from the Origin Rift behind us and slammed into the torso of the Lord of Dust.

"FURY!"

The impossible being roared with the heat of an exploding sun as the spirit being propelled by thrusters at impossible speeds slammed the metal monstrosity into a mountainside.

And he was not alone to make his discontent known.

---

AN: :3

 

[konamikode]

Might of Outer Heaven: … For a Better Tomorrow

---

Date: Unknown
Time: Unknown
Wasteland, Dite

POV: …?

---

The Fury

---

The Beast flailed as it was held against the mountainside, mechanically swiping it's arms against the burning giant that was equal to it in size.

Yet each blow dealt to the titan of fire only seemed to seamlessly pass through the raging fire, melting the scales covering the hungering machine until finally the accumulated damage caused it's melting arms to liquify and fall in great, steaming rivers splashing against the bubbling glass below.

And then, the giant of fire spoke, each syllable laced with purifying anger that blasted the skull shaped metal mask of the powerless god.

A god who could do nothing but quail against the Fury of the great spirit of Rage.

'Disgusting creature.'

'How many worlds have you consumed in your terrible hunger?'

Pillars of liquid fire rose from the crust of the dead world, melting the legs of the god who groaned in a long drone and attempted to escape.

Two hands of pure molten hatred lanced into the torso of the struggling machine, pinning it to the mountain that had already begun to whither from the sheer heat forcing the world around it to quail.

'The flames of my rage will incernate you.'

The fires spread, encompassing the totality of the monster until the half melted form began to thrash wildly with quickly regenerating limbs that had taken a silvery sheen. Arms resembling tentacles tipped with cannons erupted from its back and attempted to douse the spirit in liquid ice.

But even as the fire dimmed around the titan made of flames, the great spirit only pressed himself against the now roaring machine god with his dwindling fire.

'Yes.'

'That.'

'That is Fury.'

And so the fire titan was defeated, crumbling away into ash as the victorious dark god continued to spray coolant onto the hardening glass below.

But it's judgement was not yet over.

---

The Pain

---

The ear splitting buzzing of a numberless swarm came next.

From the split open earth did countless insects without cohesive form coalesce in the sky, spinning in great, terrible circles until the vague outline of a large, faceless man formed.

'Pain…'

The Beast nearly finished reforming from the damage done to it, looked up at its new enemy with glowing, anger filled eyes.

Where before it's movements were ponderous and slow, motivated only by need…

Now, there was something else behind the fusilade of munitions that created the storm of explosions currently ripping into the swarming giant.

Anger.

'You have caused it.'

'Now you will feel it.'

But the swarm is numberless, each chunk destroyed being immediately replaced by more until the giant that stood at half the god's size now dwarfed it fivefold.

And like a tsunami crashing into the coast, the body of the spirit made of biting, stinging, and ravenous insects fell upon the dark god in a wash of buzzing and chittering horror.

The hungering beast could do little more than stumble, fire, and swat at the tide no more effectively than a man pulled into a riptide.

It begins first with the sound of sparks.

The insects burrow deep into the body of the angered machine, biting, ripping, and tearing the delicate internal components beneath the armored shell of the behemoth.

Twitching, shuddering, and finally, falling, the hungering god can do little more than curl up as the systems that allow it to function are corroded, eaten, and rewritten by the numberless swarm so numerous that the machine had been covered completely within and without.

Then.

Then it screams.

'I am The Pain.'

The Lord of Dust begins to crackle and glow, shuddering as it overpowers it's own systems and causes both itself and the swarm to become consumed by jolting electricity, equally damaging and clearing its systems of the unwanted taint.

'Hurts. Doesn't it?'

Moments later, the chuckling voice of the insect spirit fades, the mass of burnt insects falling to the ground with the surviving colonies being frantically burned in the flames of newly created weapons that torches the ground in a field of fire once more.

---

The Fear

---

'I can taste it…'

The whisper begins, so close that the presence could be standing right next to you, but so far away that it may not even be there at all.

The machine reacts, smashing its fists in hurried hurricane around it while it's weapons fire erratically in every direction without purpose or necessity.

The childlike god looks around wildly, the glowing lenses of its formerly narrowed eyes lit the world in the bright white of searching illuminations.

'Feel it stirring…'

The large, disc shaped circles twirled this way and that in search of the ghostly voice and when that wasn't enough, thousands of similar vision modules began to open across every available space on its body.

The Beast had completely forgone any sort of armoring in favor of lighting up the world with countless eyes in search of the quarry it knew was there.

Out of sight.

Lurking.

Hunting.

'The Fear.'

The spirit of mischief echoed, his laugh bouncing around the canyons and plains that surrounded the destroyed battleground.

Still the frightened god searched, completely stopping it's attacks against the surrounding area as it impeded its vision.

Just as the spirit had wished.

The Lord of Dust had been left defenseless and without the shell that had protected it so far.

---

The Vengeance

---

'SNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!'

Like the hammer of Thor himself, a great, hateful being emerged from the roiling storm clouds above in a flash of lightning followed by a clap of thunder.

So powerful was the bolt that the explosion following immediately afterward was drowned out.

As well as the pained shriek of the machine god whose body had been messily melted through from shoulder to glowing foot.

It fell to the ground in a great, stumbling crush. Unable to stop its fall and blinded by the shock of blue white plasma that had split the main body of roughly two thirds its former mass.

Weakly, sluggishly the fallen titan attempted to begin regenerating, reaching with a sense of desperation towards the part of its body that had been split from it.

'HAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!!!!!!'

A second bolt flew down from the sky, blowing apart the arm that had been reaching for it's forcibly torn metal flesh as the machine trembled from the unexpected impact.

Then, without warning, the optics of its eyes glowed a dark, hateful red as its back opened and formed into a focusing array.

It fired a dark, crimson beam of coruscating energy into the storm cloud above which was met by yet another flash and boom of replying thunder.

Then a second laser apparatus formed.

Then a third and a fourth.

Completely eschewing its regeneration, the hateful machine god used all of its resources on hand to create as many laser cannons it could and shot salvo after salvo of heavy plasma and pillars of discolored light into the sky.

The machine continued to fire long after the clouds had been vaporized before stopping suddenly and resting its face on the ground.

Sluggishly after a moment of long thought, the greatly damaged being began to transform its body back into its former configuration and reached out towards its still torn and unresponsive half to pull it back into itself.

And then the arm that had nearly finished regenerating fell dully to the earth lethargically, as if it lacked the power to do anything more than weakly twitch its fingers.

---

The End

---

'Yes. That's right. You want it to be over don't you?'

The elderly voice tutted, a veritable forest of moss springing up around the destroyed landscape and began to cover the downed, smoking form of the fallen god.

But weak as its struggles may have been, the beast still reached out to touch the part of its body that had been so violently ripped away. Like water running down a river, the torn piece of the Lord of Dust began to flow into the shuddering, smoke belching form of the machine god that seemed desperate to repair itself.

Only unlike before, what used to be a flood of machinery repairing itself at impossible speeds, the river of liquid metal instead turned into a trickle. A stream more than a river of dust barely cohesive enough to be called solid.

'The End is coming. As it does for all things.'

'Why fight it?'

Rather than stopping, the former trickle instead increases in activity and for a moment, the liquid metal being absorbed seems to move with a desperate, horrified will.

And then the repairs begin to slow, what had been fixed instead sloughing off in flakes of rusting metal.

---

The Sorrow

---

'Sad…'

The voice of untold billions moan into the air, coating everything in a thick layer of weight that drags at the dead world.

Impossibly, a river of shallow water bubbles up from the cracked and melted earth that flows towards the fallen god who is even now ineffectually attempting to repair itself.

Within the river float countless bodies, listlessly being taken by the current towards the Lord of Dust. And as the water begins to poll around the crater the dark god lies, millions of ghostly arms rise from the deepening water.

The many, pale blue limbs grab, tear, and scratch against the metal of the fallen machine, some forming into giant arms and hands made up of many, bodies.

All of them moaning and desiring nothing more than to drag the creature that murdered them down into the depths.

'So sad…'

The number of limbs wrapping around the Lord of Dust grow as the seconds pass. And with each hand scratching at dull metal, the still struggling dark god is pulled inch by inch into water that couldn't be more than several feet deep.

As if the beast was being pulled into the waters of Helheim itself.

"Sorrow."

And drown it does.

Unable to free the torn half of its destroyed body from the sea of dead it'd been sank beneath, the beast instead uses what remains of itself to form powerful rockets beneath it.

The Lord of Dust attempts to lift off, a bubbling, hissing ocean of mist below it as it uses all of the considerable thrust it can generate to fly into the sky.

The ghostly hands are unable to hold, ripped free from their purchase, the souls of the dead that make up the enlarged limbs become droplets of howling spirits that fade into the aether as other limbs ponderously reach into the sky to capture their quarry.

But the battered god has flown too high, a thousand feet off the ground as thrusters intermittently spark and jostles the now disc shaped giant unsteadily in the air.

Even after the moans of the dead fade and the sea of souls sinks back into the earth, the hungering god remains the air as it attempts to continue enough repairs to propel itself through the portal leading to a branch of Midgard.

What remains will not be enough to destroy it, and soon it will grow strong enough to consume worlds once more.

That cannot be allowed to happen-

The flash followed by the crack of the weakly sputtering and sparking man forged machine still prone on the ground groans.

The primitive railgun that had shot into the air had caused said weapon to disconnect in a shower of sparks, broken circuitry, and wiring as it fell to the ground, useless.

But the blow was enough to knock the Lord of Dust out of the sky and send it careening back down towards the ground.

…

How interesting.

---

The Joy

---

I can feel the mind that is dictating the actions of the man machine.

She is strong, a true warrior who had been taken from her well earned rest and entombed within a sarcophagus of unfeeling steel and shackled by her lessened form.

That is no way for a warrior to live.

I reach out, swimming through the metal armor that encases her mind to touch with my hand, the flickering red orb that acts as her eye.

"... who…?" She asks weakly, a tone touched by confusion and the lack of material for her spirit to hold itself onto.

Yet hold she does.

A sense of duty, a desire to protect, and the heavy aura of failure surrounds her metal form. It is enough that her spirit holds on as tight as it can on the living world.

Until she can finish her duty.

Her mission.

To fight today…

For a better tomorrow.

'I am Brunhilde… my distant kin.' I say kindly, placing both of my hands along the cold plate of her metal hide and lowering my forehead to meet slowly warming steel.

"... Finish the… miss...ion." She wavers, fingers that have held onto the edge of life upon the cliff face of the void of death, tighten as she pulls herself upwards with all the strength she has left.

"Jack…"

And I see.

The blood of the Allfather still runs weakly in this branch of Midgard.

But his will yet remains strong in his successors.

…

I can hear the metal around us groan as the unliving warrior marshalls her strength of will and forces her steely body to move.

To fight.

To Protect.

"I have to fight." She wills.

I feel the ghost of a smile upon my lips. An expression I have not had reason to don in a thousand years.

'Then you will not fight alone blood of my blood.' I sing.

My hands gently flow into the coffin of steel and wires as my legs tuck into my chest and my arms wrap around them.

Our Contract is Accepted.

Thus, two will become One.

---

Date: Unknown
Time: Unknown
Wasteland, Dite

POV: Ahab

---

Ishmael and I stood and watched as the Lord of Dust fell from the sky and held firm against the approaching cloud of dust caused by the impact of its lessened, but still massive form.

Rifles in hand, we watched as the many rifts in reality close one by one until at last, the only remaining tear in space was the one where both of us had entered into this living hell.

We shared a look at that moment.

One where we both wondered the same question momentarily before shaking our heads and walking towards the broken battleground that was made more of glass than sand at this point.

This wasn't over yet.

There would be no retreat, not until we were sure this monster was dead.

Even if one of us would be left behind for a time.

At my side, I never noticed that the light of my dimensional fulton pack had stopped blinking green and had instead began flickering an ominous red.

Not that it mattered for me.

I'd never planned on going back when I went through the portal in Ishmael's footsteps.

I could use some alone time in this place to gather my thoughts.

And Ishamel…

He already spent too much time alone.

As the dust began to settle and we approached the fallen beast with D-Walker slowly rolling behind us, we could see that the Lord of Dust was wounded…

But it was far from dead.

Even now it was still shuddering weakly, thin tentacles sprouting tipped with all manner of tools as it began to repair itself in a far more primitive fashion than before.

One of the tentacles snapped our way, a single red lens glowing balefully as several more thick limbs formed weapons on the ends to point in our direction.

We fired first.

However, the long familiar reports of our rifles failed to reach our ears before the sound of steel being shorn open from behind us reached us in time a blurred flash of silver strands of hair on white fabric almost daintily slammed into the ground in front of us.

In the path of the bullets and beams being fired our way-

Ishmael and I lowered our rifles at the same time, eyes widening as we attempted to move forward and tackle the new arrival to the earth in the hopes a serious wound could be avoided.

We were stopped in our tracks, first by the flaring of blue light that wrapped itself around us, second by the cacophony of thousands of rounds bouncing off the shield.

Third, were the glowing, ruby like eyes of a woman who was too perfect to be real.

They were alien.

Ancient.

But…

So painfully familiar.

"Jack… and John." She said with a small smile, two voices blurring into one.

One a pleasant alto I've never heard before.

The second…

The second was a voice that had been buried into my memories over an unknown period of hypnotherapy.

"Boss…?" Ishmael starts, moving forward with a hand that reaches towards the glowing, impossible woman as he unsteadily gathers his stolen breath. "Is… is that you?"

"Part of us… yes." She replies, eyes crinkling pleasantly.

Those warm alien eyes look over our faces for a long moment, but not so long that the fire being held back is slackened.

Those very same eyes that glittered with untold joy, hardened at the continued interruption and from an inhumanly pale hand, sent forth a wave of blue that crashed into the struggling beast and exploded against the painfully groaning machine.

"Then...you're…?" Ishmael continues to walk forward with his hand out, as if he believes the figure before us will fade if he so much as touches her with his blood caked hands.

"Jack. It's me." The Joy replies, taking his larger hand into both of hers and placing it against her cheek.

The smear of dirt and blood it leaves doesn't ruin the image of ethereal perfection.

No.

More than that, it's almost as if it's always belonged there, hidden by a deceptive beauty that shrouded the monster beneath.

"Na-" The scarred man finds himself unable to speak, two delicate hands that look like they wouldn't be able to split an apple, much less silence the most deadly soldier in the world, does so with only a thumb on his lips and warm hands upon his cheeks.

"I'm sorry Jack. But you have to continue the mission now." She states sadly and Ishmael's eyes widen in a realization that I…

I can't comprehend.

For all that him and I are one… in the end, we're two different men.

Two different sides of the same coin.

"Boss!?" He cries out in pained desperation, still reaching out with an outstretched limb as he's launched almost gently away back to where Sahelanthropus laid unmoving.

When she turned to me, I had lowered my rifle entirely, not knowing what to say or do with my unwanted intrusion-

"John." She spoke my name and hooded her eyes with that same smile she'd reserved only for Ishmael.

So filled with meaning that I couldn't understand…

I don't why I said the words that I did.

"We fight today…"

They just seemed like the right thing to say.

"... for a brighter tomorrow." She finished, closing her eyes and exhaling softly.

Those were the last words The Joy spoke to me before I found myself floating in the air and gently propelled towards where Ishmael landed at a speed that would've crushed me from the sudden acceleration.

By the time I landed and Ishmael had lifted himself up, preparing to run back into the fray, it was too late.

Too late to do anything but watch as a pillar of blue fire rose into the sky and encompassed the world in a horrifyingly beautiful blue.

One last act.

One more sacrifice to be made in order to safeguard a future that must come to pass.

A Final Flame.

'No. You do not deserve Joy.'

And in the spiraling, purifying blue flames, all of us were consumed.

"BOSS!!!!!" Ishmael struggled forward, arms held up in front of his face as the both of us squinted at the small dot in the distance.

Brighter blue than anything in the surroundings.

It brought a Joy that warmed me more than all of the memories of better times I keep close to my blackened heart.

I felt Sorrow, true sorrow on a scale more heartrending than all the hardship I've been through in my life.

All this ran through me when the small, brightly burning figure vanished into the sea of sapphire.

Even when it grew so bright I could see my arm bones through my eyelids, I couldn't hear the explosion.

Not when Ishmael's broken voice railed against the heavens beneath me as I shielded his body and stopped him from forcing his way to his own death.

---

Spoiler: Loop the Music :3

When the light finally died out and the heat stopped buffeting our surroundings, I rolled off of my brother and listlessly stared up into the clear blue skies.

For the first time on this world, we could see past the ever present shroud that kept the planet in a near year round winter.

Warm sunlight stream down, and I found myself reaching for it without rhyme or reason to play with the bands of light.

I could feel the phantom tingles of my false hand warming in the warmth of the star that had nurtured life on this planet for billions of years.

"Ahab…" Next to me, Ishmael spoke, staring blankly up at the sun himself.

"Was this all worth it, do you think?" He asks, gently prying the bandana on his forehead free and letting the wind take it away.

I hum in response, untying my own half of the Boss' bandana and doing much the same.

Memories, those of my own that I'd made after waking up flash through the vision of my missing eye.

The people we'd saved.

The horrors we've stopped.

The home Mother Base has become.

Not just for us.

But for everyone we've fought to protect.

"Yes." I reply, a small weight easing off of my chest that I'd never known was there.

I glanced over to the right, my blind eye unseeing, but knowing Ishmael knew I was asking him the same question.

"..." He laid there silently, looking up at the sky for a long moment.

"I don't know." He says finally and a comfortable silence falls between us once more.

"You should get going." Ishmael mutters, bringing his hands back to rest his head against his cupped palms. "I'm gonna lay here and think for a bit."

The main portal, of course, had closed after the defeat of the Lord of Dust.

Without anything to power the portal, only one of us would be able to get home using the dimensional fulton.

Theoretically.

"Ishmael…" I start, but I'm interrupted by a small snort.

"Just don't keep me waiting too long, Ahab. It's a bad habit we seem to share." He states, fishing a cigar out of his combat pack. "Don't you have someone waiting for you back home?"

Heh.

Yeah. I do.

Nothing more needed to be said.

I would respect Ishmael's wishes and come back once everything at home was put in order.

Or so I thought.

In the distance, a pained groan stretched across the horizon, causing both of us to jump onto our feet and stare in disbelief at the much reduced, but still slowly moving mass the size of a truck.

A truck that was slowly growing in size.

"No." I heard myself say in horror, only barely realizing that it I had spoke.

"... so that's what the Boss meant, huh?" Ishmael whispers to himself, lighting his cigar and taking a deep drag before moving towards the burst open cockpit of Sahelanthropus.

"Ishmael, wait! What are you…" I cut myself off in realization, seeing the solid green light of Sahelanthropus' eyes still glowing ominously next to us.

"No. Jack-" I plead.

"It's fine John. He smirks, glancing over his shoulder with his blind side. "The world has only room for one Big Boss."

Frozen, I can only look down momentarily at the dimensional fulton pack when the sound of my greatest friend and mentor's voice knocked me out of my reverie.

"Go home John-" He says.

"Jack!" You-

---

You have a choice to make, Ahab.

One Dimensional Fulton.

One Choice.

---

You Move.

[ ] Stop him, knock him out and portal him if that's what it takes, but Ishmael can't die here.

No, that's your role.

Your Duty.

His Absolution.

Reward: Continue the game as Big Boss

---

You pause, hand held out to reach for him, but place it back down roughly against your side.

[ ] Activate the dimensional fulton and escape. One of you must live on and Ishmael has passed the torch to you.

He is Big Boss.

But so are you.

Even if you are now alone.

Reward: Continue the game as Big Boss

---

VOTE MORATORIUM 6 HOURS

Ends 8:00 PM PST Time

AN: 11%

:3