Disclaimer:  I do not own any of the characters used in this story except for the ones created by the author (me).  All of the characters except for said claimed characters used belong to their respective owners.  This piece of fan fiction is not for profit.  I created this story, so therefore it belongs to me.  Note that the views of the characters in no way depict or reflect that of the author or actual persons.  Any relationships to actual persons or entities are strictly coincidental.

Special thanks to Amy Holt for editing and reviewing, as well as having a site to post it on.
Special thanks also goes to Jill-chan “The Editor Formerly Known As 'The Eepster'” for editing and reviewing.
Special thanks also also goes to PsyckoSama, who served as a good net bud and prereader whose ideas about this fanfic were uncensored.
Special thanks also also also goes to the owner of "Ranchan & Co. Crossing Bridges" for having an alternate site to post this on.

Comments, questions, and criticism can be made out to Slackerchan@aol.com


Tactical Espionage Action
Metal Gear Ranma

By Chris Davis

Chapter 4:  Of Cold Hearts and Common Minds


"The beginning of knowledge is the discovery of something we do not understand."
-Frank Herbert

The frigid air served as a shock to his system as the platform he rode on continued its ascent.  Ranma could not help but flinch as the artic blast hit him, feeling the snowflakes beat against his face and suit, both unrelenting and unremorseful.  Below him, he could hear the crash of the mighty ocean's waves on the rock cliff, while the roar of the wind blew past his ears.  Quite a warm welcome, he thought.

He felt the vibration of the elevator continue to drone onward, watching as the steel walls continued up toward the sky, yet he could not see the ceiling of the clouds; the visibility was severely hampered by the storm.  He looked down to the floor, where his various discarded scuba equipment was scattered about, equipment that he would not need to worry about anymore.  It reminded him of the events of the previous minutes, when he had felt as if he were to die at any second.  His one fear about this mission was the weapons involved.  Not the missiles, the grenades, the hand to hand combat; no, it was the bullets.  He knew that his training would allow him to survive a lot of explosions and concussions, but he knew he could not dodge something that was fired from a gun, and, from his understanding of the mission, the terrorists had plenty of them.

Turning back to the sky, something began to take shape through the chaos of the weather.  A ledge was coming closer; the end of the line had come.  He watched as it, or rather, he got nearer, hoping that no one stood waiting for him.  With a clanking sound, the elevator stopped at the destination and, much to his joy, or what little there was of it, no one occupied the area.

Stepping off of the vehicle, he stared at the facility in front of him, which was quite impressive, at least on paper; he could still not see but about a few dozen feet away.  Mere yards away from Ranma stood a chain link fence, which bore several signs on it, including one bathed in yellow with the symbol of a lightning bolt through it.  Electrified fencing, something I don't need to be touching, he reminded himself.  Beyond the fence was a mystery, one which he was going to be solving soon.  Taking several steps away from the elevator, Ranma began to take in more of what was around him.  Looking to his left, he saw a snow covered rock face, which seemed to be a common theme on this island.  Turning in the opposite direction-

The sound caught him off guard, nearly making him jump into the air before the millisecond it took to realize exactly what it was kicked in.  The codec was ringing.  Bringing his wrist to meet him, he pressed the gray button, which ceased the beeping.  On the screen, the face of his commanding officer for this assignment, Colonel Campbell, met his eyes.

"This is Ranma," the youth began, "I'm in front of the facility."

"Excellent work Saotome, age has not let you down one bit." the man praised before taking on a more serious tone.  "What's the situation?"

Ranma took a second to think before answering.  "I can barely see beyond the fence line.  What do you know?"

Campbell's face turned away from the screen for a second before returning with an answer to his inquiry.  "We've got you on infrared via an orbiting satellite.  About fifteen feet to your right is a helipad with a chopper on it.  There are also four heat signatures there, so get behind some cover before we go to the next step." he ordered.

Ranma looked to his right, searching for an enemy.  There, he saw him.  A guard stood camouflaged within the blaze of ice, which seemed to be intensified around him.  Looking beyond him, he saw the chopper, its blades spinning rapidly and relentlessly, throwing the ice and snow in every direction and threatening to force the soldier to the ground or suck him into them.  Ranma turned his head further to the right, seeing a shipping crate like that of what he had seen inside of the dock.  That would be his cover.

Keeping an eye on the closest enemy combatant, he stalked over to the metal container, the horrific howl of the wind beating past his ears pushing him back.  He continued on, feeling the crunch of white powder beneath his feet, seeing his desired location getting closer with each one.  Reaching out with his hand, he felt the frigidness of the surface of the object even through his glove, laying testament to the hazardous weather.  Walking behind the crate, he turned his head enough so he cold see around the corner, right at the helipad, where he saw a peculiar sight.  A man with a tan trench coat was approaching the cockpit of the helicopter, which, by all appearances, seemed to be Russian, as his training had including a crash course in, among other things, military equipment of various unstable and third world countries.  As the person approached, one of the guards saluted him, which the man returned, never stopping.  He climbed into the cockpit of the vehicle, and escaped Ranma's sight, as the tint of the windows prevented spectators from looking inside.  A moment later, the blades increased in speed, blowing even more ice into the air and forcing the visible guards to shield their eyes with their arms.

Ranma turned back to his codec.  "What's the deal with the Russian gunship?" he asked.

"I bet they bought it off of some black market deal," Campbell assumed, "but, otherwise, I don't have a clue."

The operative thought of the pilot.  "I saw a man in a trench coat get into the chopper.  Think he is a big shot?"

Campbell’s face turned away again for a second before returning.  "According to records, the trench coat is the signature of the FOX-HOUND operatives.  Your probably looking at Liquid Snake, the leader of the group, simply because he is the only one with the training to fly a chopper."

So, Ranma realized, that's the guy.  Shifting his gaze back to the chopper, he watched as the blades continued to spin faster and faster, the blasts of cold seeming to assault his senses.  As he continued to watch, the vehicle began to move, at first toward him, but then changed direction and rose into the air, continuing to impose the will of the weather on all of the spectators, visible and hidden.  It continued to rise for several seconds until, at the edge of Ranma's vision, it began to move horizontally again, speeding off past Ranma into the storm overhead.

The voice was so sudden and different than what he had heard from moments before on the codec that he nearly jumped.  "Wow, either he is an expert pilot or he's crazy."  It was female, that much Ranma could easily tell, but she also had a distinctive oriental accent.

"Who's that?" Ranma inquired, looking back at the screen, where the face of Colonel Campbell resided.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I haven't introduced you two yet." he began in an apologetically.  "This is Mei Ling.  She was assigned to us as our visual data and processing specialist.  She handles all of the communication logs and even designed your codec and soliton radar systems.  Be sure to contact her when you need something analyzed digitally."

The screen filled with static for a second before being replaced with the face of a young Asian woman who, in his view, could not be older than him, as her face was incredibly attractive and seemingly flawless.  She held a face of surprise, which he could not quite understand.  "It's an honor to meet you Mr. Saotome." she began politely, yet sheepish.

"You can call me Ranma." he said to reassure her.  "I'm curious though.  You act as if you know me or something."  A memory from the past struck him briefly before he shot it down, preferring to leave the his last life buried in the sands of time.

"Your reputation precedes you Ranma." Mei Ling said, testing his name.  "You were, for a time, under surveillance while on one of your trips to China.  Rumor used to have it that the Red Guard were placed on stand by alert should you have come to a major city."

"Is that so?" he asked rhetorically, telling quite easily that she was speaking the truth.  He had, on occasion, tended to brag about himself (meanwhile, somewhere in another dimension, a man by the name of Bart sneezed), but he decided to hold his tongue, as any other little bits and pieces of his past were likely to have a few more questions asked.  Holding back the seemingly inevitable frown, Ranma responded with a question of his own, drawn out by the young lady's statement.  "How much did they know about me exactly?"

Her face took on an almost surprised look upon his words.  "Well, I was two at the time, but there was a story of your father once coming through my town in the Kwangtung province with an six year old child, whom I would guess was you.  My mother said that your father was run out of town just hours later after cleaning out several house's food pantries."  

Ranma grimaced at the mentioning of the person, which he tried to hide, but was noticed by the young woman, who displayed her sudden fear of a bad impression.  "Di-did I say something wrong?" she asked.

He cleaned up his act, nearly hitting himself for his reaction.  "...No, it's all right, just some bad memories."

A silence filled the air, neither one of them speaking; one because of embarrassment, the other of remembrance.  The screen filled with static for a second before the Colonel's face appeared once again.  "Now that introductions are finished, would you care to explain the situation Miss Ling?" he spoke, quite openly attempting to hurry the conversation along.

Mei Ling's face filled the device again, her voice taking on a more professional tone.  "Well, the Colonel has already briefed you as to how both the codec and soliton radar systems work, so I will expand on them.  Lets start with the radar.  As you know, the white dot on the display is you, the red dots represent enemies, and the blue cone shape represents their field of vision.  Also, a yellow cone will represent that of a visual range of a camera, so watch out for those as well.  The length of the each type of cone will vary depending on the environment and lighting levels, so be sure to check each of those before approaching the soldiers."

Naomi suddenly broke in.  "She is right, Ranma.  The genome soldiers have highly developed senses of hearing and vision due to their gene therapy, so watch out when you are around them."

Mei Ling continued on.  "Thanks to advanced satellite technology, we will be able to track you position both on the surface and for several of the basement floors that lie within the island.  Should anything arise that you need to be let in on, we will call you on the codec."  She paused for a second, switching to the other matter.  "As for the codec, you should know how to use it.  However, there are many areas within the complex that will hamper or even disable your ability to communicate with us, most of them being rooms with magnetic fields.  Also, we won't be able to track your progress in these rooms because the sensors on the satellites cannot penetrate both these fields and the layers of earth, so you have to worry about that as well."

"Got it, thanks." the operative replied.  Just what I need, he thought, less help from the peanut gallery.  Switching gears, he wondered about the chopper, which had preoccupied his mind only minutes before.  "What is the word on the chopper?"

Campbell answered, his head taking view once again.  "It's heading east, right at our distraction."

"Distraction?" Saotome asked.

"In order to distract the terrorists so that you could get in, we order an air strike to take off and reach the terrorist’s radar range around the time you were to get topside.  It's a combat air patrol of two F-16s, both armed with mini-daisy cutter bombs, which are bunker piercers.  If all goes well, then they will do a single pass and drop the bombs on the north side where the command center is located." he answered.

Something was off in his tone, Ranma noted.  "...But you don't think that will be the speed up the mission, huh?"

Campbell's response did not invoke confidence in those around him.  "No.  From what we recovered from the Shadow Moses' network, the bunker seems too far underground to cause a significant problem for them.  The fighters can't carry enough firepower to get the job done, so, in all likelihood, you will still be on your own."

That was not something he wanted to hear, but he did not show it.  "What can you tell me about the area then?"

"There is the main entrance into the tank hanger about sixty yards north of your location, but they are too big not to catch the attention of anyone.  Don't go on the helipad either; there are spotlights watching it.  We count three heat signatures along with one against the wall to the north.  One of them is patrolling to the north and the east of the helipad.  One is standing still guarding in the northwest corner.  Another is inside a storage area to the east, not moving as well.  The last one, our wall hugger, is patrolling the upper walkway.  We are also tracking movement at several points against the walls, pivoting from right to left; most likely cameras."

Mei Ling broke in after the Colonel had finished.  "The weather is obscuring their vision, so they, as well as yourself, have a visibility field of ten or so feet."

"Correct." Campbell responded.  "Use the terrain affectively and avoid the cameras and you'll be just fine."

"Yea," Ranma acknowledged, "but how do I get in?"

"There are two ventilation ducts along the north wall, one on ground level and the other on the upper gangway.  The one on the ground is being guarded by the soldier in the north-west corner, so I recommend you go for the one upstairs."

"Okay.  Anything else?" Ranma asked.

"Not that we are aware of.  If something comes up, find cover when we call.  Signing out."  Campbell finished.  The screen emptied and the display of the radar once again filled the device, the green bars and white dot reminding him of the forsaken land of where he was.

Well, time to get to work, he reminded himself.  Standing up, Ranma turned and faced the snowbound ground to the east.  Checking the radar bound to his wrist, he slowly stalked over toward the cliff face, keeping on eye to the device and the other right in front of him.  With each step, he both felt and heard the crunch of the white powder, as well as the howl of the winds beating against his ears.  Out of curiosity, and now that he was on higher ground due to the build up of ice, he looked back at the heliport, where, indeed as Campbell had described, a set of twin search lights' circular field lit up the ground where the markings of the an octagon and a giant letter 'H' in the middle of it, which were visible due to the whirling blades of the vehicle of minutes prior.  A route I'm not gonna take, he thought.

The storm had not let up, and it seemed as if it were not going to, as far as the agent was concerned.  Turning and walking north, he came across what appeared to be several metallic containers, though unlike their predecessors down inside the dock.  Looking past it, he saw another with a distance of eight feet or so for which, he assumed, would continue as a pattern for a dozen yards or so.  Going around the right of the obstruction, he approached the next identical object.

That was when he heard the crunch of the snow.  Stopping to not confuse himself with his own, he heard the sound again.  They were not his.  Quickly leaping forward to take cover behind the next object, he pressed his back against the makeshift wall, attempting to blend in to his surroundings.  Saotome heard the sounds continue on, and, reaching for his multipurpose gadget that was bound to his wrist.  A red dot with a white cone was approaching the object on the opposite side, traveling parallel to where he was just a second before.  He watched as the blue cone continued to approach his location.  However, when he realized that at the angle the cone was approaching that it would not cross the white dot, Ranma reflexively released a breath of relief, which he failed to catch in his throat.  Barely breathing, he watched and heard on, waiting for the red dot to get far enough along so that he could continue his trek.

It did, the sound of foot falls upon the ice disappearing from his hearing radius, which almost guaranteed that he was outside the visual radius as well.  Stepping away from the wall, he continued on northward, approaching the third, and from what he understood from the soliton radar, the last of the series of objects.  However, a new object began to take shape on the miniscule device, that of a yellow cone.  Recalling the conversation about the specifications of his 'watch', the words came back to him.  "A surveillance camera?" he asked himself.

Once again, he pressed his back against the metallic surface and, this time, slowly sidestepped to its left corner.  Cautiously, he peered around it, searching for the device that sought intruders like the young soldier that he was.  There it was.  Larger than any that he had ever seen, it stood attached to the middle of a pole, a green light on top of it shining lens of it.  It was swiveling from right to left as well, meaning it was not going to be easy to get around.

Decision time, he told himself.  Go to the one to the west and sneak past that guard, or go upstairs and avoid that security camera...  Both of the options were none too appealing, but the easiest route was probably not the safest.  Well, Ranma thought, while I am here, might as well.  His decision made, he looked at the radar, watching and waiting for it to turn away from his direction.  Slowly, it ended its pivot to the left and began in the opposite direction.  On that cue, Ranma flexed his muscles and, attempting to defy Sir Isaac Newton's law, leapt into the air in a mighty arc.  Keeping his eyes on the oncoming ground, he carefully positioned himself for landing, right on the tier of the stairs, making sure not to hit the railing.  He came down hard, hitting his target but nearly falling over due to the ice buildup on the surface.  Adjusting his balance, he looked at his soliton display.  The yellow cone was not going to pivot all the way to him, so he was not that worried about it.  Then, out of the corner of the radar, he saw the faintest markings of a blue object.  Another guard, and he was coming this way.

Quickly facing the next level, he leapt again, this time landing on the walkway overlooking the heliport.  Seeing a shadowed wall, he quickly hid behind it, keeping watch of the device.  The red dot continued to come closer to the white one, keeping a straight and narrow path between the green bars.  As it approached a perpendicular green bar, it stopped.  The blue cone then pivoted downward, facing the direction of the staircase.  It did not move for a few seconds, at which time it pivoted again in the same direction.  A moment later, the red dot followed the end of the cone, walking away from the white dot.

Relieved that the soldier had moved along, he stepped out of the shadows and looked in the direction of the man.  The source of the two lights that impeded one of his paths inside the base were there, incased within and metal and glass protective container, shining brightly and moving up and down every moment or so.  The path he was to use was covered in the cold white powder that was falling from the darkened sky.  There, he saw, the guard, who was also in snow camouflage like the others that he had encountered in the area, marching away from him, his rifle in hand.

Ranma quickly followed suit, walking cautiously around the corner then again turning in the opposite direction, facing the back of the now fading guard.  Watching his right, he came across a rectangular indention in the wall, as if a section of it had been take out.  This must be where the vent shaft is, he realized.  Looking down, his eyes were betrayed by the sight of more concrete where he suspected the vent shaft would be.  Must be further down, he thought.  Shifting his focus in the other direction, he saw another indention and, looking to see if the guard was changing directions, which he was not, he continued his trek down to the second space.  "Yes..." he whispered to himself as he saw his objective.  The opening itself was large enough for a man to squeeze into, and with cover leaning against the wall to the side, he would not have to worry about causing a commotion.  Kneeling down, he laid his chest against the frozen ground and, pushing himself forward, entered the shaft.

***

20000 Feet Above The Bering Sea
18:03 Till Deadline

Darkness and gray filled the view.  Within the enclosed space dubbed the cockpit, 2nd lieutenant Joyce "JC" Corine sat in the somewhat cramped space of one of the most effective deterrents in modern aviation warfare history.  And, within it, she herself felt just as powerful, a kind of charge that she felt when put behind the wheel of an instrument of destruction.  However, this consistent feeling had fled her on this evening, being replaced with a feeling of dread.



The evening had started off better than the usual, her CO, being in a particularly good mood, allowing the nonessential personnel to have leave (at which the local bars were warned of in advance), leaving her to an evening of boredom.  Her boyfriend, of whom she had shared many precious moments with for nearly a year now, was not on liberty, nor had she heard from him for nearly four days now, having been supposedly shipped out on exercises of where he could not say.  She understood this, as she had faced the same peril several times before, though it did not comfort her that he was not in a position to reach her where as she always could.

And so, being given the okay, she walked out the front gates of Elmendorf AFB, still dressed in uniform, but expecting to shift into her civilians as soon as she reached a friend of hers who owned one of the taverns.  What she had expected to be a pleasant night and cruel morning there after, however, was not in her favor.

A mere two blocks from the destination itself, she began to hear the familiar sound of sirens pick up from behind her, gaining strength as they neared.  Joyce hardly seemed to notice, that is, until the sound ended abruptly as a military police jeep parked next to her, stopping her in her tracks.  The 2nd lieutenant had turned to face the soldier, who had been dressed fully in BDUs and carried a pistol at his hip.  Upon their eyes meeting each other, he quickly sped through introducing himself and got to the point.  She had been ordered back to base on the double.  Shit, she had thought.  As she walked around to the other side and got inside the vehicle, a number of questions ran across her mind, wondering exactly why she was being recalled.  Thoughts turned back to her near spotless record, which, although a particular incident involving a custard pie and a set of car keys had been noticed but not reported, could not have been a reason for a short lived night of entertainment.  The thoughts continued to leap about inside her head, she not even noticing that she had pulled up to the compound within the base.  Slightly embarrassed by having been caught off guard, she had quickly exited the jeep and practically ran in.

Inside, she was lead to the briefing room, where she saw her CO, whose face did not match the description of happiness that she had heard from her fellow wingman a short while before.  Along with him, another person sat down in a chair facing the front of the room, of whom she could only presume to be a pilot, but the identity staying unknown.  Presenting arms in standard formality to her superior, who returned the gesture and ordered her take her seat, at which she did.

"Cadets, I'm sorry to cut your evening off so short, but we have a situation, one for which I need the best on base." he began, which caused JC to dawn a slight smile upon her face in light of the events.  "Just half an hour ago, we received a top priority message from the Pentagon, condition red.  Intelligence has it that three hours ago, a group of environmental extremists took over a facility in the archipelago, and we have been called upon to end the threat.  I know what you're thinking.  No.  The set conditions of the location are as such that neither the Marines nor the Army can make a landing and end the problem; the only option available within the time span is an air strike.  Unfortunately, we have nothing to go on regarding defenses, so we'll have to play that one by ear."

The briefing continued on for another ten minutes, going over the location, weather conditions, threat, trip to and from, and, of course, the payload and targets for which the weapons would, quite literally, rain destruction from the heavens.  There were multiple targets for each of them to hit, JC ending up assigned the unfortified buildings and Nacho carrying a heavy payload of surface penetrating bombs.  However, there was one site that was to remain intact no matter what: a rectangular semi-armored building, which was dubbed Zulu.  After a standard set of questions, they were dismissed.  Her eyes met that of the other occupant of the room as he turned for the door, that of a familiar to her.  2nd lieutenant Adam "Nacho" Gonzalez, so called for his obvious Hispanic heritage, which seemed not quite common in Alaska.  His common demeanor was that of a serious sense, but she could tell, and even had witnessed on occasion, a good soul within him.  They exchanged the standard formalities, smiled, and headed off in the direction of the locker rooms, which were conveniently located right next to each other.

They were dressed in their flight suits within ten minutes.  By the time JC had reported to her designated vehicle, she was told that Nacho was already inside and waiting for permission to taxi to the runway.  Opening the door to into the hanger, her plane came into view.  It was a Lockheed Martin F-16C Fighting Falcon fighter aircraft, and her beloved 'toy', the Viper as everyone called them.  Powered by a single General Electric F110-GE-100 engine with afterburner capabilities, it was one of the most efficient designs ever employed worldwide, most exceptionally because of the small cost of fourteen to eighteen million a piece, which is cheap in most defense contractor's terms, JC remembered.  As she had suspected, she watched as the weapons crew loaded her 'tools', as she referred to them, which she would be expending.  The external fuel tank was attached on the middle part of the underbelly of the plane, and they were finishing up on loading her air to ground missiles, the AGM-65 Maverick type F, whose color was that of a camouflage green.  There were four of them, two apiece loaded on each of the pylons.  For the instance of air to air combat, which would be highly unlikely but possible given the lack of intelligence, the crew had already loaded a single AIM-9X Sidewinder onto each of the outer two pylons.  She was also given a full tank of fuel, which she would need to replenish in flight, even with the external tank.

The crew finished their work, quickly looking over their work to be sure of perfection, before approaching her and saluting, at which she returned it and allowed them to leave.  Walking up to her beauty, she had placed her hand on its nose cone ceremoniously, something she had done since she was a trainee.  She climbed into the cockpit and, after completing the routine checklist, closed the cockpit, strapped in, and started  the pre-flight sequence.

The rest of it seemed to just blur into a single moment in time, as it was a process that she had gone through a hundred times before, only this time for combat.  She had gained clearance to taxi from the tower, at which she watched as Nacho took off into the air inside his own Viper.  She took off, rendezvoused with her partner, and then set the autopilot on to waypoint Alpha, over two hundred miles west south west of Elmendorf.  JC watched as Nacho formed up behind her, but she did not speak to him through to her mask.  Nacho did not attempt either.

Their silent standoff was ended nearly halfway to Alpha, when a new voice had intervened.  "AWACS here, callsign Skyeye.  Do you read Mobieus-One?" it asked, at which JC responded.  "New heading.  Turn right to heading two seven four.  Slow to five hundred knots and drop to angels zero five."  

"Roger that Skyeye, turning to two seven four, dropping to angels zero five." JC responded.  The conversation between the three of them, though mostly one sided, continued for several minutes, getting last minute updates on targeting information and plans for refueling, which were expected to be roughly twenty minutes after waypoint Charlie.  After being told to keep transmissions to wingman conversations and doing as their orders required them to do, the voice of Skyeye disappeared from the air.  Neither Nacho nor JC spoke for several minutes, leaving a dead calm on the air.  It continued on until they were within twenty-five clicks from the 'drop off'.

"Hey JC, don't you think this is kinda weird?" Nacho said suddenly.

"Everything is weird to you, Nacho." JC said half joking.

"Seriously though, why such a heavy payload for a group of tree huggers?  I mean, what is so threatening to constitute not letting us know about the nature of the threat?  And why avoid Zulu?" he questioned.

"I dunno," she answered, "but whatever the reason is, we'll see it on CNN anyway."

"True.  But some bunker busters for the place?  What is so important?"

"You are such the conspiritist man.  Nacho, sometimes a cake is just a cake."

"Hey, common, give me a break.  I told you about the Black Mesa facility, didn't I?  How the SEALs busted them a year ago for making bio weapons?"

"So you got a friend in there, big deal.  Lucky shot.  Doesn't mean everyone is plotting the end of the world.  Its not like these guys are like the bastards in Rainbow Six."  This was pretty much the same speech that he had spouted at almost every possible moment, so she was used to the routine.

"But still-" Nacho began.

"No buts man.  There isn't a chance in hell that it- SHIT!" she shouted.  The heads up display (HUD) was flashing red, painted in the middle of the radar status in dark bold print read the word 'MISSILE'.  The alarm sounded throughout the enclosed space, stirring her from her boredom into an instant state of paranoia.  "Incoming missile, break right!" she ordered, to which she thrust the joystick and rudders into a heavy right bank.

"HOLY FU-!" the voice of her wingman shouted into the air, interrupted by a scream and static.  She watched as the glare of orange and red flashed across the windows, taunting her.  There could not have been a chute.  Mobieus-Two was down.  No, Nacho was gone.

There was no time for remorse.  She reached in front of her toward her the communications position, to which she transferred from Mobieus-Two's frequency to that of Skyeye.  "Skyeye, Mobieus-Two is down!  Give me a bearing on the foe!" she demanded.

"New radar contact, bearing two eight one low, five miles.  Chopper.  You are weapons free, take him out!" the voice responded almost instantly.

"Roger, I'm hot." JC spoke into the mask.  Pressing a button, she watched as one of the screens displayed the inventory of weapons, from which she selected a single sidewinder.  On this display, the space within the green silhouette began flashing red, signifying it was armed.

JC began her assault by bringing the aircraft into a steep left dive toward her enemy, who had already been located and targeted by her radar.  At about five thousand feet, she leveled the F-16 out, pointing the nose directly toward the chopper.  She waited for what seemed to be forever, but was nothing more than a few seconds.  Then, the all too familiar shrill beeping of a lock on enveloped the cockpit.  This was it.  "Mobieus-One, Fox One!"  With this, she pressed the button on the joystick and watched as the missile on the left wing fall from the sky for less than a moment, before it streaked in front of the plane, seeking out its victim.  Looking down at the radar indicator, she realized that if she stayed on course, she would be able to watch the murderer of her wingman meet a fiery end.  She did not argue with the statistics.

Mere seconds later, the HUD read the range for the target being less than two miles, which was plenty close to see what she expected to.  She watched in dead silence as the smoke trail from her missile lead to the opposition.  A sudden bright plum of red appeared.  The target was gone.  JC visibly relaxed at this, knowing that she was safe.

She stiffened when she looked down at the HUD.  While the explosion had disrupted the radar for a second, it was now functioning.  The chopper was still in the air.  Realizing this, panic burst into her, checking frantically to her left as she passed by the enemy vehicle.  "Let's try this again you son of a bitch!" she shouted.  She began to go into a right hand bank, trying once again to get around him, when the display once again began flashing red like minutes before.  She tried releasing some chaff, but it was to no avail, as the missile continued homing in, making its final calculations for its intended victim.  There was only one hope left.  Reaching behind her head, she latched onto the yellow and black rod and pulled.

Half a moment later, the night sky was once again lit up by a ball of flame and smoke, for all the eye could see.  One on the ground would not have been able to tell if there were survivors, but the thunder and light echoed through them.  Meanwhile, from a lone aircraft some distance away, a communications officer made frantic calls into the air, before settling back down to alert his superior of the bad news.  The message was soon relayed to the SEADRAGON.

***

This was not a fun place, Ranma noted, as he crawled through the noxious cramped space of the air duct.  That was an understatement.  So far, he had come across several rats, all of which rather large, and several spots at which the rats had left a 'marking', whose smell did not help towards looking at the brighter side of the situation, which seemed to be growing more dim by the second.

The codec rang.  Turning on the device again, Ranma saw Campbell's face light up the screen.  "That vent will take you around the corner where it is hard to see, but keep quiet, sound likes to echo too much in ventilation systems.  Signing off."  It ended.

Ranma continued his crawl, passing by several grates, which he used to see into different rooms, only one of them having a camera visible, but no guards present in any of them.  That was the case, however, until he came across a grate facing the floor.  As he slowly and carefully approached the opening, he could hear their voices growing steadily louder.  "...got two of them, who knew the boss could do that?" he asked.  Ranma saw that it was a pair of snow soldiers like he had seen minutes previous.  "Who would've thought," the other one replied, "but we have a more important matter to discuss.  What about the intruder?"

Ranma visibly tensed up upon hearing that.  Do they know I am here, he thought.  "Dunno where he disappeared to, they're searching for him downstairs.  They found two bodies in one of the weapons locker rooms in the second basement, a bloody mess from what I hear.  They've stepped up security in the basement floors, and we moved the DARPA chief to the first floor basement." the first replied.

"Think it was an American?" the second asked.

"Doubt it.  The guys were done with a sword or something, and as far as I know, Americans don't use a knife that large.  Heh, sounds like something out of an anime."

"What about the chick in the cell?"

"Oh, she's feisty, I like that in a woman."

"Yea. Hope she can stand the fumes, cause they just opened the vent covers and are going to spray for rats..." the voice trailed off, the sound of feet impacting metal beginning and fading with them.

"First floor basement huh?" Ranma asked of himself.  With the fading sound of the guards, Ranma continued his crawl through the dust-ridden space.  This was for another minute or so, until he came across a vent cover that had been removed, from which a ladder extended below.  Peering his head out from the shaft, he looked in all directions.  Below him was a grated metal walkway, and beyond that, a pair of M1A2 Abrams tanks (he remembered the name from basic training) lay upon the ground beneath it, one of them seemingly under repair with its turret being held in the air via a crane.  Two guards patrolled around the vehicles, one following the wall and massive doors to the south, and the other encircling the tanks themselves.  The area affectively shadowed, so the men below would not be able to see him, only hear him, as he would walk upon the floor.  Upward and beyond them, Ranma used his eyes to follow the walkway as it continued around his left to the right, which met an end at the opposite part of the wall.  Turning further left, Ranma saw two indentions in the wall, one of which he saw was a door with a number one emblazoned in it, from which he continued on further until his eyes met the corner, at which he saw-

"Dammit," Ranma silently swore as he quickly ducked his head back into the shaft, the security camera attached to the tri-corner part of the wall.  Slowly, Ranma peeked his head out again, seeing that the device was not pivoting like the one he had encountered before in the frigid air outside.  Staring at the lens, he realized that it would not be able to see him should he, or rather, when he exited the cramped space at which his radar confirmed as he stuck the watch out into the room, the yellow cone only being able to monitor the corner of the walkway and what was below it on the ground floor.  So, being cautious, the reluctant soldier pulled himself back inside and crawled forward a bit more, at which he forced his legs out through the opening and latched them to the steps of the ladder.  Slowly, he climbed down the ladder, using his skills to leave no sound resounding.

Moving left, he hugged the wall and slid against it, stopping at the corner directly beneath the artificial eye.  Watching his footing, he maneuvered himself against the perpendicular gray slab and slid further along it until he met the indention with the door, all the while never having been spotted.  Beyond the door, Ranma crept along the grated floor.  Another door met his eyes on his left in the second indention, this time being nearly three times as big, sparks shooting out of the ends of it.  On the wall next to it, bold letters spelling out 'ARMORY 01' made him feel a whole new wave of apprehension pass throughout his body.  Well, he thought to himself, just in case...  Checking his device, a yellow cone shape filled the rectangular spot he needed to go.  This would have been bad had several boxes not stood between him and the camera.  Keeping his eyes on the camera, he crept quietly toward the cover of the boxes, upon which, he found a black case, not unlike what you would keep a drill inside of.  Opening it, a pistol, more specifically a Mark 23 Mod 0 SOCOM pistol, several cartridges of which, though unloaded, had a box of .45 caliber bullets next to them, a set of instructions for the 'operation and care' of the weapon, and a LAM (laser-aiming module) to attach to the gun.  Quickly, he took the items out of the case, leaving the instructions to themselves, and set up the items, one by one inserting the bullets into the cartridges, of which there were three total, inserted one of the magazines into the pistols chamber, switched off the safety, and placed it in his hip holster.  As for the other cartridges, he placed them in the side patches of the pouch.

Turning around, he crept out of the room and onto the walkway that spanned the room.  The floor, obviously designed to induce sound at the slightest impact, posed him a problem, one that he rectified with a rush of memories.  Almost automatically, the young marital arts master jumped on top of the railing and, balancing himself, walked to the other side of the room, carefully landing on the floor.  In the shadows that endowed the part of the floor he stood on, Ranma felt safe from the view of the camera, which hugged the wall to his right at the end of the walkway, pivoting back and forth slowly and keeping its lens fixed in all the directions it could look at, including the stairs.  Looking down and seeing no guard patrolling the floor below, Ranma jumped over the railing, landing like a cat upon the ground, no sound made.  Quickly hiding behind a corner, he looked at the radar, displaying the location of the guards, one being on the opposite side of the tank, the other being off screen, most likely on the other side of the tank in maintenance.  The cone of the soldier closest to him was facing west, and if he did not hurry, he was going to be looking down a very prejudice gun barrel.  Quietly, Ranma stalked behind the tank, listening to the sound of footfalls on the other side of the vehicle and watching the red dot on the screen with its blue cone.  Suddenly, the dot turned downward, its blue cone pivoting on the dot, but never engulfing the white dot, which lay hidden behind the green line that represented the hull of the tank.  Keeping low, Ranma almost ran for the elevator, checking to his right and noticing that the other guard was also heading southerly.  He quickly pressed the button on the control panel, a bell sounding and the doors to the elevator opening almost just as fast.  Inside the elevator, Ranma pressed the button for the first floor basement, which was labeled 'B1', and watched as the doors shut quietly and abruptly.

The ride down was a bit noisy, but Ranma figured it could not be heard from the outside until the bell announcing its arrival had rung.  The operative withdrew his pistol, flipped the safety off, and pushed his back against the opposite panel, waiting for the machine to stop.  It did only a few seconds later, the bell sounding as the doors pulling apart from each other slowly.  Ranma leapt out from his corner, pointing his weapon out toward any enemy, suspecting or otherwise.  No one stood there, so he holstered the gun and looked into the area.  It was a hallway, metal occupying almost every space available, with the exception of the light fixtures hanging from the ceiling.  On his right, a door with a number five stood emblazed onto the door, and another stood to his left a bit further down the hall, this one with a number one on it, along with several boxes a few feet further down.  Stepping out of the elevator, Ranma listened to the sound of the doors close, along with another sound, a beeping sound.  Realizing that it was the codec, Ranma pressed the button, at which the face of Mei Ling appeared.  "Ranma, look at the radar.  That green dot represents the DARPA chief.  Hurry and rescue him!" she encouraged.  

"Got it", he acknowledged.

He was about to end the conversation when the face of Campbell appeared, one that seemed grim.  "Got some news for you Saotome.  Skyeye, our dedicated AWACS plane, just reported that our distraction, the F-16s we sent up, were shot down by that HIND that you saw."

"Damn." Ranma spoke almost in awe.  Ranma knew that the scenario was possible, but the odds of it actually happening had been slim, close to none.  "...What are they going to do?"

"The Pentagon will probably write this off as a training accident." the Colonel responded with a hint of disgust at the thought.  "Don't worry about it Ranma, just get back to the mission."  The line ended.

He wanted to offer his condolences to the lost souls, but he had been cut off, and he understood why.  Dwelling on the dead would get him nowhere.  Taking the girl's advice, Ranma looked at the radar, where, sure enough, a green dot lay surrounded by a green rectangle, and it was less than, what Ranma estimated, ten feet from the white dot.  Ranma walked slowly down the corridor, watching the room next to him on his radar.  Inside, two other dots accompanied the green one, one of them red with a short blue cone attached to it and heading south, the other a white one also enclosed inside a green rectangle.  Another hostage, Ranma presumed.  Continuing down the hallway, the conversation he had overheard playing through his mind.  The ventilation ducts must have some kind of vent in every room, he thought, so that means I can avoid a fire fight for now.  Ranma reached the corner, and was about to turn when he noticed something on the floor, something obscure.  Any normal person would have dismissed it immediately as a trick of the light, but Ranma was definitely not any normal person, and he wasn't about to be fooled.  Curious, Ranma bent over close to the ground, at which he discovered not just one, but two distortions, each taking on a rectangular shape.  He carefully placed his hands on the distortion and, realizing it was actually a metallic object, he picked it up slowly, unknowingly flipping a switch on the side.  The sight he next saw amazed him, as the object changed color, taking on the normal metallic color of an object he had worked with many times during his training at Fort Richardson.  It was a claymore anti personnel mine, using some kind of new camouflage technology that directly interacts with light.  Ranma quickly picked up the other one, deactivating it, and placed both to the side against the wall.  He let his breath escape him in relief, for if he had not had such a quick eye, he might be the sight be a mess upon the floor for some janitor to have to clean up.

Ranma saw a ladder at the end of the hallway, which led up to a vent cover.  Ranma climber the ladder with ease, but struggled to get inside the small space of the vent.  He prevailed however, and slowly began to crawl through the dusty, dark shaft a few feet before coming to a junction.  To his left, the shaft seemed to end less than twenty feet, making him have to pass over at least one vent cover.  Noticing the pungent smell coming from that direction, he decided not to find out where that branch would lead.  He was further influenced when he heard a voice.  "...god damned cold.  I hate Alaska." the voice spoke, sounding either drunk or sick.  "Boy oh boy, that woman was built alright..." it trailed off.  Ranma continued on to the end of the other branch, meeting a corner and turning left, where he saw two vent covers.  As he quietly crept toward the first one, he began to hear grunting sounds, at which he looked down and saw a figure exercising, partially obscured in darkness.  It was definitely a woman, that he could tell by her figure, but the face was covered by the shadows.

"Well, it’s not him..." Ranma quietly spoke to himself.  Still, he was apprehensive to go further down, as he was concerned with the identity of the woman.  He knew that few women would have been stationed here, and he knew one of them was a Tendo.  Could she be one of them, he thought.  No, I don't have time for this, I have to go on.  Against the voice within begging to find out this person's identity, Ranma continued on through the dust and darkness.  He came upon a second, and most likely final, vent cover.  Peeking inside, he saw the outline of a man this time, one wearing a dress shirt and a pair of dark pants.  He was African American, judging from his skin color, though the cell was a bit dark in itself.  "That must be him." he whispered.  "Guess it's time to drop in..."  

Quietly, Ranma pulled the screws out of their sockets and slowly, yet noisily raised up the cover.  The man was suddenly startled by the sound and, when seeing the vent cover being lifted into the vent itself, his voice filled the cell with a startled tone.  "Wh-wh-who's that?" he asked.

Hearing this, Ranma pulled himself out of the cell, gripping the edge of the vent until he was balanced and then dropping to the floor, his feet hitting the ground with barely a sound.  "You must be the DARPA chief, Donald Anderson.  Don't worry, I'm here to save you."

"Why should I trust you?  What outfit are you with?" he questioned.

"Who do you think?  I'm one of the good guys." Ranma retorted.

"Really?" he asked, not needing an answer.  "That suit... the enemy don't have any like that.  In that case, get me out of here."

Can't do that just yet, Ranma thought.  The damn door is locked, and the only way out is back up the vent, and this guy isn't exactly a contortionist.  Need to stall.  "Hold on, I need some information about the terrorists first."

"The terrorists?" Anderson asked incredulously.  "Weren't you briefed?"

"All the Pentagon could provide was satellite photos and personnel dossiers, not much else.  What exactly happened here?"

The Chief sighed before beginning the long story.  "It was three days ago when it began.  The soldiers here called it 'the Revolution.'  Most of them were involved in the uprising.  Of what few who resisted, only a few are still alive.  Somehow, our personnel records had been falsified, because we did not know they were all from the same unit until I found myself locked up in the interrogation room across the hall."

"Why would they want this place anyway?  I thought that you couldn't launch a nuke with just dismantled parts." Ranma stated.  "Besides, how are they planning to do it?"

"That is their threat?  To launch a nuclear missile?" he asked in surprise.

"Yea.  They gave the White House thirty-six hours.  But you never answered my question.  Can they do it?"

"...It's possible.  But the launching platform..."  The Chief's face filled with reluctance for a moment before he spoke again.  "...What I'm about to tell you is classified information."  Anderson's turned away from Ranma, facing the door.  "We were conducting field tests with a new type of experimental weapon, one that will change the world.  A weapon with the capacity to launch a nuclear warhead from any point on the globe..."

"What kind of weapon?" Ranma stressed on him.

"A nuclear equipped walking battle tank, code named 'Metal Gear'...  It is the pride and joy of the DARPA program, a joint venture between ArmsTech and ourselves.  But to protect its secrecy, we keep it here." he said, turning to meet the operative's eyes.

"...So this base is really just a cover for making this Metal whatever it is?" Ranma questioned him.

"Not exactly.  This island is a disposal site for nuclear weapons, but that is only a part of this base's purpose for being here.  The other part is underground, designated for its development."

"Can they still launch it?  I mean, I know there is some kind of security system on warheads..." Ranma trailed off, waiting for an answer.

"These guys are pros.  They know everything when it comes to handling weapons, so, in all likelihood, they've already loaded the warhead in Rex and are just waiting to use it.  There is a way to st-" Anderson began, before Ranma stopped him.  From outside of the cell, the two of them heard the echo of footprints, and they were growing louder with each step.  Watching the slot on the door, Ranma quickly ran over to the wall next to the door, just out of sight of the viewing space, then turning and motioning for him to continue on.  "Stop the detonation sequence.  All you have to do is enter the detonation code a second time to deactivate it.  Once someone does tha-"

The head of the guard suddenly filled the slot in the door.  "Hey!  Shut up in there will ya?!"  Anderson's face jarred up in disgust, and he held up his hand in response, flipping him the finger.  The soldier left their sight.

Ranma stepped away from the wall, waiting a moment while the footsteps faded.  "Where are the codes then?"

"Baker has one, and I have one... but..."  His voice filled with guilt.  "They found out my password..."

"You talked?"

"No, I even stood through the torture.  It was Psycho Mantis... he can read people's minds; you can't resist.  There was nothing I could do to stop him..." the chief answered, guiltfully.

Psycho Mantis, Ranma thought.  He's one of the FOX-HOUND guys... "...If they find out Bakers password..."

"...Then all they would have to do is press a button." Anderson finished.  "But... there is another way to stop the launch.  You have to use the card keys."

"Card keys?"

"Yes.  They were designed by ArmsTech, the system developers, as an emergency override.  Even without the passwords, all you would have to do is insert them into the system, and it will engage the safety lock, stopping the launch."

"Where are the keys?"

"Baker had them the last time I saw them.  I think they moved him down to the second floor basement, where there is a lot of electronic jamming.  They also supposedly cemented over the entrances to the various rooms down there, but they ran out of paint to hide them, so look for walls that sound hollow or look different from the other walls."

"Got it.  Anything else I should know?" Ranma asked.

Anderson reached into the pocket of his shirt and pulled out a card.  "This is a PAN card, which will get you through locked doors.  This one has level one clearance, so you can get through any doors with a number one on it."

"OK, time to get you out of here." Ranma stated, taking the card and putting it in his pouch.

"Wait a minute," the Chief said, stopping him.  "Have you heard anything else on how to disarm the missiles, from your bosses or anyone?"

"What?" Ranma questioned, puzzled that he was asking if he knew anything about what they had just discussed.  "No."

"Then, is the White House going to give in to the terrorists demands?"

"I don't know, and besides, it has nothing to do with my orders."

"What about the Pentagon?" the Chief asked, his voice becoming more and more stressed.  His face was nearly covered in sweat, as if he had just run a triathlon.

"Why would the Pentagon be inv-" Ranma began to ask, before the Chief let out a scream of pain, clutching his hands at where his heart would be.

"Wh-why me?!" he bellowed in shock as he stumbled in place, losing his balance.

"What is it?!" Ranma nearly yelled in alarm, backing away from the man, who reached out his arms, daring to grab him.  The man fell to his knees, then falling on his stomach, twitching for a few seconds before his body relaxed.  Ranma knelt over the body on the ground, needing to confirm what he suspected.  Drawing his hand under the man's neck, and feeling no pulse.  "Damn it...  Dead."  Standing up, Ranma activated the codec, fixing it to Campbell's frequency, and pressing the transmit button.  The face of Naomi, instead of Campbell, filled the screen.  "Naomi, what the hell happened?!"

"I-I don't know.  It could have been a heart attack, but-" Naomi stuttered.

"A heart attack?" Campbell interrupted.  "No..."

Something was wrong, Ranma could easily tell, but Campbell wasn't about to say.  "Colonel, are you hiding something from me?!"

"Absolutely not." Campbell affirmed.  "This is a security level RED operation.  Even I don't have access to everything."

"That's a bunch of bull!  You're in command!"

"The Secretary of Defense is in control, not me.  I'm just the middle man."  Campbell sighed.  "Look, we don't have time to debate.  Get out of there and find president Baker!" he ordered, ending the transmission.

"Damn it..." he muttered to himself.  "Might as well try the shaft again."

Turning around, Ranma walked over to the vent opening and leapt up into the air, grabbing onto the edge of it and hanging in mid air.  Pulling himself up toward it with ease, he stopped in mid action when he heard a distinct sliding sound, followed by a series of grunts and yelps.  Letting go, he dropped to the ground and walked over to the door, trying to look through the slot, but not succeeding in seeing anyone there.  Inspiration dawning on him, he looked down at his radar, which showed two dots right next to each other, both yellow.  He heard the rustling of fabric, followed by footsteps upon the ground, coming closer to him.  Ranma ducked out of sight, listening to the footfalls, which stopped but was followed by the jumbling of metal, keys, Ranma presumed, followed by the sound of the lock on the door.  The feet once again began moving, stopping after a few steps.  He watched as the door opened on its own impulse, seemingly releasing him from the cell.

Cautiously, Ranma took a step out of the cell, turning his head to the right, and seeing the naked body, mostly the butt, of someone.  A sudden click to his right followed by the feminine voice of someone saying "Don't move!" stopped him from taking action.  "So you're the one who killed the chief.  Bastard!"

Slowly, Ranma turned to face the person who the voice belonged to.  It was a guard, or at least someone dressed up one, pointing the barrel of FAMAS assault rifle at his chest.  He stared at her eyes, who flashed in surprise, though for why, Ranma could not tell.  He looked away from her eyes to the weapon pointing at him, which shook in her hands.  A rookie, he realized, though hypocritical the thought was.  Time to psych her out.  "Your hands are shaking.  Is this the first time you've pointed a gun at a person?" he asked.  In response, she gasped slightly and took more control of her arms, though the movement continued.  Ranma moved faster than he had moved in a long time, dropping down, pulling out his pistol, taking off the safety, standing back up, and pointing it at the woman, all in less than a second.  "Can you shoot me rookie?" he asked coolly.

"Shut up!" she yelled at him.  "I'm no damn rookie!"

"Liar.  I've seen many faces, and those eyes belong to a rookie.  You've never shot a person, am I right?"

"You talk way too much." she responded.

"You don't even have the safety off rookie." Ranma continued.

"I told you, I'm no rookie!"

Ranma looked her straight in the eyes again, watching he movement while still having the weapon pointed at the uniform.  The eyes were nervous, scared, fearing to pull the trigger.  This was not a person of war, one trained to kill at a moments notice, he realized.  Is she an enemy?  "...You're not one of them, are you?"

Her eyes once again opened wide.  She moved her head to her right, keeping her eyes locked on him.  "Use that key card."

"Why should I?" he asked.

"So we can get the hell out of here!" she shouted.

At that moment, the door opened and was suddenly occupied by three men in black BDUs, each one pointing a gun at the duo and ready to fire.  Ranma jumped to his left, firing off two rounds, each one hitting the guard in middle of the pack in the chest, who fell to the ground.  The other two opened fire on him, not pointing at the woman, who had disappeared from his sight.  Ranma scrambled behind the desk counter, using it as cover, hearing the bullets fly through the air and hitting the wall.  He held his position for another second, waiting until it stopped, then jumped from around the corner, rolling on his stomach and pointing his SOCOM at the men.  He fired off a volley of rounds, the number of which he did not count, but watched as they hit them, several times in the arms, chest, and legs.  The two fell to the ground, blood seeping from their wounds and assuring the others inside the room that they would not rise again.

Damn it, where did she go, he mentally screamed.  He panned the room, searching for the woman from before.  There!  Hiding on the inside of the cell where the DARPA chief lay, she stood trembling, pointing her gun at the exit.  He hurried over to her, keeping his weapon trained on the door, hearing footsteps coming down the hallway.  "What the hell are you doing?!"  Shoot!"

She did not reply.  Another three soldiers burst into the room, firing at the cell.  Ranma pulled her out of the way just in time, only to have her shove him off.  The woman aimed and pulled the trigger.  In a flash, bullets flew from the barrel into the air, faster than the normal human eye could detect.  Each bullet hit its mark, causing blood splatters upon the enemies’ uniforms as the men occupying them fell to the already crimson floor.  Ranma's companion in arms held the trigger for several seconds after spending the cartridge, finally noticing that she was out of bullets after hearing several clicking sounds from the FAMAS.  She reached into her pocket and pulled out a fresh magazine, ejecting the spent one and inserting the new one.  Ranma did the same, reloading his own weapon and readying for a possible third wave.

Ranma watched the door, held open by the bodies of the dead and dying, waiting for the next soldier to burst in.  A hand suddenly appeared in the doorway, but retracted just as quickly, tossing a black object into the room.  It hit the ground twice before rolling along, at which he noticed it was a shaped like an aerosol can, realization filling his mind.  "FLASHBANG!" he yelled as he threw himself back inside the cell with the girl, shoving her to the ground and shutting his eyes as he covered his ears.  Ranma heard and saw it go off, even with his eyes closed, lasting less than a second but brighter than looking into a floodlight, the sound roaring through his ears, causing a violent ringing sound which lasted for several seconds more.  Ranma got off of the girl, who was still on the ground, and turned to the doorway, aiming.  He could hear sets of voices near him, three, maybe four he counted.

He had to get the jump on them.  Ranma jumped forward out of the cell, rolling on the ground and shooting his gaze to the guards in the doorway.  He pointed and fired off three rounds, each hitting the soldier on the left in the chest, sending his body to the floor with marks of red sinew.  He straightened himself, aimed, and shot off two more rounds, hitting another enemy in the leg and in his abdomen.  His scream resounded through the air as he fell backward.  The third met his end as well, the roar of bullets coming from his right, from the woman.  No more sounds resounded from the hallway or the room.  All that remained were the two of them, the bodies of the dead, the blend of the smell of gunpowder and death, and silence.

Ranma stood there for time beyond him, staring at the masked heads of the people who would no longer be, watching, betrayingly hoping they would return to their feet.  They never did.  His head raced with thoughts; fear, anger, surprise, sorrow, all in cycle, slamming through his mind.  In all his years, he had never taken a human life.  A LIFE.  A person.  These people will never breath again, and it was the result of him pulling the trigger on a tool of death.

"Th-thanks for the help." she spoke, breaking the silence and his train of thought.  He turned away from the red floor to see his ally stepping over the bodies toward the open door.  He unconsciously holstered his weapon and watched as she left the room, not moving.  Wait a minute, he thought, I never got to see-  Ranma's feet flew under him, jumping over the bodies as he ran after her.  He turned the corner of the doorway and turned his gaze down the hallway.  There she was, stepping onboard the elevator.  "WAIT!" he shouted after her.  "Who are y-" he stopped, watching as the woman turned and pointed the rifle at him.

"Back off!" she shouted in response.  The moment seemed to freeze in that instant, neither person moving in a soundless, seemingly unintentional stand off.  It ended with the slam of the doors and the sound of the device's engine humming, departing.

"Damn it..."  He stood there, watching, almost waiting for the door to open again.  It did not.  Instead, the codec beeped in, and the operative answered it.

"Saotome," Roy Campbell began, "Are you alright?"  He was asking in more ways than one.  He could easily look at Ranma's vitals according to the nanomachines, but he could not see what the young man's mind was acting out.

"I... I'm fine, just a little shook up." he responded.

The Colonel could easily tell.  He had seen his fair share of 'shock time', as he put it, and the rookie was no exception.  "You need to calm down.  This isn't the last time you will do this, so you are going to have to get used to it, and real quick.  There is a war going on here, and we can't afford to lose."

"Nice speech Colonel."  He decided to change to a more relevant subject.  "How many women are stationed on Shadow Moses?"

Campbell paused for a second, turning his head away from the screen for a second.  "The duty roster says there were fifteen women there, at least that is, before the island was taken over.  Eight of them were listed as technicians, five of them soldiers, and the other two as maintenance.  Why?  Your partner back there a woman?"

"Yea, she was, and no doubt a soldier, green as she is.  Can you ask Mei Ling if she can track her?" Ranma asked, blinking his eyes for a second as a wash of miniscule pain coursed through his head.

Mei Ling's face broke in.  "I'm sorry, but the radar is only capable of tracking targets within a twenty meter radius and can only display for about a third of that.  Do you think she is that Tendo girl?"

Ranma thought for a second before answering.  "I don't know, I honestly don't know.  The voice was muffled a bit and the height seemed different.  What’s more, she had a different ki signature than I have seen in Tendos."  Ranma grunted for a second, another wave of pain rocking his head, this time a bit stronger.

Naomi's face filled the screen.  "Ranma, are you alright?  Your pulse is rising."

"I'm fine Na-Naomi.  Just a heada-AHH!" he nearly screamed, as another wave hit him, this time full force.  Ranma's head seemed as if it was now on fire, burning on every strand of hair, exploding behind his eyes.  Ranma lost his balance and slumped to his knees, clutching his head with his hands.  "M-m-my eyes!"  He strained them to close, but they did not, focusing in front of him toward the eliv- no, not the elevator, he realized.  The tension disappeared from his eyes and he drew them shut.  His ears burned from the cries coming from the codec, all blended into a huge siren.  It suddenly ceased, and he heard another voice.  "...Yes...just like that..." it spoke, heavy, ragged breaths sounding before and after it spoke.

The pain ceased all at once.  He opened his eyes not to the hallway, but to a different room altogether.  Everything was in a drug induced like green haze, light only being defined by different shades of it.  In front of him, a man, no, Ranma realized, the DARPA chief, was strapped against a wall or vertical table of some sort, his clothing in near rags and his body wracked with bruises and cuts with dried blood seeping out of them.  Two other people besides him were in the room, each on either side of him, but he could not turn to make them out.

"You idiot, you killed him!" the english accented voice to his right spoke.

"I'm sorry sir." another to his left said, deep and gruff in tone.

"His mental shielding was too strong; I could not dive into his mind." a third went, this one coming from all directions and accompanied by labored breathing.

"Now we will never get that detonation code!" the right said again.

The voice that was everywhere spoke again.  "Boss, I have an idea..."

Ranma could not take it anymore.  He blinked again, only to see the scene return to what it once was.  The pain disappeared almost as quickly, and he slowly stood up.  He winced as he focused in on the voices on the codec.  "...Come on Ranma, get up!" Mei Ling shouted.

"I-I'm fine, but that was...  Naomi, I just had some kind of hallucination or premonition or something.  Did the nanomachines cause it?" he asked the device.
"No, the nanomachines had nothing to do with it.  It might have been Psycho Mantis, the FOX-HOUND psychic.  He has driven people mad, a lot of his victims committing suicide shortly after an encounter with him.  He could have just tested you with that blast of energy." Dr. Hunter speculated.

"So that was Mantis..." Ranma said to himself.  It was a degree of power he had never encountered before, at least on such a strong scale.  He would have to make his step around this person.  His soul was filled with anger, hatred, disgust, and fear.  Such a person was dangerous to all, not those who he chose to be his victims.

Ranma shut off the codec, opting to talk later.  Right now, he thought, I have a job to do.  Focused once again, he walked over to the elevator door and pressed the call button.


End Chapter 4

  Next Chapter





*****

Author's Notes:

Dang, it has been a long time in the making, held back by the stress of school, deadlines, projects, work, and several groundings.  I had originally intended to have this posted WAY back at the end of March, but school is a nasty frigger that likes to play with Murphy's laws.  However, now that summer is upon me, expect me to have them out ALOT quicker than this.  Btw, I feel the need to apologize to the few readers out there that I have who have e-mailed me on my progress on MGR.  I plan to stick to this till the end and not stop before.

On a side note, I am learning my way through HTML and plan to have my website done by the end of July (my JROTC SASI wants to see what I am capable of), so I hope to be able to host my OWN fanfic from my OWN site (no offense meant to Ranchan & Co. Crossing Bridges)!


Have a great summer!
6/12/03