METAL GEAR SOLID: KINGDOM OF NOTHING

PART 1: TO LET THE WORLD BE - PROLOGUE -

"Life isn't just about passing on your genes. We can leave behind much more than just DNA. Through speech, music, literature and movies...

What we've seen, heard, felt...

Anger, joy and sorrow...

These are the things I will pass on. That's what I live for.

We need to pass the torch, so that our children can read our messy and sad history by its light. We have all the magic of the digital age to do that with.

The human race will probably come to an end some time, and new species may rule over this planet.

Earth may not be forever, but we still have the responsibility to leave what traces of life we can.

Building the future and keeping the past alive are one and the same thing."

Those were the words I wanted to live by. The incident in the Big Shell was an eye-opener. For me, for Otacon, for Raiden, for all of us. Arsenal Gear crashing into Manhattan all the way to Federal Hall was a catastrophy for sure, but whoever the Patriots were, they were put on the world stage, and we were almost sure they'd be ostracized and shunned.

From what we'd gathered from Raiden when I was inside Arsenal, the Patriots were using artificial inteligences to control the flow of information and to manipulate people into thinking and believing in what they wanted them to think and believe. Whoever they were, I thought they could be fought, broken, or at least challenged.

One day though, a week after the Big Shell incident, I received a call from Philanthropy's encrypted communication service. It was Hal.

"Snake, you there? It's me." There was no doubt about it. It was Otacon on the other line. "I've finished going over that disc."

The disc he was referring to was supposed to contain a list of names of the 12 people that composed the Patriots, a group known as "The Wisemen's Comittee".

"Did you find the Patriot's list?" I said. This was the moment we'd been waiting for. Finally, we could find out who it was that triggered the caos in the Big Shell.

"Of course", Hal replied. "It contains the personal data of twelve people. There was a name on it - Snake, it was one of our biggest contributors."

I got a small stomachache. Nervousness. Anxiety? Was Philanthropy really receiving tips and funds from the Patriots this whole time? Were we played from the start? "What's going on here?"

"I don't know..."

"Anyway, where are they?"

"Well, we were right about them being on Manhattan, but..."

"But what?" Otacon's hesitation was starting to get me worried. Despite it having been mere days after his sister, Emma, passing away, I thought this would have gotten him motivated. If it weren't for the Patriots setting up this entire charade, maybe Emma would still be alive today, to see the fight being brought against the Patriots.

But nothing could have prepared me for what Hal was about to say.

"They're already dead. All twelve of them."

Our chance for revenge, robbed. Snuffed out of our grasp. Just when we thought we were right on the verge of starting something, the chance had been taken from us. I think I could finally relate to Liquid in a sense. The way I stole his chance for revenge against Big Boss. But I couldn't relate completely. Both of them were insane warmongerers, trying to bring to fruition a dream of endless war and violence. I rejected that wish. I admit, Big Boss was partially right. "A soldier's mind can never truly leave the battlefield." But I'd rather contribute to putting an end to it than to live in constant war for the rest of my life.

What Hal said gave me pause. And some comfort. But also fear. A lot of emotions circled around in my head. There's someone besides us looking for revenge against the Patriots? Could it have been Jack? No. That's impossible. He went to live with his girlfriend. Last I'd heard from them, they were happily together again. I was even happy he had put his time in Liberia behind him. Who was it? What did they hope to accomplish?

Those were questions that I'd have to ponder later on. As of now, the real important question about the death of the Patriots was...

"When did it happen?", I asked Otacon.

"Well, ah...", his tone reflected bewilderment and confusion. Maybe even the same fear I was feeling. But then he said...

"... about a hundred years ago."

And my whole body froze. The Wisemen's Committee had been dead for almost a hundred years. The AIs the Patriots were using weren't a tool for them, they WERE the Patriots. Our enemy was an invisible one. We had no way to grasp them, to hold them fully accountable. We could destroy them, but we had to pinpoint where their AIs were being hosted. We'd have to make sure that they wouldn't back themselves up somewhere... We'd have to...

I couldn't think anymore. It was too much. This fight against the Patriots wasn't going to be easy.

"...What the hell?" were the only words that I could mutter.

"Snake... you're feeling it too, right?", Hal said, "Those AIs that Raiden conversed with during the Big Shell incident. They're the current Patriots. It's the only way that the Wisemen's Comittee's passing dates make sense."

"So then... what do we do?"

"We'll have to figure it out slowly. And carefully." Hal was trying so hard to keep his composure. I could feel it in his voice. "Let's meet. The Central Park Zoo. Make sure you don't bring any electronics."

"Don't worry, I won't. You know I'm not a person of many friends, I don't keep a cellphone with me."

"Good. Keep it in your head, or write it somewhere. May, 10th. We'll meet at 10:30 A.M. Don't keep me waiting."

"You got it. See you there."

The fight against the Patriots was about to begin. It was another war, one that would be full of bloodshed and loss, more than any other.

But one I'd willingly take part in, nonetheless. For I saw the potential that this would be the last war ever.