Without even trying, she wakes up early to see Sunny at her desk, Raiden still unconscious, and Snake and Otacon arguing. She rubs the sleep from her eyes and tries to follow what they're arguing about "We've waited long enough. I need to know." Snake tells Otacon "No. She deserves to be the first to see it."
Storm sits up and groans quietly. They all turn and look at her "Oh. Good morning, Storm," Otacon greets her. She gives a slight nod and swallows to get rid of the dryness in her throat. "What's going on?" she asks in her low, scratchy voice.
"Well, Snake and I decided to run a DNA test on you to see who's child you are. Snake's been bugging me to let him see but I told him that you should be the first." Otacon tells her and hands her an envelope.
She takes it and stares at it for a moment.
This is it. I'm finally going to see who the great soldier was.
Without further hesitation, she opens the envelope and pulls out a slip of paper. Her eyes scan it over and over, causing worry to stir in everyone as they hold their breath "W-what is it, Storm?" Sunny asks.
Storm opens her mouth and tries to speak but no words come out. Instead she passes the sheet to Snake. His eyes scan it and a slight smirk cracks across his lips. "I knew it." he comments under his breath.
"Who is it, Snake?" Otacon pesters, trying to read the paper over his shoulder "Gray Fox?" he gasps. Sunny cocks her head to the side as if she doesn't exactly understand.
Frank Jeager. The Hunter. The cyborg ninja. The perfect soldier.
"Gray Fox was the only person to ever survive the 'Perfect Soldier' program. It would make sense that the Patriots would want another soldier strong enough to take his place. But they needed someone with the same genetic code in order for it to work, otherwise they were just wasting time and lives." Otacon theorizes.
Storm grips the edges of the table underneath her and glares at the floor. Her metallic claws dig into the table, leaving scratches on it. A thousand thoughts rush through her mind; all of them angry, hateful, and chaotic, but not in the least bit surprised.
"Figures." is all she says.
They all stare at her with worry as she closes her eyes, breathes deeply, and exhales, releasing her grip on the table. "Storm." Snake says her name to call her back to the present.
"This only confirms what people have been telling me from the day I was born. My purpose is to kill. I can live with that." she states calmly as her expression returns to that 'blank canvas' look.
Raiden looks up at her through heavy eyelids and tries to reach his hand out to her. "Storm-" he rasps weakly, catching her attention. They all turn to him as he struggles to speak "Don't let this...consume you.....if it scares you.....scream.....if it hurts....cry.......Storm....you don't have to be silent...anymore."
Their hands reach each other and the quiet *clink* of metal against metal resonates through the small cabin before he loses consciousness again.
She stares down at him as she stands at his bedside.
I'm sorry, Raiden. But I can't do that.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the Nomad approaches Shadow Moses Island, Otacon starts prepping the helicopter.
Snake goes upstairs to try to sneak in a quick smoke while Sunny is distracted with helping Otacon. Storm stands up and tests her range of motion, and when she confirms that the pain is reaching a minimal level, she creeps up the stairs too.
As she stands hidden from Snake's view by a wall, she sees the cigarette fall from his lips as he goes into another coughing fit and grabs onto the counter to hold himself up. With a shaking hand, he pulls out another syringe and stares at it, then at his reflection in the mirror hanging above the stove.
He was a young man once. The day when he would have to depend on injections seemed so far away. Like a dream. But now that it's here, after only a few short years, that dream--that nightmare--has become his reality.
The creases on his face seem to get deeper the longer he stares at his reflection. His watery eyes seem to become more bloodshot the longer he looks into them. He's become an old man, full of regret and disappointment. No longer the energetic hero of Shadow Moses, but rather the tired and worn soldier who's seen far too many battles in such a short time.
There's no rest for the wicked.
His coughing dies down and he looks back at the syringe again before putting it down.
That's when he notices her watching him with her emotionless eyes and blank expression. He stands up straight and they stare at each other in silence for a moment. 'What's going on in there?' He wonders.
After a long silence, she speaks.
"Fighting is the only thing I'm good at...But I've never fought for what I believe in."
'Fox.'
He lets out a thoughtful hum and groans as he sits down at the table. She stands across from him, her expression still unreadable. "Where did you hear that?" he asks as he searches for his cigarette. She cocks her head slightly to the side in confusion.
"Your father. He said that to me nine years ago." he explains "At the time, he was advising me. So what's this?"
"I've found something to believe in." she answers simply. He looks up at her with his full attention, signaling her to continue. "Let me fight for it."
He stares at her, trying to read her blank expression. It doesn't take him long to understand. "Storm. This isn't your fight. None of it is. Leave this to us. We started it. Now we have to finish it." he tells her.
She closes her eyes and shakes her head slightly "No. Let me go in his place." she proposes. He grunts as he forces himself to his feet and stands in front of her. Snake searches Storm's eyes for any tinge of fear. Those dark eyes that remind him so much of the worthy opponent and brave ally that he knew so long ago. Haunting.
"Otacon was right, Snake. Enough is enough. And you and Raiden have had enough. Let me help you." she demands firmly. He heaves a rough sigh as she stoops down and plucks something off of the floor. She stands straight again and looks him in the eyes; this time with a readable flash of emotion in her own.
Daringness.
Bravery.
Loyalty.
Respect.
She holds the cigarette up and he reaches out to retrieve it, but at the last second she closes it up in her fist, lowering it to her side.
"You're a stubborn one, aren't you?" he grumbles as he hides a small smirk behind his mustache.
