7:47 PM: Metal Gear Solid

2.1 - The FOX Hunt

9:32 AM
A cozy cabin, in the northern wilderness of Alaska

Some eight years later, the Spring of 2018....

"I brought the beer!" Wendell proudly declared as Meryl opened the door for him.

"Wendell! Glad you could make it," she greeted him, letting him inside.

"Oh, he's not the only one who brought gifts!" Charlie, a larger man, proclaimed, walking up behind Wendell. He held in his hands several grocery bags full of snacking goods and candy. "This year's FOX Hunt is going to be a regular Superbowl!"

Labroni Badger and Canon Lynx, real names Wendell Hodge and Charles Allison (respectively), are two FOXHOUND operatives that had become close friends with my family in the years since my retirement. By marrying Meryl, I'd accidentally socially glued myself to FOXHOUND forever--following Operation: Liquidation, Badger and Sparrow had decided to finish their training FOX-style at the headquarters in Alaska, and they ended up graduating at the same time as Meryl's unit. As for Lynx, he'd been a part of Meryl's unit.

"Okay, Wendell, Charlie, why don't you two put the food and drinks on the counter in the kitchen, I'll tell everyone you're here..."

Leaving the men to do as she'd asked, Meryl walked upstairs to our custom communications room, which had a bunch of radios and a couple computers that made up my homebrew codec system. Pressing the spacebar on one of the laptops and speaking into the microphone very clearly, she said, "All units, this is CP, ordering an immediate return to base. Repeat, all units to return to base. Over."

She released the spacebar, waiting, but there was no response. She tried again. "All units, back to base. Please respond." Still, silence. "David, you had better have a big target in your sights. And I mean big. Like, a moose or something."

>!<

"Easy now," I whispered into Jonah's ear, ignoring Meryl. The elk was about a hundred and fifty feet in front of us, oblivious to our position. I put a scope to my eye and double-checked the difference in elevation; it was about three feet beneath us, although as far away as it was, the difference was indiscernible. "You got it in your sights?"

"Yeah," Jonah breathed.

"Where are you aiming?" I asked, taking a glance over his shoulder.

"The head," he said. "Right in the eye."

"Are you ready?"

"Yeah..."

"Then take the shot."

Jonah pulled the trigger, sending a single .45 caliber bullet through the forest. Looking through my scope, I saw the blood splatter from the bull's head, as the animal fell to the ground.

"Nice shootin', Tex!" I commented. "C'mon, let's go get it."

We moved closer to our prey and examined the body. Jonah had just barely missed the eye, but it was a clean shot nevertheless.

"Great goin', kiddo," I applauded, patting him on the back. I turned my radio back on and gave Meryl a call.

"You'll never guess what our son just shot," I said.

"Was it a moose?" Meryl asked.

"Eh, good-sized elk," I replied. "Is Sam back yet?"