[Note: "MGS FIVE: Sins of Libertine" is my own imaginary sequel to the videogame Metal Gear Solid 4: Guns of the Patriots, and is meant to be taken as fan-fiction, not an actual product. It is not affiliated in any way with Konami, Kojima Productions, or the Metal Gear Series; however, it is presented here as if it were.]
Part A - Part B - Part C - Part D - Part E - Part F - Part G - Part H
PART G: MORRISON TO HOSPITAL
== The Legendary Dr. Morrison ==
[Fix crawls along the vents against the cold air, and finds that there is a suspicious and loose panel against one of the sides. Taking it off, he sees another passageway and decides to follow it. Eventually he comes to an exit, leading into a room underneath a desk. He removes the panel but stops when he hears a beeping noise, followed by some kind of opening/closing sound.]
[From underneath the desk Fix can see a scientist's legs moving past. He crawls out from the vents as tense music plays, and as he stands up with his gun poised, a panning closeup of Dr. Morrison's reaction is shown. He is sitting at a table with a spoon raised, just about to eat. He is blowing on the steaming spoonful of soup, and his expression is completely disinterested. His name is shown on the screen.]
FIX: (aiming, intense) "Are you Dr. Morrison?"
MORRISON: (swallowing the spoonful of soup) "Correct."
FIX: "So, you speak Spanish."
MOR: "Among others. I speak 18 languages fluently, Spanish is one of them. It's helpful when you're an international man of science."
FIX: "You don't seem surprised to see me. Were you expecting me?"
[Morrison stops looking at Fix and begins writing notes on a pad of paper with a pencil while eating.]
MOR: "Not until I felt a cold draft from under my desk. Perhaps I should have."
[Fix, caught off guard by the man's frankness and composure, lowers his weapon.]
FIX: "You're... the super scientist behind General Azogue's secret weapons, then?"
MOR: (swallows another spoonful) "Mmm... Much more than that, but yes. I designed this entire compound, in fact, as well as their more advanced machinery."
FIX: (pausing, looking around) "Hard to believe. But by the looks of it, your designs could use some improvement."
MOR: "Don't flatter yourself. It's not like I was trying to build the world's most impregnable fortress. Given the circumstances and the timeframe I was given, this base far surpasses the demands of my employer. It is an extraordinary accomplishment."
FIX: "Speaking of which, I need you to tell me what the General's goals are. What is the true purpose of this compound?"
[Morrison picks up a salt shaker, and then salts his soup. After eating another spoonful he answers.]
MOR: "I think we're getting ahead of ourselves. Before I answer any more questions, I should tell you that if you intend to kill me in order to stop this faction, it won't work. My brother, who I swap notes with frequently, shares my knowledge and genius completely, and will seamlessly continue my work in the event of my death or impairment."
FIX: (surprised, amused) "...And?"
MOR: (checks his watch) "And with that said, I assure you that have no loyalty to the General or his supposed ideologies. If he and this compound were to be destroyed, it would be no loss to me personally. My goal is nothing more than to further scientific progress as best as I can. This contract is simply the most effective place to do so at the moment."
FIX: (being tough) "It won't be when I'm through with it."
MOR: (shrugs) "The point is that I'm only of use to you or humanity if I'm alive, and I do believe that you will need my help to accomplish your mission. So let's be pragmatic about this. We should have plenty of time to talk, assuming you didn't leave too much evidence on your way here, of course."
[Fix can't help but smirk at the wry attitude of the scientist, and relaxes his stance somewhat.]
FIX: "We've got a few minutes. It's a relief to hear that you're not brainwashed like the others, but I can't help noticing the hypocricy of saying you're helping humanity while building weapons for madmen."
[Images and illustrations accompany Morrison's response when he's halfway through.]
MOR: "From the information I was given, his plans consist of little more than developing a superweapon for the purpose of threatening the old world leaders and establishing his own alliances. In other words, he wants power, just like everyone else. After the fall of the global systems of control, my brother and I were contacted by dozens of different factions and agencies seeking our assistance in developing secret weapons, and that was years ago. By now I'm sure they're all developing their own projects."
FIX: "So why did you choose General Azogue? Some redeeming quality that attracted you to him?"
MOR: "In a sense, yes. It's the reason why this compound and his plans have come so far in such a short period — and more importantly, the key to solving one of the greatest problems the world has ever known."
MOR: "I wasn't interested in helping any of them until I heard about it: the revolutionary piece of technology that would not only change the course of history forever, but which defies our fundamental scientific beliefs of thermodynamics. Such devices have been created and suppressed for centuries, because the prevailing establishment would rather cling to conventional wisdom than risk losing their silly little reputations! This was my first opportunity to truly harness it, and if I can demonstrate to the world how powerful it truly is by bringing General Azogue to power, the sacrifices will be worth it."
FIX: "I don't get it. What could possibly be that controversial in this day and age? What could be worth endangering so many innocent lives?"
MOR: "To put it in terms that you would understand, it is a process which produces more energy than it consumes, uses an unlimited and renewable source, and produces only beneficial byproducts when consumed..."
FIX: "Wait... what are you saying?"
MOR: "This entire compound and its arsenal are operating at surplus efficiency! Over unity! Everything from the air you're breathing to the electricity in this room is being supplied by the quantum conversion of the most common substance in the world! We're running on water!"
FIX + FATHER: "Water!?"
MOR: "Didn't you wonder where we were getting our fuel from? How we could sustain this level of production? I assume that you've seen our vehicles; didn't you wonder why they ran so silently? They've been retrofitted with extremely efficient water fuel cells. Constructing the compound over a river was for the sole purpose of giving us constant access to our fuel source!"
FIX: (shocked) "Oh my God..."
MOR: (chuckling) "Indeed, that is precisely what the world will say."
[Returning to in-game.]
MOR: (pacing the room) "It's so ironic. War has proven to be the greatest catalyst for scientific progress, and scientific progress has been the greatest boon to the average person's standard of living. The private military companies that destroyed so much also resulted in many important creations. War degrades and transforms humans into beasts, but it also streamlines human evolution in a way that nothing else can. Their senseless war was founded on the ability to control the human mind through manipulating information, but in order to achieve this level of control they relied upon the complete freedom of intellectual innovators! And although their system was the most impressive sum of every field of science known to man, it was obviously doomed from the start..."
FIX: (leaning against a wall) "How so?"
MOR: "Think about it. Every system, whether it be mechanical, chemical or electrical, has a benefit and a cost. Whatever it costs to operate a system must ideally be offset by its benefits — that's the key to any effective model. The same could even applies to intangible systems, such as ideologies or religions, in theory. But the system that was behind the PMC's war had no discernable benefit, and cost unprecedented quantities of every kind of resource known to man.
[Mixed real-world, illustrations, and footage from MGS4.]
MOR: "I tried to point it out to the various governments and military organizations which supported the system, but nobody really knew how it was supposed to work. For all of my questioning, the best answer I got was speculation that it was all orchestrated and calculated by a top-secret artificial intelligence running independant of human input.... And, for as ridiculous as that may sound, it's the only scenario that makes sense to me. Who else would make such glaring miscalculations? Even if the monetary costs of the system and its endless war were supported by a fraudulent global economy and fiat currency, the most important costs cannot be manufactured out of thin air!
MOR: "Oil, used to fuel and grease the engines of war; raw materials used to construct weapons and equipment; humans themselves are a finite resource, and must be fed and properly cared for. If it hadn't been shut down prematurely, I estimate that it would have run itself dry within two years."
FIX: "I always assumed there was a contingency... But it's true that the world's last oil supplies have been sucked dry. It's the world's most precious luxury by far nowadays."
[Back to in-game.]
MOR: "Of course. The movement for renewable and environmentally-friendly energy has been going on for generations, but the results are mediocre at best. Prudent businesses and governments managed to reduce our dependence on fossil fuels significantly by the time the PMC war reached its zenith, but the underlying systems of modern society are still too primitive. Nobody could have known how delicately civilization was poised from every angle. When it collapsed, we all thought it was the end of the world..."
FIX: "...But it was just a new beginning. That's why I can't let a power-hungry dictator like Azogue get a foothold on the world stage. War might be a catalyst for scientific progress, but people are finding a new kind of progress without it! And if it weren't for people like you, men like Azogue wouldn't have the power to ruin that! How can you pretend like this is the best way to introduce new fuel technology, when the world has been searching for these answers for decades! You don't need to 'demonstrate how powerful it truly is' for it to be accepted!"
MOR: "Perhaps. But without getting involved with this faction, how could I have perfected a method of mass production? It would all be experimental or small scale, like its inventors' prototypes. This is where it has to begin, logistically speaking. We have the motive, means and opportunity to make the dream real."
FIX: "Well, then I expect this compound to become quite useful after I bring down Azogue's Loyalists."
MOR: (sitting down slowly, eating more soup) "...Is that really all there is to your mission, then?"
FATHER: (telepathically) "Felix. Try asking him about the Angel."
FIX: "I have another question. What is the Angel project?"
MOR: "That? Why, that's the codename for the new Metal Gear."
FIX: (stands alert) "Metal Gear!! You built a flying Metal Gear for these guys?"
[Morrison takes off his glasses and cleans them with a cloth.]
MOR: "More or less. Technically 'Angel' isn't a Metal Gear per se, but part of a duo which together fulfill the standard definition of what a Metal Gear is: a nuclear-equipped, walking battle tank."
[Silhouette of the new Metal Gear, along with concept art shown on Morrison's computer monitor.]
FIX: "A duo?! So what's the other part?"
MOR: "I named it 'Foster' in order to reflect it's parental role in protecting and guiding the Angel Gears. The land-based half is a walking tank, as well as a transport system, while the air-based half is responsible for guiding and safeguarding the payload to its destination."
[Fix, unable to tolerate such a calloused account of a nuclear weapon, pushes the table aside and grabs Morrison by the collar.]
FIX: "Nuclear warfare!? Don't you realize the hell you're trying to unleash? Do you know what kind of sacrifices have been made to keep Metal Gears from becoming an active threat to the world?!"
MOR: (putting his glasses back on calmly) "It was part of the contract. I had no choice."
FIX: (sticking his pistol in Morrison's stomach) "We all have a choice, doctor. Some are just easier than others."
FATHER: (telepathically) "Don't do it, Fix! Stop!"
[Closeup of Fix's trigger finger, trembling. Suspensful music plays, but slowly he relaxes.]
MOR: "Intimidation is pointless, and so is killing me. I thought we were going to remain pragmatic. But if it makes you feel better, you should know that I didn't want to design a Metal Gear for this faction, it was simply the one unconditional requirement they had."
FIX: (holstering weapon, crossing arms) "Exactly. You're willing to endanger the whole world for the sake of scientific progress, even after the horrific lessons of the past century. You've enabling the devil in the hopes of finding salvation!"
MOR: "A religious analogy... How appropriate! It's that kind of moral absolutism which serves as the true enabler of atrocity. Things are never that simple."
FIX: "For men like Quicksilver, it is! He'll launch it the second somebody pisses him off!"
MOR: "You're probably right. But I've been delaying the the completion of the Metal Gear in order to buy time while I work on other projects. And to tell you the truth, I'm worried that he'll kill me after I finish it. That's one of the reasons I decided to make it's design inherantly challenging."
FIX: "So how far is it done? It was seen in the sky last week."
MOR: "All that remains is to reprogram the flight intelligence system based on last week's test, and synchronize with the remote control systems. I've had the correct calculations figured out for months, but I've been ordering more tests and complicating the final stage. After all, the speed of its design and construction has been unprecedented, so it's reasonable to believe that the internal system is the true hinderance."
FIX: "I see... So it could be finished any time, theoretically."
[Morrison picks up a thin binder from off the table and holds it up.]
MOR: "Not without my calculations."
[Fix looks at the rows of filing cabinets lining the walls, and the bizarre-looking notes on the table.]
FIX: "You write everything down on paper? Isn't that archaic for a superscientist? And... what kind of language is this, anyway?"
MOR: (amused) "It's a quasi-asemic language developed by my brother and I, designed to facilitate our communications, which only the two of us can understand. It would take years to explain the details to you, but basically it's a dynamically evolving set of logograms and ideograms, mostly unpronouncable and often multi-layered. It would be impossible to use it with a computer. Not that I would want to use one even if I were using standard language."
FIX: (staring at the writing, confused) "Why not?"
MOR: "For one, digital information is too easy to access and manage. With only physical copies I'm able to control exactly how it is distributed and stored... How long it lives or dies. The information becomes sensitive, destructible and unique. I don't like the idea of immortal information, or the ability to manipulate it so easily.
MOR: "Secondly, there is subtlety in handwriting. By analyzing my brothers handwriting I'm able to tell exactly what physical and mental condition he was in at the time he wrote it. The condition of the paper also tells a story worth knowing, and the fact that I receive his signature notes is proof that he's still alive. These things are missing from digital information.
MOR: "Thirdly, binary digits and the primitive ASCII encoding systems are disgusting to me, as a matter of principle. Language is how the mind translates abstract concepts... everything is abstract until it becomes represented as language... That's why animals and infants are so unintelligible and instinctive. Languages have been developed and passed on through all of human history, evolving and becoming nuanced, reflecting the minds of generations. But with digital information everything has become oversimplified and sterile, leading to a cycle of increasing stupidity. The post-literate era... that is truly frightening."
[Fix looks displeased and shakes his head.]
FIX: "You've gotta be kidding me..."
MOR: "I know, you're concerned about Metal Gear. But you still have time to do your mission, and with my help you can eliminate the threat before it becomes one. It works like this..."
[Morrison gets up and retrieves some scale-model figurines of the new Metal Gear duo from his desk drawer and puts them on the table. As the camera zooms in and shows the small figures in detail, sounds of full-scale warfare play in the background, and evil music plays over all of it. After a few seconds the camera zooms back out and the sounds are gone. Morrison uses the models to demonstrate what he's s explaining.]
MOR: "As you can see here, Foster is responsible for transporting and safeguarding the launching silos, which combine propulsion and rail-gun systems in order to fire the payload, while Angel rides it into the stratosphere, where it will redirect and navigate to the target location, undetectable on radar or satellite. From a scientific standpoint there is nothing new about it, but it's designed to be logistically efficient, and allow for simultaneous attacks worldwide."
FIX: "Simultaneous attacks? Wouldn't that mean multiple Angels?"
MOR: "Yes. In theory, Foster can control up to four Angel Gears at once, to any location in the world. Currently we've only built one however."
FIX: "Okay, so where is it? How do I stop it?"
[In-game shots of the compound and basic diagrams accompany Morrison's answer.]
MOR: "Well, Metal Gear Foster itself is in Area 5, to the northwest of the compound headquarters in the center. But it's intelligence core is down in the headquarters' subterranean nerve center, under maximum security. It would be easier for you to destroy the lifeless machine, so I would try that. You'd need properly placed explosives of course."
FIX: "What's the best way to get to Area 5 from here?"
[Back to in-game with Fix and Morrison.]
MOR: (crossing arms, leaning back in chair) "Keycards and a disguise, of course. But if you're expecting more convienient ducts to crawl through, you're mistaken. I only placed this one in my lab in case I needed to escape. And as for access, I only come and go with an escort from Loyo—I mean, Azogue. We're not trusted to roam around... especially not me. The details of their security procedures is handled by Black Bishop, not me. I only know what I need to know."
FIX: "Black Bishop? Who's that?"
[Illustrations of a silhouetted Black Bishop and The Broken accopmany.]
MOR: "Him? He's the member of The Broken who's in charge of security and personnel. I don't know much about him, but he's responsible for the harsh and bizarre conditioning of the soldiers in all of Azogue's havens. He seems obsessed with mythology and the occult."
FIX: "That would help explain why the elite guards have those strange tattoos all over their bodies, as well as the supposed rituals they do with the secret prisoners..."
MOR: "No doubt he's psychotic, but I guess it's effective in its own way."
FIX: "Who else is there? How many members of The Broken are there?"
MOR: "You already know about the General, Venus and myself. On top of this there are Black Bishop, White Dwarf, and Dirty George, as well as a seventh member that none of us has seen or learned the name of. He's associated with Venus somehow."
FIX: (to himself) "Could that be her bodyguard?"
MOR: "Dirty George hangs out in this area, so I'd watch out for him. Above ground is where he tests out his improvised explosives and chemical warfare. He's a wildcard, doing whatever he wants and creating traps around the compound."
FIX: "He must be that idiot who called me out over the radio. So those traps in the wilderness were his..."
MOR: "I'm sorry I can't help you more than that, but I'm not in a position of power here. If you manage to get into the headquarters, I have an office on the second floor where you might find me. But obviously we can't let anyone know about our cooperation."
[As Morrison talks, we see a guard with a briefcase walking towards the room, through the storage area. Fix seems to sense this.]
FATHER: (telepathically) "Did you notice something? Better get to hiding."
[Fix tells Morrison to hush, and hurries to the vent. He climbs in just in time to avoid being seen by the guard. Morrison acts calm. The guard says nothing, but searches the room. Tension builds as he approaches the desk with the vent, but is relieved when he doesn't look into the vent.]
GUARD: "General Loyola feels that this location is no longer secure. Come with me to the headquarters immediately."
MORRISON: (acting busy, irritated) "I'm deep underground and you're have the only key, how could I be more secure?"
GUARD: "He wants direct supervision of your activity for the next twenty-four hours. Put whatever you need in the briefcase."
[The guard puts the case on the table and opens it. Morrison lets out a deep sigh and begins putting notes in.]
MORRISON: "This is very unusual. What's the emergency?"
GUARD: "That's not important."
[After putting his supplies in, the guard closes the case turns to open the door. While his attention is turned away, a closeup shows Morrison's hands as he slips a keycard under some papers on the table, and the two walk out of the room.]
FIX: (thinking) "That was close. I got some useful information though."
FATHER: "Yes, but our fears have been confirmed. You need to find and destroy the new Metal Gear, codenamed 'Foster', as soon as possible."
FIX: (opening the vent, climbing out again) "Right. I wonder if it was worth keeping him alive for, but if what he said about his brother is true..."
FATHER: "We have no way of knowing if what he told us is true, but if not, that's one hell of a poker face. In any case, Azogue's suspicions are obviously sky high thanks to the chaos you've been creating, and his tempermental attitude could easily turn against Morrison."
[Fix picks up the card. It reads "Level 8". This allows the player to use the high-level elevator, which leads to the ground floor of the hospital. The player resumes control as Father sums up his objective, which is to exit the facility and head through the wasteland to Area 6. Players must backtrack, and can open several new doors.]
[In the new areas are such items as Chaff Grenades, in an area where chaff is being tested on various machines; Tranquilizer Syringes, which must be directly injected into targets but work instantly; a Lvl 2 Belt Chain Key in a Elite Guard locker room, along with an Elite Guard Disguise, allowing Fix to use the Armsel Striker shotguns and disguise himself through the rest of the area and hospital.]
Part A - Part B - Part C - Part D - Part E - Part F - Part G - Part H