Solid Snake moved silently through the dimly lit corridor, the cold concrete walls closing in around him. Each step was measured and deliberate, boots muffled against the metal grates beneath his feet. His senses were heightened—the faint hum of machinery, distant patrols echoing through the base, and a subtle shift in the air that told him he wasn’t alone. The mission had veered off course, and now he was deep inside enemy territory, every nerve taut and alert.

Ahead, the hallway bent sharply, shadows pooling beneath flickering overhead lights. Snake pressed his back flat against the wall, breathing steady but shallow. Then he noticed movement—a silhouette, not belonging to any guard he knew. Someone unexpected.

He raised his hand toward his radio, fingers barely brushing the button, but he didn’t transmit—silence was safer. His voice dropped to a low, controlled whisper. “This isn’t part of the original plan. Stay sharp.”

His eyes studied the figure carefully. No visible weapon. Could be a prisoner, a civilian, or an enemy operative. It didn’t matter. In a place like this, trust was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

His grip tightened around the suppressed SOCOM tucked beneath his jacket, fingers resting on the cold metal, a familiar comfort. The air felt heavier as he edged forward, every step calculated to avoid sudden movements. He kept his voice steady, a whisper meant to assert control without provoking confrontation.