On a subway train heading towards Central Park - Manhattan - United States
Snake rode alone in the back car of the R train to Central Park. Weighing his options and possibilities, Snake knew that he had to act quickly and cautiously. Considering that he had been targeted by an organized crime syndicate, the news of the failed assassination would reach whoever planned them quickly. That being said, they were bound to have already, or were in the process or, setting up another ambush, most likely today. Snake assumed that whoever organized these assassinations weren't stupid, persay. They had done the proper intelligence gathering and planning had obviously gone into it. Perhaps they had underestimated his ability to ward off aggressors, but everything else had basically worked like clockwork on their side.
Snake checked his M1911. He had fired more shots in the past several hours than he had in the past three or four months. He had one more magazine remaining and only two rounds in his current mag. Snake switched the two out before re-holstering his gun. His knife, thankfully, had not yet left its sheath today. Hopefully it would stay that way. As the train decelerated to a halt at his stop, Snake tightened the straps holding his knife and flipped his pistol's safety off. As the doors slid open, he walked out and up the stairs. His apartment was close to the train stop as it was along 5th Avenue. Quickly scanning his surroundings for anything particularly suspicious, Snake started off at a light trot towards his complex. Seeing nothing in particular, Snake checked his watch. It read 10am. It was still early in the day so he had time to find a new place for the night.
Reaching his apartment building, he quickly swiped his key, went through the door, and up the stairs. So far, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. So far, so good. Reaching the fifth floor, he jogged out of the stairwell and into the hallway that was furnished with little more than a papyrus cream wallpaper and a floor covered in a cheap red Persian-styled rug. Furnishings aside, he noticed that his room at the end of the hall had something wrong with it. Even from his distance, he could clearly see the door ajar.
This was not good.
Snake pulled out his gun. Though he did not like using his gun in such close vicinity of civilians, he had no way of knowing how many men were in his apartment or what they might be armed with. Snake ran, as silent as a fox, up to his door. Flattening himself against the wall next to his door, he quickly peered in. He couldn't see anyone. What he could see however, was his small apartment room completely trashed with tables flipped and tv smashed. He could not see his kitchen or bedroom from here, but he figured they had met similar fates. Holding his weapon at the ready, he slowly crept into his own apartment. He strained his ears for the slightest movement, but could not hear anything. Just to be safe however, Snake quickly did room checks on the three rooms in his apartment.
Whoever had been in his apartment was no longer here.
Snake sighed in relief as he holstered his weapon. If his pictures on a folder of assassination targets wasn't enough proof, his completely trashed apartment was. He quickly made for a small suitcase he kept hidden between his mattress and and bed. Pulling it out and setting it on the table, Snake opened it up to reveal several items. On top were images that he had taken about two years before the Manhattan Incident. It was an image of him and Hal Emmerich together up at the Great Lakes. Snake wondered what happened to his philanthropist companion that he had come to know as Otacon. Though a year had passed since coming to the real world, Snake had not heard from or about him. Putting the photo down, he gazed at the object that was held beneath the image. His modified Beretta 92F, or the M9. The image and pistol were two important items to him that had been on his body when he was transported into this world. Otacon was like a brother to Snake. Not having heard from him since being teleported, Snake held the single tangible memory of his friend dear. His M9 had kept him alive across three different missions. It was sort of a good luck charm for him. Ever since coming to the real world, he had kept these items in a small suitcase. Putting down the M9 next to the image, Snake looked down at the suitcase again. The third and final item contained within was perhaps his greatest treasure. Taking off his business jacket, Snake looked down at the sneaking suit he used in all of his missions. Upon coming to the real world, Snake had realized that assimilating into the world while wearing a military ops sneaking suit wasn't going to work. Since then, he had saved the three items in this suitcase in case he would one day need them again.
That day seemed to have come for Snake.
Changing into his sneaking suit, Snake threw on a loose pair of jeans and a wind breaker over his top. Holstering both his M1911 and M9 at his sides, he double checked that his knife was still there. Snake went into his bedside drawer to grab several magazines and filled them with ammunition, placing what leftover ammunition he had in a small over-the-shoulder pack. He was thankful that he had bought an extra box tranquilizer rounds. As his M9 was the exact way he had it on his previous mission, the Manhattan Incident, the M9 was still equipped with a suppressor and modified to fire single-shot tranquilizer rounds.
Walking towards his front entrance, Snake knew he would likely never come back to this place. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew that he would likely have to leave New York soon. Having worked as a private detective for almost a year, Snake had made connections. Going through those connections in his head, Snake figured that he should go see one or two of those connections and see what they thought about his situation and whether they could help him out.
Snake set foot outside his door and felt renewed. Adrenaline rushing, Snake knew that though a bit different than his norm, he was back on the battlefield. This was how his life was supposed to be.
Snake was alive.