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“Do you like your code name?” Hal asked, unaware the words were slipping from his mouth before he could stop them.
David never spoke of “before”. At least, not in the amount of time they’ve spent together so far. On the battlefield, even in their brief heart-to-hearts, Hal never had the time to get to know the other. Their conversations were dense yet brief, hurried confessions and last rites. They were desperations to be known in a world Hal has done so much to be hidden away from. Hal could visualize himself in a church instead with David donned in holy clothing, a messenger to a god Hal could never believe in.
David wasn’t the messenger, though. He was more of a forgotten angel, one that cursed the god which gave him life. When he fell, it was not with grace. Not quite a shove, but not a leap either. Something in-between, something indecisive and nervous– two qualities which Hal would’ve never assigned to him.
Hal was the nervous one. He was the one that cowered when David stood tall. When David raised his gun, Hal pressed himself into lockers, bracing himself against its cold embrace. He found his comfort in invisibility as if it would take him away from such a place, turning him from another victim to a spectator. Maybe, in those moments, Hal was the angel that David would pray to. David never prayed, though. There were no holy texts in David’s home. Even in long nights when Hal wondered if there was something he was missing in the way people called out to higher powers, David never quivered in his resolve that he couldn’t trust anyone.
Eventually, that “anyone” would give way to “anyone but Hal”, but that is for another day.
David took a long drag of his cigarette. The silence stretched out between them as if David was giving Hal a chance to back out of it. Perhaps there was some boundary Hal had crossed, a silent signal he ignored to never really push. Hal was never good with people. They were complicated, confusing, always expecting you to read their minds. David was the same, but his awkwardness was disguised as stoicism. He opted for silence instead.
Hal didn’t have time to apologize before David responded, “It’s okay.”
“Okay…? That’s it?”
David grunted and usually that was his indicator he was finished speaking. It was one of the many details Hal started to pick up on, followed up with a quick glance away as if David was holding more words back. There was always something more to it. Things that he kept as if they were too burdensome for Hal or things that he kept expecting Hal to simply know. Communication with David was a headache yet Hal couldn’t think of anyone else he’d want to work with.
“What else is there to say?” David continued, “We all got code names like that. Never thought too much about it.”
“I don’t think that’s true.” Hal said. Because, of course David has thought about it. As much as he acts otherwise, David spends too much time thinking about too many different things. He was made to be a soldier, but ended up being more of a philosopher instead.
A philosopher sounds better than an overthinker, which was what Hal would’ve called himself.
“Maybe. What do you think about my code name?”
Hal never thought about it. Not too deeply, at least. He couldn’t deny it was badass. It was simple yet cool like an action hero out of a movie. He must’ve seen it a thousand times– the suave secret agent, hardboiled with a golden heart, one who found love again and again in a world where he was meant to be nothing more than a passing shadow. In a way, it perfectly captured parts of David. Not a real David, but the David that existed more so in Hal’s fantasies where there were no real stakes.
Perhaps this was the “before” David never spoke of. Another life, a more fantastical one where he spent his days in suits, surrounded by beautiful women and dangerous men who were quickly thwarted. Caricatures rather, undefined by any context that could rationalize their behavior, only existing to be taken down.
Was it better to fight a foe who only exists to lose? A representation of all that is awful in the world, a desperation for good to win over an evil that could be shot down by bullets. There was no pain to consider, no family to anguish over them, no sacrifices for a better tomorrow. Maybe before David was fighting against representations of evil, but Hal was never privy to that. He only saw the event, the moment that separated David’s life from the “before” to now. Their lives were altered in a way neither of them could understand in any way but separating it into “before Shadow Moses” and “after Shadow Moses”.
The religions comparisons were undeniable. David and Hal emerging from the wreckage was almost Christ-like if either of them believed in it. In a way, such comparisons felt inappropriate to Hal. Not sacreligious, but as if it would tie David to an ideology he’d never want attachment to. It’d tie David to another fantastical ideal, to something holy and kinder than David’s past had been.
“It’s cool.” Hal admitted, “Like a super spy you’d see in fiction. You’re the coolest guy I know.”
David snorted in response, setting down his cigarette as if he decided to finally buy into the conversation. He turned fully to Hal now, “I’m not that cool.”
“You’re cooler than me. You’re Solid Snake and I’m… Otaku Convention.”
“You were the one who chose Otacon.” David responded, “Why didn’t you choose something more…” His voice trailed off.
Hal didn’t bother to fill in the blank. “I was nervous! I didn’t know what else to say so I thought of things I liked. Conventions were really the only place I wouldn’t mind being surrounded by so many people. Those were my people, you know?”
Confidence was the wrong word for it. Hal felt safe. He was surrounded by other nerds and losers; any words of mockery were glass houses throwing stones at their glass neighbors. In a world so unfamiliar, so dangerous, Hal clung to the one place where he always felt he could be himself. For a moment, strangers became more like friends and they’d disappear moments later. Those memories could never be tainted by falling outs or broken hearts, preserved perfectly in ambers of joy. In some way, Hal expected David to be one of those people– a ship passing by, leaving only memories and wonders of what could have been if Hal had the guts to stay. Yet, somehow, Hal found those guts as he knocked on David’s door, laptop in hand.
“My first convention was when I was younger.” Hal started to fidget with his fingers as he spoke, “I must have been ten or eleven. My father thought I was old enough to be alone there, but… It was so big and there were so many people. I was terrified until a group found me. They were all older than me though they didn’t mind me joining them.”
“Did you ever see them after the convention?”
Hal shook his head, “Never had the chance to. I always thought it was better we never met again.”
He can’t say he never thought about them, though. Late at night, Hal wondered if they’d still recognize him all these years later. If his face ever graced the papers, for good or for bad, would they see the child left to fend for himself, so terrified, so lonely, yet still full of wonder. Could they have saved him from this fate? Would Hal even want to be saved from this?
“I didn’t have time for conventions,” David said suddenly, “I was always training. Always getting ready for this mission I was never told about. Running away, trying to find out where I was supposed to be going. I don’t know if I’m a snake, but I was always an animal. But not you…”
When David reached out to Hal, he made no move to avoid his hands. He leaned into his touch. His eyes fluttered closed, “Not me?”
David continued speaking, “You bring people together. You have all this good in you, all this passion. Even the people who wanted to use that passion against you couldn’t deny it. You’re not meant to be in this field.”
Hal never spoke of “before”. At least, not in the amount of time they spent together so far. On the battlefield, even in their brief heart-to-hearts, Hal never gave himself time to consider what this all truly meant for him. In the moment, it was their fight for survival. It was his realization that he was always only pretending to be someone else, pretending to know what he was doing. Hal’s before was too heavy for anyone. It was loaded and painful. David was raised to worship war but Hal was taught there were no gods, only men with egos.
If such a person existed and humanity was created in their image, would humanity's cruelty be reflected in their heart?
“You’re not an animal. Not beyond all humans being animals, I mean. It doesn’t matter what we were meant to be because we choose to be something else.” Hal pressed his hand against David’s. There must have been something else to their casual intimacy, but Hal enjoyed it too much to question it, to ruin it like he did everything else.
“Do you think we were assigned animals for a reason?” David asked.
“Do you?” Because he knew David already had an answer, because he knew that for a man who spent so long listening to orders, being able to answer for himself was worth the world. David always had so much going on in his brain that Hal was never privy too. He could poke and prod as much as he wanted and David could answer fully, but there would always be something he never felt he could share. At least, that’s what Hal projected onto him.
“Beasts kill. They’re born with fangs and claws before they start to speak. You can’t expect anything but from animals; they know nothing more than survival and death. Big Boss always acted as if he were above it, but he was always an animal. Always a snake. It was always an excuse. On some level, I’m sure he always knew what he was doing was wrong. He never cared as much as he wanted to believe he did. Chasing after an eternal war was only chasing after excused cruelty presented as a predator hunting its next meal.”
“But he wasn't like that. He was only a man.”
David nodded, “It’s scarier to be a man with blood on your hands than it is to be a mutt with blood in your fangs. At some point, he stopped caring. He gave his soldiers the mask he wore for so long because he didn’t need it anymore.”
Hal never studied Big Boss’ history. He knew little of the ways he turned from a soldier like David to a darker living legend. At some point, he meant something to David. Enough so that his partner hardly spoke of how it felt to take his life. It was only another mask, another extension of his code name, to separate them from their pasts and their regrets. Despite the way David fought to move past what Big Boss tried to make him into, he still wore the Solid Snake mask.
“If you don’t want to be Snake, you don’t have to be.” Hal offered, “You’re not a beast to me.”
“No. I am Snake even if I want to deny it sometimes. I can’t pretend to be something I’m not, but names are only names. To the whole world, I might be Solid Snake, but to you, I’m David. Sometimes the world needs beasts, Hal. As long as you remember me as a man too, I think I’m alright with it.”
Because, one day, Hal would be the only reminder that David once existed. It could be tomorrow or in ten years, but Hal would be the one to carry on that legacy. Solid Snake might live on only in legends and bloodshed though David didn’t have to. He could live on in the joy they created for each other. Hal could tell that story too.