C.+Fuller+Reaction+Wiki

(Note: Metal Gear Solid, Metal Gear, Solid Snake, Liquid Snake, Otacon, Codec, and the Sons of Liberty are registered trademarks of Konami Inc. and are in no way, shape, or form the creation of the author of this wiki entry, Colin James Fuller, nor are they in any way affiliated with him. Likewise, the creator of the reich-chemistry.wikispaces.com network, Blair Jesse Ellyn Reich, is in no way affiliated with either group and is also not responsible. This story is an individual work of fiction of the author's creation using the aforementioned title and characters as plot devices. It is nothing more than a harmless and fun twist to a chemistry essay that the author has to write for school. Have a heart, don't sue.)


 * METAL GEAR SOLID: SNAKE'S VENOM**

//The date is July 17th, 2010, roughly one year proceeding the activation of a stolen Metal Gear model by a renegade group of zealots known as the Sons of Liberty. With the bulk of their plans halted by an ex-military commando, codenamed "Solid Snake", the Sons of Liberty was destroyed and Solid Snake managed to prevent a global catastrophe, but not before the brother of Solid Snake, codenamed "Liquid Snake", escaped from Solid Snake's grasp with vengeance engraved into his heart. Intent on ridding himself of his brother once and for all, Liquid Snake has kidnapped a scientist who has been developing an acidic compound capable of melting the human body in a matter of seconds once exposed to the synthesis. Liquid intends to exploit the scientist and force him to mass produce the synthesis in the hopes of destroying his brother. The synthesis is being transported by convoy to a science facility located in the heart of the Nevada desert, codenamed "Area 51". Meanwhile, Otacon, the head of a secret anti-terrorist organization known as Philanthropy and also Solid Snake's most trusty informant, has learned of this recent development and has alerted Solid Snake to the situation. Solid Snake is now en route to the designated target. His mission: disrupt the convoy, seize the synthesis, and destroy it.//

The parachute opened with a jolt, its host accustomed to the initial force of gravity halting his freefall. He was drifting silently through the night sky, the only visible sources of light being cast from the countless sparks dotting the silhouetted sky. His hands gripped the cords connecting his harness to the chute, and in what felt like mere seconds, his body slumped against the dusty desert floor with minimal disruption. The man quickly detached his harness and tossed it aside, then flicked a small switch on his nightvision goggles. The neon-green landscape revealed nothing of interest at the moment. He checked his equipment briefly before pausing at the sound of a small buzz, an indicator that someone was trying to contact him by Codec, a small electronic communications device implanted into the base of his ear. He knelt down in the brush and tapped the transceiver lightly.

[Otacon]: Snake? Do you read me? [Snake]: Yeah, I read you. The drop was a success, but there's no sign of the convoy yet. [Otacon]: My sensors show it's on its way there now, give it a few minutes. Snake, before you proceed I need to explain to you what exactly you're dealing with. [Snake]: I was wondering when you were going to fill me in. [Otacon]: Snake, do you know what hydrochloric acid is? [Snake]: Yeah, fun stuff. [Otacon]: This is no time for jokes, Snake. That convoy is carrying an experimental adaptation of standard hydrochloric acid. [Snake]: Hydrochloric acid?

The small data processor flickers as various images are transfered to Snake:







[Otacon]: It's an aqueous solution made of hydrogen chloride gas, and was discovered by a middle-eastern alchemist back during the hunt for the Philosopher's Stone around 800 AD. It's corrosive and can burn your skin if you touch it. Scientists used it during the first World War to form powerful vesicant chemical warfare agents. [Snake]: Mustard gas. [Otacon]: Right. It also makes up the majority of your gastric acid. [Snake]: My what? [Otacon]: Your digestive fluid, the stuff that breaks down your food. Since it's so corrosive, your body produces it to break down nutrients easier. [Snake]: Then why doesn't it melt my stomach? [Otacon]: Snake, didn't you ever take biology in school? [Snake]: Yeah. [Otacon]: *Sigh* Your stomach is protected by various defense mechanisms, mucus and what not. [Snake]: You mean I owe my life to my snot? [Otacon]: In a sense, yes. [Snake]: *Mumbles* Great. [Otacon]: Anyway Snake, hydrochloric acid will burn you normally, but this new stuff is a lot stronger. It reacts when it touches oxygen in the air, causing the corrosiveness to intensify twice its normal rate. But not only that, it acts as a type of cloud too. [Snake]: A cloud? [Otacon]: Yeah. When exposed to the air, the mixture leaves behind residue in the form of a corrosive mist, a sort of liquid gas. It creates acidic oxygen. [Snake]: So it will burn you if you touch or breathe the stuff. [Otacon]: It won't just burn you, Snake. It will incinerate you! [Snake]: Great. [Otacon]: Yeah, hydrochloric acid oxygen, codenamed "Snake's Venom". Clever, huh? [Snake]: Not really. [Otacon]: Anyway, you've got to be careful when handling the stuff-- oh, Snake, the convoy should be in your line of sight by now. Look west.

Snake tweaked a small dial on the side of his nightvision goggles, causing the lense to zoom three times its normal scope. He peered out from the shrubbery and into the distance. From the base of the mountains, he could now clearly see a vehicle traveling in his direction, but it did not appear to have an escort.

[Snake]: I see the convoy, but somehow I was expecting something a little... [Otacon]: ...Bigger? They didn't want to draw a lot of attention with an escort. The men inside are armed though, so it's not helpless. [Snake]: Gotcha. [Otacon]: Okay Snake, make your way toward the truck. It should be dark enough that you won't have to worry much about being seen unless you step out into its headlights. When you're within range, use the modified silenced sniper rifle provided to take out the front tires. That should force the driver to pull over. Once he does, take him out and any guards inside, plant the provided C4, and get out of there. [Snake]: Got it. [Otacon]: Oh, and Snake? [Snake]: Hmn? [Otacon]: Technically, this convoy doesn't even exist, and these men are just normal Army soldiers doing their job. You can't kill them, and if you get caught-- [Snake]: No rescue, I know. I'll get the job done right. [Otacon]: Good.

Snake opened the small field case nearby and examined the various parts of the deconstructed rifle. It brought a crease to his lips at the thought that all of these tiny, metallic parts could form something as precise and deadly as a sniper rifle. He assembled the parts together without struggle and proceeded down the edge of the road, keeping himself concealed behind the various wild plants and grasses that grew in that area of the desert. When he was in range of the convoy, he quietly positioned himself in the grass and brought his eye to the scope. He relaxed his muscles for a moment and exhaled, then pulled the trigger twice in session. The front tires of the truck blew out instantly, sending it swerving back and forth across the road, sparks spewing wildly from the contact of the metallic rims withs the road. The truck grinded to an abrupt halt, the engine idling noisily in the night, and before long the driver's door opened with a clunk. A tall man with short, cropped hair emerged from inside and stepped down from the cabin, walking around the front of the truck to investigate the mysterious tire blowout. Snake quickly adjusted his sights toward the man and fired a single tranquilizer round into his back. The man dropped instantaneously.

[Snake]: I've disabled the truck and silenced the driver. [Otacon]: Did you-- [Snake]: He's just napping. [Otacon]: Okay, good. Make your way to the rear of the truck and clear it out if necessary. Be careful, any guards inside likely know that something's up and will probably come to investigate.

Snake quickly shouldered the rifle and made his way across the road to the front of the vehicle. He could hear men moving around inside, followed by the padding of boots against tar. One, two, three, four. Four pads, four feet, two soldiers. He grabbed the unconscious driver by the underarms and dragged him under the base of the truck, out of sight of the soldiers. One of them, a sergeant, issued an order for the other soldier to check the front of the truck for somebody named Williams, the driver Snake had just tranquilized. The soldier did as he was ordered and made his way around the front of the truck, giving Snake an opening. He drew his silenced tranquilizer pistol, similar in model to that of the rifle, and drilled a single round into the soldier's neck. The soldier dropped without a sound, and Snake slipped out from under the truck and pressed himself up against the side, inching along toward the back where the sergeant was standing guard. With careful precision, Snake firmly wrapped his arm around the sergeant's mouth, stiffling the surprised cry he made in response. In a moment Snake subdued the soldier and let his body slump onto the road. He turned to face the back of the vehicle, its doors left ajar, and he climbed up and inside. His nightvision goggles revealed a single metallic chest with a decal placed on the lid:



This is it, he thought to himself as he peered over the chest, this must be the hydrochloric acid synthesis. Knowing his time was limited before the guards would wake up, he removed the plastic explosives from his satchel and hopped out of the truck. He would set each timer for ten minutes, giving him time to move the soldiers and himself away from the blast radius. Acting quickly, he set a charge on each side, the engine, and underneath the truck to ensure its complete destruction. He then dragged the soldiers a distance from the vehicle, but left them in the open to be picked up by any passing patrols. After all, they were just doing their jobs here. He then glanced at his watch and ducked just as the charges detonated, lighting up the immediate area like a giant firecracker. Snake double-checked to see that nothing remained of the vehicle other than a smoldering pile of debris. He was right. With the acidic synthesis destroyed, Snake had put a halt to Liquid's plans, at least for the time.

[Snake]: Otacon, it's done. Now get me out of here. [Otacon]: You've got it. Good work, Snake.

Sources: http://www.epa.gov/ttn/atw/hlthef/hydrochl.html http://www.atmos.umd.edu/~russ/MSDS/hcl33to40.htm http://www.scorecard.org/chemical-profiles/summary.tcl?edf_substance_id=7647-01-0 http://adam.about.com/encyclopedia/002498trt.htm