No oneâs dared approach him directly about the issue, but there isnât a whisper in this fortress that doesnât reach the Presidentâs office. He knows people are talking. So he makes sure Eli gets called up to meet with him as soon as heâs allowed out of bed - at the very least, they have to get their stories straight. Of course, there are some other things he wants to discuss.
Once theyâre alone, Big Boss looks up and gestures with a small sigh to a chair he keeps pushed against the wall. âBring that over and have a seat, Eli. I think that we owe each other a few explanations.âÂ
He doesnât leave much room for argument, but waits patiently for the young man to comply. When he does, he reaches for the coffee carafe at his elbow and pours two cups full, pushing one across the desk before taking a sip from the other. See, no funny business here.
âFirst of all,â he says, âyou have to understand that Big Boss is not a man. Big Boss is a legend - a kind of living mythology. Some of his exploits are stolen, some are fabricated, and theyâve all been rewritten at some point to suit the teller. I like it that way. It keeps the world interested. Keeps them guessing, if nothing else. Maybe more likely to listen to what Iâm trying to say, even if theyâre only listening so they can deny that itâs true.âÂ
He pauses, takes a drink; heâs getting off track. Itâs been a while since he spoke on this particular matter. âSo. Yes, I was the genetic donor for the project that created you - if you can call that donation. For most of his history, Big Boss has been me. From â84 to â95, however, there were two of us. It was a reasonable solution at the time; Iâm sure you can understand how much harder it is to hit two targets at once, especially when one of them is always in the shadows. No one knew which of us was which. Not our enemies, and not our friends.
âTo make a long story short,â Big Boss continues, âand as I probably should have said to begin with: I, personally, was never in charge of the Diamond Dogs. That was the other Boss, and unfortunately, I was never able to get a full debriefing before hisâŚuntimely demise. Whatever happened between you two is something that I had and want no part of.â
He looks at Eli pointedly. âEven though we all look the same, he was no more me than you are. Understand?â
He hates being made to wait for answers, but thereâs nothing else to do -- and at least heâs not being dismissed outright. This Big Boss...he doesnât know why heâs not the one he knows, or doesnât seem like it, but this is a wild card. He doesnât know how to read him yet, not at all (not that he ever could read the one in the eighties), and itâs setting him even more on edge than usual.Â
But he drags the chair over and sits in it stiffly, letting Big Boss take a sip of coffee first before he sips at his. Well, at least itâs halfway decent coffee, he thinks sarcastically.
Heâs not sure where the man is going with his explanation -- but he understands some of it. A legend more than a man, that makes sense in a way. Itâs why he and his brother were created -- to carry on that legacy, whatever it was. He doesnât bother to hide his grimace when his father mentions the project, but in the back of his head heâs got a dozen more questions, all of them to do with what heâd been told. The way his father put it and what Cipher had said...more goddamn discrepancies on top of discrepancies. When will he ever stop being fucking lied to?
He stares after his father finishes talking, and then barks out a bitter, startled laugh. âTwo of you,â he says. âTwo of you, and he wasnât the real one.â He feels like he should have known, but...goddamn it. Itâs a bitter pill to swallow, but not unexpected. âThatâs why the tests came back negative,â he mutters to himself wryly. (Theyâd thought he didnât know about them, but he was more clever than theyâd give him credit for.)
He sets his jaw to keep from lashing out -- wonders what heâd say if he knew the shit he âwanted no part ofâ involved his double beating his ass a few times and leaving him to either die or kill himself -- and tries instead to form questions. âUnderstood,â he grits out eventually, trying to wrap his mind around that last phrase.
âNo more me than you are.â The first person to ever tell him something like that and itâs the man himself, the one heâd always been told had been part of the Project from day one.
Speaking of-- âThe project,â he says finally, like heâs spitting out something bitter. âYou make it sound like you werenât involved, that you didnât want it. Thatâs not what Cipher told me. Whatâs the truth?â Something in his eyes, in his face, burns with barely restrained...something. For once in his fucking life, he wants the truth. Heâs sick and tired of being lied to, being used, being thrown away.