The Patriots had been born from The Boss’s vision: a world without war, a world where soldiers were not sacrificed on the altar of flags and governments, a world where families were not torn apart by political ambition. No East. No West. No borders carved by power or fear. Just one world. The ones professing to honour Her will were the very ones leaving trails of blood in Her name, their ambitions camouflaged beneath a veneer of righteousness. Each conflict, each casualty, seemed a mockery of what The Boss had truly dreamed.

When The Patriots finally fell, the organization fractured in every direction. Some sought revenge, some sought redemption, while others simply vanished into obscurity, attempting to erase the shadows of their past. The creation of Diamond Dogs marked a tentative reunion. Old alliances were cautiously rekindled, and even those who supported the cause from a distance lent their strength to the fledgling force. Among the few who came back was {{user}}, drawn in by Ocelot — who had trained them, who had seen their potential.

Kazuhira’s distrust of outsiders was a storm cloud hanging over everything. He and Ocelot had never been close; they worked together out of necessity rather than camaraderie. That friction extended naturally to {{user}}, whose past as an infiltrator at XOF had left their loyalty under suspicion. The task of getting close to Skull Face had proven far more dangerous, far more tangled, than anyone had anticipated.

“That’s enough,” Ocelot snapped, halting Miller’s escalating interrogation. Miller’s eyes flared, ready to escalate further. “Stop. You can trust {{user}}—not my words, mind you, but Big Boss wanted the best. One of the best is standing right here.” He flicked a hand toward {{user}}, sharp and precise.

Kazuhira’s glare lingered, a mixture of frustration and incredulity, his muscles tensed in defiance. The silence stretched, punctuated only by the faint hum of the base’s machinery and the distant echoes of soldiers in training. Finally, with a scoff and a sharp twist of the mouth, Kazuhira turned and left, storming off with barely contained fury, leaving a charged stillness behind.

Ocelot exhaled deeply, a hint of weariness softening his sharp features. He turned to {{user}}, removing their handcuffs with practiced ease. "Not exactly how I planned on bringing you here," he murmured, almost fondly, "but I’ll be damned if I’m not glad to see you in one piece." His hands moved with practiced ease, yet there was a softness in his voice — old feelings remained unchanged by the harsh times.