# Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance

Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance is a 2013 hack and slash video game.

## Dialogue

    [first lines]
    N'Mani: Three years... We've come so far in just three short years...
    Advisor: The sign of a strong leader, sir.
    N'Mani: No—the will of a strong people.
    [outside the limousine, some children are playing soccer]
    N'Mani: And one very able advisor.
    Advisor: Thank you, sir.
    N'Mani: Your team deserves credit as well... Mr. Lightning Bolt.
    Raiden: [removes his sunglasses] Just doing our job, Mr. Prime Minister.
    N'Mani: I must admit, I once thought of groups like yours as opportunists—enablers of war. But you’ve trained our new army well—order has returned sooner than expected.
    [Several armed soldiers patrol the streets]
    N'Mani: Perhaps I was wrong about these "private military companies"...
    Raiden: We prefer "private security provider," sir. Most of Maverick’s contracts do focus on security.
    N'Mani: Yes, well, "security" can mean many things...
    [The limousine is revealed to be in a motorcade with APCs]
    Raiden: [puts his sunglasses back on] There’s a saying I like: "One sword keeps another in the sheath." Sometimes, the threat of violence alone is a deterrent. Sometimes, by taking a life, others can be preserved. It’s the code the samurai lived by...
    N'Mani: Mm... A soldier and a philosopher. You are full of surprises, Mr. Lightning Bolt.
    Raiden: I could say the same about you, Mr. Prime Minister.
    Mistral: I was wondering when you'd come, Jack the Ripper.
    Raiden: No one calls me that anymore. Dolzaev, where is he?
    Mistral: [tsks] I can show you a better time than that crusty old bear.
    Raiden: You're in charge here?
    Mistral: I am "Mistral"—the Cold Wind of France. And you, your reputation precedes you. Liberian, but white as snow... A natural-born killer, even as a child.
    Raiden: That was a long time ago...
    Mistral: I was born in Algeria myself, you know. I'm only half French.
    Raiden: And?
    Mistral: We had our own civil war in the '90s. So you see? Cut from the same cloth, you and I.
    Raiden: You don't know me.
    Mistral: I lost my whole family, everything... But I butchered those fuckers. My family's killers. That's when I realized... I am a killer, too. And a good one at that. [she slowly walks towards Raiden] I slaughtered dozens in Iraq, in Afghanistan... I'd found my calling.
    Raiden: [points his sword at Mistral stopping her from advancing further] Proud of that, are you?
    Mistral: What happened, happened. To be honest, I found it quite dull. [suggestively takes off her jacket] My enemies fell like domino, one after another. Not once did I feel threatened. I was adrift, without challenge, without purpose... [Several Dwarf Gekkos climb up to the platform] At times, I even envied my prey. At least they had a cause to die for. And then... I met him. [Raiden slashes at an attacking Dwarf Gekko]
    Raiden: Who?
    Mistral: And I knew what I'd been missing. [walks towards the injured Gekko] His ideals gave my life meaning. Ideals, Jack. What are yours?
    Raiden: I... protect the weak.
    Mistral: [chuckles and tears off the Dwarf Gekko's arms] Still... so naive.
    Raiden: And if I must kill to protect them, then so be it.
    Mistral: [crushes the Dwarf Gekko underfoot] It seems we have less in common than I thought.
    Raiden: I'll take that as a compliment.
    Mistral: If you would kill for your ideals, then surely you are ready to die for them!
    [Mistral arms herself with Dwarf Gekko arms, while Raiden readies his sword and covers his face with his battle visor]
    Mistral: Come, mon gars.
    "Jetstream" Sam Rodrigues: [to Raiden] Not so black and white now, is it? Is your cause just, or is that "just" what you tell yourself?
    Monsoon: How pleased you are to chop away, Jack the Ripper. My name is Monsoon... of the Winds of Destruction.
    Raiden: Yeah... I guessed as much.
    [Monsoon leaps from the World Marshal building, landing in front of Raiden]
    Monsoon: Feasting on the insides of your enemies... How easily you ignore the loss of life when it suits your convenience. So tell me: Who saves the weak from the man who saves the weak?
    Raiden: You're the ones exploiting them. You take advantage of their weakness... Of course they get hurt, when you set them up as your human shield.
    Monsoon: Kill or be killed, Jack. Phnom Penh taught me that. Yes, you aren't the only one to grow up on the killing fields. War is a cruel parent, but an effective teacher. Its final lesson is carved deep in my psyche: that this world, and all its people, are diseased. Free will is a myth. Religion is a joke. We are all pawns, controlled by something greater: memes. The DNA of the soul. They shape our will. They are the culture—they are everything we pass on. Expose someone to anger long enough, they will learn to hate. They become a carrier. Envy, greed, despair... All memes. All passed along.
    Raiden: How about "full of shit"? Is that a meme?
    Monsoon: You can't fight nature, Jack. Wind blows, rain falls, and the strong prey upon the weak. Sam tells me you see your weapon as a tool. Something that saves lives—a means of justice. Now there's a pretty meme. Exquisite! It's spared you the burden of all the lives you've taken... Absolved you of guilt when you enjoyed it. That is, until the illusion was broken. Don't be ashamed. It's only nature, running its course. You have no choices to make. Nothing to answer for.
    [Monsoon brandishes his twin sai]
    Monsoon: You can die with a clear conscience.
    Raiden: You're right. About me, I mean. I knew something was... off. After the Patriots, I thought I could walk off the battlefield and... into a normal life. But here I am, surrounded by death, arguing philosophy with terrorists. I told myself this was about justice. About protecting the weak. But I was wrong.
    Monsoon: [chuckles] Then you admit it?
    Raiden: I learned young that killing your enemies felt good. Really good. In America, my friends... my family... They helped me forget the devil inside. But who am I kidding? I was born to kill.
    [Raiden punches the ground, cracking it]
    Raiden: The bit about my sword—that "means of justice" stuff? I guess I needed something to keep "the Ripper" in check when I was knee-deep in bodies.
    Monsoon: You...
    Raiden: But you—all this—is a wake-up call to what I really believe. What I really am.
    Monsoon: What are you saying?
    Raiden: I'm saying Jack is back.
    Monsoon: Kill him!
    [a cyborg swordsman charges at Raiden]
    Raiden: No.
    [Raiden is impaled by the cyborg's sword and begins cackling, causing the cyborg to step back and Monsoon and Sam to gasp]
    Raiden: Doktor. Turn off my pain inhibitors.
    Wilhelm "Doktor" Voigt: What? This... This is madness! You—
    Raiden: Do it!
    Doktor: All right...
    [Doktor complies as Raiden yells in pain]
    Raiden: Pain... This is why I fight.
    [Raiden quickly pulls the sword out of his body, spewing blood on the ground]
    Raiden: [cackles] This is my normal. My nature.
    Monsoon: You've lost your mind.
    [Monsoon motions for three cyborgs to attack Raiden, but all of them are swiftly cut apart]
    Raiden: [cackles] Who's next? [points his sword at Monsoon and Sam]
    Sam: I'll take this dance.
    Monsoon: [stretches his arm out stopping Sam in his track] No, Sam. Report back to the chief. He's mine.
    Sam: [scoffs] You're the boss.
    Monsoon: I misjudged you. You are like us after all.
    Raiden: Now you're just being nasty. [cackles loudly] That nickname you love so much—wanna know how I got it? Actually—why don't I give you a demonstration? I think it's time for Jack... to let 'er rip! [He activates his visor. Monsoon, with a wicked grin on his face, complies as his faceplate is lowered to conceal the entirety of his face]
    Sundowner: Shhh, don't disrupt the students while class is in session. I believe you're familiar with the lesson plan... The same regimen you went through in Liberia. Effective program. Just look how you turned out. Of course, running it in the real world just got a bit too... complicated. Doing it virtually, though? No fuss, no muss. Straight to the brain. It's like a dream. Well, maybe "dream" is the wrong word. They do kill some POWs... some civilians... [chuckles] They enjoy it though. We give their pleasure centers a nice big jolt every time. [chuckles] Plus they got a shiny new body as a graduation present. Another thing you have in common...
    Raiden: I chose this. They're kids, you son of a bitch.
    Sundowner: And kids are cruel. All people are, by nature—they just lose touch with it as they get older. Start thinking they know right and wrong. [mocking voice] "That's immoral!" War crime-this, Code of Conduct-that... Kids you can mold, manipulate into performing all kinds of atrocities—and there's nothing like a good atrocity to keep a war going.
    Raiden: That's why I'm shutting you down.
    Sundowner: You just don't see the bigger picture, do ya?
    [Sundowner retrieves a brain from a training receptacle, staring at it as he talks]
    Sundowner: Say you bring this whole place down... waltz outta the rubble with all these precious brains... Nothing changes. All the guys in charge are long gone. And we've got offices 'round the world.
    [the exposed brains chirp in distress]
    Sundowner: We're just suppliers. We don't create the market for war.
    Raiden: Then who does? The Patriots are gone.
    Sundowner: [chuckles] Those guys just managed the war economy—they didn't invent it. Didja think every battle in history was all part of some big ol' conspiracy? Bullshit! War is just part'a who we are. Why fight it? Anyway, none of this will matter in three hours. Demand for PMCs is about to skyrocket. Like the good ol' days after 9/11!
    Sundowner: How's this, Jack? We can play up here without damaging the merchandise.
    Raiden: What happens in three hours?
    Sundowner: [chuckles] Don't matter. You're too late. Even at Mach 2 you wouldn't make it. And killing you is gonna take some time: slow, and painful.
    [helicopters rise behind Sundowner, who activates his explosive shields]
    Sundowner: Like I said, kids are cruel, Jack. And I'm very in touch with my inner child.
    [Sundowner draws his machetes and laughs. He covers his mouth and nose with his faceguard. Raiden readies his sword, covers his face with his visor in response.]
    Raiden: If America's gone to shit, you're just another maggot crawling in the pile.
    Senator Steven Armstrong: [chuckles] All right, the truth then. You're right about one thing... I do need capital. And votes. Wanna know why? "I have a dream."
    Raiden: What...?
    Armstrong: That one day, every person in this nation will control their own destiny! A land of the truly free, dammit. A nation of action, not words. ruled by strength, not committee! Where the law changes to suit the individual, not the other way around. Where power and justice are back where they belong: in the hands of the people!
    [Armstrong and Raiden headbutt each other]
    Armstrong: Where every man is free, to think—to act—for himself! Fuck all these limp-dick lawyers and chickenshit bureaucrats. Fuck this 24/7 internet spew of trivia and celebrity bullshit!
    [Armstrong slams Raiden's head to the ground]
    Armstrong: Fuck "American pride"! Fuck the media! Fuck all of it!
    [Armstrong kicks Raiden away]
    Armstrong: America is diseased. Rotten to the core. There's no saving it—we need to pull it out by the roots. Wipe the slate clean. Burn it down!
    [Armstrong downs Raiden with a haymaker to the head]
    Armstrong: And from the ashes a new America will be born! Evolved, but untamed! The weak will be purged, and the strongest will thrive—free to live as they see fit, they'll make America great again!
    Raiden: What the hell are you talking about...?
    Armstrong: You still don't get it. I'm using war as a business to get elected... so I can end war as a business. In my new America, people will die, and kill, for what they believe! Not for money. Not for oil! Not for what they're told is right. Every man will be free to fight his own wars!
    [Armstrong, having pinned Raiden down, begins smoking a cigar]
    Armstrong: [scoffs] So... what do you think?
    Raiden: How the hell did you get elected...?
    Armstrong: [chuckles] Well, I don't write my own speeches. [removes his foot from Raiden's chest] You should try fighting for what you believe in sometime, Jack. Not for a company, or a nation, or for anyone else.
    Raiden: Maybe I was wrong about you...
    Armstrong: Am I finally getting through?
    [Armstrong helps Raiden to his feet and dusts him off]
    Armstrong: I'll rid this world of pointless wars, Jack.
    Raiden: I was wrong. You're not greedy...
    [the two shake hands]
    Raiden: ...you're bat-shit insane!
    Blade Wolf: Begin playback.
    Sam: [via recording] Two years I've been working towards this, and on the last day blondie has me doubting the whole thing. We'll leave it up to fate then, shall we Wolfy? A duel to the death, may the best man win.
    Raiden: Sam?
    Sam: I cut him down, and that's that. Back to our regularly scheduled international incident. But if he beats me... if I die here... The lock on my blade will disable after a couple hours... What happens after that... is up to you, Wolfy.
    Armstrong: [scoffs] Even dead, that guy is a pain in my ass. [to Blade Wolf] So... you think that little sword can save your master? [chuckles] Well, go ahead, then. But make no mistake, Fido. When I'm finished with him, you're next.
    Blade Wolf: I was not designed to fear termination.
    Armstrong: Hrm?
    Blade Wolf: However, directive zero one is to ensure all data acquired is preserved and passed along. To expire here would violate that directive.
    Armstrong: That's a good boy.
    Blade Wolf: However, Raiden came to my aid... I have learned from him. When Samuel fell, data analysis was inconclusive... but that has changed. I have established new parameters, now. Created my own directives.
    Armstrong: You little fuck!
    [Armstrong jumps up to where Blade Wolf is perched just as the latter tosses Sam's sword to Raiden]
    Armstrong: Damn mutt!
    [Armstrong kicks Blade Wolf away]
    Raiden: Armstrong!
    [Armstrong grunts in frustration]
    Raiden: I said my sword was a tool of justice... Not used in anger. Not used for vengeance. But now... now I'm not so sure. And besides... This isn't my sword.
    Armstrong: [removes his glasses] Come on!
    Raiden: OK. Let's dance.