Snake, his mouth opened naturally from having his hair pulled back, had sucked in only a small lungful of air before Big Boss's fist closed around his throat. He felt his throat constrict, and forced himself to remain calm, even as his vision began to fuzz black around the edges, to fight his instinct to gasp for air, even as his face began to heat up with panic, to resist.

His heart's pounding rose to a sickeningly fast breakbeat, and he felt his muscles begin to slacken. Big Boss's metal fingertips dug into his scalp, and he felt warm blood bloom under his hair. Probably his way of telling me to get a haircut, he found himself thinking, in his half-conscious state.