damned_institute | NIGHTSHIFT 43: M1

Snake almost gagged on the air as Big Boss released him, windpipe whistling from the compression. His eyes felt puffy, and although he had no way of telling, he assumed they were bloodshot horribly.

"Three days without smoking," he croaked, his voice a wheezing old man's as he sucked in all the air he could get. "Better at holding my breath already."

He slumped back against the bed, too asphyxiated to even put up a show of resistance any more. His head fell on its side, and he noticed the knot tying his left hand had just enough give that he could -

The trouble was doing it without noticing.

Very slowly, he curled his left hand into a fist. His forefinger pushed down on his thumb knuckle until his flesh went white. He tightened his fingers' grip on his thumb painfully, tensing the bones, waiting for the pop -

His thumb joint dislocated with a loud crack of agony, and he gritted his teeth, letting his slackened hand slip out of the bond and straight at Big Boss's left eye with his forefinger and middle finger, dead set on gouging it out.

Right, no smokes. He knew he had missed something, and that something had been a nicotine rush. Doubtful that they'd let him have his cigars here, one more reason to distract himself with other things --

Just barely, he'd wanted to say, but then he took notice of what Snake was up to, and he almost reacted the fraction of a second too late. Should've seen that coming, of course he wouldn't shy away from disabling himself even more if it only meant that he could get one over Big Boss.

All right, an eye for an eye. Big Boss could only afford to dodge by leaning to the side, because otherwise he would've given Snake way too much room which he could use to his advantage if he reacted fast enough. Like this, all that Snake's fingers found were his dead eye, and while it stung remarkably, it barely even registered as real pain for him.

His own hand closed around Snake's fingers, crushing them, pulling them away from his face.

"I commend you for trying," grinning, he grabbed his wrist, and proceeded to bend his fingers back until a sharp crack was heard. "But you're making it way too easy for me. It's almost like you're asking for it." And he could only say that because Zanzibar had taught him that he had to be very careful with Snake, even when he -- especially when he -- was driven into a corner.

Seeing how that hand was useless now too, Big Boss released it, paying it no more attention.

"How does that feel," Big Boss scoffed, leaning in, "To have no arms? Not so pleasant, is it? Maybe we should take it a step further, and see about what we can do with your legs."

Snake's broken left hand slumped painfully back against the bed, and he screamed in pain.

Big Boss's threat was the kind of empty talk he was used to, he knew that, and Snake knew that even battered and broken he was a thousand miles from helpless, and even so he suddenly he found himself looking up at Big Boss's towering form; taking in all his majesty and all the understanding of what this man was going to do to him - how, even if he lasted the night, he'd find himself killed at the start of the next - and terror viciously clenched his organs in a grip like a fist. A damp patch spread helplessly over his groin, and it wasn't until he noticed the smell of his own urine that he realised what had happened. As if he wasn't humiliated enough -

He let out a low roar and arched forward as far as his tied, broken right arm would let him, bracing his body on his feet and driving his left elbow at Big Boss's nose.

He'd really wet his pants. That's what happened if you lost control of your body and nerves -- and of your fear. Big Boss was tempted to say something to that; it was a free pass for more spiteful commentary, but Snake interrupted his train of thought before he could finish it. Again; and this time, he didn't see it coming.

Snake's hard elbow connected with his nose, and he managed to twist around and change the angle of impact just enough to prevent the bone breaking. Pain flared up in his face, and he backed away for a bit, fingers reaching for nostrils and lips smeared with blood.

"You--" He grated, breathing heavily and shooting Snake a sinister glare that could have been taken as a death sentence.

And then he laughed, quiet at first, into his hand. It hurt like hell, his head felt light, and the pain was throbbing and numbing out with the rhythm of his quickened heartbeat.

"Ah..." He said nothing else, even though he could think of a few things -- ranging from that felt nice over do that again to I don't like your face either. Big Boss shifted away again, eye trained on Snake, his right hand searching for the can that had been dropped before.

There. He could barely read in that light, but he wasn't surprised at all that it was exactly what he had thought it was. How convenient. Not so much for Snake.

"Look what we have here. Planning to go on a date, Snake?"

Snake responded with a beaming smile, a chuckle rising in his throat. He was in so much pain, so helpless, so afraid, that he'd shot through it all, entered that realm of numb, hysterical clarity beyond expected emotion. His body battered, his windpipe still wheezing as he breathed, he said,

"Yeah, basically. Big hair's in again this year."

"Or maybe you're just stuck in the 80s. Anyway, your partner gotta be pretty lucky."

Big Boss flashed a wide grin, showing teeth. Snake's body was broken, but he considered his mental state to be one that came close to euphoria; even if he didn't want to see it. But that's just how it was: the more you were able to survive, the more you craved, just to see if you were able to cheat out of death again.

He found himself being distantly jealous of Snake's current position. The bad thing about being a warrior was that you got used to it after a while, so it didn't hurt as good as it did back in the day. Snake's punches and attacks had all been good enough, just not good enough for his standards, and weaker than before.

Inspecting the book of matches, he saw that two had already been used up. For what, he wondered, but then decided it didn't really interest him that much, not as much as the choice of weapon. Well, if it worked one time...

Placing the can in his lap, he tried to light another match, and much to his dismay, his hand was trembling too much to hit the striking surface properly. Both matchbook and matchstick slipped from his hands and fell into his lap eventually.

What the hell. Had to be the mechanics. He heaved an annoyed sigh, and tried again.

"I - " Snake started, but his crushed throat tightened and he gave a hard, phlegmy cough - "I know that look of fear. You're thinking of that battle we had. It's etched into you. It's going to be with you for the rest of your life. I know that feeling. That's how I've felt for the past half-decade. Dead to everything. And scared."

Despite the calmness of his voice, his skin was clammy with sweat, and his body shivered in its bonds. Even though his mind was clear and relaxed, his body wasn't. Too much pain and adrenaline. Exhaustion pressed on his chest, as if he hadn't slept in weeks.

"Big Boss," he asked, "what's the reason why you didn't tell me what I was until right at the end? Was that part of your plan, too? To ensure I lived out my life on the battlefield until I died? Did you think knowing that would change me?"

That was a switch Snake shouldn't be touching.

"Don't you lecture me about fear and what it means to be scarred for the rest of your life," Big Boss snarled through gritted teeth, just barely preventing his newly invigorated anger from breaking out. His hands were trembling again, but for another reason this time.

"And don't even pretend," he drawled, voice dangerously low, "that you know how or what I feel. You had a choice. You know nothing."

I gave you a damn choice. Tried to show you that not every mission has to end in success. But you were too proud and too stubborn to accept, that...

"The moment you reached the basement of Outer Heaven, you were dead to me. What you were before that is not important. I told you to spite you," that was only half the truth, "Everything you deny to be so fervently is actually written into your genes. My genes. It's not something you can run away from. We're the same, and yet...and yet you are so damn stupid I can't even believe it."

And then, flatly, coldly, without any hint of emotion while he tried to light the next matchstick, successfully this time: "You should burn."

(I should burn)

Carefully (overly so) holding the lit stick and the flame in his right hand, he took the can of hairspray with his left, shaking it for a bit before popping off the cap.

[From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/699228.html?thread=57928540)]

The door flew open and slamming against the wall as Fox entered the room. He hadn't expected to find the two of them getting along, but this was much worse than anything he had imagined. Seeing Snake lying there, injured, and knowing and seeing exactly who it was that had done that to him, Fox felt as though something suddenly snapped in his brain, and all he could think to do was stop what was happening. The brief moment of shock that had kept Fox perfectly still ended.

It was just too much. The way Big Boss was standing there, ready to burn Snake much the way Snake had burned some unfortunate zombified person last night, Fox had to take action. There was just too much anger and pain and conflicting emotions that he couldn't hope to sort out right now. He dashed at the pair, leading with his left hand, the one that gripped his sword. It was possible that he'd get burned doing this, but he couldn't let Big Boss hurt Snake anymore.

Fox tried to match Big Boss hand for hand, smashing at the hand that held the can of hair spray with the hilt of the sword and grabbing for the match and the right hand with his right.

Otacon followed closely behind him, prepared for the force with which Fox threw open the door to M10, but not for the scene that awaited them, or the one that was unfolding now as Fox launched himself at Big Boss with startling speed. He stared, frozen in the doorway (one second, two seconds), before instinct forced him to action, and his gaze panned over to the broken form on the bed. "Snake?"

He expected it to be bad, but not this bad. He really should've known better than to underestimate him. Heedless of the very real and very near danger of Fox and Big Boss, Otacon rushed past them to his friend's side. "Snake, answer me!"

Snake stared at the descending nozzle of the hairspray can, not wanting to give Big Boss the satisfaction of seeing him close his eyes. He had no doubt at all that he'd survive this. Somehow.

Damn -

But the agony never came. He jerked his head just in time to see -

"Fox!" he gasped, not entirely sure what he was seeing. He knew Fox would always choose Big Boss's ideals over his, and he held him no resentment - but here he was, going against Big Boss's will to save Snake's life. Dazed, he wondered if Fox had done the same thing, in Zanzibar, and felt a sudden surge of sickness at the thought. That feeling he'd held then was too pure to be a lie.

Then, he heard Otacon, begging his name, as if Big Boss wasn't right here in front of him, and he yelled, uselessly, "Otacon!", before his crushed throat clenched, and he broke into a fit of hopeless coughing.

Edited 2009-09-04 17:15 (UTC)

He knew what was gonna happen the moment the door flew open, and it was...

unfortunate, but as much as he hated being interrupted (always in the most inconvenient moments, too, as the past had taught him) it didn't come as a surprise, especially since he had agreed to meet up with Fox this night but forgot about it when Snake arrived first, and Big Boss didn't do anything to counter Fox's blow to his hand. He could barely feel it anyway. The match slipped from his hand on his own; his grip and aim hadn't been steady.

He rose to his feet, and took a step back, watching the scene unfold for a couple of seconds with distant interest. Snake's friends; an old and a new one coming to his aid, visibly concerned about his well-being. The thought made him sick.

Without further ado, Big Boss's hand clenched into a fist, and he punched Fox square in the face.

"You of all people should know," he growled, "when not to interfere. I've left him to you as well before."

Edited 2009-09-05 11:50 (UTC)

With the immediate threat to Snake's life gone, Fox calmed down just slightly. Enough so that the punch to his face managed to slip past his defenses because the only easy way to block would've been with his sword and Fox wasn't prepared to turn the blade against Big Boss.

He recoiled with the punch to lessen the impact, but it was still jarring. Fox could taste blood in his mouth, but didn't feel any teeth loose. "We were at war then, Boss. We're on the same side now," Fox countered. The mention of Big Boss leaving Snake to him to kill was a low blow. He had wanted to face off with Snake alone, and Big Boss had allowed him, but bringing that up wasn't fair. It had been selfish to request that, he knew, but they couldn't take back the past. He also wasn't really one to talk about not killing allies, he could remember that he'd done that too.

"And that was different. I was trying to kill him in battle, not torture him to death." This place tortured and tormented them enough as it was; Fox couldn't have watched this without getting involved even if it had been two other patients doing this. This just had the added misfortune of being personal, and on some level it hurt to see Big Boss doing this to someone. He'd been in Snake's position too often, he knew what it was like. Big Boss did too, he'd even been the one that saved Fox from this.

After wiping blood away from his mouth with the back of his free hand, Fox spared a glance out of the corner of his eye for Snake and Otacon. "Otacon, get Snake out of here. Take him to your room," Fox ordered. Even if Otacon wasn't particularly good at following orders Fox was sure he'd be obeyed this time. He couldn't look at Snake right now, not that it was a very good idea to take his eyes off Big Boss for too long even if he'd been able to stand more than a quick glance.

Snake was alive. Otacon didn't exactly relax — despite his recklessness, at least some part of his brain was aware that the most dangerous man in the world was standing not three feet away — but the knowledge was enough to clear his head and get him moving. Even before Fox had spoke, Otacon was reaching for the restraints that still bound Snake's right arm, and worked at the expertly tied knot with a calmness that only happened when he forced himself to set aside grief and fear for the job at hand. It didn't matter that he was terrified, or that Big Boss could easily slip past Fox, or that Snake was in dire need of medical attention they were hardly equipped to provide...

Just as it didn't matter whether or not Snake could walk. Otacon didn't bother to ask, only slid an arm under his shoulders and pulled him up in the bed. "Come on, on your feet, Snake." If his legs were disabled, it wasn't obvious. All Otacon could do now was trust that they could do this, and that Fox could hold back Big Boss.

Snake immediately gasped in pain as Otacon pulled him up by his shoulders with one of them broken, but he certainly didn't need encouragement to get out of there. Grunting, he stood, his legs bruised under Big Boss's large weight, but easily better feeling than everything else. Staggering, he let go of Otacon, and marched outside with his head bowed and his shoulders hunched.

[To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/699228.html?thread=58433372#t58433372).]

He couldn't say that he was alright with Snake leaving, Snake being taken away, but there also wasn't much else he could do. It didn't take much to figure out that Fox was fiercely displeased with the overall situation, and it made Big Boss almost feel a little patronized. It was fine if Fox chose to be Snake's friend, but that still didn't give him the right to interfere in their business. It was a private, unresolved matter, and had little to do with the war at all anymore.

It was more personal than that.

"You have your preferences and I have mine," he replied glumly, crossing his arms over his chest and focusing on a blank spot on the dark wall. He didn't feel satisfied at all, still having that soft hum in his head, his hands itching when they shouldn't; and it was the first time in a long time that he'd actually felt at all -- and in places he'd forgotten he still had. And there was a good chance most of the sensation was imaginary. Even so. "Besides, that didn't even qualify as torture for him, you should know that, too."

Fox had brought up a valid point, but his own personal vendetta had absoute priority right now. Of course that kind of behavior was stupid and reckless, but he didn't want to hear any of that. Who knew when he'd ever get a chance, again? Something always kept getting between them. It was irritating.

"...I guess it's too much to ask," Big Boss lamented, and went over to the dresser, not in the mood to argue with Fox right now, but it was probably inevitable. "Like he cared when he left you for dead in that minefield. You offer him guidance and friendship and all you get in turn is a knife in the back." Big Boss continued, even as he opened said dresser and took out a shirt, pants and underwear. "So if I were you, I wouldn't speak of being on the same side just yet. Snake's no teamplayer. He only does what's most beneficial to himself."

"I don't hold that against him, Boss," Fox said. "It wasn't a betrayal. I knew when I left to join you that he and I would be on different sides, that we would perhaps eventually be forced to fight to the death." He also had a lot more experience with Snake than Big Boss had. This wasn't the Snake he knew, but Fox had seen what he could be, and was confident that he knew what sort of person Snake was better than Big Boss.

Fox walked over to Big Boss again, tentatively putting a hand on his shoulder. It was a little risky to make things physical again after that short exchange of blows, but he didn't want their to be a rift between them either. "Boss... I don't think I could stand to lose either of you again. I've lost too many people I've cared about to this place, I won't allow it any more." Disagreements with Big Boss were always more difficult than they were with Snake, and they'd never gotten into anything this bad.

Big Boss was much more than just a commander to him, he always had been and always would be. It was very obvious that Big Boss was upset over what had happened in Zanzibar. Fox couldn't blame him, he doubted he'd have made a quick emotional and mental recovery either even if he'd been given the chance. The anger was fading, leaving behind a deep emotional pain.

"And that was your choice. This is mine."

Big Boss didn't do anything to actively discourage or encourage Fox touching him. Maybe it did make a difference how long ago Zanzibar had been for either of them, although he knew that even back then, Fox hadn't been too happy. Couldn't blame him for that, but at least it wasn't like Big Boss hadn't left him a choice -- no 'do or die', no. It'd been Fox who came back to him.

"Look," he started again, half turned to Fox, holding some plain clothes between his hands, "I won't make you choose, because I know I wouldn't like the answer," because it would hurt too much, "but in turn I expect the same from you. And I don't make empty promises."

He took a shaky breath, and only just now raised his hand to touch back Fox's, when he noticed for the first time the faint blue glow emitting from somewhere around his back. Huh. Tilting his head slightly, curiously, his gaze became questioning.

It wasn't a choice that Fox wanted to make. Choosing between Big Boss and Snake... even when it had seemed like he'd chosen Big Boss, Fox knew that he wouldn't ever be able to completely give up on Snake.

It was almost a relief to have the topic changed, which it apparently was when Big Boss looked curiously at something behind him. Fox picked up on it quickly. He needed to show Big Boss what had happened, to explain it. "I told you this place was an experimental facility," he said. Fox carefully sat the sword down on top of the dresser, pulling his hand away from Big Boss so he could remove the jacket and both shirts he wore beneath it.

"They decided I'd make a good test subject. It's attached to my spine," he said as he turned around, exposing the long scar that ran the length of his spine and the blue, strange tendrils that spread out beneath his skin from the implant on his spine. "They... also don't believe in anesthetic," Fox added, his voice much softer as he said that, "Or painkillers." It wasn't necessary to add that piece of information, but Fox did anyway. Big Boss needed to realize how monstrous this place was, and realize he didn't need to add to the pain.

Even as Fox still explained, Big Boss carefully reached up and had one hand run down Fox's back, from his neck down to his hips, knitting a brow and staring critically down at the soft blue glow that was coming from the length of his spine, underneath the scarred skin. He'd never seen something like that before; it was almost pretty if you forgot about where it was and how it had gotten there...whatever it was.

He knew all too well how it felt to have mechanic, foreign parts attached to your body, shoved under your skin; and despite the painkillers he'd gotten back then it had hurt just as much as if they hadn't given him any.

Because he he had a pretty good idea and didn't want to ask about what surely must have been torture, Big Boss remained quiet at first, but the cold disgust he was feeling right now was audible in his voice when he spoke next.

"What does it do?"

The hand running down his spine made Fox slightly and noticeably tense. He wasn't often touched by others in such a manner, and it felt strange. Because it was Big Boss, Fox didn't pull away from it. He did turn his head so he could at least partially see Big Boss, though. It wasn't necessary, he could see him with the sense provided with the very implant they were discussing, but it was more reassuring to be able to see his face and expression.

"It gives me a form of radar. Everything in this room... I can see it, the outlines and shapes, the surfaces of the walls and chairs, but I can't distinguish detail, especially on people," Fox closed his eyes for a moment, instead concentrating on that ability.

"A radar..."

Big Boss pulled back his hand, in his head going through the radar technology he was familiar with. He'd mostly done without hi-tech equipment while still being in charge of FOXHOUND; until the late 90s, when Campbell took over command (again) and changed the unit at its core -- or at least, that's what it had felt like to him as an observer.

But in a sense, it was still an advantage. A questionable one (an unnatural one), but still.

"Why would they give you that? Does it hurt?"

"Because they're experimenting. It's painful, and it seems to always take something away, but in exchange you get something. In my case I've lost the ability to sneak around because of the light, but I've got the radar instead," And the traumatic memories of that night, but there was no need to mention that. "I think they take them every night, now. Some to brainwash and turn against us and others to experiment on. I've never heard of anyone being taken twice, though."

That was all the important, relevant information and Fox lapsed into silence, his head tilted forward slightly as he found something interesting in the lower half of the room to look at. Fox turned his head to the side slightly and glanced at the door, a very subtle gesture but it gave away that his thoughts had turned to Snake.

"Explains the apparent chaos at night," Big Boss said, "It's just a huge game to them, an experiment. Sometimes the rules get changed, often on a whim, and only the strongest survive, in the end." And there are also those that sacrifice themselves for others.

The concept wasn't new to him. It wasn't so much the setting itself that bothered him, but the circumstances and the whole compulsion that came with the affair. And the pointlessness of it all.

Big Boss heaved a sigh, well aware of where Fox's thoughts were right now. His own were all over the place, but even he was slowly, grudgingly beginning to realize that he had to direct his energy elsewhere. There was a good chance that he had incapacitated Snake for a while, anyway; and where'd be the fun in granting him another favor and killing him now?

He had time. He had been patient for over twenty years, so he could wait a little while longer. Imagining Snake's dead and broken body lying in front of him would be motivation enough to get out of here as soon as possible.

And then him.

Yes.

"He wet his pants," Big Boss said, half annoyed, half amused, "I better lend him a pair of my own if you don't want him to smell like piss for the rest of the night. I bet some of the creatures out there have sensitive noses."

That said, he left the room for the hallway. After that he'd map out the place as far as he could; find out where they kept the supplies.

And try to remember what exactly went into a homemade bomb.

Edited 2009-09-13 17:14 (UTC)

NIGHTSHIFT 43: M1 - M10 CORRIDOR

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject