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damned_institute2009-08-29 05:22 pm
stiffserpent.livejournal.com) wrote in damned_institute2009-08-29 05:22 pm
NIGHTSHIFT 43: M1 - M10 CORRIDOR
Ignoring the pain in his broken arm, Snake crept along the hallway. He had brought only the matches and hairspray with him, hooked into the band of his pants, needing no light. His feet made no sound. Even that vision of the corridor earlier hadn't phased him like his much-loved old Outer Heaven flashbacks usually did, as he was far too focused on his mission.
He had been checking the men's block rooms, one at a time. Most of them were vacated; some were not, and even the sounds of movement inside those ones were enough to reassure him that they were not the rooms that belonged to Big Boss.
Systematically, he started down the furthest corridor in the block to the south of his own, starting with room M10. The door was, of course, unlocked, and he cautiously pushed it open. Like many of the others, it seemed empty, but for less than a second he caught a trace of Big Boss's smell. It was enough to lure him into the room, even though no-one was visible. Had he imagined it?
[M10]
He had been checking the men's block rooms, one at a time. Most of them were vacated; some were not, and even the sounds of movement inside those ones were enough to reassure him that they were not the rooms that belonged to Big Boss.
Systematically, he started down the furthest corridor in the block to the south of his own, starting with room M10. The door was, of course, unlocked, and he cautiously pushed it open. Like many of the others, it seemed empty, but for less than a second he caught a trace of Big Boss's smell. It was enough to lure him into the room, even though no-one was visible. Had he imagined it?
[M10]
no subject
Snake managed to make it to the opposite wall without passing out.
Touching the cold, slick outer wall with his chest, he gave a futile groan and collapsed bodily against it, sliding down to the floor. Rolling around as best as he could to sit up against the wall, he disgustingly imagined what he must look like right now - half-naked, face smashed in, torso bruised and criss-crossed in deep cuts, covered in grainy, clotting blood and reeking of his own piss. Some date that was.
The first thing he did was snap his thumb back into place with his teeth, biting down on it reflexively as it snapped back into place. He rolled it around in its socket a few times, and then a wave of dizziness caught him and he slumped against the wall, chin on his chest, breathing heavily. The walls around him appeared to be breathing in and out, heaving like his chest. That was a sign he'd lost a lot more blood that he ought to have done.
His eyes rolled from Big Boss's door to the dark stain on his pants to Otacon, and he eventually managed to say, "I told you not to come here. You put yourself in too much danger. What were you thinking?"
no subject
Otacon reached out as if to touch Snake's left cheek (bruised, swollen, otherwise unmarred), but then seemed to think better of it and dropped his hand, going for his flashlight instead. He quickly shined it down both sides of the hallway — there were no zombies, unbelievably — then turned back to pan the light down Snake's body. The stink of urine was obvious enough even without visual confirmation, and he thought to make a comment before realizing that Snake wouldn't get the joke. Not that Otacon was in a joking mood, exactly; he just wanted to say something. Anything. Anything that wasn't lecturing, because that never did any good.
It suddenly seemed as though so much of their friendship was composed of Otacon watching Snake get hurt, or watching Snake have to push himself to the limits of his endurance. Objectively, he knew there had been far more in their relationship than just that, but it was hard to remember when Snake was threatening to bleed to death right in front of him. Then again, this wasn't even the worst state Otacon had seen him in, nor was it even first time they'd been stranded in enemy territory with barely any tools at their disposal.
One thing at a time. There was bruising on Snake's shoulder which suggested a break in his clavicle (oh please no), but Otacon ignored it in favour of the cuts in his chest, patterned on top of the old scars he'd seen many times before. He set the still-lit flashlight down and pulled off his T-shirt, folding it over to staunch the worst of the bleeding. He tore up the rags of Snake's shirt next to make bandages, which would have to do until they got to M3.
"If you want to blame someone, blame them for rooming Big Boss in my hallway," said Otacon as he worked. "I would've never heard your screams otherwise. Or maybe you can blame your future alternate self for telling me that you have to be able to protect the ones you love." He carefully pulled Snake's left arm over his shoulders, and put an arm around his waist. His skin was starting to feel clammy. Not good. "Let's go. It's not safe out here."