Post by The Mad Jackyl on Oct 22, 2007 13:37:04 GMT -5
Snake awoke somewhat alert as the coming sound of a motorized engine tugged him to consciousness. The chill morning air hitting his eyes made him suddenly aware of the nipping cold seeping into his sinus cavities. He rubbed his nose to stimulate the blood flow into warming it as best he could. He'd spent a rather uncomfortable three hours napping behind a wall just before dawn, making sure to cover himself with a makeshift blanket of sheet metal and various debris. In his hand he still gripped his ever-present pistol, ready to take action at a moment's notice. In his other hand, he held a delicious blueberry muffin. Devouring it with great aplomb, he didn't bother to brush the crumbs from his mustache as he focused his attention on the whining of an engine in the distance and stiffened. Putting away his plush Samus doll into his pack, he stretched the trembling, shaky stretch that only comes with complete exhaustion. He muffled a quick scream as the stretch released the agony of his stiffened joints. "Ah sh*t, that bastard Otacon will be calling me any minute," he thought. "Better get going."
Snake stood up, only to topple over and faceplant atop a crumbled cement pillar. Taking his sleeping mask off, he rubbed his eyes in the growing light of dawn.
The tiny bones in his inner ear buzzed like an angry dildo.
"Snake, you have to stop the terrorists today. You were supposed to yesterday, I know you know that, but today you reaaalllly need to stop them, okay? Serious." It was Campbell. And he didn't sound like he had his coffee yet.
Snake scrunched up his face in a grimace that might make a buzzard cry. His eyes became beady until they resembled peas drilled into his head. He stoically glanced into the sky seemingly at nothing in particular.
"Richard Gere....!?" he said in a voice that was as ambiguous as it was throaty. His mustache twitched as if it were alive.
Snake stood up, only to topple over and faceplant atop a crumbled cement pillar. Taking his sleeping mask off, he rubbed his eyes in the growing light of dawn.
The tiny bones in his inner ear buzzed like an angry dildo.
"Snake, you have to stop the terrorists today. You were supposed to yesterday, I know you know that, but today you reaaalllly need to stop them, okay? Serious." It was Campbell. And he didn't sound like he had his coffee yet.
Snake scrunched up his face in a grimace that might make a buzzard cry. His eyes became beady until they resembled peas drilled into his head. He stoically glanced into the sky seemingly at nothing in particular.
"Richard Gere....!?" he said in a voice that was as ambiguous as it was throaty. His mustache twitched as if it were alive.
