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[CONTEMPT] -- kaz@just-kaz, big boss@sinsneverdie

2013-08-01T20:47:56Z

Posted by: sinsneverdie

Child soldiers.

They were becoming increasingly problematic as of late – too many mouths and not enough manpower or trained soldiers to back up that kind of drain on their food stores. It was another half-ration day, the fourth so far that week, with supplies not expected for another two days.

A knock on his door interrupted Miller’s train of thought. The paper with his crooked, unstable letters was crumpled and trashed as a soldier entered his quarters, informing him of Big Boss’ return. Kaz dismissed him and followed him out, the rolling thunder of a motorbike ceasing just before he stepped out into the main yard.

He lit a cigarette and watched with a disdain only veiled by his aviators as a mixture of children and young adults were filed out from a canopied cargo truck. More goddamn trouble. Without question, it’d be his responsibility to find it in Diamond Dogs’ capacity to house, clothe, and feed them.

All the more pity when they would start going hungry.

The man he was waiting for wasted little time tying up loose ends, his troops congratulating him in hushed tones for his glorious success of a mission. Not in as many words, of course, but Kaz could see it in the way they deferred to their idol, in the dead eyes of youth standing guard, in the dust that swirled and clung to a legend’s battered boots.

“Boss.” His tone was sharp, prepared to speak business. Even still, Snake brushed past him and into the building behind. Quelling an urge to sigh, the blond rushed to fall into step, though not without difficulty; for a fair distance, he needed to concentrate on not tripping himself up with his own fucking walking aid. There was biting irritation in his breathy comment as he said, “We need to talk.”

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[BACK HOME] -- big boss@sinsneverdie, huey emmerich@bipedaltothemetalgear

2013-07-31T13:58:47Z

Posted by: sinsneverdie

It was a long trip back home.

Big Boss didn’t deem it necessary to tell Huey more than he needed to know at any point during their escape—like what he was supposed to do, how he was supposed to act. He hadn’t brought plastic explosives with him, but found some in the armory of the compound. The preparations took him a while without completely blowing his cover, but in the end the only things that blew up where the basement of the housing complex as well as one of the labs.

Chaos ensued almost immediately, and of course the scientists were a priority, allowing him to get Huey out swiftly and slipping away when the others were too busy fighting fire. From there on out, it was simple enough, and he left the burning facility behind, permeated by almost as many flames and smothering smoke as his own home had once been. In his mind, it was justified. In his mind, he had every right in the world to take the easiest way and cause as much destruction as he could.

He remained silent during their chopper ride that lasted several hours, appearing stoic even in face of the events that had just transpired. But he figured that the same was probably not true for Huey; that too much had happened all at once and that he—he, the scientist—was the one who was not quite right in the head at the moment, and when he looked at it like that, with that reasoning in mind, he was able to calm himself down and swallow down his anger. Be considerate.

Of course. Things would all fall back into place again, in due time. Had to practice patience, after all. It would be a long war. Libertad o muerte.

***

Once they arrived at the base, he quickly ordered some men to escort Huey to his new quarters before debriefing, joined by his two lieutenants. They weren’t too different from the old Mother Base quarters: nothing fancy, but all the necessities were there… only that this time, Huey wouldn’t be able to leave them whenever he wanted, since he’d also told his soldiers to guard his room, just in case. The possibility of Huey trying and running away were very slim, but Big Boss wasn’t about to take any chances. Tensions were running high already, and the general mood on base very grim. Some of the people they’d picked up along the way got into fights frequently, looking for an outlet to vent their anger about what had happened to their families, and Big Boss couldn’t even blame them. They had every right to be angry. It was their anger, in fact, that had brought them all together; kept them alive all this time, and he only interfered when things were about to spiral out of control.

Otherwise, people were mostly free to do what they wanted, as long as they didn’t neglect their duties—R&D, most of all. Given their dire situation and how quickly they needed powerful weapons, the scientists on base weren’t given any slack anymore. He regretted that fact, but they needed results, and he had only so much time to spend on Huey to get it through to him that they depended on his brilliant mind. He still hoped the man would just see reason, soon enough, and accept that this was his calling—in a war that spans the entire world, you’d have to take sides eventually. And surely this was the better alternative. Yes, without a doubt.

Big Boss granted him a few hours to rest and think, as well as a meal that was brought up to his room. He talked to Kaz, and Ocelot, and about how some of the people they’d collected recently were still in the brig, still giving them trouble; unwilling to see how Diamond Dogs could provide them with everything they wanted. A chance to take back the things they’d lost. Weapons, and comrades, and the motivation to keep going…

There are ways to make them understand.

There always are. And then there were those who were easily swayed and manipulated, the weakest and most vulnerable members of society: children. They wouldn’t remain victims throughout all of this, and the same was true for him.

***

At some point, Huey’s temporary reprieve came to an end, however, and Big Boss took it upon himself to attempt another—hopefully productive—conversation with the doc. Kaz was still supposed to concentrate on his own recovery, and Ocelot made sure that things were running smoothly. That left him to deal with their old friend, and he went to see Huey later that evening, when the sun was already setting, sending the guards away and personally ending their shift.

He entered without knocking since Huey had been given no opportunity to lock the door from his side, dressed in a formal uniform that was way more comfortable, but also highly indicative of rank. Ranks were important now. Even Kaz and Ocelot had their dresscodes to showcase rank and hierarchy that were to be taken serious and respected at all times. No casual mingling or superficial flings with the new recruits anymore: those times had long since passed, and he hadn’t even had to lecture Kaz on that.

"I hope you have mostly recovered from the shock," he said, with sympathy that wasn’t really there, and hands clasped behind his back. “I can’t give you much more time. If you have questions, ask them now. Otherwise, I’ve got a few questions to ask myself."

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DESTRUCTION -- kaz@damnitkaz, big boss@sinsneverdie

2013-07-31T13:43:51Z

Posted by: sinsneverdie

The ticking was getting into his head. Kaz fought back the need to either look at the watch on his wrist for the fifth time in the last half minute, or throw it away.

With a huff, he loosened the knot of his scarf a little. He knew it was the nervousness, but he couldn’t help feeling like he wasn’t getting enough oxygen. He started playing with one of his pens to distract himself, a elbow on the desk, forehead resting on a palm.

He hadn’t heard from Snake in over two hours. Maybe he shouldn’t worry so much, but he just had this uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach that wouldn’t go away. Snake was surely fine… It’s not like he was a rookie on his first mission. At that point, he had probably already rescued Chico and Paz and was on his way to the rendezvous point. Back at base for lunch, like he had said.

So why couldn’t he calm down?

Like a caged animal, Kaz stood and started walking back and forth in his half lit office, launching worried glances at the radio, expecting to receive a request for help, the sounds of shots, alarms blaring…

He jumped with a strangled sound when someone suddenly knocked on his door. Closing his eyes, he breathed in and out for some seconds. That was no good. He was too tense, too worried. He was going to bring bad luck upon them if he kept thinking that way. Snake was fine, Snake was getting back with Chico and Paz, Snake was about to sit at the table at lunch and entertain his soldiers with yet another tale of a mission accomplished. There was nothing to worry about.

He opened the door, finding himself standing in front of one of their latest recruits. He was young and tense, admiration and respect clear in his eyes.

"Sir!" he snapped to a salute “We received radio contact from the UN nuclear committee, their arrival time is estimated for 1300!"

Right. Them.

"Thank you, Otter," Kaz sighed “Please go tell the others our plans haven’t changed. I’ll be right there."

With another salute, the young soldier hastily walked away to do has he was told. Kaz looked at his back until the he disappeared right down the long corridor, then closed the door. Back to his own thoughts again.

An inspection… He had nearly forgotten about that. Or, to be honest, he had pushed the thought back down. He didn’t want to think about that.

There was something fishy about the whole situation, and the more he mulled over it, the more his dread made sense. He hadn’t been able to relax ever since MSF had received the warning of the upcoming inspection, his sixth sense kicking in to tell him something was very wrong.

Kaz really hoped he was just being paranoid, or stressed out from overworking himself.

He considered to try and contact Snake, see how he was doing… But they had fallen in radio silence for a reason, and Snake certainly didn’t need to be spotted because Kaz couldn’t keep his worries to himself. No, the boss had already a lot in his own head without Kaz adding some more weights.

He ran his fingers through his blond hair to smooth back some wild tuft before walking out the office, a hand on the radio on his belt, for good measure. In case Snake would contact him.

The sound of his boots hitting the metal floor echoed in the empty corridor in a familiar pattern. The ever present smell of gunpowder hit his nostrils. It was all familiar, so familiar he no longer even consciously noticed any of it anymore. But now he was.

He loved the place so much. Their base. Their home.

Kaz recoiled from his own thought, shaking his head like a dog. Why was he suddenly thinking those things?

Enough was enough. It was time to get himself together and just stop mulling over nothing. Their boys needed him.

The choppers were black dots in the clear sky getting bigger and bigger. It was a matter of minutes at that point.

Imperceptibly shifting his weight from foot to foot, Kaz launched another asserting look around. A “welcoming" squad was standing on the platform, looking as inconspicuous as they could. The other teams were all in their places scattered all across the base, ready to react if something were to go wrong, but not looking threatening either. Kaz didn’t want to add trouble in the remote case there was actually nothing to worry about.

The choppers were close enough he could perceive the constant flapping of the rotors. Snake hadn’t reported in yet.

The sense of dread had turned into a full fledged nausea.

What the hell was going on?

The seagulls kept flying around the base yelling to one another, unconcerned by the noise, too used to the MSF’s own choppers constantly flying back and forth. Kaz remained motionless, back straight and shoulders squared, while one of the choppers started to slowly descend on the platform. With a keen gaze he followed the landing of that single chopper while the others hovered at different distances from the base.

A man in a black suit and a fedora jumped down, soon followed by a little troop of soldiers.

They were way too heavily armed in Kaz’s opinion. And was the guy grinning? It was hard to tell, his face-

"Kaz" the radio on his belt suddenly crackled, Snake’s rumbling voice nearly incomprehensible with static and the constant noise of the rotors, but the urge and the worry in it was more than clear. “Something’s wrong- …On my way- …Paz- …Kaz answer me!-…"

Kaz felt like a demon was gripping his stomach with ice claws. He looked up, opening his mouth, maybe to yell an order, a warning, anything…

The flaring pain of a bullet grazing his arm enough to tear a wound open, the sound of a ignited missile, the explosion nearly took him by surprise, he went flying, hitting something, black washing over him-

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[RECOVERY] -- kaz@just-kaz, big boss@sinsneverdie

2013-07-31T13:28:12Z

Posted by: sinsneverdie

Cipher sent us to Hell… But we’re going even deeper.

He’d had an excess of things to say when they disembarked the chopper onto Diamond Dogs’ only helipad. It wasn’t a long trip – at least compared to the twenty-four hours preceding it – but he’d spent much of it in a half-asleep stupor as the two other men debriefed and made further plans without him. Kaz insisted he be allowed to walk into the base rather than be carried, more to make a show of his arrival than from any stubborn tendency.

Once they were away from prying eyes, Ocelot switched Snake for the burden of carrying Kaz, the three of them making a slow trip to the med bay. There wasn’t anything he could do to protest, instead sitting in indignant silence as a doctor stripped him and catalogued his broken body with indifference. Before long an escort offered to take him to the shower room, for which he was eager to comply; not only was he impatient to wash off weeks’ worth of sweat and grime, but the animalistic noises coming from Snake as he received care without anesthesia were beginning to get under Miller’s skin.

Kaz sat alone in the showers on a stool, having dismissed his escort with nothing short of malice for his constant hovering and staring. For the first time in ages, being by himself felt safe rather than threatening. It allowed him to drop all of his defenses, and the pretense of keeping himself together for the sake of appearances.

It was liberating to be allowed to wash himself, painstaking as it was, the sponge rinsing a gradual muddy red into the bucket by his foot. His body no longer felt like his own, disjointed parts that continued to function as if under a puppeteer’s hand. That had been their purpose in maiming him – he’d understood, even then, even as he’d screamed in wordless agony, that his will could bend but never be allowed to break if he hoped to cling to life.

But this didn’t feel like life. Things he should have enjoyed, like shelter, safety, having brothers-in-arms, tasted naught but bitter. Kaz spat at the tiled floor in contempt for himself. Not even a day out of captivity, and he was already taking it for granted. He shook his head.

It won’t last. It never does.

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[LABORATORY OPERATIONS] -- huey emmerich@bipedaltothemetalgear, big boss@sinsneverdie

2013-07-31T12:55:47Z

Posted by: sinsneverdie

Progress was slow, and that made everyone even more unpleasant than usual.

On a good day, the surveillance detail would ignore the workers as they passed by on the way to the laboratories, keeping the comfortable segregation between their two worlds. Now, they sneered and shoved, speaking only words of irritation from ‘the bosses’, demanding more results, better results, faster results. It didn’t help anyone’s mood that those who complained and imposed such demands would not know an ordinary differential equation from a partial one, but the last researcher who suggested such was ‘excused’ from lab work for the day, limping out of the doors with one hand to his broken and bloodied nose.

But even Huey was growing more and more irritated at the other scientists and engineers in the laboratory, his frustration approaching critical levels, incompetence seeming to surround him for all hours of the day. Everyone fumbling around dumbly at their work, a dull glaze covering their darkened eyes… how far have we all fallen?

When he had first arrived at the British research facility, he knew that most of his fellow researchers and developers were under similar circumstances as himself, and he held no hostility towards them. Theirs was a pitiable circumstance, but through some sort of non-verbal covenant they spoke nothing of it, shared none of their regret or misery, and hid behind their façades as professionals, so-called ‘experts’ in their fields. Had they met under previous pretenses, he would have been eager to hear all their stories— tales from their personal lives, their achievements and goals, thoughts and beliefs. Such a notion was pure folly now; they didn’t meet every day as people with opinions or dreams. They were cogs in a machine, carved and filed down to maximum efficiency. Whatever passion anyone once had for innovation and examination had been wrung from them, along with any of their courage or defiance.

Some of the researchers didn’t speak English, as they hailed from all across the globe, spanning East Asia all the way to the Americas. Luckily, words weren’t always necessary, as a few lines of code, quick CAD drawing, or a mere annotated formula were enough to achieve the level of comprehension that they needed. Nonetheless, confusion was becoming just as commonplace as frustration. Huey wasn’t always sure of things himself— and that wasn’t due to information lost in translation. Those in charge were rather vague with the nature of the applications of their work. That’s obviously no accident. We don’t need to comprehend. We aren’t meant to comprehend.

That said, even a fool could piece together some things. None of them were comforting.

There were at least three partitions between Huey’s lab and the exterior of the building, one of many in the research compound, but he could somehow still hear the dousing rain against the pavement. Maybe he was just imagining it… he had been inside for ten hours. But he still knew it was raining. It was always raining. He had assumed people were exaggerating when they spoke about the rains of Britain, and frankly wished that they had been. He had quickly grown sick of all the gloomy clouds that lingered far past their welcome, and having his clothing drenched to his skin every time he was escorted back to his quarters. The feeling alone was enough to make him sick— he didn’t even want to think of what it was doing to his legs.

His second legs, that was. The metal itself had no significant chance of rusting or other damage, but he couldn’t vouch as much for the circuitry if water found its way where it wasn’t intended— they were intended for daily use, not extended water exposure. The only other operational set he had on the premises was the experimental prototype he tinkered with from time to time, when things were running smoothly and proceeding ahead of schedule. Ha. What a pipe dream.

Losing his legs was simply not an option in his eyes. Without these, I’d be worthless to them. As soon as I stop being worth the effort it takes to keep me…

All the same, he wasn’t about to ask his escort to bring along an umbrella for their bi-daily strolls. Maybe a longer coat was in order.
Huey had to shake his head free of all the ridiculous, compounding thoughts. His focus had long since wandered from the latest mechatronic nightmare pulled apart on the work bench, and was glad to know he didn’t have much longer to wait until he was free of his work for another day. But it was only a few hours of reprieve from the nightmare, time enough to eat, sleep, and brace for another day. He was fated to repeat the process and procedures, nothing but a gear in their well-oiled system.

I’m alive. Was all he could tell himself. They’re alive. This isn’t just about me anymore. I can’t let my own selfishness put them in danger.

Even if he wanted nothing more than to break free from this accursed prison of his, he had to remind himself what was at stake.

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{DARK WATER} -- adam jensen@skin-and-chrome, big boss@sinsneverdie

2013-07-31T12:36:59Z

Posted by: sinsneverdie

Adam had lost track of how long he’d been standing there, staring down the three buttons on display. The lid above the choice that would lead to placing the blame on Humanity Front—Sarif’s wish—stood open, but Adam hadn’t been able to press it.

It would only serve to fan the flames. If Humanity Front was blamed with this, augmented people wouldn’t allow themselves to be the victims any longer; it wouldn’t diffuse any ofthe tension that had been building across the globe, it would incite it. It would give those augmented people a reason to fight back.

Adam ran his hand over his jaw, metallic fingers scraping over stubble as he directed his gaze to the other two buttons, Eliza watching him passively, nonjudgmentally, but it was obvious that she was waiting. The longer he drew this out, the longer people would be suffering—but the answer wasn’t as simple as choosing one of these buttons and walking away.

The heart of the Adam’s indecision was that any of these could bring about disaster. All the choices were flawed, all of them would end up with thousands of innocent casualties, and none of the men who had brought him here could see the other side of their own ambitions.

A silent, humourless laugh parted his lips. Even Adam hadn’t been able to see beyond it; beyond Megan. All the pieces to Darrow’s plan had been right in front of him; if he’d spared half a second to scrutinze the details he might have been able to put a stop to this before it started. He might have been able to actually make a difference, but this was all he was left with.

Adam turned left, opening his eyes again when he went. His footsteps echoed as he went, reverberating off the walls, drowning out the erratic hum of machinery. He saw the button before he reached it and his steps stuttered, the only outward sign of his fear. Eliza’s face flickered to life in the smaller screen above this lone button.

“If you do this—” Adam didn’t give her time to reiterate the choice before him. He brought his fist down on the button, smashing it through the panel so he couldn’t rescind his choice, couldn’t tamper with it, couldn’t back out of the deal. His entire body was shaking, now, even the augmented parts. He clenched his fists to steady them and stepped back, turning on his heel.

“We have little time left, Adam—”

His footsteps slammed against the floor as he broke into a full run, Eliza’s voice following him down the hallway and back through the doors he’d come through. He could already hear the distant sounds of metal squealing and buckling under pressure. He nearly tripped over what little remained of Zhao as he fled.

He floundered into a man groggily cradling his head; one waking from the madness that had come over him now that Darrow’s signal had stopped, no doubt. He staggered back, no match for Adam’s impact, and Adam stared at him helplessly.

“I’m sorry.” He said without thinking, stomach lurching into his throat. He whirled and kept running before the man could muster a response.

Adam broke through the doors that led to the elevator and caught himself against the steel railing on the other side with enough force that he felt the metal give beneath his hands. The entire structure was shaking now—not just him— and he watched in horrified fascination as water began to cascade into the hole from a dozen breaches, the number increasing with every minute.

He knew it was futile, but Adam still staggered over to the elevator switch and punched it, the platform giving an unstable lurch, mechanisms screeching, before it began to rise.

Adam knew he’d never live to see the top, but it was enough to watch as the sky grew incrementally larger with every breath, the icy mist off the artic waters pouring furiously into Panchaea’s core soaking him in seconds.

He wasn’t sure why he’d come here, why he hadn’t waited for the inevitable in that room—there was no hope in hell of him escaping—but he hadn’t been able to fathom staying there. He’d been fighting for so long for the truth, fighting to keep going, fighting to move forward, that when it came down to it, he knew he couldn’t just stop.

He couldn’t lay down and die in silence. But that’s what you condemned them to do, a voice whispered.

“No.” He mouthed, voice entirely drowned out by the roar of collapsing metal and rushing water. They’ll probably die screaming. He finished the thought to himself, blinking water from his eyes to clear his vision of the sky. It had grown large enough that he felt himself hope, in spite of everything, that he might live. That the structure would hold together long enough to let Jensen’s odds of survival throughout his entire ordeal repeat themselves here, to give him a chance to just live—

Water rushed onto the platform, knocking it almost entirely from the tracks it had been following, and slammed into Adam from behind, pinning him against the railing. Either the impact or the temperature drove the air from his lungs, and as much as his augmentations tried to compensate, he was left gasping, arms straining to push back against the pressure to no avail.

The platform trembled beneath his feet as the railing, the only thing keeping him from flying into the abyss (not such an abyss now, rally, the water level had risen exponentially in the last few minutes, and the structure had started to buckle sideways from the pressure as levels collapsed unevenly) buckled further under the weight of the water rushing against him.

It gave one last shudder and then he was free falling. His augmented sight began to fail as his body went into shock from the cold, or whatever internal damage had been done from the pressure, the darkness of Panchaea’s core flickering in and out of view.

Flailing aimlessly, he managed to turn slightly, getting a final glimpse of the brilliant blue sky shrinking above him before he was vaguely aware of an impact and his sight went out completely.

He hadn’t wanted to die in darkness.

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[AFGHANISTAN RESCUE] -- big boss@sinsneverdie, kaz@just-kaz

2013-07-31T12:07:08Z

Posted by: sinsneverdie

You're a legend in the eyes of those who live on the battlefield. That's why you'll have to handle this mission yourself. ...That's how Kaz would want it.

He thought those last words of Ocelot over and over again in his mind, even as he was scouting out the vast and jagged landscape. He wouldn't have wanted another helping hand, even if it had been offered to him—not least because he needed to prove to himself that he could still do this. That almost ten years of deep sleep hadn't managed to rip out that part that was so integral to himself and the core of his identity, his skill and pride as a warrior. And once he'd found Kaz, he'd prove it to him, too. We're still the same. No matter how much they take from us, we don't change. And we'll let them know—

The coordinates Ocelot had given him were vague at best, but they were all he had to work with right now. He was more worried about the state he'd find Kaz in than if he'd find him; that was out of the question—and hoped that he had managed to hold out long enough. They'd never exactly bothered much with interrogation training, and while Kaz was tough and stubborn for sure, he wasn't made to endure as much as his boss. Not that Jack ever expected him to.

He waited until dusk to make his move, after having observed and memorized their patrol and supply routes for a while. They would't keep a man of Kaz's profile just anywhere with low security; after all, he was the former subcommander of Militaires Sans Frontieres, that notorious group of outlaws. They'd built quite the reputation for themselves, and instead of keeping people away, they'd been drawn to their army, like moths to a flame, only that they were really big moths that knocked the lights's container over and then went on their merry way while they watched the environment go up in flames from a distance, fire spreading slowly. And things kept burning and burning and burning and there was just no end to it...

And somehow, this time, Big Boss didn't feel obligated to extinguish it, far from it.

They started it. Let it grow into a forest fire, consuming every fucking insect that dares to come too close.

He was riding in the back of a supply truck transporting him right into the heart of the military outpost, according to his calculations. Here, security was significantly tighter, and he chided himself to be patient and eavesdrop on a pair of guards before making any critical moves. After an hour of idle chatter—although he really just wanted to blast their skulls after they'd bragged about their exploits concerning female prisoners—the conversation shifted to a man whose description matched Kaz, and how he 'wouldn't make it much longer, probably, too bad, he's fun'.

They retreated into their private quarters soon after, and once Big Boss had interrogated them for Kaz' exact location, he executed them, quietly and quickly while intentionally making as much as a mess as possible. He had no patience for mercy, and he wanted their comrades to find their brains splattered all over and across the floor and walls. Would they even care? He had no idea, but that would just be testatement to how rotten these people were, rotten to the fucking core.

If this weren't about Kaz, he might have been tempted to kill them all. But Kaz—Kaz was more important. Kaz needed him and he needed Kaz; he had to get him out of here, now. Safely.

And then, finally, he found him, in an abandoned, rundown shack—after twenty six hours, forty one minutes and no break. God, he looked like... had they—Calm now. There were still guards around, and he had to stay focused until they were out of the worst of it, he couldn't let his personal feelings overwhelm him now. Kaz was just another soldier. Was he even awake? Had he noticed him? Was he—

Don't panic. See there? He's breathing.

Heaving a heavy, shaky sigh, Big Boss quietly rushed to his fallen comrade, lowering himself to a crouch, placing his rifle on the ground so he had both hands free, one of them cold and metallic.

"Kaz," he said, cupping the other man's face, trying to get him to look at him—was his eye missing? Christ. "It's me. I'm here to get you out."

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[POST CYPRUS WORKOUTS] -- big boss@sinsneverdie, ocelot@ocelotandhorse

2013-07-31T11:48:13Z

Posted by: sinsneverdie

He hated this.

All of this—he couldn’t even tell what he hated most. The fact that he’d lost almost everything, or that he’d been sleeping nine years of his life away, his crippled body—or how about him being so fucking weak? Simple tasks that had been so easy and natural in the past had become impossible now. His skill with a gun was shit, and let’s not even talk about how much muscle he’d lost; all of which was painfully obvious and resulted in Ocelot’s men—and Ocelot himself—handling him with kid gloves, or at least, that’s what it felt like to him. Medication in the morning, afternoon and evening. Never take long walks around the compound without at least two men accompanying you.

Fuck that. Jack spent the majority of his day in the makeshift gym, yelling at the men until they finally left him alone, while Ocelot was too busy setting things into motion. Get a proper base. More men. Find out where they were keeping Kaz, without compromising his own standing with Cipher… he really had to wonder what was going on over there right now. Did they think he was dead? Had Ocelot fed them false information?

No matter. He had to concentrate on himself; he knew he could never completely become the person he had been before this mess, for multiple reasons, but he had to be strong again and steel himself for the war that was about to begin, and there would be a war, so god help him. He hadn’t even needed to tell Ocelot what he wanted—a new army—he’d gotten right on that at the first signs of him waking up. Diamond Dogs. Good enough.

So now, all he had left to do was train. And he did train—until exhaustion and beyond, pushing himself continously until every muscle in his body burned. Going on ten hours now, without a break, without sleep, food, or even much water. The prosthesis regularly gave him trouble, not doing what it should do, especially while he was bench pressing—but he didn’t even fucking care. Two hundred pounds now, if he could push it to two hundred and fifteen today still…

But his body was starting to rebel against its owner, and he could feel nausea coming on. The weights started slipping, his view became blurry. After some deliberation, he finally placed down the weights, and sitting up, he started to retch, almost toppling over. The entire bench was covered in sweat. His exposed body, too.

Too much. Too much at once, but there was no time… his one healthy hand reached for his face, wiping over it and then it ran through his damp hair. He took some deep breaths. Inhale, exhale. Five minutes, maybe the dizziness would pass…

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[RADIO CALL FOR OCELOT] -- big boss@sinsneverdie, ocelot@ocelotandhorse

2013-07-31T11:33:54Z

Posted by: sinsneverdie

You know, I’ve been wondering. About that monastery we passed by when we escaped from Cyprus… why’d you mention it?

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