Deadly Poisonous Hamster Day

Deadly Poisonous Hamster Day

"Besides, I don't think you're cut out for an automatic in the first place," said the American soldier, keeping his gun trained on Ocelot as he writhed in pain on the ground. "You tend to twist your elbow to absorb the recoil. That's more of a revolver technique."

Revolver... He's giving me tips? Ocelot wondered. What's his angle? Who is this guy?

He wasn't the Boss-- He was someone else. Clear eyes. A smirking, patronizing son of a bitch.

"You-- filthy American dog!"

Ocelot sprang to his feet and barrelled straight at him, hands balled into fists. He didn't remember he still had a knife to use before the bearded soldier weaved around and caught him by the arm again, winching it behind his back. The soldier wrapped his own arm around the major's throat.

"But that was some fancy shooting," the man said quietly, close to his ear. "You're pretty good."

"Pretty... good..."

He couldn't reach back with his free arm to grab the knife with the man's body pressed against him. Ocelot swallowed painfully. The American soldier was cutting off his ability to breathe. Purple fireworks flashed across his vision.

"How old are you, kid?" the voice rumbled.

"G-go to hell..."

He was feeling faint. His head was throbbing. What little of his senses he still had hold of were possessed by the man's scent; a heavy, dominant smell he wasn't soon to forget-- or wanted to.

The American soldier reacted to Ocelot's whimpering and looked around to the front of the young major's pants.

"...Uh. Hm."

Awkwardly, the bearded man released him. Ocelot's knees wobbled beneath him and he collapsed into the dirt, too dizzy to think of hiding his erection.

"So this is the kind of officer they employ in the GRU, huh?" the American soldier growled, returning his gun to its holster. Apparently, he'd decided the threat was past; Ocelot wasn't doing much to disabuse him of the idea, being completely incapable of even getting back onto his feet. "Pathetic. Go home."

Ocelot snapped his head up, his face pink from rage as much as embarrassment. "I don't have to answer to you!"

"I don't have time for this..."

"Well, then--" His mouth contorted, as he struggled to work out something to say. "I--"

He stopped. Around him, the color had drained from the environment, and the American soldier had frozen completely still.

Two words appeared in the air in front of Ocelot.

TIME PARADOX

"What the--"

"Ocelot!" yelled a voice out of nowhere. "You can't go changing the future like that!"

"--Huh?!"

CONTINUE ◄
EXIT

Ocelot rocked unsteadily on his feet as time resumed. He still held his gun, and the men of his unit were still fanned out around them, their rifles trained on the bearded American soldier.

Wait. Didn't this just happen?

"GRU operatives..." the scientist Sokolov was saying, cowering next to the American.

Hold on, Ocelot protested in his mind. We just did this! What's going on?!

One of his men looked at him expectantly. "Major..?"

"What?" Ocelot snapped.

"You called us, so--"

"Yeah," the American soldier chimed in. "Pretty ridiculously, too."

Ocelot's cheeks flushed again. "You shut up!" he yelled at him. "And I am not 'that way,' all right?"

"...What?"

"Just now, you said--"

"What the hell is he talking about?" the man asked the nearest of the Ocelot unit, who shrugged.

"Don't acknowledge him!" Ocelot raged. "And you!" he added, returning to the American soldier. "You're not innocent in any of this, you know!"

"I don't even know you."

"That didn't stop you from making a fool of me before. I'm twenty, by the way, and that's old enough not to get pushed around just because of an accident!"

"...Uh..."

"Oh, don't tell me you forgot! It was only two minutes ago! I see how it is with you American pigs--"

"Uh. Major," one of his unit said meekly. "You did just get here..."

"I didn't ask for your opinion!"

"But Major," the Spetznaz soldier began, and then stopped. Everything stopped.

TIME PARADOX

"RGH! WHAT THE HELL?!" Ocelot shouted at the silent letters, as time froze again.

"You've created a time paradox! Don't mess with the future!" came the voice out of nowhere again.

"What future?! This is right now!"

"You have to understand the future!"

Ocelot threw his gun on the ground. "How can it be a time paradox if it hasn't happened yet?!" he demanded.

He tried to move around to the other side of the words, but they seemed to follow him. The bearded mystery man with the alpha male scent remained permanently out of his reach. Damn it all.

"Snake's mission is important!" the voice barked. "Pay attention!"

"Snake? Okay, whatever. Stupid name."

"I said pay attention, idiot!"

CONTINUE ◄
EXIT

He was back in place again, his automatic back in his hand. He glowered at Snake at the other end of the clearing.

Fine, Ocelot decided angrily. Strictly business this time.

That stupid man with his stupid smug look, looking all professional in that weird stance of his. Jerk. Embarrassing Ocelot in front of his men-- okay, that hadn't happened yet, but it damn well wouldn't this time.

"Nowhere to run now, Snake."

"We'll see about-- Wait," said the American soldier. "Who told you my name?"

"...Uh."

TIME PARADOX

"GOD DAMMIT."

"Ocelot, you can't do that! The future will be--"

"Fuck you, whoever you are!"

CONTINUE ◄
EXIT

It took a handful more tries, but Ocelot finally got through the meeting with Snake to the Voice's satisfaction. The day rolled forward without further incident, although he had to excuse himself early from dinner with Colonel Volgin and the Boss to go be in his bunk for a while.


-------------------------------------------------------------


The next day, Ocelot visited Acquisitions to harass the gun supplier about trading for a revolver underneath the table. The major didn't want to imagine the kind of punishment he'd receive if he didn't take Snake's advice.

He looked at a few good models and then his eyes settled on a single action army that seemed to gleam in the sunlight, with fine engraving across the metal. It was gorgeous and stylish and perfect. Or at least, it sounded perfect until he found he couldn't get the gun man to barter low enough for it. Ocelot selected a couple of plain SAAs instead.

TIME PARADOX

"Oh, for god's sake."

"Ocelot, you've created a--"

"I KNOW ALREADY."

CONTINUE ◄
EXIT

He forked out the ration cards for the engraved revolver while the gun man grinned. Ocelot snarled at him. He was probably in on it, the bastard.

Storming back to his unit with the revolver spinning around his finger, Ocelot reflected that maybe there was, indeed, a higher power at work here. If he saw Snake again --which, according to his employers, would be very soon indeed-- then surely the American soldier would be appropriately impressed with it. And impressed with him, by extension.

Maybe that's what these warnings from the future were trying to tell him. A message from the Philosophers, perhaps? About him and this Naked Snake specifically? Being a Philosopher agent since he was old enough to talk had its ups and downs, but he did like to think, now and then, that they cared about his well-being...

He passed the Boss on his way back to the Spetznaz barracks. So absorbed in his revolver, he barely noticed her.

"Day-dreaming?" she demanded, when he strode right by her.

Ocelot stopped and turned, momentarily dazed. "Do you think love can bloom, even on the battlefield?" he asked, before he could stop himself.

The Boss stared. "...What?"

TIME PARADOX

"You are in a dangerous state of mind, my friend," the Voice snarled.

"Well, what the hell was wrong with that one?" Ocelot demanded.

"About forty-one years and the wrong goddamn speaker. DON'T MESS WITH THE FUTURE, YOU LITTLE PUNK."

CONTINUE ◄
EXIT

Was it him, or was the voice getting angrier?

"Day-dreaming?" the Boss demanded, still scowling at him. She was always doing that, like he'd been disappointing her for years.

His knuckle was hurting. He stopped spinning the revolver and holstered it. "I'd watch myself, if I were you," he answered coldly.

She laughed scornfully. "The kitten's teeth are sharpest, but he doesn't know when to use them."

"What are you, my mother?"

"..."

"..."

Oh god, he felt it coming already.

TIME PARADOX

"Okay," he said toward the gray sky. "What was wrong with that one?"

"Nothing," the Voice shot back. "Just you being an idiot. I'm amazed you even lived this long, with all the intelligence of a turkey in a rainstorm."

Ocelot didn't get the reference, but it angered him nevertheless. "Hey! How dare you speak to me like that?" he demanded. "Who are you?"

"The one who isn't causing paradoxes the way some people sneeze," the Voice growled. "Now get back to work."

CONTINUE ◄
EXIT

-------------------------------------------------------------


"I see you've got yourself a single action army," Snake observed from ground level.

"That's right," Ocelot answered proudly, holding it up to the light. "There'll be no accidents this time."

"You call that an accident?" Snake smirked briefly. "Well, it wouldn't have happened if you hadn't been showing off."

Ocelot tightened his grip on the spy and trained the revolver on Snake again. "What did you say?!"

"It's a nice gun. I'll give you that," the American soldier went on. "But the engraving gives you no tactical advantage whatsoever. Unless you were planning to auction it off as a collector's item."

Ocelot ground his teeth. Was that the most he had to say about it? Nothing about the trick gunplay? About all the practice that he'd clearly put into this? All that damn target practice...

Ocelot's grip on the gun shook. He pulled it back, growling in frustration.

"And you're forgetting one more very basic thing," Snake continued, lowering his own piece. "You don't have what it takes to kill me."

A cold chill ran through Ocelot's body. Did he see something that Ocelot didn't see? About the future? Was that why he always seemed so cocksure and confident and oh god those eyes...

Professionalism! Ocelot reminded himself sharply. He aimed the gun again furiously. Snake would get what was coming to him for ridiculing him when he was trying to be earnest. "We'll see!" he shouted furiously, and pulled the trigger.

The crack of the shot echoed among the ruins. Snake jerked back, blood spraying from his throat.

So there, you manipulative walking pillar of testosterone, Ocelot thought victoriously, as the American soldier fell to the ground, gurgling in a pool of his own blood. Play with my emotions, why don't you--

TIME PARADOX

Ocelot sighed.

"All right, yeah, you've got a point."

CONTINUE ◄
EXIT

-------------------------------------------------------------


"DAMN IT!" Volgin bellowed, punching a barrel. "CIA dog! That leaves only the Fury! How can the legendary Cobras be beaten so easily?"

Ocelot, despite himself, felt something heavy in his chest. "He's good," he murmured.

"Fallen for him?" Volgin shot back.

Ocelot stopped twirling the Fear's crossbow. "So what?"

The Boss lifted her eyebrows. Now what the hell was with that look?

TIME PARADOX

Ocelot rolled his eyes and dropped the crossbow. "Man..."

"Is it that hard not to say anything?" the Voice asked, exasperated. "It's Volgin. No one's going to care how that sick fuck chooses to read people."

"Oh, now you're forthcoming with the hints."

"I didn't expect you'd need me to hold your fucking hand."

"It's hard to figure this out if I don't know what's causing it!"

"If you keep a clear head you should make it out just fine, boy."

CONTINUE ◄
EXIT

-------------------------------------------------------------


"What a beautiful body you have. Like a newborn baby." Volgin ran his rough palm over the rippling muscle. "But not for long..."

He drew the hand back and curled it into a fist, then delivered a hard punch into Snake's ribs. The prisoner pitched, gasping against the plastic bag covering his head. Volgin grunted and hurled another fist against that smooth, perfect body. And another. And another. His knuckles and fingernails ripped the skin and smeared blood all over Snake's flesh, steeping into his body hair. It glistened along with his sweat under the sole florescent light hanging above their heads.

Ocelot, hanging back in a corner, chewed his thumb and tried to think about ice cubes and math. It didn't really help.

"What is your target?" Volgin bellowed at their captive. "Is it the Shagohod? Or Sokolov? Or maybe it's the Legacy! Answer me! Who is helping you?!"

Snake took another hit to the stomach. He groaned and arched, the muscles of his arms trembling over his head. Ocelot felt a warm shudder run through his body. He couldn't take this any longer.

"Colonel," Ocelot spoke up, over the sound of fists on flesh. Volgin stopped, swinging his gnarled face over at him.

"What is it?" Volgin spat.

Ocelot swallowed and gestured politely at the door.

When they were safely outside, Ocelot almost broke down into giddiness. "Can I please take over for you, sir? Please?" he begged.

"What? Of course not!" Volgin snarled, curling up his already hideous nose.

"But you've opened your eyes, sir. I see now, it's the ultimate form of expression! Please, can I just have five minutes with him?"

He didn't know how he managed to convince him, but he did. When Ocelot reentered the torture chamber, he did so unaccompanied.

Ocelot slid the door shut quietly and strode over to the bleeding, shuddering body handing in the middle of the room. He started pulling his gloves off.

He had to admit, his heart was pounding. Any second now that damn Voice was going to cut him off, he was sure of it. Unless this was, somehow, how things were supposed to go? But then he still didn't know how he might yet screw it up. The Voice was still not a well of useful information.

Ocelot swallowed, though he still breathed heavily. The copper scent of blood together with the smell of Snake's sweat and fear was intoxicating. He had never seen a creature so alive. Not to mention, so at his mercy.

This is for the 481 times you pinned me with your shirt off, you bastard...

He reached out with a bare hand and grasped a nipple between thumb and forefinger. He felt Snake tense immediately, a shiver of terror running through his body even before Ocelot did anything. Smirking, Ocelot squeezed the little nub of dark skin between his fingers, pinching hard and twisting until Snake grunted and moaned in pain, cringing.

Ocelot released his grip and rubbed over the sore, red flesh with his thumb. This seemed to agitate more than confuse; with the bag over his head, Snake reacted honestly, like an animal, his lower body squirming uncomfortably to this rare kind of touch.

The major waited until Snake's panting subsided and the nipple was rock-hard beneath his thumb to withdraw. He curled his hand into a fist and drove it as hard as he could into the man's stomach, relishing the way he pitched forward and wheezed, his covered head pressing involuntarily against Ocelot's shoulder. He hit him a few more times, vigorously, drawing out a symphony of gasps and moans.

When he was satisfied, Ocelot ran his tongue along Snake's breastbone, lapping up a trickle of blood along with his sweat. The taste was perfect, just like he was. Thick, strong and male.

"You sick fuck," Snake rasped behind the plastic bag.

Ocelot dug his nails into Snake's side and dragged them down his flesh toward his hip until the man screamed. He dissolved into ragged panting again.

The major ran his tongue over his lips. He probably didn't time left to do this, but he was acting on instinct now. He wiped the blood off his nails onto Snake's pants and then went to the button of his fly.

Snake knew at once what he was planning. "You fuck!" he yelled, kicking out with his weary thighs. "You sick bastard!"

Ocelot grabbed his balls hard enough to discourage any quick movements. Snake buckled almost at once, wheezing spitefully and shuddering as Ocelot pulled out his cock. He started to rub it slowly, teasing the head and the underside of the shaft. Soon enough, despite every hateful, bitter little whimper, the member came alive in Ocelot's hand, hardening and growing slick from precome dribbling from the tip.

Snake moaned fitfully, alternately hanging his head and trying to bury his covered head against his arm. Ocelot's heart was racing out of control. To think he could get this level of response from this hardened, battered creature. What a marvelous body.

Ocelot knelt down in front of him, disregarding the puddle of blood beneath them. He licked his lips again and opened his mouth, cupping a firm buttock with each hand as he leaned forward to take Snake in--

TIME PARADOX

--It felt like a popsicle.

"YOU. IDIOT."

Ocelot spat the time-frozen thing out of his mouth and climbed to his feet, flushing with rage.

"What? What did I do wrong?" Ocelot demanded furiously.

"Your skin is softer than Volgin's, you moron!" the Voice shouted. "You think he isn't smart enough to figure it out? He can't know that it's you! This is going into his memoirs!"

"This is going into his memoirs? This part?"

"Heh, not this, exactly. But he won't be able to gloss over the fact you were involved in his torture."

"I'm not supposed to torture him? But--" He clenched his jaw, trying to calm his own nagging hardon. "That's not fair."

"Tough. You can't go changing the future like that, you little prick. Now, if you can't get your little teenage wish fulfillment without giving yourself away, just play it straight like usual."

"...Playing it straight is getting a lot tougher lately," Ocelot ground out testily.

"Oh, bitch, bitch."

"Oh, what, you fucking cockblock, is the future that totally dependent on me never fucking this guy?"

"Watch your mouth, you pussy little faggot. And yes."

Ocelot blinked, stunned. He wasn't expecting a response quite that direct.

"...Who are you?" he demanded. The Voice seemed increasingly familiar, but he couldn't from where.

"I'm saving the goddamn world. Who are you?"

CONTINUE ◄
EXIT

-------------------------------------------------------------


He didn't want to believe it, but after more than a dozen attempts Ocelot had to concede there was, indeed, some cosmic force determined to keep him from having sex with this man. Every torture room interlude failed. Trying to rape him in his sleep in his cell failed. Asking that they talk it out at the mouth of the sewer following his escape failed. Although in fairness, at that point Snake was missing an eye and most of his blood, so he was probably not in a good mood to discuss it.

Somehow, going through Snake's utility pack and eating all of his food didn't raise any red flags at all. He decided the timestream had written off the man's gear entirely and took Snake's spare set of briefs into bed with him. Things were fine until he ejaculated onto them, at which point time froze again and he received a half-hour tongue-lashing from that asshole Voice again.

Fine. Don't touch the gear. Don't try to seduce him at the waterfall. But Ocelot was going to eat every last morsel of the bastard's food if it meant he was going to throw up for a week.

"Are you all right, sir?" one of his unit asked him, after he had encountered a less-than-edible flying squirrel.

"Fine," Ocelot grumbled, and retched again.


-------------------------------------------------------------


It was a blessing when he finally received a radio update from his employers. With that, things were beginning to bear the slightest resemblance to logic around this place. At least, he saw why the Voice was so intent on keeping Snake alive, and why he, Ocelot, was compelled even more to chase him. At this point, he was probably more attached to the rat bastard than his own mother.

Following the bombing, it took eight tries to successfully chase him from Groznyj Grad without either killing him or getting killed. It seemed that even with the Voice's ability to stop time for Ocelot, there were enough uncertain variables that nothing played out exactly the same way twice. Where a bullet would fly, for instance, or how fast that woman could hug tight turns on her bike while being pursued by the Shagohod. Finally, with enough goading and missiles, the CIA man and his plucky spy friend cleared the worst of it, and Ocelot didn't get run over either.

Overcoming setbacks on the airfield, he found a functional hovercraft in a ditch and continued across the shattered bridge in it. He arrived in a muddy field at the end of the road just in time to see Snake, an RPG-7 on his shoulder, crushed under the Shagohod's front tread.

...

WHAT?

In wordless panic, Ocelot leapt off the hovercraft when it was still ten feet off the ground. He hit mud and scrabbled back onto his feet, losing his beret in the process. He forgot it. He raced toward Snake's prone, shattered body, boots sliding dangerously in the muck, ignoring the TIME PARADOX message across his vision even as it flashed irritably for him to notice it. Across the field, that spy woman had leapt off her bike and frozen mid-sprint, her hair still flying behind her. Even the roar of the Shagohod had gone silent. But Ocelot kept running.

"Just stop it already, you little pansy," the Voice ordered, annoyed.

Ocelot ignored him. This wasn't even the first time he'd seen Snake dead, but after so long running up against these constant barriers, and not being able to even jerk off properly, it was all getting to be too much.

"He-- I just want to see him--"

"This is pathetic."

Finally, Ocelot's boot hit the mud a wrong enough way that he slipped and fell forward. Around him, everything blinked out.

PRIME TARADOX

Ocelot, finding his eyes closed, tried opening them.

At first, he was unable. The light was too bright. He peeled his eyelids back the tiniest bit and squinted through the pure-white glare, seeing absolutely nothing.

Eventually, as his eyes adjusted a little, a shadow to his left began to resolve itself. It was the only dark shape in a featureless white space. He turned to face it, knowing without being told who it was.

"...So you're the guy who's been talking to me," he said, seeing the figure.

"And you're so infinitely pointless it's a wonder you ever survived," the Voice countered.

As his visage became clearer, Ocelot made out an aged face of a man somewhere in his 60s, with long gray hair knotted in a loose ponytail, and a thick moustache. He seemed familiar, but Ocelot didn't know why.

"Care to explain that last one to me?" the older man growled.

Ocelot was momentarily taken aback. He'd spent what felt like several weeks arguing with this voice, but seeing it attached to a face was something different.

He recovered quickly enough. He snarled, "This isn't fair."

"Oh, cry me a river," the old man sniffed.

"Look, this is hard, okay?"

"Are you twelve years old? Is this your first boy-crush? Then get the hell over it. Or don't, in fact. That's the point."

"What do you mean?"

"We've been over this. You can't fuck him. Ever."

Ocelot felt colder than he had in the field. "That's not what it's--"

"Oh, yes, it is," the old man said knowledgeably, lifting his left index finger. He wore a red glove not unlike Ocelot's own. "And it's the thing that's going to keep you going for the next forty or fifty years, if I've got any say in it."

"Fifty years?!"

"Call it taking one for the team. Feel free to fuck anyone else, of course. But he's out of reach."

"But why?"

"Because that makes your choices easier."

"What?"

"Am I speaking a language you haven't taken yet?" the old man sneered. "Because he's the reason for everything. If you think it's tough now, just wait eight years when you're jerking off to him every night and then crying like a little bitch about it. Wait till you're forty and you're knee-deep in Rainmaker scams and dog shit and he's the only thing that still makes sense to you. You get it now? Getting dicked by that son of a bitch is completely out of the question."

Ocelot didn't want to know what color his face was right then. "How... How do you know any of that?"

The old man cocked an eyebrow at him, irritated. "Was I ever actually this dense? What do you think, you moron?"

What did he think? The way he was talking, the guy was either God, which seemed unlikely, or...

Ocelot's eyes widened. "You're--"

"Glad you finally decided to join us."

"But you're so--"

"Don't even go there, my friend."

"And you're..." Ocelot looked over his body, taking in the awkward assortment of worn clothes, the wrinkles, the-- "You... you don't have a right arm," he exclaimed. A terrible sense of dread overtook him. "Oh my god, I lose a hand?!"

"Don't be such a pussy."

"But I like that hand! That's my best hand!"

"Yeah, you might want to consider practicing that ambidexterity thing a little more..."

Ocelot held his head, gaping at the empty space where his older self's arm should be. "H-how did it even happen?"

"A ninja."

"A what?"

"A goddamn ninja. Are you deaf too?"

"Oh, god..."

"This," the older Ocelot said, lifting what remained of his appendage, "is a trifle, my friend. And you better get used to that thought. Where you're going there's lots of sacrifice ahead. One long, thankless grift."

"...Is..." Ocelot covered his face and took a breath. A certain numbness was starting to take over. His hands dropped, leaden, at his sides. "Is it worth it, at least?" he asked.

His older self shrugged. "Who knows? You probably won't live to see the result."

"You're not exactly selling this very well..."

"You don't have a choice."

"None?"

"Not for you."

Something knotted inside the younger Ocelot's chest. He stared at that missing arm, unable to look away. And that was the least of his future worries...

"...Does it stop hurting after a while?"

"Christ, kid, I only got it off last night. We're in a safehouse in Lyon right now. By the time I wake up they'll have me stitched up with somebody else's and pumped with enough anaesthetic to kill a horse. Miracles of modern fucking medicine, my friend."

Young Ocelot swallowed, feeling nauseous. That actually wasn't the hurt he was talking about, but any other variety was probably not going to get a terribly warm reception.

"So what now?" he asked finally.

"Now you go back and play your part," his future self answered. He scratched absently at a scab caked over the stump of his right arm. "We're nearly there, and I'm nearly awake. After this you can go back to fucking up however you like; it probably won't affect anything."

"And Snake?" Ocelot asked anxiously.

"What did I tell you? Fifty years, my friend. If it was as simple as death, this whole plan of mine would've lost steam ten years ago."

"So I'm in love with him?"

"If you want to use the little bitch word, certainly."

"Fine. What would you use?"

The old Ocelot snorted. There wasn't a word for it.

CONTINUE ◄
EXIST

-------------------------------------------------------------


Ocelot yanked the bullet from its chain around his neck, fixing Snake with dead set gaze.

"What do you say to one last showdown?"

The muscles beneath Snake's lifeless eye twitched. "Yeah... all right."

These past few days had been so surreal for Snake, and none of it stranger than this boy Ocelot. Where else could things go, at this point?

He handed the kid his empty revolver, identical to the SAA Ocelot held in his other hand. Snake watched him stick the bullet into one of the chambers and once again start his stylish gun tricks, juggling them over one another and passing them behind his back. Snake tracked it back and forth as best as he could with his limited perception.

And then, suddenly, Ocelot stopped. He sighed.

"I've had weeks of this," he announced abruptly and nonsensically.

"Weeks of what?"

"I'm sick of it."

He opened both revolver chambers, and the little gleaming bullet dropped out of the left one. He threw both guns over his shoulder and grabbed Snake by shirt.

Snake's CQC instincts kicked in, raising his arms to throw the kid off. Before he was able to, however, Ocelot closed the distance between them, crushing their mouths together.

Snake, at a complete loss, merely froze. The part of him responsible for processing every insane thing that had happened in the past few days --from men covered in bees to Volgin exploding in fireworks to the blood-red flowers where, even now, his mentor lay-- finally shut down in protest.

In the pilot seat, EVA stopped shouting about the altitude enough to scoff. Snake had a feeling she was rolling her eyes.

Snake glanced around him. The kid was still kissing him, showing no signs of letting go any time soon, as if the entire outside world had simply ceased to exist. True, the boy had gone from earning his respect to being creepily obsessive toward the end, but Snake wasn't aware he'd been encouraging this. It was like the stupid kid was programmed for self-humiliation.

Ocelot, his eyelashes fluttering against Snake's cheek, slowly opened his eyes, coming uncomfortably close to Snake's remaining one. Then his eyes drew open wide, panicked and confused, looking side to side as if for some cue that he should stop. He released Snake's shirt and backed up awkwardly.

"Uh."

"Huh."

"That wasn't..." Ocelot began.

Snake smirked derisively. "Not another of your 'accidents,' I hope."

"No! God, what is going on?" He rubbed his forehead, staring wide-eyed at the floor. "I better go."

"That what you came all the way out here for?"

Ocelot looked up at him. He looked ten years older and completely shellshocked. "I have no idea," he confessed.

Without further ado, the boy left the way he had come in. He hit the water hard and rolled several feet along the shallow riverbed. The WiG finally gained the lift it needed and began to ascend, leaving him behind.

"...Huh," Snake said again.

He climbed back to the copilot seat beside EVA.

"He get what he wanted?" EVA asked wryly.

Snake massaged his lower lip. At least the boy hadn't tried out advanced techniques mid-action this time. Snake wasn't entirely sure how he'd have responded.

"...Gonna save, I think," he muttered.

"Good idea."

He switched his frequency to Para-Medic's channel. The good doctor's voice crackled in his earpiece.

"Everything all right, Snake?"

"Dandy," he answered. "Just wanted to--"

"Hey, Snake. Have you ever seen My Beautiful Laundrette?"

Why was she still doing this? "No," Snake answered.

"It's a beautiful story about the son of a Pakistani journalist working in England. He asks his uncle for a job running this old run-down laundromat he owns. His friend from high school goes into the business with him, and the two end up resuming a romance they had in high school."

"A romance, huh."

"Yes, it was so sweet to see such an everyday, believable same-sex couple. You just don't see that a lot these days. The friend was played by Daniel Day Lewis, who--"

"Wait. When did this come out?"

"1985."

"..."

"Something the mat-- urk!"

Snake heard something like a bang, and then a body tumbling. He heard Para-Medic making little gibbering noises in the background.

"...Para-Medic?"

"Aw, shit, man!" It sounded like Sigint, yelling to Zero. "I think she's having a seizure! Major, call a medic. A different one!"

"What's going on?" Snake demanded. "Sigint! What happened to Para-Medic?!"

"Nothing to worry about, Snake," Major Zero said crisply, taking over Para-Medic's microphone. "I think a soft-reset is in order at this point, just to be safe."

"Soft-reset? But I haven't saved since--"

"It's for the best, Snake, trust me on this."

"But... all those battles... And the Boss. I killed the Boss. She was the only one I..."

"Well, I'm afraid you'll just have to kill her again."

"..."

"Snake! That's an order!"

Snake hung his head. EVA touched his shoulder gently, though it was little consolation.

L1+L2+R1+R2+SEL+START

rrt. whrrrr...

...

...



Ocelot was happily drowning himself in four inches of water when those accursed words found him again.

TIME PARADOX

He pulled himself morosely into a sitting position, expecting the usual verbal beating from his older self. However, no such voice came down from above, just the usual options.

CONTINUE
EXIT

Why were they asking him, anyway? Since when was it his choice?

...

He sighed.

CONTINUE ◄
EXIT