NaNoMaChines Submission
Title: What Reboots Couldn't Fix
Pairing: Big Boss/Zero
Word Count: ~700
Rating: PG
Summary: Big Boss and Zero need a lot of restarts. Also, behold BB's fear of vampires.
Notes: First part set at some point during young not-yet-BB's training days, second at the end of MGS3, third after Portable Ops.
Warnings: This is crack. Or angst. Or sickening fluff that's doomed anyway considering the dates. Not gonna lie, I'm almost too embarrassed to post it.
October 31, 1954
“Jack!”
He blinked in the darkness, nerves taut, awaiting response in case a squad of enemy agents leapt out of the shadows in the corridor. The Boss had warned him about this - the subtle but constant drum of paranoia, the inability to walk down a street without checking dark corners, all the side-effects that leading the life of a top-secret operative would impart on him, sooner rather than later. Like the fool he was, Jack had always assumed she was exaggerating.
Until he had found himself here, poised to attack in the middle of his own employer's hideout, on the first night off he'd had since the start of The Boss's tutelage. Must be a new world record, he thought bitterly.
Well, standing around wasn't going to get him anywhere; crouching, he darted across the carpet noiselessly, stopping just beside the door to listen in. Ear pressed to the unfeeling wood, he would have preferred anything - the sinister click of an empty gun barrel, the hostage's quickened breathing - anything at all to the frustrating, deafening silence he got instead. What if the Major had been knocked out - or worse - just because Jack had wasted time hesitating? Zero was no doubt capable of defending himself, but everybody could be taken by surprise.
There was nothing for it. Drawing his survival knife with ease well ingrained by now, Jack took a step back to knock the obstacle down.
And promptly fainted at the scene he uncovered.
*
“Jack! Jack, wake up!”
Coming back to his senses wasn't much different from any of the times he'd had to recover after getting knocked out by The Boss, but there was a substantial added dose of mortification when he recalled the circumstances that landed him on the floor in this dimly lit room. Dark corridor. Zero calling out to him. And Jack himself, breaking down the door...
“Jack, I'm sorry, that was a stupid thing to do. I had no idea--”
“Major...”
“Thank goodness, you gave me such a--”
“Did you just dress up as a vampire?”
As Jack's vision regained focus, the question was quickly rendered superfluous - Zero was sporting a dark velvet cape, complete with a gold chain holding it in place, and his entire office was crowded with candles and ominously carved pumpkins. Surveying all this with a clear head, Jack would sooner call it ridiculous than even remotely frightening. But that, of course, was now.
Zero looked accordingly embarrassed. “I wanted you to have a little fun for once, at your age...”
“But a vampire costume?”
Zero muttered something about silly American holidays and how one never knew how to celebrate them properly, upon which Jack burst out laughing in earnest. If the evening hadn't begun well, then a prompt restart was in order.
1964
Leaving seemed the only sane option, and Big Boss did so without a word.
Beginnings and ends had lost all meaning, anyway.
1970
“The Patriots, eh?”
“We thought you'd appreciate the irony,” Zero quipped effortlessly, leaning against the doorframe as Snake entered the new office. “We're an organization dedicated to The Boss, to what she really represented. And if there's anyone we need to have on board--”
“It's the clueless apprentice ordered to kill her.”
Zero fixed him with a decidedly unamused stare. “That's not what I was going to say.”
It was a good thing Snake's reflexes were so quick, or at least quick enough to suppress the automatic response of “Sorry, Major” that had almost made it past his lips. He shrugged, trying to cover it, but had the sneaking suspicion that his reaction had not only been noted, but meticulously filed away for later analysis.
“Snake,” came Zero's voice again, subdued, “it's true the times have been unfortunate. But if the few of us who know the truth are divided, what hope do we have?”
Taking the words at face value, they sounded honest. Approaching his former superior, Snake laid a hand on Zero's shoulder and thought about the present that could have been.
“Jack?”
He almost smiled. “Well, how many restarts do we have left?”
Pairing: Big Boss/Zero
Word Count: ~700
Rating: PG
Summary: Big Boss and Zero need a lot of restarts. Also, behold BB's fear of vampires.
Notes: First part set at some point during young not-yet-BB's training days, second at the end of MGS3, third after Portable Ops.
Warnings: This is crack. Or angst. Or sickening fluff that's doomed anyway considering the dates. Not gonna lie, I'm almost too embarrassed to post it.
October 31, 1954
“Jack!”
He blinked in the darkness, nerves taut, awaiting response in case a squad of enemy agents leapt out of the shadows in the corridor. The Boss had warned him about this - the subtle but constant drum of paranoia, the inability to walk down a street without checking dark corners, all the side-effects that leading the life of a top-secret operative would impart on him, sooner rather than later. Like the fool he was, Jack had always assumed she was exaggerating.
Until he had found himself here, poised to attack in the middle of his own employer's hideout, on the first night off he'd had since the start of The Boss's tutelage. Must be a new world record, he thought bitterly.
Well, standing around wasn't going to get him anywhere; crouching, he darted across the carpet noiselessly, stopping just beside the door to listen in. Ear pressed to the unfeeling wood, he would have preferred anything - the sinister click of an empty gun barrel, the hostage's quickened breathing - anything at all to the frustrating, deafening silence he got instead. What if the Major had been knocked out - or worse - just because Jack had wasted time hesitating? Zero was no doubt capable of defending himself, but everybody could be taken by surprise.
There was nothing for it. Drawing his survival knife with ease well ingrained by now, Jack took a step back to knock the obstacle down.
And promptly fainted at the scene he uncovered.
*
“Jack! Jack, wake up!”
Coming back to his senses wasn't much different from any of the times he'd had to recover after getting knocked out by The Boss, but there was a substantial added dose of mortification when he recalled the circumstances that landed him on the floor in this dimly lit room. Dark corridor. Zero calling out to him. And Jack himself, breaking down the door...
“Jack, I'm sorry, that was a stupid thing to do. I had no idea--”
“Major...”
“Thank goodness, you gave me such a--”
“Did you just dress up as a vampire?”
As Jack's vision regained focus, the question was quickly rendered superfluous - Zero was sporting a dark velvet cape, complete with a gold chain holding it in place, and his entire office was crowded with candles and ominously carved pumpkins. Surveying all this with a clear head, Jack would sooner call it ridiculous than even remotely frightening. But that, of course, was now.
Zero looked accordingly embarrassed. “I wanted you to have a little fun for once, at your age...”
“But a vampire costume?”
Zero muttered something about silly American holidays and how one never knew how to celebrate them properly, upon which Jack burst out laughing in earnest. If the evening hadn't begun well, then a prompt restart was in order.
1964
Leaving seemed the only sane option, and Big Boss did so without a word.
Beginnings and ends had lost all meaning, anyway.
1970
“The Patriots, eh?”
“We thought you'd appreciate the irony,” Zero quipped effortlessly, leaning against the doorframe as Snake entered the new office. “We're an organization dedicated to The Boss, to what she really represented. And if there's anyone we need to have on board--”
“It's the clueless apprentice ordered to kill her.”
Zero fixed him with a decidedly unamused stare. “That's not what I was going to say.”
It was a good thing Snake's reflexes were so quick, or at least quick enough to suppress the automatic response of “Sorry, Major” that had almost made it past his lips. He shrugged, trying to cover it, but had the sneaking suspicion that his reaction had not only been noted, but meticulously filed away for later analysis.
“Snake,” came Zero's voice again, subdued, “it's true the times have been unfortunate. But if the few of us who know the truth are divided, what hope do we have?”
Taking the words at face value, they sounded honest. Approaching his former superior, Snake laid a hand on Zero's shoulder and thought about the present that could have been.
“Jack?”
He almost smiled. “Well, how many restarts do we have left?”