(no subject)
WHO: Solidus (open)
WHERE: Bar
WHAT: Dealing with meta-angst, the Area 42 way.
It had taken a long time for him to get out of the exoskeleton, but he couldn't very well go out for a drink decked out in bulky high-tech combat armour, now could he?
And he damn well needed a drink.
Solidus was currently having a whiskey- the same drink George Washington had once brewed- wearing a long, flowing dark cloak over some military fatigues he'd scrounged up. There were some civilian clothes in his room, but he simply didn't feel comfortable in them. He'd had enough of civilian life- and clothing- while playing President for the Patriots. It was true that he was more vulnerable this way, but even without the suit Solidus Snake was far from helpless. He almost hoped some assassin would take a crack at him, if only to give him an excuse to let off steam and demonstrate his prowess to the base.
There were a number of reasons he was here. First, if he didn't take a break from looking at screens, his one remaining eye was going to roll out of its socket. Since accepting the truth, he'd been devoting his time to assimilating every scrap of information about the people he was in here with, which mainly involved an extraordinary amount of Internet searches. In between research, his time was eaten up with playing the games based on his life and the lives of his family- a truly bizarre and informative experience which had set off a whole new round of existential uncertainty. It was hard for someone who'd based his life on the idea of writing his own destiny to confront his fictionality so head-on. Which was the second reason he was here.
The third reason was networking. He needed people he could at least use as contacts if he was going to restart his revolution. What better place to begin than a bar?
The whiskey was good too, of course...
WHERE: Bar
WHAT: Dealing with meta-angst, the Area 42 way.
It had taken a long time for him to get out of the exoskeleton, but he couldn't very well go out for a drink decked out in bulky high-tech combat armour, now could he?
And he damn well needed a drink.
Solidus was currently having a whiskey- the same drink George Washington had once brewed- wearing a long, flowing dark cloak over some military fatigues he'd scrounged up. There were some civilian clothes in his room, but he simply didn't feel comfortable in them. He'd had enough of civilian life- and clothing- while playing President for the Patriots. It was true that he was more vulnerable this way, but even without the suit Solidus Snake was far from helpless. He almost hoped some assassin would take a crack at him, if only to give him an excuse to let off steam and demonstrate his prowess to the base.
There were a number of reasons he was here. First, if he didn't take a break from looking at screens, his one remaining eye was going to roll out of its socket. Since accepting the truth, he'd been devoting his time to assimilating every scrap of information about the people he was in here with, which mainly involved an extraordinary amount of Internet searches. In between research, his time was eaten up with playing the games based on his life and the lives of his family- a truly bizarre and informative experience which had set off a whole new round of existential uncertainty. It was hard for someone who'd based his life on the idea of writing his own destiny to confront his fictionality so head-on. Which was the second reason he was here.
The third reason was networking. He needed people he could at least use as contacts if he was going to restart his revolution. What better place to begin than a bar?
The whiskey was good too, of course...