Comments | conscripted: The Ripple Effect

philanthropism in conscripted

The Ripple Effect

Oct 13, 2009 04:20

Characters; Solid Snake, Ocelot
Setting/Location; Verity's base, south of the soldiers' cabins.
Date & Time; Arrival day; night.
Warnings; Language, possible violence, implications of *~spooky activity~*, Snake in a wet skin-tight sneaking suit.
Briefing; Not taking too kindly to being forcibly drafted, Snake strikes out on his own and attempts to ( Read more... )

ocelot, solid snake, *country: verity

Comments 5

fancy_shooting October 13 2009, 11:41:16 UTC

"Hah. I thought I might find you out here... Snake."

The statement came with a ringing of spurs, a pitch above the light patter of rainfall. It also accompanied a wide gesture of red-gloved hands, a slightly malicious smile, a swagger of revolver-weighted hips, and a voice that would be younger than any close matches in memory but familiar in its inherent sultriness and confidence.

Ocelot moved one hand forward to loosely fingerbang at Snake in greeting. He hadn't been outside as long as the stealth operative, and his uniform was hardly wet. He hated the rain, didn't hate it any less after three months of the mostly-poor weather. All his bravado failed to entirely cover up the impression of "wet cat" after too much time outdoors.

But the sight of John (or so he thought) cheered him up and made him forget the dampness immediately. It was a little hard to see him in the darkness and drizzle, but Ocelot could still admire dat ass the strange new suit he wore.

philanthropism October 14 2009, 03:48:41 UTC

He knew that sound. How could he not? Most would associate the jingling with dusty westerns and blustering, arrogant young cowboys looking to make a quick living in Deadwood, but the first image that came to mind before all of that was far less vivid and far more singular -- a sneaky, unreadable half-smile framed by an old face that was heralded danger and betrayal and sadism.

Should have known.

And yet, be it through the repetition of experience, pessimism, the tiny hope that he wasn't the only one from home to be dragged here, or a combination of all three, Snake was not surprised. Not at all. As the saying went, trouble came in droves and you could only expect things to get worse before they improved. Looked like this was one such occasion.

He dug his booted heels into the muddy ground, raising the SOCOM that had been by his side all night to point directly at the source of the rattling and, eventually, voice.

...Which, he had to concede, sounded far lighter than he would've expected. Not as raspy as he'd remembered.Must've ( ... )

fancy_shooting October 14 2009, 16:00:50 UTC

His hand moved with fluid ease, snatching a revolver from its holster and bringing it up to aim at Snake.

The gesture, while threatening in nature, held no threat in Ocelot's stance and expression. It was a greeting, a game, a test.

"Out here all alone?" he asked amiably, twirling the gun and holstering it again after only a few seconds of false standoff, unconcerned by the SOCOM. "It's getting late. You might see a ghost."

philanthropism October 15 2009, 03:03:06 UTC

That practiced flick of the wrist was all too familiar, but there was that voice again, come to mess things up and send a squirming worm of doubt into his mind--
(you mean I'm not looking at one already?)
--that may just have had an effect on his vision, too. He narrowed his eyes, squinting into the darkness to peer at the elusive glimmer of half-shine that reflected off the barrel of the other's revolver and followed it up to the hand that held it, then to the arm...

A ghost, indeed.

That was the closest comparison he could make to what he was looking at right now. He would've been content to embrace the initial 'wrong guy' trigger that popped into his head upon realization that his eyes weren't tricking him, that the person he was currently facing was a kid rather than a sixty-something year old gunslinger, but there were too many similarities. Too much proof and too little conviction that this was a freak accident case of a mistaken identity.

(and he didn't deny it -- you called him Ocelot and he embraced the accusation as ( ... )

fancy_shooting October 18 2009, 02:28:08 UTC

Score one for Snake, being the first to accurately recognize the other.

"They don't," he admitted, scraping a spray of water off of a sleeve with his hand as if he were brushing off dust. He wasn't soaked yet, but he was starting to get there. "But most don't like being inside all the time, either. Especially when there's such interesting things to find out here..."

Prey.

The SOCOM was still ignored, as if it didn't exist in Snake's hand. John wouldn't shoot him, especially not unchallenged, but they were always pointing guns at each other. Well, Ocelot was at least. It was a weird gun, but the crazy tight suit was a better curiosity for the contemplative eye.

"So let's talk inside, then." The same grin, perpetually mocking. "We have much to go over."