[The feed suddenly comes on to a man dressed in absolutely garish cowboy gear, from his five-gallon hat to his leather boots with spurs. The only thing that seems strange about his attire is that underneath the poncho he's wearing is unmistakably a police uniform. He seems frustrated with his NV, because he's mumbling to himself as he tries to mess
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[Someone is WORSE AT THIS THAN HE IS.]
Sir, perhaps you should get some help with your NV, if you're having so much trouble.
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This thing talks?!
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Y'mean to tell me this dang-blasted thing is a phone, hombre? So who am I callin'?
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[So much facepalm.]
But the person you're speaking to now happens to be called Liquid.
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[He pauses at the name.] 'scuse me, hombre, y'think you could repeat that last part?
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"Hombre"? Yes, I happen to be called Liquid. Liquid Snake.
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That's right, hombre.
[He pauses again at the name, then just busts out laughing.]
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What the devil is a "hombre"? And what is so amusing?!
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Yer mama musta hahahated you, givin' you a name like Liquid! Oh lordy, that's too much!
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What, you gonna tell me they ran out of a codename budget and gave you the reject? Haha... Is the guy after you named "Plasma Weasel"?
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And you are an idiot.
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Sorry to hear you and whatever siblings ya might have didn't get raised by yer mama, though. [On the contrary, Liquid, he's not an idiot. He caught the "our surrogate".]
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...I didn't have a mama. That's why we had the surrogate. She was little more than an incubator. Chosen solely for the purpose of carrying his children, and removed from the equation soon afterwards.
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I know. You said "our surrogate", right? But she's still yer mama, by blood anyway. 'less you were raised by another lady, but by the sounds of it, you just had a daddy.
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