So, uh, it's been a few years, but holy crap I've written a new story. Hopefully it's vaguely decent.
Disclaimers n' shit. As usual, I don't own any of the characters or copyright-able things here. Nope, not me, Hideo Kojima and Konami own anything to do with Metal Gear. I'm just playing god with their characters. Anyway, this is a story about how Snake fails to get any sleep (quite possibly based on a night I had, once.).
The Winged Behemoth
Such were the noises of protest Snake and Snake's joints made as he endeavoured to lie down without abusing any of the bruises, torn muscles and minor wounds he had sustained during the most recent mission.
The added jostling of the Nomad didn't help either. But at least the mission was over, and now he could catch up on the few hours of blissful sleep that the various enemy soldiers, bombs, Gekko and one highly hysterical (but devastatingly attractive) female scientist had denied him.
As he settled into his standard-issue military bunk, Snake let out a contented sigh as he reached for his beloved cigarettes. He lit up and inhaled deeply, filling his lungs before exhaling slowly. He took another drag and let out a contented sigh, "Ahhhhhhh". A few happy, smoke-filled minutes slid by as Snake slowly smoked the cigarette, his mind floating in a nicotine-fuelled bliss.
Snake's breathing lengthened and slowed, his body lulled into further relaxation by the cigarette and the low hum of the aircraft. With a soft snore, Snake fell asleep. Or, he would have done, if the Nomad hadn't hit a particularly bumpy patch of turbulence, causing him to drop his precious cigarette... Right onto his moustache.
The hairs promptly ignited, snapping Snake back into consciousness with a yowl of pain. He hastily batted at the smouldering hair with his sleeve. Luckily, the material was flame retardant, and within a few seconds the hair was no longer ablaze. Still in pain, Snake stumbled over to a nearby mirror, muscles protesting once more at the sudden movement, and assessed the damage.
It wasn't pretty. Directly in the middle of the once proud specimen was a perfectly circular hole, with a small burn left on the skin beneath. The moustache was neatly parted into two sections, making him look completely ridiculous.
"Hrrrr." Snake let out an exasperated groan and opened a storage locker, taking out shaving foam, burn ointment and a razor. After carefully applying the ointment, he lathered his upper lip in shaving foam … and shaved the moustache. A solitary tear ran down his face as he did so, this moustache had been with him through thick and thin for the last two years, and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to miss the hell out of it.
The ordeal over with, Snake climbed back onto the bed, grumbling under his breath. His entire upper lip felt naked now, and he could've sworn it felt colder. Eventually, his bad mood faded again into relaxation, and his mind drifted towards sleep once more.
Snake's eyes snapped open, pupils dilating as his eyes went wide. What the hell was disturbing his hard-earned, diamond-precious sleep now? He scanned the interior of the aircraft, searching for the culprit. Minutes passed as he fruitlessly searched every corner, every dark shadow. And then, just as he was about to abandon the pursuit, he saw it.
A single moth, about the size of his palm, was perched on top of one of Otacon's monitors, idly moving its wings back and forth. Snake fixed his eyes on it, a fierce scowl on his de-moustachio'd face. So this pathetic bug thought it could disturb his sleep, did it? That moth had no idea what was about to hit it..
Sadly, this wasn't to be the case.
Snake crept silently up behind the moth, arms extended, ready to grab the little bastard and crush the living hell out of it. A triumphant yell leapt out of him as he lunged at the moth, intending to grab it in one swift motion. This didn't happen. As he leapt forward, his foot snagged on a cable snaking (no pun intended) across the floor. Said cable immediately arrested his momentum, causing him to fall forward. Straight into the corner of the desk, which promptly left a large gash in his forehead.
Blood streaming into one eye, and with the beginnings of a minor concussion, Snake dragged himself upright, and looked ahead of him. The moth was still there, it hadn't moved a single inch. It was as if it was taunting him. In fact, he decided, it was. The moth knew what kind of day he'd had, and was determined to make his suffering endure as long as possible.
He angrily swiped at the moth, determined to a least knock it off its perch. The winged devil simply flew away, to land on a storage crate. Snake growled and lurched after it, still half-blind from the blood in his eye. Alas, this meant he didn't see the wooden lobster crate (what was that even doing there?) until it was far too late. His foot went right through, instantly becoming stuck. This caused Snake, yet again, to fall over.
At least he didn't fall on his face this time. No, instead, the hole his foot had made in the crate caught his leg at an odd angle. Something snapped, sending a flash of blinding pain straight up his leg. Snake saw red. He was going to murder this thing if it was the last thing he ever did.
He reached for his pistol. Surely that wouldn't betray him, a weapon that had been with him through many missions, and always been there in times of need. He flicked the safety off, screwed on the silencer, took aim, and fired … just as another drop of blood fell into his eye. His shot went wide, missing the infernal thing by a good couple of feet.
It almost seemed as if the bullet was travelling in slow motion, as Snake stared, unable to do anything as the errant projectile flew straight into a fire extinguisher. Which promptly discharged. Straight into Snake's face.
That was the last straw. He was blinded, bleeding heavily, he had one hell of a headache, his ankle might be broken and to top it all off, he was now covered in chemicals. Oh, and his moustache was still gone. He opened his mouth, took in as much air as possible, and screamed "OTACOOOOOOOON!"
Said otaku came barrelling down the stairs in a panic-driven frenzy. "Snake? Snake?! SNAAAKE?! What the hell is going on in here?" Otacon paused at the bottom of the stairs, taking in the devastation. His friend lay on the floor, covered in what appeared to be an entire fire extinguisher. His face was covered in blood and his foot was stuck in some kind of box. His friend was also yelling something. "Winged. Behemoth. Kill it! It'll destroy us all!"
Otacon was utterly confused until he spotted the thing Snake was wildly gesticulating at. It was … a moth? How could one tiny, harmless insect have utterly broken the world's greatest soldier? Deciding the questions could wait, Otacon activated the Mark II, which promptly extended a lead and zapped the moth, which fell to the floor, lifeless.
Snake could've cried. The enemy was vanquished, dead. His ordeal was finally over. He felt hands grip his shoulders as he was hauled upright. Otacon helped him over to a bunk, settling him down carefully. Exhausted, he fell back onto the bunk, and passed out. When he came to, the spray from the fire extinguisher had been cleaned off him, and the gash in his forehead had been carefully stitched up. His ankle was also sporting a rather bulky cast, that had been signed by Otacon and Sunny.
"Oh, you're awake. I was beginning to worry." Snake turned his head to find Otacon gazing at him over the top of a monitor. Snake grunted and sat up, reaching for his cigarettes. "Uh-uh, you can't have any smokes, Snake. Sunny's orders." said Otacon, "You're supposed to be recovering." Snake grunted, his mood worsening again. "Also, you haven't told me just how you came to be in that state."
Snake told him.
Weeks later, Otacon was still laughing.
So I think you'll all agree this was fairly silly, and hopefully funny. I don't know, it's been a few years since I've written any fanfics, but I found this one nestling away in my hard drive and felt compelled to finish it. Hopefully you enjoyed it, and any reviews would be appreciated. And yes, I couldn't resist doing the whole "OTACOOON!" "SNAAAAKE!" thing. Please excuse the horrible justification for it.