Snake hobbled into the motel room clutching his side. Hot blood still poured over his fingers but luckily the bleeding had slowed when he stopped running. Plissken was uncertain and didn't want to look at the wound. He knew the potential of an AR 15 at that range. He had used one enough during the war. Slamming the door shut he sat cautiously on the bed and removed his hand. Plissken stared at the gaping hole blankly. His mind was elsewhere. Carjack had disappeared and Snake took a deep breath trying to curb the rage as it ignited like gasoline thrown to fire.
That breath brought back reality with sharp pains shooting through his body. It was a clean hole when Snake finally took in what was before his eye but the bullet was still lodged deep in the flesh. He reached around to pull Taylor's old tool kit from his belt. That one movement seemed to hurt more then being shot but he managed. Holding the forceps in his hand he contemplated the wound. God did he hate that flighty bastard.
Resigning himself to the necessary surgery he laid the utensil on his leg. He clenched his teeth preparing for the pain of removing his shirt. He pulled it off and there was intense pain but it was drowned out by hatred. Taking the forceps in hand he pushed them into the bullet hole to extract the metal chunk lodged in his flesh. His mind remained focused on Carjack and the moment he promised Snake he would be there to pick him and Texas Mike up in Cleveland. The bastard never showed.
Plissken threw the chunk of metal at the wall as soon as it appeared from the wound leaving a red dot on the far wall. Snake stared at that bloody dot imagining the wall was Carjack's head, his fist was the gun and the bullet had screamed through the air slamming into his head. That was not the case and Snake seethed with fury until his eye fell on Mike's portable phone.
Without hesitation Plissken picked it up and dialed Carjack. There was no answer but the recording of the voice he so hated nearly drove Snake to crush the fragile piece of equipment. Slowly he pulled himself to calm as the recording rambled on. When the beep finally came he was the deathly silence before a storm.
"Carjack, it's Snake. You better hope I never see you again. If I do, I'm going to kill you."
Snake hung up the phone by hurling it at the red dot on the wall. Shattered bits fell to the floor with a pleasant clatter. Plissken forced himself to his feet with a soldier's resolve. Pulling on his shirt and jacket, he tucked the tool kit into his belt and headed for the door. His mind still lingered on the red dot and Carjack's head exploding under the pressure of a bullet. That would have to wait for another day. Right now Snake needed to slither away into hiding until the hive of cops he'd stirred up settled and once more thought he'd never be back.