Snake woke drowsy and he couldn't get his mind around what was going on. Christ, did he have a headache. Plissken strained to remember what had happened the night before but nothing came to mind. He brought his hands to his face attempting to brush away the haze but it only further aggravated the throbbing behind his temples. The fog that filled his mind just wouldn't shake.

The burning light shining in on his still closed eyelid didn't help matters. Whatever had happened last night, he swore he'd never do it again. Snake had never felt this bad in all his life.

"Morning."

Snake felt soft lips brush against his and the smell of intoxicating perfume. It was the kind of smell that went straight to the head. Whatever happened last night, Plissken wished he could remember it if it involved lips like these ones. Snake stole another kiss as she pulled away. "Where you going?"

"It was nice Hot Shot but I got to go. Such a shame." The voice was amazing like silk but Snake didn't hear anything after "Hot Shot". No one called him that anymore except…. Snake's eye flew open, straining against the oppressive sunlight and was filled with his nightmare. She was in a black uniform, the eagle blazing in white on her shoulder.

"SHIT!" Snake wasn't sure if he'd spoken but he was moving to get up. It was a blackbelly bitch! Of all the low, vile things. They'd paid a woman, one of their own, to seduce and drug him. The thought made him burn inside but the nausea from sitting up quenched that fire before it got going. Plissken forced down the sickness. He had to get dressed. He pulled on his shirt and pants still leaning on the bed. His boots were a pain in the ass to deal with in this state and Plissken found himself gagging from exertion.

Hastily, he clipped the holsters on and grabbed his jacket. Push, Snake. He mentally encouraged himself trying to overcome something that could only be described as the hangover from Hell. Hungover from what? Snake had no idea. Plissken's knees felt like rubber when he stood. They refused to hold his weight and he stumbled clinging to the wall for support.

"Too late big boy."

He glared as the bitch reached for the door handle. Snake wasn't one for hurting women but this one; he could imagine beating her to death with ease. The throbbing surged again and Snake clenched his teeth refusing to give into the queasiness. He wanted to run but nothing was working. Snake's vision blurred into a drug induced trail punctuated by someone pounding on his skull with a sledgehammer for the feeling behind his eyes. Sight wasn't needed to know what was coming. It sounded like water buffalo were stampeding down the hall outside toward the room.

Rushed and feeling trapped Plissken drew a revolver still holding on to maintain his balance. The first one came in and Snake took a shot. Nothing happened. Plissken looked at the gun confused before it dawned on him. The bitch had unloaded his guns. FUCK! He had to run now and he struggled with his unresponsive body. Turning to the window behind him seemed to run in slow motion while the black uniformed bastards were approaching fast. Instinct was burning a fever pitch and he jumped through the window to the fire escape beyond.

Plissken's head pounded with fury as he hit the iron work platform. It was too much to take but he had to move. Snake started to crawl toward the opening. Stairs… his mind pushed him toward that opening even if all he saw was white, throbbing haze. His hand reached for the stairs and groped empty space. He'd put too much of his weight into that motion and he floundered with his spinning head. Sirens screamed in the alley pushing his vision to a white blur so bright it burned his good eye as much as the bad one. Plissken wrestled to keep his balance but every movement seemed to make it worse as the swirl in his head turned into a vortex. It took hitting the ground for him to realize he was falling or had fallen.

Pain shot through his leg from the ankle mingling with the pounding in his temples. Snake was certain he'd broken something on the way down but his mind couldn't stay with one thought. Every time something cleared the pain swallowed it and even moving became impossible. He cursed the blackbellies and the booze because he could do nothing else at the moment. Internally, though he childe himself for falling for this kind of bullshit. They'd never let him live this one down. His eye rolled back and he felt his conscious slipping. Maybe he'd die now and forego Malloy taunting him about this lame capture. At least, he was getting some. It was the perfect comeback for that moment to come and he could just imagine the look of horror on his face when he asked for a cigarette after a line like that.