With Simon lying unconscious on a warm, grated floor, what better time is there to go into his backstory? This drabble takes place during the fabled "Cold-Blooded War," which we have treated very casually so far despite it confirming the existence of both sentient reptiles and a major armed conflict in Zootopian history. To be fair, casually dropped bombshells are the most fun.

And speaking of bombshells, let's genre shift and turn this into a war story! Don't expect much of a tone shift though. It's still us.

Drabble 4: Operation Snake Beater

Giraffrican Jungle

Outer Heatin'

2300 Hours

War.

War never changes.

But it sometimes got very silly.

Elite Delta Fox mercenary Simon Charles Maskovich was leaning against the side of a plane's hold, impatiently drumming his claws against the metal surface. After a while, even the high altitude and the enormity of the mission that awaited him faded into a dull hum. Right now, he was just impatient to get the show on the road.

He came fully prepared, of course, suited up in a full uniform of brown/green camo gear, a small, concealed handgun, a less concealed assault rifle, a combat knife, several grenades, emergency medical supplies, and a cute little beret. It was Karen VanDal, his commanding officer, who suggested that last one, saying it gave him more "character." He was going to need all of that he could get once he touched down.

Simon never thought the Cold-Blooded War would take him so far from his homeland of Zootopia, but the Scalies were playing increasingly dirty in their efforts to take that homeland from him. Their own home, the Sauriet Union, was a bitterly cold piece of rock in a state of perpetual winter, which posed a bit of a problem for a class of animals who were vulnerable to low temperatures. To circumvent this, the city was powered by what they referred to as an artificial sun, and what the rest of the world more accurately called a giant heat lamp. It provided all the warmth the city would ever need, but they weren't satisfied with that, seeking to expand their territory into warmer lands so as not to be imprisoned by their own climate.

It was to that end that Sauriet military footholds began popping up all over the place, some more dangerous than others. One of the most pressing was a large fortress established in the middle of Giraffrica by serpentine commander Big Boa. It was known as Outer Heatin', where soldiers would always have a place to be warm and toasty. Rumor had it that Big Boa was working on some kind of secret weapon, but their last agent sent in, one White Fox, had been captured before she could tell them much of anything. So now it was up to Simon to swoop in, rescue White Fox, and stop whatever the hell the Scalies were up to all by himself.

Sometimes, this job was just too easy.

His earpiece crackled, the piercing sound making him wince. It was a firm reminder that he wasn't going to be by himself as Karen's voice came through. "Ready to roll, agent? As usual, we'll need to establish code names before entering enemy territory. For this mission, you will refer to me as 'Major Pain.'"

He smirked. "I think I can manage that."

"Don't laugh too hard now. Your name will be 'Hot Fuzz'."

His smirk vanished. "That's a rather...suggestive code name."

"Don't flatter yourself, Hot Fuzz. Now you better get ready. You've almost reached the drop point."

He tried his best to ignore it. "I've been ready. The only intel I've gathered so far is the number of bolts on the inside of this hold."

"I just hope you can-"

"714."

"I just hope you can put those observational skills to better use down there, because here comes the drop now."

Simon was already putting his helmet and parachute on. It was all he could do to keep from flinging himself out of the plane prematurely. At the pilot's signal, the raccoon opened the doors, letting in a sudden rush of warm wind. Taking a deep breath, because even with his experience there was nothing fun about a TAILO jump, Simon spread his arms and leapt out of the hanger, falling through the back of the plane towards the dense jungle below.

The wind whipped against Simon's face as he plummeted downwards. The fall itself wasn't that scary anymore, though there was always the slim chance that his parachute would fail to trigger and end his mission before it even started. That was the only fear he had, if only because he knew Karen would never shut up about it at his funeral. He did not want to be remembered as the jackass who became a splat in the middle of the jungle.

Reasonable odds were with him though, and after disentangling himself from a tree or two, Simon's feet touched down on the grassy landing with no further issues. After getting his bearings and making sure the coast was clear, he called Karen before she could beat him to it. "I'm in."

"Nice landing, Hot Fuzz. Might want to take a second and make sure you didn't get a splinter anywhere...unpleasant."

"I'm fine," he grunted. "Guess you would know what having a stick up your ass is like."

"Shut up. Now then, you should be about two miles from the main base of Outer Heatin'. You've got a bit of a walk ahead of you, so I would get moving unless you want the Scalies putting a bullet through your thick skull."

"Delicately worded, as always." She was right though; he had a job to do. He couldn't afford to lollygag.

Simon pressed himself up against the nearest tree and peered around it cautiously, waiting a few seconds before he started to move. He remained low to the ground, doing his best to blend in with the surroundings despite his contrasting fur color. He also made sure he was adequately covering his tracks. Raccoon footprints were fairly distinct, and he would never be so foolish as to leave one out in the open. His senses heightened to the max, he remained focused and ready to react if anything was even remotely out of place.

It was with those senses that he noticed the tripwire. Barely visible in the jungle heat, it was only Simon's keen eyesight that picked it out in time to safely step over it. He paused, half-expecting a land mine on the other side, but when he remained in one piece, he continued onward. Sloppy. I'm too close to the base for such a pathetic trap. What are they up to?

He asked Karen just that. "Major Pain, I'm not getting much resistance, and that itself is pretty suspect. What's going on here?"

"Maybe they just didn't expect such a brave, handsome warrior of death to come dropping in."

"Bullshit. They already caught an intruder. Shouldn't that warrant a bit tighter security?"

"Well, between you and me, White Fox is not what I would call an impressive show of force. They'd be better off replacing her with a robot."

"Harsh. I'll have to tell her sister you said that."

"Don't you dare."

"Hold that thought." Simon leapt onto a nearby tree as the ground suddenly gave away, revealing a concealed pit trap with sharpened stakes lining the bottom, then jumped to the other side. "You were saying?"

"I'm detecting an enemy campsite ahead."

"That's what I thought."

It almost came as a relief when Simon finally saw enemy guards. Two appropriately-named monitor lizards were keeping watch over a small campsite, consisting only of a few tents, a stack of ration crates, and a bulky truck. They were dressed in dark red uniforms that clashed in an amusing fashion with their green scales, forked tongues sliding in and out of their mouths and scenting the air. Simon crouched behind the bushes, slowly positioning himself downwind.

"Hmm?" one of the slimy creatures spoke, his Sauriet accent thick and raspy. "Thought I smelled something."

"I don't smell anything, comrade," the other replied. "Other than your breath, that is."

It was a good thing Simon was well-versed enough in their language to mentally translate, even if the bored chatter of stooges was rarely worth the effort.

"Must have been my imagination," the first guard said. "I do feel a little asleep."

"I feel asleep too. I need rested."

His translations weren't always perfect either. Simon waited patiently to survey the campsite, making sure that these two lizards were the only ones on duty before he made a move.

"I can't believe Big Boa called everyone else back. Now it's just the two of us."

Maybe guard chatter can be useful. He casually raised his rifle, poked it through the bushes, and sniped both of them in the space of a second.

Then he called Karen. "I've cleared out the enemy campsite. Two hostiles standing guard, both neutralized."

"Two whole hostiles?! Congrats, champ! Anything useful?"

"Just a bunch of tents and supplies, and a big truck. I'll go check it out."

"You do that."

Simon stepped over the corpses of the two lazy lizards and took a look around. Digging through the leftovers like any true raccoon, he found plenty of food rations, some ammo, the latest volume of PlayBoa, and a couple medkits, but nothing that screamed "key item." Finally, he climbed into the back of the truck, almost out of desperation at this point. This whole excursion was starting to feel like a waste of time and he needed to get something of value out of it.

The truck's back door slammed shut behind him.

Not exactly what I meant, but at least it's something different.

He tried to lift the door open again, but it remained firmly shut, a hard clicking sound confirming that this was no accident. Someone had locked him in.

"Major Pain, we might have a problem here."

"Let me guess: you got locked inside the truck?"

He frowned. "How did you know?"

"I kinda saw it coming as soon as you brought it up. Think it's a trap, or just unfortunate timing?"

"Considering I left two dead lizards outside, probably the former."

"Shit. Can you see any way out?"

Simon was nearly tossed off his feet as the truck shifted into gear beneath him. "No, and even worse, the truck have started to move."

"What?"

"Ugh, sorry. Was listening to those guards for too long. Call you back when I get out, assuming I'm not being tortured or something."

"...Be careful."

As the call disconnected, Simon considered his options. He did have a few grenades on him, but he was more likely to blow himself up in this confined space. He could lie in wait and just open fire as soon as the door opened, assuming they weren't expecting that and would have a much larger force prepared, in which case he would quickly become Hiss cheese.

Maybe if I throw a grenade and then open fire...

Fortunately, he didn't get the chance to enact this plan, for the truck came to a sudden stop, this time succeeding in knocking him over. By the time he got back to his feet, the door was open, and no one was there. Confused, Simon slowly exited the vehicle, wielding a grenade in one paw and his assault rifle in the other.

One look at his new surroundings told him that he was now inside the compound of Outer Heatin' itself. It was a large, seemingly empty room made of almost pure metal. All the better for its residents to warm themselves when sunbathing wasn't an option.

A little embarrassed, Simon put the weapons away, but remained on guard. "Major Pain, I-"

"Are you okay?! What did those monsters do to you?!"

He was no longer on guard. "Um...nothing. They seem to have just locked me inside a big empty room."

"Oh." Her usual tone returned quickly. "I guess you weren't worth the cell space. What do you see, Hot Fuzz?"

Simon climbed on top of the truck to get a better viewpoint. "Not much. A sealed door, a few columns, that's about it."

"Maybe it's a stealth suit ambush and there's secretly a whole platoon in there with you."

"I hope not. Those damn chameleons were such a hassle last time." He made another sweep of the room. "No, I don't see any conspicuous shimmering. I think I'm alone in-wait. How long was that box there?"

"Box?"

"Yeah, there's this cardboard box that just appeared. It must have been hiding behind one of the columns." Simon narrowed his eyes as it slowly slid back behind one of the columns. "Great. At least now I know who I'm dealing with."

Simon hopped down from the truck and quickly pursued the box, finding it still sitting behind that very column. It made no further movements as he stared it down, not that he was fooled for a second. "I know you're under there."

"What do you mean? I'm just a box," said the box.

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

Simon had no idea how long this exchange could go on if he continued in this fashion. So instead, he brought the conversation to an abrupt end by pulling out another grenade, arming it, and tossing it directly on top of the box.

"Oh, shit!"

The explosion destroyed any functionality the former box still had as a tool of stealth. Unfortunately, its occupant was slippery enough to escape the same fate, and as Simon watched the dust settle, a figure emerged from within.

He was a king cobra of a dark grey color, with black bands running across his scales. Several belts of equipment and weaponry were wrapped around those bands, which did little to hamper his movement speed, nor did the knife-like blade attached to the end of his tail. Around his head was a black bandanna, slightly oversized so that it wouldn't be too tight when his hood was expanded, as it was at this moment.

Simon wasn't particularly happy to see him either. "Hello, Cobra."

Compact Cobra was the Sauriet Union's most valuable mercenary and special-ops agent, which spoke of the low standards they must have had for such a position. Simon had crossed paths (and knives) with him on more occasions then he cared to count, and this time, he had almost gotten the drop on him if not for his strange obsession with storage containers. "Simon Maskovich, we meet again on the battlefield."

He also had a very particular manner of speaking, and he was pretty sure it sounded just as odd to the Sauriets. "Stop talking like that."

"Like that?!"

"Look, I don't have time to play with you today. So tell me where you're keeping White Fox and what you're planning, and maybe I won't make you into a new purse for my CO."

Cobra smiled, his deadly fangs poking through. "Tough words, but nothing I say could prepare you for Metal Shell!"

"Metal...Shell?"

"Metal Shell! A mechanical tortoise with the power to launch shells from any location!" he boasted. "Nuclear shells!"

"That's stupid. But also dangerous, so I guess I do have to kill you now." Simon withdrew his combat knife and slid into a defensive stance, the blade brandished in front of him.

"Then let us do battle! You won't walk away from me this time!" Cobra did the same, his fangs bared and his hood fully unfurled as his knife tail raised behind him, ready to strike.

Feeling pragmatic, Simon whipped out his handgun and fired a few shots. He had underestimated how well Cobra knew him, for the snake contorted his body to the side to avoid every bullet, dropping to the floor and charging him at blinding speed.

Simon needed the knife now, raising it to parry the rapid strikes Cobra made with his tail while grunting loudly. "NNNGH! ERRGH! RAAAA! YRRRRRGH!" Between the sheer ferocity of the assault and the vocal diversion, a few slashes got through, cutting Simon's right arm and his left thigh. Another almost went into his skull, but a well-timed duck left only his beret to take the hit. Cobra paused to look at the hat now speared onto his tail, giving Simon the brief opening to run in and kick him to the floor.

As he leapt in to impale him through his coils, the tail struck again, whipping Simon back into one of the columns. Cobra slithered up another, wrapping himself around it and digging into one of his belts for a new weapon. The tail now emerged wielding a gun attachment, and he wasted no time firing on the raccoon. Bullets whizzed past Simon as he scrambled around the column for cover, trying to return fire. For someone who provided thirteen feet of target practice, Cobra proved surprisingly nimble, shifting his coils up and down to avoid the shots. Simon growled as he was again forced behind the column under fire.

Well, I know this will work. Simon poked out again just long enough to throw a grenade at the base of the opposing column. One explosion later and the structure toppled, bringing a screaming Cobra with it.

Simon emerged again to find the snake trapped under the rubble, struggling to pull his other half out. "Stop doing that! You're breaking the rules of war!"

Before Simon could dishonor him further, Cobra twisted around and bit into one of his belts, releasing a massive smokescreen that quickly engulfed the room. Simon reeled back, firing a few more shots in the direction Cobra had been, but heard them hit nothing but metal. Either he was still managing to avoid his gunfire even when he couldn't see it coming, or…

Cobra lunged from the left, venomous fangs bared. Simon dodged instinctively, glimpsing the poison dripping from them in slow-motion before time resumed and he disappeared into the smoke again. Simon took a deep breath and closed his eyes, concentrating on the sound of movement around him. Cobra proved surprisingly difficult to trace when he wasn't talking, but Simon successfully avoided his second attack anyway, grabbing him by the tail and swinging him over his shoulder into the floor. Dazed, Cobra attempted to turn the move against him by contorting around Simon's body, which the raccoon only just noticed in time, kicking away from the encircling coils before they could bind him. Cobra hurriedly darted back into the smoke just as it started to dissipate, vanishing along with it. Simon stepped back slowly, his senses focused.

"How's it going?" Karen asked, startling him more than he'd like to admit.

"Oh, you know, fighting for my life. Typical Tuesday."

"Cobra?"

"Yep. For how annoying he is, I sometimes forget that he's the Scalies' top mercenary for a reason. Any advice?"

It was a few, anxious seconds before she replied. "From your past encounters, I get the impression that Cobra prefers to keep his opponents off-balance, knowing that his skilled knifework, slippery coils, and deadly venom are enough to shake up anyone's concentration and put them on the defensive. You need to take that advantage away from him. You need to be bold."

"Bold? That's how I got into this mess in the first place."

"I'm not telling you to be reckless, but boldness is the only way you'll put him down for good. Be bold, Hot Fuzz!"

His eyes lit up in comprehension. "Yes...I understand."

As soon as the call cut off, he found Cobra. The snake was leaning against the wall, casually perusing the same issue of PlayBoa he'd discovered earlier. He looked up, seeing Simon staring at him. "Oh, are you finished now? I was being polite!"

Simon wasn't bothered, nor did he open fire. Instead, he simply withdrew his knife and charged. "Is that the best you've got?!"

Cobra flinched, dropping the dirty mag and backing away as Simon stabbed at where he'd been. "What was that?!"

"What's the matter?! Come a little closer!" Simon roared, kicking off the wall to boost himself after Cobra, successfully stabbing the knife into his coils.

"Aggh! I don't understand it, but your manner of speaking hurts my eyes! How I wish I had eyelids!

"Now to finish this!" Simon leapt away, his knife covered with snake blood and thirsty for more. He charged back in and lunged for Cobra's neck, seeing his head move just a second too late.

As the clash ended, Simon fell to the floor, groaning in pain. But he was in significantly better shape than Compact Cobra, who had his knife lodged in his throat and was coughing up blood.

This somehow didn't keep him from talking. "I-Impressive! You have finally beaten me, Maskovich. I am quickly losing blood, and have but moments to live, but with the last few breaths within me, I must tell you my life story. I was born in-"

"Shut up." Simon unceremoniously shot him through the skull and silenced him for good.

"Stealing my lines now, huh?" Karen asked dryly. "Well, whatever, you beat him. Now let's get a move on. That superweapon isn't going to blow itself up."

"And we need to save White Fox."

"Sure, that too."

Simon tried to stand, but a crippling pain suddenly shot up his left leg, making him collapse again. Examining the cause, he ripped open a part of his pant leg where the pain was strongest, grimacing at the sight of two distinct puncture wounds in his flesh. "Uh oh."

"What's uh oh?"

"I think Cobra bit me."

"...How bad is it?"

"It appears to be slowly darkening my flesh and sizzling ominously, so I'd say pretty bad." It was amazing what years of war did to your sense of horror.

She tried to hide it, but he could hear Karen's voice hitching. "If that venom spreads to the rest of your body, you won't see the next sunrise. It needs to be stopped before that happens. You know what you have to do?"

Simon looked down at his infected leg, then to the knife still protruding from Cobra's neck. "Yes. I'll do what needs to be done."

As the heat of battle faded away, the pain only grew stronger. Unable to stand, Simon crawled across the floor towards his only hope of salvation. He knew that in the pursuit of triumph, a sacrifice was sometimes required, and it was only a matter of time before his turn came to make one. He wouldn't hesitate, for his will to live and fight for his beloved homeland was strong. Too strong for something as petty as primal fear to ever compare. For the sake of mammalkind everywhere, it was a small price to pay.

Fighting down the pain, Simon reached his goal, pulling the knife from Cobra's neck and wiping it down on his shirt as best he could, which he insisted to himself was not stalling. Finally, he steadied his nerves, holding the blade above his left leg. This was not going to be pleasant. "For Zootopia."

"So did you inject the antivenin yet?"

Simon froze, still holding the knife. "...What?"

"The antivenin I packed with your medical supplies in case you got bitten? Don't tell me you forgot about it."

He quietly slipped the knife back onto his belt. "No...I was just...considering other options."

"What are you, afraid of needles? You don't have other options, Hot Fuzz. Not unless you chop your leg off or something."

"Of course not. That would be silly." He soon found the antivenin packed in with his supplies and, trying to forget the past two minutes, stabbed it into his leg. It stung, but significantly less than his near-alternative. A very small price to pay. "It's done."

"Good. You should be okay then. Can you stand?"

It took a few tries, but Simon managed to get back to his feet. "Yeah. Might need to take it slow for a bit though."

"Not too slow. Sooner or later, someone else might actually come into that room. See a way out yet?"

"That big metal door is open now, for...some reason. I guess I'll go that way." Simon started to limp his way out of there, the feeling in his leg slowly returning. "Actually, I should probably thank you first. You may be bitchy, sarcastic, and condescending, but at least I know you'll always have my back, Major Pain."

"And I always will," she said softly. "Be all of those things. I'm your commanding officer, after all. And your genetically-enhanced clone."

"Excuse me?"

"Kidding. Now enough sap, kick your leg in the ass and get going!"

He chuckled. "Yes, ma'am."

Because the Metal Gear jokes in Chapter 26 just weren't enough, we went and made a full-blown parody! Like most such parodies (coughNickWildeAceAttorneycough), we look forward to seeing the divide between those who get the jokes and those who are left very very confused.

Mind Jack is one of the latter, by the way, having never played any of the games. Let's call this revenge for all the pro-wrestling references that went over my head. (Jack: Joke's on you. I got most of those references.)

It's because of shit like this that Simon currently suffers from PTSD: Parody Too Strong Disorder. Good thing this is only a drabble, and likely not one we'll be continuing despite the open ending unless people really want it. There will be other Simon drabbles though. We still need to take his leg, after all, and we already know how it happens. ;)

Compact Cobra belongs to me. His obvious inspiration very much does not.