Chapter Two: You suck...
YAMASHITA: Solid Snake, you suck at CS…

I'll never forget that message. The message that made me roar in fury and wish YAMASHITA was here right now for me to tear apart.
Just for kicks, I thought of Otacon's blasted parrot as YAMASHITA, and almost tore into it when Otacon stopped me.
Dammit, I don't suck. I'm new at the game.
Seriously, I don't suck.
Dead: Solid, you must be a newbie, you really DO suck at Counter-Strike.
That's it. I'm asking Otacon for cheat codes.


"C'mon, Snake. You're a die-hard mercenary who is a clone from Big Boss and single-handedly took down four Metal Gears on four previous missions and you need cheat codes for a computer game? Snake, you should be a pro already!", Otacon said, surprised that Snake even asked.
"I know, but I'm not! So gimme!", I begged, wanting the cheat codes. I needed the codes. I NEEDED them! I couldn't show up YAMASHITA without them.
"There are no cheats, Snake. You have to play the game on your own.", Otacon explained, as if I were a child, pushing his glasses up his nose for fifteenth time that day.
Fine, then.
But I'll show them. I'll show them all.
No one says I suck and gets away with it.


"You suck!"
I shot an angry glare at Otacon's parrot, wishing Otacon wasn't next to it typing on a laptop and eating muffins, so I could grab it and rip it up and various stuff like that. It would be a wonderful stress reliever, let me tell you that.
I looked at the game once more, getting transfixed the way a deer gets transfixed to the blinding headlights from a truck just before it sees the metal of the grill and realizes it's the end of the line for it.
Or whatever.
I rested my hands on the keyboard, stretching my fingers, feeling that familiar, cold, steely feel every time I play this game. I chuckled nervously.
This game was more addictive than my cigs…
I took hold of the computer mouse, leading down to the yellow words "Play CS". With just one click, I was back in the game.
I clicked "LAN games", then clicked a community I could play in. As usual, I clicked on the first one, and chose to be a counter-terrorists the second it finished loading.
YAMASHITA: Oh, Sucky Snake's back.
The Big Loserbowski: Joo sux0rz! Git ready to DIE! LoL.

My left eyebrow twitched and I gritted my teeth, resisting the urge to ask Otacon to try to track these people down. I took out a cigarette pack and popped one out, sticking it in my mouth and lighting it. I took a deep drag, and was instantly in the mood for some serious ass whipping. Or something like that.
The screen changed, but I was not in the familiar Mexican ruins that I came to know. Instead, I was…
Staring in the back of… a surveillance van? Interesting. I backtracked, the same hand clutching the USP. For some reason, I left the silencer off. I looked around and saw my four teammates fanning out. The number roster was the same, four CTs against six terrorists.
Feh. No big deal.
I left the van behind me and turned, seeing a big warehouse, set on my right. I headed towards it, and decided to go around the front. When I turned, I saw four huge crates, two seated next to the warehouse, just around the entrance, and two on the back of the wall facing the warehouse. Probably there to serve as cover in a firefight.
I noticed that the two crates seated next to the warehouse had a ladder running up it, but I ignored it, deciding to go around the front instead.
Bam! Bam!
Damn!
I backtracked a little, seeing a terrorist peeking out from one of the crates. I brought up the USP, lined up my sight, and...
Bam!
The terrorist fell, his head replaced with a crimson geyser.
The hell? Every time I played, it was extremely hard to shoot a terrorist. Accuracy probably got better when I stood still. Yeah, that's it.
Dead: hey! can you believe that? snake got a frag!
I grinned. Finally. I finally killed someone... in Counter-Strike, of course.
YAMASHITA: He won't get another...
What was that supposed to mean?
My brow furrowed as I thought over that, pausing for a second.
Phew! Blam!
Hey!
The image on the screen shook, and became dark, a blood splotch on the middle. Dead. Again. That was not fair.
How did he kill me, anyway?
I searched hastily in dead mode, then saw YAMASHITA crouching on top of the warehouse, a sniper rifle cradled in his arms.
YAMASHITA: Told you so...
I gritted my teeth. You know, I'm really starting to hate that guy...

I sucked in a deep breath, my Lucky Strikers cig hanging out of my mouth. I gazed fondly at the full Jack Daniels whiskey bottle seated next to the mouse, ready to open and drink.
Hmm?
The familiar sight of the black gloved hand clutching the USP greeted me, along with a familiar background... the back of the surveillance van. I watched as my teammates all spread out, each going their own way.
This time, I had enough money, so I discarded the USP and brought up a SSG552 Commando, briefly noticing how slow it took to be brought up.
LITLEIDIOT joins the terrorist team.
No!
PoPo joins the terrorist team.
Why? What the hell was happening?!
I looked at the screen frantically, calling up the roster.

Counter-Terrorists:
McClane
Solid Snake

Terrorists:
Mister X
The Big Loserbowski
YAMASHITA
Hank Evans
Dead
Mr. Floppy
LITLEIDIOT
PoPo


What the hell was this?! Two counter-terrorists against EIGHT terrorists?! This wasn't fair!

"Terrorists Win!", the computer speakers gloated an hour later.
I wiped the sweat off my gleaming forehead with one hand while I clutched the almost-empty Jack Daniels bottle with the other. I then took a deep breathful of acrid, but somehow sweet tasting, smoke, the amber end of the cig glowing in response. Then I took it out and stomped on it, smothering it to oblivion. After that, I filled my empty mouth with the JD bottle, gulping down the whiskey and emptying the bottle.
I threw the bottle to the floor, forgetting it immediately, focusing my full attention to the computer screen.
I was back in the game.
The Big Loserbowski logged out.
......
Mr. Floppy logged out.
......
Mr. X changed name to Vulcan Raven.
......
Hank Evans changed name to Revolver Ocelot.
.....?
PoPo changed name to Decoy Octopus.
.....!
LITLEIDIOT changed name to Psycho Mantis.
What the hell?!
Dead changed name to Sniper Wolf.
They were becoming Fox-Hound?!
YAMASHITA changed name to Liquid Snake.
All of them?!


........
Yeah, I know, cheap gimmick. But! I thought it would be pretty nifty and kinda MGS-like to put in a cheap twist, i.e. Terrorists becoming Fox-Hound. Don't worry, it won't dwelve too deeply into it! The fights will be similar, though...
Hey, this is supposed to be a comedy, huh? It doesn't really have to make sense... although I do want to make a fanfic that does...
If you think the Fox-Hound twist was too lame, I'll take it out... but only if you think so... :\
Rest assured that the story will NOT revert to slap-stick comedy, it will solely rely on Snake's sarcasm, confusion, surprise, drinking, smoking, and other things including a computer... also, Otacon will be in it.
.........