(Finally, I can start getting to the good parts. Let's sit back and enjoy
the embodiment of kickass that is known as Liquid Snake, shall we? Oh yes,
see if you can find the hidden Clockwork Orange quote in here.)
Obsession Games
Cold. That's all she felt. Cold metal, binding her wrists and her ankles to even more cold metal. An upright alloy bed of sorts, one from which there was no escape unless her captors released her intentionally. A cluster of bright lights blared down in her face, making her squint to the point where sight was no longer useful. Flickering remnants of searing pain ripped through her nerves, mere sparks compared to the excruciating storm of electrical energies that had rushed through her system just seconds ago. The torture wheel reclined, exposing her even more to the intense halogen beams that made her eyes suffer.
Senses recovering rapidly, she overheard a now-familiar voice. That of the interrogator, and if things became worse, most likely the executioner. A gruff tone, one signifying both age and an odd sort of smug confidence. That of the member of FOXHOUND called only "Revolver Ocelot", a deadly man who, judging by his tone, was having the time of his life by using Meryl's body as a chamber for intense electrical currents. "She still won't say a word, boss. Keeps calling for Snake, not much else. Little slut's tough, I'll give her that much. What do you want me to do?"
And then she heard it, for the very first time. A new voice, but one that had her fearing from the first syllable that it created. The tone in of itself was fearsome, in a subtle sort of way. Cocky, arrogant- but without a doubt capable. As if the man was in on a joke the entire world didn't understand, with a slight British sort of accent to it. Yet there was something more buried beneath this, something far worse. Traces of spite, immense, unfathomable amounts of raw spite that drove the man to do what he was doing right now. Yes, there was no doubt in Meryl's mind that this man was THE Liquid Snake. "Giving up already? Ocelot, you surprise me. We're going to have to take our gloves off here, and that's going to call for us getting our hands dirty." Smug, but knowing- and in control. She went so far as to almost instantly classify the man as downright evil.
Ocelot's voice began again as the hazy white that had overcome Meryl's sight thanks to the intense lighting fixture continued to stir around and around, as if her field of vision was a pool of water being stirred gently. ". . . I see." The aging gunslinger cleared his throat. "Shall I leave you two alone, then?" The implication already had her worried, although in her current state, her mind's activity was minimal at best.
Liquid nodded as a sly sort of cynical grin gradually grew over his features, none of which was known to Meryl. "See to it that you do. I may not have as much torture room experience as you, but I'm sure I'll come up with something . . ."
Ocelot merely shrugged, with an accompanying nod. "So be it, then. I don't suppose she has too much vital information anyways, though . . ." A tinge of reluctance was in his voice, a rare thing indeed.
Liquid simply laughed at this, the very echoes of hell emanating forth from the man's throat. Genuinely amused, he allowed himself to enjoy the humor of the moment for a few seconds before resuming speech. "Does it matter? She's just another plaything for me to indulge in for a short while, little more than a toy to be used until it is broken." He paused, and Meryl heard no less than four footsteps reverberating off of the metallic tiles of the floor, coming towards her. She could feel the last one vibrating within her inner ear, so close was the unseen terror. "Besides, this captive butterfly belongs to none other than that utterly . . ." She could hear him grinding his teeth as he spoke, frightening amounts of sheer hatred fueling his words, "disgusting brother of mine. I'm going to take away all the things he loves one by one and shatter them," His voice clearly shifted towards Meryl, both speaking to and regarding her simultaneously. "Starting with you."
Ocelot said no more, his footsteps could be heard leaving the place, verified by the familiar smooth sliding of the sliding security door she had heard several times before. Now he was speaking exclusively to her. "Well then, you delicate little flower you, what ever shall we do to pass the time . . .?" She had never felt so absolutely terrified as she did now, the suspense was making her view death as an act of mercy.
Still, the durable woman pressed on, having gathered her bearings by now. She opened her eyes fully now, finding that the lights seemed to have been dimmed. The table made a grinding noise, and within seconds she found herself upright again- and staring directly into the face of the man behind the entire Shadow Moses incident. Liquid Snake. His hair was long, and his face was a mirror image of Solid Snake. The rest of his form seemed to be covered by a long, mud-brown trenchcoat, no details were available. "Y-you look," She sputtered, "Just like-" Her sentence was cut off abruptly by a sharp blow to her abdomen, possibly the hardest she'd ever been punched. Before she could take the time to even comprehend the rush of guttural pain, another brutal follow-up barrage of four knuckles was delivered to almost directly beneath her breasts, a near-lethal slamming of force on her solar plexus.
As all this caught up to her she tried to cry out in pain, but she found that not only had the wind been knocked out of her, but there was another preventing factor. Namely, the back of Liquid's hand- and four familiar knuckles as well, had smashed without mercy into her right cheek. Had it not been for the fact that her head was bound, it would have been jerking to the side violently. Although typically she couldn't hear much after all that, the enraged screams of one Liquid Snake were enough to raise the dead. "Shut up! Never compare me to that thieving abomination! EVER!" A fierce three-second electroshock followed, which seemed to relieve a great deal of Liquid's apparent stress.
Meryl meanwhile, was vomiting- or trying to, but she had not eaten anything for quite some time, and dry-heaving was all she could do. Gagging nothingness as she shed tears of sheer suffering, the woman simply cried and coughed. From this Liquid had a good chuckle or two, and could be heard pacing back and forth. His steps echoed countless times, or so her re- disoriented senses seemed to convey. "But enough prattle about," He cushioned the rage as best he could, but nothing could truly hide it, "Him. Let's talk about us, hm?"
Meryl simply groveled for him to stop, but this was little more than a pitiful mumble drowned in her own crying. "Oh, do shut up." He snidely silenced her with this, as her vision was still operational enough to spot the fist being raised for dramatic effect. "Now I'm going to be perfectly honest here, I really have no need for any information you may have." The pacing halted in front of her, and Liquid traced a single finger across her collarbone, then allowed it to glide gently upwards over her neck, neatly running over the milky skin as smoothly as skates over ice.
It was then that the rest of his hand followed suit, allowing a gentle grip on top of the hapless young woman's throat. This quickly tightened, becoming a lethal suffocating grasp from which there was no escape. Caught in the web, Meryl simply waited for the spider to come along and finish her off. She felt yet another blow to her abdomen- harsher this time though, by far the worst pain she'd felt in recent memory, in all of her memory in fact. She tried to cough instinctively, but the grip on her neck wouldn't call for the passage of air to or from her lungs. And so here she remained, choking on her own dying gasp for atleast twenty seconds before the cruel fingers finally uncoiled themselves from her.
Then the words continued, although they were beginning to fade away . . . as was her vision, and all other senses for that matter. "He took EVERYTHING from me, and now I'm going to take it all back!" Liquid merely allowed another sadistically gleeful laugh to rush forth from the inner depths of a twisted psyche, and among the din of the demon's cackling Meryl heard another noise- something hitting the floor, gently. Cloth. The trenchcoat. It had slid right off, down to the ground. Then a metal -clank- , something her battered mind and body identified as a belt buckle. More cloth falling, and then a hand removing what little clothing the girl had left.
The last thing that she could hear before passing out was Liquid's insanely happy voice, cracking from tone to tone with eagerness for what he was about to have. "Time for the old in 'n' out then, eh?"
It was then that she woke up icy-cold sweat, springing upright in her bed. A dream- a horrible, horrible dream. Then a snap of realization occurred to her, for what seemed like the millionth time. It wasn't a dream, no- it was a memory.
Obsession Games
Cold. That's all she felt. Cold metal, binding her wrists and her ankles to even more cold metal. An upright alloy bed of sorts, one from which there was no escape unless her captors released her intentionally. A cluster of bright lights blared down in her face, making her squint to the point where sight was no longer useful. Flickering remnants of searing pain ripped through her nerves, mere sparks compared to the excruciating storm of electrical energies that had rushed through her system just seconds ago. The torture wheel reclined, exposing her even more to the intense halogen beams that made her eyes suffer.
Senses recovering rapidly, she overheard a now-familiar voice. That of the interrogator, and if things became worse, most likely the executioner. A gruff tone, one signifying both age and an odd sort of smug confidence. That of the member of FOXHOUND called only "Revolver Ocelot", a deadly man who, judging by his tone, was having the time of his life by using Meryl's body as a chamber for intense electrical currents. "She still won't say a word, boss. Keeps calling for Snake, not much else. Little slut's tough, I'll give her that much. What do you want me to do?"
And then she heard it, for the very first time. A new voice, but one that had her fearing from the first syllable that it created. The tone in of itself was fearsome, in a subtle sort of way. Cocky, arrogant- but without a doubt capable. As if the man was in on a joke the entire world didn't understand, with a slight British sort of accent to it. Yet there was something more buried beneath this, something far worse. Traces of spite, immense, unfathomable amounts of raw spite that drove the man to do what he was doing right now. Yes, there was no doubt in Meryl's mind that this man was THE Liquid Snake. "Giving up already? Ocelot, you surprise me. We're going to have to take our gloves off here, and that's going to call for us getting our hands dirty." Smug, but knowing- and in control. She went so far as to almost instantly classify the man as downright evil.
Ocelot's voice began again as the hazy white that had overcome Meryl's sight thanks to the intense lighting fixture continued to stir around and around, as if her field of vision was a pool of water being stirred gently. ". . . I see." The aging gunslinger cleared his throat. "Shall I leave you two alone, then?" The implication already had her worried, although in her current state, her mind's activity was minimal at best.
Liquid nodded as a sly sort of cynical grin gradually grew over his features, none of which was known to Meryl. "See to it that you do. I may not have as much torture room experience as you, but I'm sure I'll come up with something . . ."
Ocelot merely shrugged, with an accompanying nod. "So be it, then. I don't suppose she has too much vital information anyways, though . . ." A tinge of reluctance was in his voice, a rare thing indeed.
Liquid simply laughed at this, the very echoes of hell emanating forth from the man's throat. Genuinely amused, he allowed himself to enjoy the humor of the moment for a few seconds before resuming speech. "Does it matter? She's just another plaything for me to indulge in for a short while, little more than a toy to be used until it is broken." He paused, and Meryl heard no less than four footsteps reverberating off of the metallic tiles of the floor, coming towards her. She could feel the last one vibrating within her inner ear, so close was the unseen terror. "Besides, this captive butterfly belongs to none other than that utterly . . ." She could hear him grinding his teeth as he spoke, frightening amounts of sheer hatred fueling his words, "disgusting brother of mine. I'm going to take away all the things he loves one by one and shatter them," His voice clearly shifted towards Meryl, both speaking to and regarding her simultaneously. "Starting with you."
Ocelot said no more, his footsteps could be heard leaving the place, verified by the familiar smooth sliding of the sliding security door she had heard several times before. Now he was speaking exclusively to her. "Well then, you delicate little flower you, what ever shall we do to pass the time . . .?" She had never felt so absolutely terrified as she did now, the suspense was making her view death as an act of mercy.
Still, the durable woman pressed on, having gathered her bearings by now. She opened her eyes fully now, finding that the lights seemed to have been dimmed. The table made a grinding noise, and within seconds she found herself upright again- and staring directly into the face of the man behind the entire Shadow Moses incident. Liquid Snake. His hair was long, and his face was a mirror image of Solid Snake. The rest of his form seemed to be covered by a long, mud-brown trenchcoat, no details were available. "Y-you look," She sputtered, "Just like-" Her sentence was cut off abruptly by a sharp blow to her abdomen, possibly the hardest she'd ever been punched. Before she could take the time to even comprehend the rush of guttural pain, another brutal follow-up barrage of four knuckles was delivered to almost directly beneath her breasts, a near-lethal slamming of force on her solar plexus.
As all this caught up to her she tried to cry out in pain, but she found that not only had the wind been knocked out of her, but there was another preventing factor. Namely, the back of Liquid's hand- and four familiar knuckles as well, had smashed without mercy into her right cheek. Had it not been for the fact that her head was bound, it would have been jerking to the side violently. Although typically she couldn't hear much after all that, the enraged screams of one Liquid Snake were enough to raise the dead. "Shut up! Never compare me to that thieving abomination! EVER!" A fierce three-second electroshock followed, which seemed to relieve a great deal of Liquid's apparent stress.
Meryl meanwhile, was vomiting- or trying to, but she had not eaten anything for quite some time, and dry-heaving was all she could do. Gagging nothingness as she shed tears of sheer suffering, the woman simply cried and coughed. From this Liquid had a good chuckle or two, and could be heard pacing back and forth. His steps echoed countless times, or so her re- disoriented senses seemed to convey. "But enough prattle about," He cushioned the rage as best he could, but nothing could truly hide it, "Him. Let's talk about us, hm?"
Meryl simply groveled for him to stop, but this was little more than a pitiful mumble drowned in her own crying. "Oh, do shut up." He snidely silenced her with this, as her vision was still operational enough to spot the fist being raised for dramatic effect. "Now I'm going to be perfectly honest here, I really have no need for any information you may have." The pacing halted in front of her, and Liquid traced a single finger across her collarbone, then allowed it to glide gently upwards over her neck, neatly running over the milky skin as smoothly as skates over ice.
It was then that the rest of his hand followed suit, allowing a gentle grip on top of the hapless young woman's throat. This quickly tightened, becoming a lethal suffocating grasp from which there was no escape. Caught in the web, Meryl simply waited for the spider to come along and finish her off. She felt yet another blow to her abdomen- harsher this time though, by far the worst pain she'd felt in recent memory, in all of her memory in fact. She tried to cough instinctively, but the grip on her neck wouldn't call for the passage of air to or from her lungs. And so here she remained, choking on her own dying gasp for atleast twenty seconds before the cruel fingers finally uncoiled themselves from her.
Then the words continued, although they were beginning to fade away . . . as was her vision, and all other senses for that matter. "He took EVERYTHING from me, and now I'm going to take it all back!" Liquid merely allowed another sadistically gleeful laugh to rush forth from the inner depths of a twisted psyche, and among the din of the demon's cackling Meryl heard another noise- something hitting the floor, gently. Cloth. The trenchcoat. It had slid right off, down to the ground. Then a metal -clank- , something her battered mind and body identified as a belt buckle. More cloth falling, and then a hand removing what little clothing the girl had left.
The last thing that she could hear before passing out was Liquid's insanely happy voice, cracking from tone to tone with eagerness for what he was about to have. "Time for the old in 'n' out then, eh?"
It was then that she woke up icy-cold sweat, springing upright in her bed. A dream- a horrible, horrible dream. Then a snap of realization occurred to her, for what seemed like the millionth time. It wasn't a dream, no- it was a memory.