New York, nighttime. The only sound: the passing of a distant car. An old
man sat inside a café alone, at a table set for two. The wind blew sharply,
and a newspaper smacked hard against the window. The man shivered and
retired into the warmth of his jacket, before raising his glass and tipping
bourbon between his lips. He glanced over at a solitary bum in the corner
who was sucking on a bottle rapped in a brown paper bag and then looked
away quickly. He took another sip. The wind rattled the windows, and a soft
metal on metal chink could be heard in the kitchen. The cars had stopped
passing about an hour before, except for one or two Golfs taking an unwise
shortcut home. The man looked at his watch, which told him that it was
23:46. He slipped back into his chair and drifted slowly from
consciousness, fully aware of the life or death struggle occurring behind
the bathroom door to his left.
Even if the old man had come to help his drinking partner he would have been refused. The man formerly known as Solid Snake huddled over a toilet basin coughing up thick black mud. He had time to get used to the daily fits during his Philanthropy days. If he could have managed a smile, he would have grinned right into the face of the dark tar that looked up at him from below. He remembered when they were only weekly fits.
Snake gradually regained control of his breathing and spat out the last drop of mucus while slumped against the cubicle door. He left without washing his hands and returned to his table without waking the old man. Snake picked up his cigarette, still burning in the ashtray among its liberated brothers and resumed inhaling it. He held down a cough and sat back in his chair. The bum stumbled out loudly, carrying his bottle in his right hand.
"Shouldn't have let me sleep, Snake." The old man stirred.
"Forget about it Roy," Snake replied. "I know how hard it is nowadays."
"Comes with the job, I suppose. What keeps you awake, Snake?"
Snake exhaled strongly. "Nightmares."
"About Alaska? Damn, I'm real sorry about that. I should never have sent you in there."
"It's under the bridge, Roy."
Both men looked away. The old man took another sip of bourbon while Snake sucked his cigarette. A police siren echoed miles away. Campbell breathed in deeply, as though he was going to speak, but instead bit his lip as he exhaled. Snake looked up.
"Ever think about the La-Lei-Loo-Lei-Lo?"
"Every damn day, Snake. You know they watch me all day and all night. You're lucky. They're still two faces behind you. Seen the FBI Most Wanted? You've still got a god damn mullet on that picture."
"Heh." Snake took another puff on his cigarette. A car passed.
"You've still got the same voice though. That'll never change. It's because of those pieces of shit you keep sucking on."
Snake chuckled again. Campbell smiled, forming creases in his chubby face. There was a long silence, broken only by the sound of an ambulance a city block away.
"You ever talk to Jack?" Campbell enquired.
"Not for fifteen years Roy, you know that."
"That's a damn shame. I met him once or twice after I was released. He was quite apprehensive at first, as though he didn't trust me."
"Yeah. It took him about a year to stop calling me Pliskin until he rented Escape From New York. We lost touch after he moved to Paris with his girlfriend. I never got really friendly with him. The first time I met him, I thought he was a girl." Snake chuckled, but Campbell didn't move.
"You need a good friend Snake. Especially after what happened to Hal."
"Hey, I got you, haven't I?" Snake smiled. Campbell attempted to laugh but could only manage a series of sharp coughs. Snake put out his cigarette, rose and spoke again. "Let's call it a night, Roy."
Campbell slowly took out five silver coins and laid them by the ashtray. Snake took him by the arm and helped him to his feet.
"Huh. Ain't as young as I used to be."
"I know the feeling." Snake opened the door to the freezing wind and stepped out. His white beard bristled against his jacket lapels. Campbell and Snake embraced in a handshake and went their separate ways, never to talk to each other again.
Even if the old man had come to help his drinking partner he would have been refused. The man formerly known as Solid Snake huddled over a toilet basin coughing up thick black mud. He had time to get used to the daily fits during his Philanthropy days. If he could have managed a smile, he would have grinned right into the face of the dark tar that looked up at him from below. He remembered when they were only weekly fits.
Snake gradually regained control of his breathing and spat out the last drop of mucus while slumped against the cubicle door. He left without washing his hands and returned to his table without waking the old man. Snake picked up his cigarette, still burning in the ashtray among its liberated brothers and resumed inhaling it. He held down a cough and sat back in his chair. The bum stumbled out loudly, carrying his bottle in his right hand.
"Shouldn't have let me sleep, Snake." The old man stirred.
"Forget about it Roy," Snake replied. "I know how hard it is nowadays."
"Comes with the job, I suppose. What keeps you awake, Snake?"
Snake exhaled strongly. "Nightmares."
"About Alaska? Damn, I'm real sorry about that. I should never have sent you in there."
"It's under the bridge, Roy."
Both men looked away. The old man took another sip of bourbon while Snake sucked his cigarette. A police siren echoed miles away. Campbell breathed in deeply, as though he was going to speak, but instead bit his lip as he exhaled. Snake looked up.
"Ever think about the La-Lei-Loo-Lei-Lo?"
"Every damn day, Snake. You know they watch me all day and all night. You're lucky. They're still two faces behind you. Seen the FBI Most Wanted? You've still got a god damn mullet on that picture."
"Heh." Snake took another puff on his cigarette. A car passed.
"You've still got the same voice though. That'll never change. It's because of those pieces of shit you keep sucking on."
Snake chuckled again. Campbell smiled, forming creases in his chubby face. There was a long silence, broken only by the sound of an ambulance a city block away.
"You ever talk to Jack?" Campbell enquired.
"Not for fifteen years Roy, you know that."
"That's a damn shame. I met him once or twice after I was released. He was quite apprehensive at first, as though he didn't trust me."
"Yeah. It took him about a year to stop calling me Pliskin until he rented Escape From New York. We lost touch after he moved to Paris with his girlfriend. I never got really friendly with him. The first time I met him, I thought he was a girl." Snake chuckled, but Campbell didn't move.
"You need a good friend Snake. Especially after what happened to Hal."
"Hey, I got you, haven't I?" Snake smiled. Campbell attempted to laugh but could only manage a series of sharp coughs. Snake put out his cigarette, rose and spoke again. "Let's call it a night, Roy."
Campbell slowly took out five silver coins and laid them by the ashtray. Snake took him by the arm and helped him to his feet.
"Huh. Ain't as young as I used to be."
"I know the feeling." Snake opened the door to the freezing wind and stepped out. His white beard bristled against his jacket lapels. Campbell and Snake embraced in a handshake and went their separate ways, never to talk to each other again.