"RAAAWGH!" The robotic fist punched a hole in the bunker wall.
"I know," the shadowy figure spoke to the angry cowboy. Ooo. Who could it be? Surely not Big Boss. That would be unpossible.
"All their balls?"
"Destroyed," the mysterious figure said gruffly, lighting a cigar with his robotic finger of his own.
"We've got a problem," the cowboy said, suddenly feigning composure, a bullshit act that involved a lot of needless revolver twirling.
"Remember Afghanistan?"
"Hah.. how could I forget?"
"Let's just say, I've got an idea."
The cowboy groaned. "It doesn't involve pornography and crocodile hats, does it?"
"Quiet."
Johnny Akiba did what he did best, shitting loudly into a rusty barrel.
Snake maintained his composure. They taught you things like this in FOX HOUND. He cleared his mind, ignoring the shower of faeces. He pressed X to remember.
"I sure hope you don't escape! That would ruin my life."
A flash of him spraying ketchup all over the room.
"..ruin my life."
Dreams of Dracula, forking rats, sharing rations. 144.75.
"..ruin my life."
Snake reached up with the serenity and body discipline of a Shaolin monk, seizing the sweaty testicles suspended above him.
"Don't move, or you'll be unconscious till the next time I visit this area."
"Aaah! Aaaaah! That voice!"
Johnny pressed X to remember.
"You don't try to escape, or I'll know. Now just.. wait here. I got to.." Agony! He seized his perfectly toned buttocks as his guts raged.
He ignored the sensation that he'd just brushed against someone as he charged down the hall.
"We're best friends now, right? You promise not to escape? Because Colonel Volgin personally promised me he would track my family down in America and kill them if you do. You've seen their picture. They deserve to live."
The one eyed devil smiled, almost as if his new friend was issuing a challenge.
"No... NOOO! It's YOU!"
"Hrmm.."
"Please! Stay away from me! My dad had to move to Idaho because of you! I got fired from my job! Haven't you done enou-AAAAGGHH!"
The tiniest smirk grossed Snake's aged, shit covered face.
"Ladies," the Russian paced as he spoke, "You were selected for the.. special properties your sex brings to the battlefield. And no, I don't mean your superior sniping abilities, or your powers of seduction, or even your ability to make skin tight uniforms as effective as a full suit of battle armor. I am referring to this."
He cupped himself, massaging his aching testes.
The discomfort in the room was palpable, but not a single member of FROG unit broke rank. That took discipline.
"Now go out and find your target. Remember, I want him aliivvee!" their commanding officer continued to fondle himself for quite some time.
"MOVE OUT!"
"SIR, YES, SIR!"
Snake lay splayed on the ground. He was unsure if he had become a man now, as his father implied would be the case, were he ever to lay hands on one, but he had little time to consider the issue, as the shapely thighs wrapped around his neck, choking the life from him.
"I'm.. getting.. too.. old.. for.. this.." he wheezed, wasting pressure oxygen.
A shot rang out, and the strangely clad soldier collapsed on his face.
"Get her off of him," a familiar voice spoke.
As vision returned, an image coalesced before him, an image from his past, one he hoped to never see again.
"Meryl," the exposition escaped from his lips.
"How do you know my name, old man?" She seemed annoyed.
"As cocky as ever," he rasped.
"Get this filthy hobo out of my sight! We've got to clear the building and complete our mission!"
"Meryl, it's me. Snaaake."
"No way, man. You're like, a million years old. You don't think I know how time works, just because I'm a woman? Stop lying, you stupid liar. Stop lying or I'll shoot you in the face."
Snake pressed X to remember, adding slight interactivity to the sometimes hour long cutscenes.
"Stop staring at my ass!"
"OMG! A WOMAN! I WANT TO FUUUUCK YOU!" Snake said suavely.
Returning to the present, Snake repeated the line, verbatim, triggering similar flashbacks in his savior's woman-brain.
"Snake?! It is you! ... What happened?"
"Forget it. It's not important. I need your help."
"We're on a mission, Snake. Besides, you left me to die on Shadow Moses. Why should I help you?"
Snake regretfully remembered pressing [SELECT]. He sighed.
"My special technique won't work on these new soldiers for some reason. Also, I think I'm a man now."
Meryl grunted in disgusted. "...Fine. But only because I'm sentimental. Not because I'm a woman and not capable of making difficult decisions without letting my heart get in my way."
Snake selected the option to jiggled her boobs.
"Cut it out!" She giggled, immediately aroused.
Meryl used her bullet gun technique to defeat the battalion of scantily clad female commandos. Snake took notes. He'd never considered using guns to kill people before, but it seemed particularly effective in these situations. "Perhaps that's why soldiers usually carry them," he thought, stroking his grey stubble. He withdrew a Playboy from his inventory slot, hoping to contribute. Gazing at the pages raised his PSYCHE meter, as blood rushed to his increasingly unreliable penis, and his proud Japanese soul felt invigorated and pure. HAIDARAAAA!
"Wow! Meryl! You sure are good at killing!"
"Teehee!" Meryl blushed. "You think so, Snake?"
"Hrrmmm... urrrhhhgg.." Snake mused, before flopping on the ground, crawling like a worm, and spinning wildly on his penis.
"Ugh! Nevermind," Meryl said.
Lt. Roy Campbell itched beneath his thick woolen sports jacket, the only one he owned. He had spent his week's leave to attend a friend's wedding. Weddings always made Roy uncomfortable. He wasn't entirely sure why. He thought it had something to do with the binding of two souls. The idea made him squeamish. The obligation, the permanence. He could never see himself getting married, even if she was special. His brother had always held different views.
"I want to introduce you to my wife, Amanda,"
By the time Roy had lifted his eyes, his world had forever changed. She was beautiful, 5'7", red hair, a pure, innocent smile, and the body of a showroom model.
He penetrated her later that evening, her legs wrapped tight around his portly frame. It was a tradition in military circles to share wives among the ranking officers, a kind of sexual fraternitatis, demonstrating the depth of their bonds. Not so, one might think, with door-to-door vacuum salesman, but one night's indiscretion was all the wayward soldier could ask for. He shipped off for San Hieronymo the morning.
"THEN GET AN ABORTION!" Roy Campbell shouted into the receiver.
The phone clicked. Silence.
"I need a drink."