Disclaimer: As I've said before, I don't own Super Smash Brothers or the character of Solid Snake. All rights belong to Nintendo, Konami and Kojima Productions. I however do own The Drunken Slurs (It's so much fun to boss around fictional characters!).
Far above the land on which you and I live out our dull, boring existence flew a large black jumbo jet. It soared through the clouds like a massive eagle made of steel and metal, gazing down at the land below in search of a metal mouse to eat.
Deep within the cargo bay of this airplane, Solid Snake was sitting down on the cold, hard metal floor. He was leaning against a row of crates and was reading a book with a drawing of a scorpion on the cover. He was so engrossed that he didn't see the man standing next to him.
"Snake?" said a man with an English accent. He was dressed in a black bomber's jacket and gray pants; his gray hair had been cut into a military buzz cut. "We are approaching our destination."
Snake was too busy reading to pay attention to what the other man was saying. The man standing next to Snake stuck a hand in front of the bearded man's face, attempting to bring him back to cold, hard reality; his hand was promptly and wordlessly pushed away.
"Snake, we are getting close to your first drop-off point," the man said, his voice growing impatient.
The book fell from Snake's hands and clattered on the steel deck. His face went ashen and his eyes bugged out. "Oh, no… They shot Alex!" He got up and pulled out his 9mm, intending to shoot the book. "Horowitz, you dirty—"
The man standing next to him laughed, stepped in front of Snake and picked up the book. He read the title and smiled. "Aren't you a little old to be reading this?"
Snake holstered his gun. He could see that the other man was Major Thomas Aholl, the guy who Wario had appointed as Snake's overseer for this particular mission. He saluted the man.
"Maybe, but it says on the back cover 'Ages 10 and up'. I'm over ten years old; therefore, I'm in the up category." He then thoughtfully stroked his chin. "Come to think of it, didn't I look like an old guy a few years back?"
"Let's not concern ourselves with such discontinuities now, Snake," said Major Aholl. "As I have told you before, we are nearing your first drop-off point. You do remember your mission objectives, right?"
Snake rummaged through one of the crates he had been leaning on, dug out a paratrooper's uniform and started putting it on. "Yeah, don't I have to infiltrate an evil organization that wants to kill the U.S. and the U.K.'s entire population of 12 to 14-year-olds by distributing a vaccine laced with cyanide?"
Major Aholl sighed and rolled his eyes. "No, Snake. You have to find The Drunken Slurs and Dr. Mario and 'retrieve' them for the President's barbecue party." When Aholl had said the word "retrieve," he had done the quotation mark thing with his fingers that Wario had done.
"What does 'everyone' keep doing 'this' for?" asked Snake, doing the fake quotation marks with his fingers.
"Please, don't make fun of me," said Major Aholl.
"Talley-ho!" said Snake in an exaggerated British accent, jumping around on an imaginary horse in a very OOCish way. "Biscuits, tea and crumpets!"
Major Aholl waved off Snake. "Would you please stop that? You're only going to end up offending our readers from the UK with that bollocks."
Snake stopped hopping around and stared at the major, feeling very confused. "What on earth are you talking about? What readers from the UK?"
Just then, a red light went on above the massive cargo door at the south end of the room. "Attention," said a pleasant female voice over the overhead loudspeakers. "We have now arrived at Cincinnati, Ohio. Please prepare to depart."
"There's no time to explain," said Aholl. "We've arrived at the first drop-off point!"
Snake had gone back to the crate and was still digging around. "Hey Major, where's the parachute?"
"I'm terribly sorry, Snake," said Major Aholl with a small smile. "But due to President Wario's budget cuts, this class of air transport cannot carry parachutes for the time being."
"You mean I have to make a thirty-thousand foot jump without a parachute?" asked an indignant Snake. "That's a suicide mission!"
Aholl shook his head. "If it makes you feel any better, just keep saying to yourself 'I'm Batman'." He then added in a softer voice, "You've got that perfect Batman voice, you know?"
"Are you coming on to me?"
"No, why would you think that?"
"You've got your hand on my shoulder."
"Oh," said the major, quickly removing his hand. "Sorry about that."
A moment after that incredibly awkward scene, the cargo door slowly opened, revealing a sea of clouds and the land below. Snake reluctantly stepped forward, Major Aholl standing behind him.
Snake was about to ask if it was a safe idea to jump out, but before he could say anything, the major roundhouse-kicked him in the butt and sent him flying out of the plane.
Snake let out a long scream as he fell through a massive cloud deck, scaring a group of angels that were holding a Texas Hold 'Em tournament. He could see that the ground was growing scarily closer to him as he fell further and further from the plane.
Okay, okay. Aholl said that all I have to do is say 'I'm Batman' and everything'll be okay. Let's give it a shot…
"I'M BATMAN!" screamed Snake loudly. He shook his head and closed his eyes. No, that didn't come out right, he thought. I'd better try it again… Snake opened his eyes and said in a low, growling voice, "I'm Batman."
Upon uttering 'I'm Batman', he could metaphorically feel his fear running away like the little sissy that it was. He then could metaphorically feel his elation metaphorically holding his fear into a headlock.
"WOO-HOO!" he cried happily. "I'VE CONQUERED MY FEAR OF FALLING! I CAN DO ANYTH—"
He was cut off as he smashed into the nose of a passing airplane.
As he slipped off of the aircraft and continued his descent, he could feel his fear metaphorically break free from his elation's headlock and metaphorically give elation a groin shot and metaphorically throw it onto the metaphorical mat that metaphorically represented Snake's brain. His fear then metaphorically sat down on a chair that metaphorically represented Snake's mind and took control of the man again.
With fear at the helm, Snake began to wig out as he saw the ground rapidly approaching him. "WAHHHGGGGHHH! I'MBATMANI'MBATMANI'MBATMANI'MBATMANI'MBATMAN!" He screamed in vain, trying to dislodge his fear, who had now metaphorically taken the shape of a deeply entrenched bureaucrat and wasn't budging from the seat of Snake's mind.
He was now about eighty feet from the ground. Thankfully, it looked like he was going to land in someone's swimming pool, which would hopefully cushion his fall. Unfortunately for Snake, the wind began to shift direction and he ended up landing on top of some sunbathing cougar and her nineteen-year-old boyfriend, who were sitting in lawn chairs at the side of the pool.
Fortunately for Snake, his natural body weight, coupled with the untold amounts of firearms and various weapons hidden in his sneaking suit, had killed the cougar and her boyfriend, thus causing him to avoid having to explain why he was falling from the sky in the first place.
He picked himself up off of the corpses a few minutes later after he recovered from the shock and pain of the impact. Being the gentleman that he was, Snake removed his paratrooper's outfit and draped it over the two bodies.
Before he had a chance to scratch his head and wonder how he survived, he could hear his codec buzzing. He put his hand to his ear.
"What an amazing drop, Snake!" exclaimed Major Aholl from the airplane far above. "I knew you could do it! Bloody awful what happened to those two people, though…"
"How on earth could you see what happened?" asked Snake.
"Erm, never you mind that," said the Major. "What you need to concern yourself with now is finding The Drunken Slurs."
"How am I going to find The Drunken Slurs?"
Aholl sighed. "Are you always this full of questions? Very well. The Drunken Slurs live in a house on his block where you have arrived. You'll know when you'll find them because you will hear someone playing music and will smell marijuana in the air. Aholl out."
Snake climbed over the fence in the yard and found himself on the main street. It was your stereotypical suburban neighborhood; kids rode down the street on roller skates and bicycles, plumbers were sleeping with other people's wives and gangs of sexagenarians who didn't have real lives anymore were making pitiful complaints about other people's arraignments of potted plants to the local Gestapo, uh, I mean the local homeowner's association.
Anyways, Snake walked around the neighborhood in a random haze, trying to find The Drunken Slurs' house. As he wandered about, a red Dodge Charger driven by a teenage girl came down the road and Snake could hear that she had a song blaring loudly on her radio. As he heard the song, his blood ran cold.
It was Firework by Katy Perry.
In Snake's mind, a repressed memory unseated his fear. He could remember that awful week he was locked in that room, forced to listen to that infernal song and every song ever performed by the Dave Matthews Band. What little childish innocence had remained in Snake had died that day along with a few hundred brain cells.
He then could feel irrationality knock the repressed memory out of the chair of his mind. Suddenly, Solid Snake snapped (say that ten times fast). He pulled out his much-neglected SOCOM and shot at a group of pesky sexagenarians who were on someone's lawn, complaining to Heinrich Himmler, uh, I mean, the head of the local homeowner's association. The sexagenarians dispersed, but Snake had felled five of them and pumped his fist in triumph.
He then shot an old guy who was going to get his morning paper. Then he whipped out a submachine gun (Man, did that sneaking suit have some deep pockets) and emptied it into a mailman, all the while screaming "TEACH ME ABOUT SELF-ESTEEM, WILL YOU YOU (insert various bleeping sounds here)IN' SONG!"
As Snake stood over the dying mailman, ready to shoot some skateboarding kid, the codec rang. "I'LL GET YOU IN A MINUTE!" he screamed to the boy.
He put a hand to his ear. "Snake, what's going on down there? Why are you indiscriminately shooting and killing pedestrians?"
"Wait a minute," said Snake as reality metaphorically unseated his irrationality. "You mean this isn't Jedi Knight: Dark Forces 2?"
"No, Snake," said Aholl in a very annoyed voice. "This is real life. Well, not really. But anyway, you're looking for The Drunken Slurs and you have to kidnap, uh, I mean, 'retrieve' them, for Wario's barbecue party."
"Gotcha. Sorry 'bout what happened. It just… that song." Snake shuddered from even thinking about it.
"You'd better get rid of those bodies," said Major Aholl, choosing to ignore Snake's apology. "The BAU has eyes everywhere."
Taking the Major's advice, Snake grabbed the bodies of the slain pedestrians and threw them down a sewer. He was holding the body of the mailman and was ready to throw it down when a black van slowly drove through the neighborhood. Snake's eyes widened as he saw the letters 'BAU' written in white on the side of the van.
Quickly throwing the body down the sewer and putting the manhole cover back on, Snake faked a smile and waved at the van. From the driver and passenger seats, Rossi and Hotchner pointed to their eyes and then to Snake. The bearded man swallowed hard and wiped his brow in relief after the van had passed him.
He continued wandering about the neighborhood until he stopped in front of a fancy, two-story house. It wasn't the house's good looks that had stopped him; there was an unusual odor floating in air, seeming to come from the foundation of the house.
Snake couldn't quite put his finger on what exactly it was. It smelled kind of like a mixture of fresh-cut grass, burnt popcorn and the stockroom at a Barnes and Noble bookstore. It was an intoxicating but awful aroma. For a moment, Snake swore he could see daisies floating through the air and some really cool spiraling colors.
Then he heard a sound. At first, he thought it was a sitar, but then he could hear that it was someone playing an electric guitar. The sound seemed to drift up from the lower level of the house. Snake went up the house's driveway and found a small window at the base of the house. He got down on his belly and looked in the window, which seemed to look into the basement of the house.
Down there, he could see Fox McCloud playing an electric guitar, Falco Lombardi slapping a bass and some nerdy-looking guy with frizzy hair playing drums.
This was the place.
He decided it was time to call the Major. "Major Aholl? I've arrived at my destination. What do I do now?"
"Did you have to call me right now, Snake?" asked the major in an annoyed voice. "I was just getting ready to watch Casino Royale."
"Man, is that a good one," said Snake fondly.
"I don't know how I feel about a blonde James Bond though…"
"Trust me, once you see that chase scene where Bond and some guy duke it out in a construction site, his hair color won't matter anymore."
"Well, when you put it that way…"
"'Nuff said. Anyway, I found The Drunken Slurs. What do I do now?"