He sighed deeply, undoing the clasp on his harness and slipping it over his shoulders, pulling the straps down from his legs and simply kicking it aside.
"Where the hell did that go wrong?" He said aloud to himself, slumping down upon his bed. "I've studied everything about my opponents."
Snake reached across to the cupboard beside his bed, digging around in the drawer for the files he'd brought along.
'Falcon wasn't even listed as a high threat.' He thought to himself. His tactics seemed predictable and that signature move of his was slow and easily avoidable.
Snake rubbed his side with a grimace. 'So how come I still got caught by it?' He tossed aside his notes and lay back onto his bed, tucking a pillow under his left side. Reduced damage or not, Falcon punches hurt.
'Where did I go wrong?' He thought, staring up to the ceiling.
Ok, so there was more to the Captain than his information stated. F-Zero racer, yeah, everyone knew about that.
'Where did he get the title 'Captain' anyway?' Snake suddenly realised, rolling over to grab the file again, frantically searching through the pages. 'Didn't Otacon say something about him being a bounty hunter?' All he found was the same extensive resume on the moveset, which seemed now outdated. No trace of information about Falcon's apparant alternate profession.
'I guess that WOULD make sense.' Snake shrugged, turning to look at the TV. 'Wonder if I could find a replay of that match...'
After a little experimentaton with the buttons, Snake was able to find the menu for replaying the day's matches, all listed under the 'exhibition' segment. He could at least be thankful that his defeat wouldn't be counted against his actual tournament score. Selecting the match from only moments ago, he lay back again, resting his hands behind his head as he stared at the tv.
'He's more than just a racer...' He thought idly as he watched his rival upon the screen. 'That's pretty clear. A racer doesn't need a build like that.'
Falcon was a powerhouse, that's for sure. That physique was perfectly honed for combat, but his tactics were so basic, so straightforward. Snake should have been able to beat him.
His athletisism had caught him off guard. Falcon was certainly bigger than Snake muscularly, and as a result was much heavier, and yet he seemed to share an acrobatic proficiency on par with his own. Perhaps it was as simple as that. He had underestimated the man's agility, setting himself up for a fall from the start.
"Wait a second!" Snake shot up, wincing a little as he felt the twinge in his side. He grabbed the remote, winding the match back a little. "How did he not see Link there?"
He moved in closer, keeping his eye intently on Falcon. The Captain threw aside his box and grabbed his harness, yes. He remembered that. But looking past that, the moment where Link appeared, he ran straight past Falcon, barely feet away from him, and the Captain didn't even flinch.
'He didn't see my grenade either. How could he miss that?'
The match ended, and Snake once again caught a glimpse of the grenade clattering at Falcon's feet. Something was definately amiss. Anyone could have caught that.
There must be something, some flaw, some chink in Falcon's armour that would allow Snake to get the upper hand when they next met in battle.
Tossing the remote aside, Snake thought it was time to go back to what he knew best, a little bit of stealth to get as much information about Falcon as he could.
Of course, getting inside the Captain's room wouldn't be easy. But then, these things never were.