Liquid Snake | 'James Moriarty' (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
liquidouroboros) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2013-02-06 04:03 pm
liquidouroboros) wrote in towerofanimus2013-02-06 04:03 pm
Entry tags:
⚕ // enclosure
Characters: Liquid and open!
Format: I'll try to match.
Summary: Adventure and exploration with a miserable bastard.
Warnings: None yet.
[floor one hundred]
[Liquid had shoved the bloodstained FOXHOUND coat with its repaired bullet holes back into his trunk, going back to the usual dark green SEAL uniform. Of all the things to be stuck with, it had to be a disguise. Fate forbid he have the fortune enough to wear something normal the day some impossible Tower decided to kidnap him.]
[Whatever. It was a small item on the list of things he could complain about, after all. Shaking his head, the ponytailed blond set himself to a cautious exploration of the Tower. He'd intended to survey most of the floors from the stairs to begin with; who the hell knew what could happen if he stepped off. Liquid Snake was not one to fear death, but he wasn't going to rush blindly into something that might well get him killed. But the hundredth floor made him pause--it couldn't really be empty, right--and before he knew it he'd already walked off the staircase.]
[There wasn't much to it; what manifested immediately was the sight of a run down apartment with the New York skyline barely visible out the windows. Immediately on his guard (because of course he wouldn't fall for an obvious illusion--the soldier's hand rested on his holstered pistol as he looked around.]
...Hal? I don't suppose you're in here, are you?
[It was worth a shot, futile as he knew the attempt was. Liquid was kind of stupid like that. Of course there was no answer, but at least there were no monsters running about yet. Having decided to linger here just a minute before continuing on, the soldier moved to sit in a nearby chair...and of course fell straight through it, cursing vividly in Arabic.]
[So much for not falling for an obvious illusion.]
[floor sixty-two]
Why is there so much damned water in this hellhole?
[The irritated question was voiced mostly to himself, Liquid giving the ocean as much of a dirty look as one could possibly give scenery. One might be forgiven for thinking that specific ocean had just insulted him personally. Could 'Liquid' have hated water? Go figure.]
[floor fifty-nine]
[Liquid could not have had less intention to dare step off the stairs on that floor. But he didn't seem like he was about to leave, either--in fact he seemed rooted to the spot, hands curled into white-knuckled fists and a severe thousand-yard stare on his face that had rapidly lost all color.]
[Whatever was going through his head as he stared at a floor full of torture equipment, he was a million miles away at the moment.]
[cafeteria]
[To summarize his attempt at exploration: it sucked. Liquid was annoyed, on edge, and rummaging through the cafeteria's supply like his life depended on it. Finally, he made his displeasure known, in a very loud British-accented voice declaring what may have been the single highest priority for anyone raised in Oxford:]
Is this half-rate mess honestly all there is for tea in this miserable place?!
[The greatest soldier of his time, ladies and gentlemen.]
Format: I'll try to match.
Summary: Adventure and exploration with a miserable bastard.
Warnings: None yet.
[floor one hundred]
[Liquid had shoved the bloodstained FOXHOUND coat with its repaired bullet holes back into his trunk, going back to the usual dark green SEAL uniform. Of all the things to be stuck with, it had to be a disguise. Fate forbid he have the fortune enough to wear something normal the day some impossible Tower decided to kidnap him.]
[Whatever. It was a small item on the list of things he could complain about, after all. Shaking his head, the ponytailed blond set himself to a cautious exploration of the Tower. He'd intended to survey most of the floors from the stairs to begin with; who the hell knew what could happen if he stepped off. Liquid Snake was not one to fear death, but he wasn't going to rush blindly into something that might well get him killed. But the hundredth floor made him pause--it couldn't really be empty, right--and before he knew it he'd already walked off the staircase.]
[There wasn't much to it; what manifested immediately was the sight of a run down apartment with the New York skyline barely visible out the windows. Immediately on his guard (because of course he wouldn't fall for an obvious illusion--the soldier's hand rested on his holstered pistol as he looked around.]
...Hal? I don't suppose you're in here, are you?
[It was worth a shot, futile as he knew the attempt was. Liquid was kind of stupid like that. Of course there was no answer, but at least there were no monsters running about yet. Having decided to linger here just a minute before continuing on, the soldier moved to sit in a nearby chair...and of course fell straight through it, cursing vividly in Arabic.]
[So much for not falling for an obvious illusion.]
[floor sixty-two]
Why is there so much damned water in this hellhole?
[The irritated question was voiced mostly to himself, Liquid giving the ocean as much of a dirty look as one could possibly give scenery. One might be forgiven for thinking that specific ocean had just insulted him personally. Could 'Liquid' have hated water? Go figure.]
[floor fifty-nine]
[Liquid could not have had less intention to dare step off the stairs on that floor. But he didn't seem like he was about to leave, either--in fact he seemed rooted to the spot, hands curled into white-knuckled fists and a severe thousand-yard stare on his face that had rapidly lost all color.]
[Whatever was going through his head as he stared at a floor full of torture equipment, he was a million miles away at the moment.]
[cafeteria]
[To summarize his attempt at exploration: it sucked. Liquid was annoyed, on edge, and rummaging through the cafeteria's supply like his life depended on it. Finally, he made his displeasure known, in a very loud British-accented voice declaring what may have been the single highest priority for anyone raised in Oxford:]
Is this half-rate mess honestly all there is for tea in this miserable place?!
[The greatest soldier of his time, ladies and gentlemen.]
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