fissionmailed

psychosi-s.livejournal.com

*add an icepack to the list of items Snake needs. He's had the worst headache after that brief and unsuccessful skirmish with Laughing Octopus, and it's only getting worse. Factor in a week without the medication his body has gotten so used to and you've got a seriously unhinged Snake. He's this close to throttling whoever dares piss him off.*

*at least until he hears the overly cheerful carnival music resonating around the hallway of the third floor*

?

*the music appears to be coming from beyond a door at the end of the corridor. Curious, he opens it only to find himself in...*

What. The. Hell?

Current Mood: wut

psychosi-s.livejournal.com

*being off your medication does weird things to you, but this Snake is determined to stick it through. A smoke would make this so much easier, which is why he's now wandering through the halls of the sixth floor, on edge and tense*

One cigarette. Just one.

*grunts as he comes across a door with several NO SMOKING signs plastered on the front and opens it*

Would it be so much to--

*and is promptly buried in an avalanche of assorted cigarettes and cigars*

psychosi-s.livejournal.com

*on the fourth floor, there's a small padded room. If you look through the open slot in the door, you might see a figure slumped against the wall, head lolling to the side as if he's sedated*

*and you might notice that, despite the faded civilian clothes, his blue bandanna seems awfully out of place coupled with the two leather restraints binding his arms and legs down*

((AU land? AU land. This one in particular hails from a little game called