(closed) you wanna be where you can see

[shashka]

Who: Big Boss & Ocelot, with cameos by Venom Snake and Kazuhira Miller
When: after this
Where: some bar in r1 kauto
What: John and Adam have an excellent adventure AKA two grown-ass men blow a year's worth of rent on alcohol while trying not to be sad about their mom.
Warnings: solving your problems with alcohol. guys being bros.

[ the thing with always being kept waiting is the fact that it gives you time to prepare. the bar that Adam gave John directions to is similar enough to a dive bar you might find in a big city like New York, or Moscow (...well. perhaps it was slightly more reputable than any bar you might find in Moscow). immediately, he grabs a table for two in a more secluded corner, ensuring that they weren't likely to be overheard or interrupted. once a spy, always a spy, after all.

in the centre of the bar is a stage, complete with one of those karaoke machines that are popular in Japan. currently, there's a rather sad-looking local doing a rendition of something that sounds suspiciously like a hit song from the 1970's. not that it's exactly easy to tell. Adam cannot help but think that any more live "entertainment" will only drive them both to drink more quickly (which, given the circumstances might be just as well).

he has the bartender leave him a two bottles each of vodka and whiskey, ignoring the judgmental look that he's given (if nothing else, the amount of money they'll end up dropping on the alcohol here should win them goodwill with the locals). by the end of this evening, he hopes that John's melancholy will be alleviated ever so slightly. it was the least he could do for his friend.

(and, a part of him also hopes that for the first time in his life he'll feel the bitter taste of defeat when Adam emerges victorious.) ]

Comments

[camouflage]

[though his rugged outward appearance would say otherwise, john had never been a big drinker. before the 60s, drinking had been for celebration. though that had quickly rectified itself. he wonders if the reason his civilian life never worked out was because he was too idle, left with nothing to occupy him but drinking. then there had been a few times after the patriots. after peace walker. after his coma. after coming back from the moira. the point is, this isn't his first time escaping into a bottle to avoid anymore trauma and it certainly won't be his last.

john would like to say he's not an alcoholic. he can go cold turkey whenever he wants.

but that's really neither here nor there. he's just looking to distract himself, that's all. he's not running away from his problems. although the look he imagined joy giving him when he had left her at the apartment would probably say otherwise.

for once, ocelot waits no longer than he had originally planned for. john had only idled long enough at home to shower, change into fresh clothes, and get joy settled in for a long night by herself. the old soldier had no disillusions that he would win their little contest, but it would sure as hell take a long time to lose. after all, he had a lot of experience in this.

the bar is easy enough to find; some hole-in-the-wall that was perfect to stay anonymous in. have some peace and quiet. well, they would, anyway, once the guy crooning horribly on stage got tired of it. he steers himself over to the back of the bar, where he knows without a doubt someone like adam will be, and makes himself comfortable across from his friend. and, like any good friend who knew just about everything there was to know about a person except for how to fix him, ocelot is already prepared with bottles of whiskey.]

Am I really that stereotypical of an American?

[shashka]

[ in contrast, despite the reputation of his countrymen, Ocelot rarely drank in excess (or, rarely drank in excess compared to other Soviets). in fact, the only time he could say that he'd ever been drunk had been when he was a young man, just promoted to Major. the reasons were numerous but they all came down to the nature of who he was. drinking had usually been a social activity for him, and there was no one he trusted enough to allow himself to drop his guard with (although the same could not be said for some of the "comrades" whose company he kept. there was no better way to obtain information, after all).

but like with so many other things, John was an exception to that rule. his lips quirk into a smirk, and there's a hint of arrogance reminiscent of that from his youth. ]

I thought it was appropriate. The might of the United States against the endurance of the Soviet Union. To make it interesting, the winner gets to decide what we eat for the next month.

[ though neither of them were exaclty what anyone would call 'loyal' to their respective countries.

and as Adam pours them their shots, for the first time since why'd met, he feels confident that he can best John in something. ]

How did you want to do this? Exchange stories until we find something worth toasting for?

[ as with most things, he defers to his best friend.

(in the meantime, the guy up on stage has moved onto butchering something that might've sounded like Queen's "fat bottomed girls", at some point.) ]

[camouflage]

[at the mention of the stakes, john almost laughs. he knows what this is about. if there's one thing the two of them don't necessarily see eye-to-eye on, it's their food. though the old soldier wouldn't call adam picky (at least, not to his face), he knows that wild game more than once in a while is probably a little much for anyone's stomach. not everyone can have a trash compactor for a digestive system, though he tends to forget. except for his exotic hunts, john's taste in food is probably otherwise bland. he's a simple man, after all.

of course, if ocelot is so tired of their choices in cuisine that he'd stake a contest on it (a contest he is sure to win, john knows), why does he keep eating everything big boss puts in front of him? it's an utter mystery.

still, john nods his head in agreement. it's no skin off his back if he has to eat whatever russian dishes adam is sure to come up with. he just won't like it. the god-awful taste of those russian rations rise up unbidden on the back of his tongue, like he ate one just hours ago instead of years.]

You mean you haven't been keeping tabs on me since the 70s? I don't think there's a single story I could tell you that you don't know about.

[john leans forward on the table, forearms and hands bare for once as he changed into a simple t-shirt for this outing, and grabs at his shot of whiskey. he leans it slightly towards adam, an impromptu toast, and smiles just the tiniest bit.]

I think this toast should just be for the miracle of the two of us occupying the same space for once. So, to space, I guess.

[and he knocks it back fluidly.]

[shashka]

To space.

[ Adam would like to say he's not a picky eater. he is merely a normal human being when it comes to food. and it's not like he'd ever make anyone willingly choke down Russian rations. it... just might be a nice change to have beef stroganoff instead of... whatever mystery meat his friend has brought back. even if sour cream does take some of the edge off of things.

(as for why he chokes down every single thing John brings home? why did he stay by his bedside for nine years, why did he work with Miller, never complaining or so he would insist? the answer was always the same.)

in turn, Adam knocks back his shot of vodka, barely feeling the burn as it goes down. he's dressed in something slightly more casual as well, wearing a simple plaid shirt and jeans. though, he still keeps his signature boots and red gloves. ]

I'm sure there's one or two weeks I don't know about. [ a pause ] But you are from a little further ahead, aren't you? Meet anyone interesting?

[ he thinks for a moment on what he should toast for. he ends up settling on the one thing that he knows that the Boss wouldn't be disappointed in either of them for. ]

If you think about it, the fact we became friends at all is a miracle. [ what a pair they made. the Boss's biological son and her chosen son. ] So, to our friendship.

[ and down goes a second shot. ]

[camouflage]

[the second shot of whiskey settles warmly in his gut, like molten lead. it's a pleasant feeling, after having been outside in chioni's quickly freezing forests. generally, cold air has little to no effect on john, even if the wind starts to sting at ten degrees or less. if anything, it's the heat that gets to him; after operating in the middle east for almost six years, he's used to the dry heat of 120 degrees fahrenheit. anything higher than that or the sticky feeling of excess humidity generally puts him in a disagreeable mood.]

A miracle, huh? I think ever since that fight in the WIG, that's all we were hurtling towards.

[he had never pulled the trigger on that revolver, after all. trying to imagine a world where they had never become friends was impossible for john.[

I keep forgetting you're half a decade behind me. You're not so much different in the 90s. Longer hair and you never take that beat-up duster coat off, but you're still the same. [granted, they had only seen each other once since the end of Diamond Dogs, but it was enough, john supposed. he would prefer that adam not be entrenched into several different world political situations at once, but he would never get everything he wanted.]

Did you know that I made contact with Frank again?

[shashka]

[ he chuckles. ]

You never did tell me why you didn't shoot.

[ he gestures with his hands, just like he did when he was a young man. over half his life, he'd willingly integrated himself in this man's orbit, knowing that even while they were apart, they'd inevitably meet again, time after time. unlike some others that they knew, just knowing he was out there, somewhere in the world, had almost always been enough for Ocelot.

and he'd do everything in his power to keep it that way. ]

You know, I always told myself I'd get it cut when we got out of Afghanistan. Go back to being a presentable GRU officer. But, I'm starting to like it.

[ though having gone gray so early would always be a particular sore spot for him.

who would Ocelot be if he wasn't triple, or quadruple-crossing some government or another? life would get far too boring, just staying in one place. he raises an eyebrow ]

The kid from the "Perfect Soldier Project"? [ and yet another pie that Zero had his fingers in. ] I trust your judgement.

[ as he did on most things, with one or two exceptions. ]

[camouflage]

A real mystery.

[it's not a decision he can properly convey into words. hindsight had made it clear why that was the right choice, but at the moment of it occurring, it just been more of a gut reaction than actual reasoning. john remembers how shocked adam had been, practically demanding an answer to the why of it. all he had been able to do was smile, like the young officer should've been expecting that outcome all along.

and maybe they both should have.

there's a part of him that wants to tell him; that john had just known they would cross paths again. that they would form an alliance that would make them both better for it. instead, though, he just pours himself another shot.]

What happened to Frank was... My fault. [back when he still believed child soldiers could be rehabilitated. that any soldier could fully give up the call of the battlefield.] I was the reason Zero got to him in the first place. I met him when he was 11, chopping up Portuguese officers. I just wanted him to have a better life.

[frank had always been a solemn kid, even more-so as an orphaned child just trying to survive a war. but john remembers when he had clung to him the day before he had sent him to america, as if he knew what would happen.]

Should've realized that the safest place for him was with me.

[shashka]

[ maybe, in the end, it had been destiny, if you believed in something like that. linked together by one woman, though neither of them had known it at the time. or, far more likely, it had been a coincidence.

at John's next words, Adam shakes his head, even as he pours himself a shot. he wasn't going to allow his oldest friend to place every burden on himself. that wasn't what this evening was for. ]

You did the best that you could with the information that was given to you. No one could've done better than you.

[ in Adam's opinion, John's greatest flaw had always been placing his trust in the wrong people. Eva. Zero. Miller. while perhaps none of them had meant to do it (with the exception of Zero), in the end, they had all betrayed him in one way or another.

(and as much as he hated to admit it, Adam held a good chunk of the responsibility for Zero and the Patriots. while he rarely dwells on his past regrets, since arriving here, he's found that he keeps thinking what would have happened if he hadn't given Zero the Legacy.

though in the long run, maybe it would've changed nothing.) ]

He's with you now, and that's what matters.

[ he raises his glass, signalling for his friend not to dwell on something he couldn't have hoped to prevent ]

[camouflage]

[there's a lot that could be said about john's willingness to open himself up to people who think they have his best interests at heart. maybe about yearning for a family he never had, maybe about being ultimately destroyed by the one person who mattered most to him, maybe about trying to cover up the wound with any sort of human compassion. thankfully, john has never thought that deeply about it and probably never will.

instead of psychoanalyzing himself, he knocks back another shot, the warmth in his stomach starting to creep outward. adam's right, of course; he did what he thought was right. like every time he's ever made a decision in his life that affected someone else.]

There was also a girl we picked up, in '87. [he starts again on their original topic, filling his glass up for another drink. reminiscing, he thumbs at the rim of it, missing home just the slightest.] We call her Wolf. She's got a thing for dogs. Gonna be the best female sniper in history. [he sounds......vaguely proud.]

[shashka]

[ there are quite a few things that Adam is grateful his friend has never taken the time to think deeply about. it would only hurt him in the long run, after all.

(and he tries not to think about how despite his best efforts, in the end, his oldest friend still wanted to die.)

as John does his shot, Adam follows suit, and quickly pours himself another drink, knocking that one back well. he still felt nothing, and pours himself yet another drink, finishing off three shots in a row, before taking a break.

this was going to be a long evening. ]

Sounds like a good kid. I'd like to meet her someday, maybe show her a thing or two about raising dogs. [ he's not going to mention the fact that his friend seemed to be a good father figure to every single child he met but his own children. ] But you shouldn't just stop there. Have her be the best sniper in history.

[ on the word "sniper", his accent might just sound vaguely Russian for a moment. but that's probably nothing.

but seriously, John. make sure she's better than the End. better than... ]

Did I ever tell you about "Quiet"?

[camouflage]

[don't let john fool you, ocelot. he is intimately aware that he seems to have absolutely no trouble in taking other children under his wing, but steadfastly rejects his own. especially now that he's living in a world where his children are about his age during the snake eater mission. why? he still doesn't really have an answer for it. maybe because they were always meant to just be his replacement, maybe because he thinks that there shouldn't be more than one of him in this world.

years later after the fact, john still thinks what he did by leaving them was for the best of everyone involved. just think of the disaster those two would've been if they had been raised by him.

he matches ocelot's drinking, glass by glass. this IS a competition, after all. still, though, he has to clear his throat a little after that much whiskey in one go. and his voice might be getting a little scratchier, like that tone you get after you just wake up.]

Тихий. I remember. [mostly, he remembers getting a scalpel in the shoulder.] You relayed some information to me about her in person, but it was all clinical. Her technique, who she was, that she had disappeared. Hell of a thing to lose track of, Adam.

AT SOME UNGODLY HOUR OF THE MORNING

[camouflage]

[hey v you up cause john isn't going to stop texting until you are]

ahab

[camouflage]

ocelot and i need help

[alterplex]

[ what the heck

if Venom was asleep before, he sure as hell isn'T NOW ]

give me a status

[ he didn't capitalize OR punctuate, this is some serious shit ]

[camouflage]

we cant get up

[it's faster this way v, shh]

[camouflage]

or move

[alterplex]

[ BB defense squad, Mobilized ]

any injuries?

[ he's already getting up ok he's ON THIS ]

give me a location

[alterplex]

[ and, in the event that BB takes too long to respond: ]

stay with me, ishmael

[camouflage]

[v why the fuck do you sound so worried]

the park

[camouflage]

i think

[camouflage]

im lost

[alterplex]

[ what ]

was it an ambush?

[ ?????? Ish and Ocelot are in a park... and they can't move... and are lost. Who did this, who is responsible for this????? ]

ocelot should know how to send coordinates. is he awake?

[camouflage]

[john looks over to his incredibly NOT drunk friend, who is definitely NOT trying to sleep on his shoulder. his voice is little more than a rumble when he says:]

Ahab said you need to send him coordinates.

[even though john knows how to do it, too]

[shashka]

[ Adam shoots a slightly not-drunken glare at his friend because you know... he was resting. his. eyes. ]

Why not you?

[ your shoulder is a really comfortable pillow, John, and you smell good. ]

[camouflage]

[he smells like cigars and whiskey and failure]

He asked for you to do it.

[but he guesses let sleeping cats lie or whatever. he sighs and grumbles:]

Never mind, I got it.

[with some struggle, he sends their position to poor v]