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( a memory of something lapsed )
Jun. 8th, 2017 06:40 pm[ he rarely feels comfortable in his quarters. something about being cloistered, four walls holding him hostage, makes the animal in him rage.
most of the camp is scattered amongst the trees, signs of inhabitation shrouded by the south american jungle. he finds a different tree every night and straps himself into its cover, camo hiding him amongst the foliage. the lack of creature comfort has become his norm; sleeping deeply is a matter of allowing himself to do so.
only once does one of his new recruits come close to discovering his night-time ritual, but john - snake, in this context - is awake and perched for flight before the recruit comes within a ten-foot radius. he has the relocate due to the stench of piss left to waft up from the base of the tree, but even that inconvenience is a comfort. a soldier never really acclimates to easy living.
still, there's a strangeness to the whole endeavor. he grows to care for his new burgeoning paradise of soldiers as he's done once before, but there's a bitterness that lingers. there's no friendly slap from kaz waiting at the end of the day, no volley of banter from a distant adam, no sideways glances to misinterpret from paz. nothing but new people, his past left behind like scorched earth.
a necessity, ocelot had said. his legacy has become a caricature, the title of big boss grown beyond the confines of one flesh-and-blood body. venom, kaz's loyalty, his own isolation: all of them, necessities.
break a bone a dozen times and it reforms twelve times as strong. so they say.
john's cleared his room by the time ocelot's due to arrive. there's little to clear, given that he spends little to no time within its walls, but he knows ocelot's sharp eyes will catch and catalogue everything that he fails to put away. for the better or worse.
it wouldn't do to have him seen on base, even if his soldiers would never question big boss's motives. he leaves the door unlocked, certain that adam will manage to bypass perimeter security without help. ]
most of the camp is scattered amongst the trees, signs of inhabitation shrouded by the south american jungle. he finds a different tree every night and straps himself into its cover, camo hiding him amongst the foliage. the lack of creature comfort has become his norm; sleeping deeply is a matter of allowing himself to do so.
only once does one of his new recruits come close to discovering his night-time ritual, but john - snake, in this context - is awake and perched for flight before the recruit comes within a ten-foot radius. he has the relocate due to the stench of piss left to waft up from the base of the tree, but even that inconvenience is a comfort. a soldier never really acclimates to easy living.
still, there's a strangeness to the whole endeavor. he grows to care for his new burgeoning paradise of soldiers as he's done once before, but there's a bitterness that lingers. there's no friendly slap from kaz waiting at the end of the day, no volley of banter from a distant adam, no sideways glances to misinterpret from paz. nothing but new people, his past left behind like scorched earth.
a necessity, ocelot had said. his legacy has become a caricature, the title of big boss grown beyond the confines of one flesh-and-blood body. venom, kaz's loyalty, his own isolation: all of them, necessities.
break a bone a dozen times and it reforms twelve times as strong. so they say.
john's cleared his room by the time ocelot's due to arrive. there's little to clear, given that he spends little to no time within its walls, but he knows ocelot's sharp eyes will catch and catalogue everything that he fails to put away. for the better or worse.
it wouldn't do to have him seen on base, even if his soldiers would never question big boss's motives. he leaves the door unlocked, certain that adam will manage to bypass perimeter security without help. ]
