Fanfiction
Fandom: Metal Gear Solid
Summary: Ocelot, Liquid, otherwise and exploration.
Notes: 2008 christmas gift fic for xhannay. Edited.
There are an infinite number of ways to kill someone. A hundred million ways to see someone scream and beg for mercy, writhing in agony - or pleasure, if that's the way your twisted mind spins. Even on the day the sun burns out and all life is destroyed, still human intelligence will find a new and interesting way to rip someone's guts out - whether it be with a rusty fork or with the jaws of a mechanical digger. Humans have such a wide imagination that even if someone spent their entire life writing down all the possible ways to kill someone, they would still die with the book unfinished.
He wonders if it is possible to kill someone from a paper cut.
Liquid Ocelot knows all this, and he also knows that he's more than a little insane. He knows that before, when he was Ocelot, he enjoyed torturing more than he did killing, enjoyed the thrill of seeing someone's cool facade shatter and crack under the pressure that he was heaping upon them. The absolute joy of knowing that he was the one who controlled their life, who controlled just how far the torture went until they died - or until he released them from their agony. His choice, his power.
But he also knows now that he is Liquid, now that his arm (he flexes it and looks down at the arm in satisfaction) has taken over this body (an adequate body, if not his own) that he enjoys the killing more. The spin of life and death and choosing death. But… there is still a taste in him for the macabre twist that torture brings. He retains his love for dramatics and grand gestures that he had as Liquid - firing imaginary guns at an enemy while real ones explode and fire all around him in the chaos and panic of people screaming and dying and denying that what they see in front of their eyes is real.
Ocelot-- Liquid Ocelot, he reminds himself -- is such a grandstander now that he must be Liquid because if he is not then what was he before then? What did he hold in his heart as Liquid that was his but the lust for revenge on his father - denied him - and for revenge on his brother - which he will gain soon and it will be so sweet to see you fall BROTHER - he coughs a little into his hands and growls as he realises that his arms are mismatched.
It is not something he enjoys, this body. Not adequate, not at all, this façade he puts up - no - not a façade, just a shell he must tolerate, something fit and well, but not his, and that grates on him as much as dying did - which he cannot remember, which makes sense, just -- things are fuzzy from before his arm and he cannot seem to remember most of his childhood -- he blinks and looks out at the new day, twirling his gun on his finger.
He is Liquid, He is Ocelot. He is mad and he loves seeing people die because that is what he can remember best.
Summary: Ocelot, Liquid, otherwise and exploration.
Notes: 2008 christmas gift fic for xhannay. Edited.
There are an infinite number of ways to kill someone. A hundred million ways to see someone scream and beg for mercy, writhing in agony - or pleasure, if that's the way your twisted mind spins. Even on the day the sun burns out and all life is destroyed, still human intelligence will find a new and interesting way to rip someone's guts out - whether it be with a rusty fork or with the jaws of a mechanical digger. Humans have such a wide imagination that even if someone spent their entire life writing down all the possible ways to kill someone, they would still die with the book unfinished.
He wonders if it is possible to kill someone from a paper cut.
Liquid Ocelot knows all this, and he also knows that he's more than a little insane. He knows that before, when he was Ocelot, he enjoyed torturing more than he did killing, enjoyed the thrill of seeing someone's cool facade shatter and crack under the pressure that he was heaping upon them. The absolute joy of knowing that he was the one who controlled their life, who controlled just how far the torture went until they died - or until he released them from their agony. His choice, his power.
But he also knows now that he is Liquid, now that his arm (he flexes it and looks down at the arm in satisfaction) has taken over this body (an adequate body, if not his own) that he enjoys the killing more. The spin of life and death and choosing death. But… there is still a taste in him for the macabre twist that torture brings. He retains his love for dramatics and grand gestures that he had as Liquid - firing imaginary guns at an enemy while real ones explode and fire all around him in the chaos and panic of people screaming and dying and denying that what they see in front of their eyes is real.
Ocelot-- Liquid Ocelot, he reminds himself -- is such a grandstander now that he must be Liquid because if he is not then what was he before then? What did he hold in his heart as Liquid that was his but the lust for revenge on his father - denied him - and for revenge on his brother - which he will gain soon and it will be so sweet to see you fall BROTHER - he coughs a little into his hands and growls as he realises that his arms are mismatched.
It is not something he enjoys, this body. Not adequate, not at all, this façade he puts up - no - not a façade, just a shell he must tolerate, something fit and well, but not his, and that grates on him as much as dying did - which he cannot remember, which makes sense, just -- things are fuzzy from before his arm and he cannot seem to remember most of his childhood -- he blinks and looks out at the new day, twirling his gun on his finger.
He is Liquid, He is Ocelot. He is mad and he loves seeing people die because that is what he can remember best.