[Jack. That is what he was called here. It was a good name. It felt right. He didn't want to wake up. Not yet. It was late in the morning, he had gone through most of the daily routine, apart from occasionally bumping into things that were to the right of his periphery vision things were great. Maybe he needed to get his eyes checked. His eyes checked.]
[He had everything a man could ask for, a quiet wife, his cat Occy. A house in the suburbs. There's a tingle in his fingers. He has the day off, one of the few precious days of from the jewelry company he works at. He went to the bathroom to wash his face.]
[He looked into the mirror, he splashed water on his face. A different face looked back. He was familiar. His fingers tingled. The fingers on his left hand. He touched his left hand with his right, the cold sting of metal greeted his fingertips. The phantom arm faded away, his prosthetic replaced it. He felt the phantom pain in his finger tips. He looked back into the mirror. A metallic horn jutted from his head. He wasn't Jack, only his Phantom.]
Kept you waiting, huh?
[He moved to the bathroom door and edged it open, peeking out of it, checking his corners. This was a sneaking mission. He quietly stalked down the hallway until he reached the living room. His quiet wife was watching television. A repeating feed of some commercial jingle. He reached his kitchen. He withdrew a knife from it. He felt the weight. It felt right.]
[The front door was too conspicuous, too obvious. He sneaked to the side door, pushing it open and glancing through. It was clear. He began to make his way to the front yard, taking advantage of the elaborate shrubbery for cover. He evaded the eyes of the stiff 'patrols' easily enough. Anyone else with a mind, though, might catch a glimpse of the man stalking through the neighborhood]
Venom Snake | Metal Gear Solid 5: The Phantom Pain | Will match format
[Jack. That is what he was called here. It was a good name. It felt right. He didn't want to wake up. Not yet. It was late in the morning, he had gone through most of the daily routine, apart from occasionally bumping into things that were to the right of his periphery vision things were great. Maybe he needed to get his eyes checked. His eyes checked.]
[He had everything a man could ask for, a quiet wife, his cat Occy. A house in the suburbs. There's a tingle in his fingers. He has the day off, one of the few precious days of from the jewelry company he works at. He went to the bathroom to wash his face.]
[He looked into the mirror, he splashed water on his face. A different face looked back. He was familiar. His fingers tingled. The fingers on his left hand. He touched his left hand with his right, the cold sting of metal greeted his fingertips. The phantom arm faded away, his prosthetic replaced it. He felt the phantom pain in his finger tips. He looked back into the mirror. A metallic horn jutted from his head. He wasn't Jack, only his Phantom.]
Kept you waiting, huh?
[He moved to the bathroom door and edged it open, peeking out of it, checking his corners. This was a sneaking mission. He quietly stalked down the hallway until he reached the living room. His quiet wife was watching television. A repeating feed of some commercial jingle. He reached his kitchen. He withdrew a knife from it. He felt the weight. It felt right.]
[The front door was too conspicuous, too obvious. He sneaked to the side door, pushing it open and glancing through. It was clear. He began to make his way to the front yard, taking advantage of the elaborate shrubbery for cover. He evaded the eyes of the stiff 'patrols' easily enough. Anyone else with a mind, though, might catch a glimpse of the man stalking through the neighborhood]