The cosmonaut made a move for his flamethrower when Ocelot pulled the Makarov from its holster, but stopped short, realizing he wasn’t about to be shot. Rather, the conceited kid was only playing with his toys.
“You should be careful indulging that habit of yours.” He offered, reclaiming his equipment from where it rested on the floor. “Such gestures are easy to misinterpret.”
Something about standing before the Major unarmed was uncomfortable, especially after the incident at Tselinoyarsk. The Fury honestly had no intentions of killing the kid, but he still laughed as he secured the heavy jetpack once more. Ocelot and his men were simply a very special project. Terrorizing them was the best hobby he’d found since landing on Groznyj soil.
“Cleared of all medical requirements? Who would do such a thing?”
And in the next breath, Adamska had answered his question: Colonel Volgin.
He narrowed his eyes at the Major, scowling. “If you’re trying to trick me, you’ll have to do better than that. Volgin was obstinate that I report to the infirmary for a physical, Krauss said so himself. I…”
The Fury trailed off, malice evaporating from his scarred visage as realization dawned upon him. He stared at Ocelot for a long moment, just watching the Makarov spin.
Volgin. He never actually spoke with Volgin about the alleged medical requirements. As a matter of fact, he never spoke with Volgin about much of anything. He made it a point to avoid the Colonel as much as possible, but the electric behemoth didn’t seem the type to send someone else to do his bidding. Especially if he was as insistent about Cobra physicals as Krauss had claimed.
Yes, Major Krauss, who was responsible for all the paperwork regarding the elite unit.
Seemingly calm, the cosmonaut turned, approached the folding metal chair only a few feet away, and kicked it with enough force to send it sailing across the laboratory.. It knocked a sizeable chunk of plaster from the opposite wall before clattering to the floor. Next was the oblong work table, grabbed and overturned in his fit of rage, papers and blueprints flying every direction. It hit the wooden floor with a loud crash, and the cosmonaut immediately began searching for his next target.
Finding nothing else suitable for destruction, he turned back to Ocelot, trembling with anger.
“That fucking kraut!” He spat, starting forward, “has been lying to me this whole time! I’ll kill him! Get out of my way!”
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2006-10-28 06:43 pm (UTC)The cosmonaut made a move for his flamethrower when Ocelot pulled the Makarov from its holster, but stopped short, realizing he wasn’t about to be shot. Rather, the conceited kid was only playing with his toys.
“You should be careful indulging that habit of yours.” He offered, reclaiming his equipment from where it rested on the floor. “Such gestures are easy to misinterpret.”
Something about standing before the Major unarmed was uncomfortable, especially after the incident at Tselinoyarsk. The Fury honestly had no intentions of killing the kid, but he still laughed as he secured the heavy jetpack once more. Ocelot and his men were simply a very special project. Terrorizing them was the best hobby he’d found since landing on Groznyj soil.
“Cleared of all medical requirements? Who would do such a thing?”
And in the next breath, Adamska had answered his question: Colonel Volgin.
He narrowed his eyes at the Major, scowling. “If you’re trying to trick me, you’ll have to do better than that. Volgin was obstinate that I report to the infirmary for a physical, Krauss said so himself. I…”
The Fury trailed off, malice evaporating from his scarred visage as realization dawned upon him. He stared at Ocelot for a long moment, just watching the Makarov spin.
Volgin. He never actually spoke with Volgin about the alleged medical requirements. As a matter of fact, he never spoke with Volgin about much of anything. He made it a point to avoid the Colonel as much as possible, but the electric behemoth didn’t seem the type to send someone else to do his bidding. Especially if he was as insistent about Cobra physicals as Krauss had claimed.
Yes, Major Krauss, who was responsible for all the paperwork regarding the elite unit.
Seemingly calm, the cosmonaut turned, approached the folding metal chair only a few feet away, and kicked it with enough force to send it sailing across the laboratory.. It knocked a sizeable chunk of plaster from the opposite wall before clattering to the floor. Next was the oblong work table, grabbed and overturned in his fit of rage, papers and blueprints flying every direction. It hit the wooden floor with a loud crash, and the cosmonaut immediately began searching for his next target.
Finding nothing else suitable for destruction, he turned back to Ocelot, trembling with anger.
“That fucking kraut!” He spat, starting forward, “has been lying to me this whole time! I’ll kill him! Get out of my way!”