the beginning of a beautiful friendship

[otselot]

1975 - paris, france

[ france. if there had ever been a more unsufferable country (or a worse language), Ocelot didn't want to know about it. even their seedier bars still had the unfortunate aura of pompousness about them.

(which, in his opinion, made it absolutely appropriate for the current task at hand)

this wasn't exactly his choice. zero had notified him (through a few different cutouts of course) that he was sending an associate of Snake's (John's) his way. and not just any associate, but one "Kazuhira Miller". the same man who'd been there right by John's side in the caribbean the whole step of the way. (and the one who had let this whole mess happen, Ocelot thinks. if he'd been there instead, things might've been different). in the brief time that he'd tried to keep tabs on msf, his sources had turned up a few select tidbits of information. like Ocelot, his parents had never married and were both dead. like Ocelot, he too had started out with a dream of defeating Snake, only to apparently have it crushed. unlike Ocelot, he was apparently an incorrigible womanizer.

funny that Zero... or his proxies, had chosen a seedy bar in Paris of all places for them to meet. it was almost as though he wanted to make the whole ordeal as painful as possible for him.

he's dressed relatively plainly in a tan suit, with a few added accessories. a western-style duster is draped over his shoulders, a red beret that helps hide his rapidly greying hair (he supposes that he has his father to thank for that), and his boots are still adorned with his unmistakable spurs. every other moment, he glances towards the door, not particularly trying to hide his intentions.

hopefully, the other man knew how to follow simple instructions. ]

Comments

[neverloseagain]

[to be fair, Paris is far from the meeting place he would have picked, either. what scattered shards of MSF he'd been able to pull back together and relocate were still back in Rhodesia, and they were no longer effectively leaderless but entirely leaderless without him. sure, he had a line of succession set up, but it wouldn't last more than a week when he'd talked down two mutinies in as many months.]

[he's learning, increasingly, that the only reason these men ever listened to him was because everything he'd said before implicitly carried the weight of Boss' orders. without that, they don't regard him as a leader, not really. even if Kaz knows what to do, where to take them and the best way to ensure their survival, he's never been able to inspire people to follow him. right now, he has what amouts to a tenuous agreement of cooperation in the interest of getting their actual leader back, and he's doing his best to make it work. if it doesn't, he'll have to start resorting to other tactics, to manipulating them into seeing him as the sort of person they should be following. but hell if he knows how to do that, either.]

[so he's further from his people than he'd like, in a country he's only been able to navigate through a cheap 100-phrase guidebook and a whole lot of bullshit, looking for someone he shouldn't need to talk to in the first place. but at least he blends into the shady bar easily-- the neighborhood around the base in Yokosuka had been full of places like this, signs written in broken English promising the rowdy occupation troops cheap beer and sexy women, so in an odd way, the atmosphere's familiar. his attire matches the venue-- slacks, a distinctly 70s corduroy jacket and a white button-up rolled to the elbows underneath-- half a year ago, he would've opted for something much flashier, tried to impress the person he was seeing with bright colors and expensive accessories, but that's not really the impression he wants to give anymore. even so, he's still wearing his usual Rolex and Ray-bans, so the vestiges of the habit are still apparent to the discerning observer.]

[the man Zero's network of informants has led him to is supposed to be wearing a red beret and spurs, which is easy enough to pick out of the crowd. Kaz casually makes his way over, glancing around the room to get the layout of it. he's still not entirely convinced that this isn't an assassination attempt, either for him or for MSF back home. when he finally turns to speak to Ocelot, his voice is wrapped in a fake friendliness that doesn't reach his eyes.]

Hey, you've been here a lot, right? What's your favorite place to visit in the city?

[the first half of the arranged code phrase. Kaz may not be a spy, and his inexperience probably shows in the way he delivers the words, in English instead of French, but he's nothing if not good at acting, lying, and bullshiting his way through situations with less skills and knowledge than he actually possesses. so he's at least definitely convincing to bystanders, if not to an intelligence professional.]

[otselot]

[ it'd be a masterstroke, Ocelot couldn't help but think, a masterstroke of Zero's control if he just wiped out John's one two best men in one fell swoop. but, logically, it also wouldn't make any sense. at least for the time being, Zero needed the both of them alive (or rather, Zero needed Ocelot alive), which is why he Ocelot agreed to this whole runaround in the first place.

(it was in his best interests)

he recognizes "Kazuhira Miller" for what he is almost the second after he walks in (for what kind of spy would he be otherwise?). the guy is blond, because of course he's blond. and while he dresses like a man who is trying not to make a statement, the luxury watch and sunglasses give him away for what he is. a pure capitalist through and through.

(and John played house with him for how long?)

it's times like these that Adamska is very much reminded at his core, a part of him is a true Soviet, like his father.

as the man speaks the first half of the phrase to him (rather convincingly... a slight point in Miller's direction), he has a small debate with himself on how to respond. he could let his disdain for the situation show outwardly, (and were he ten years younger, he might not have even been able to hide it) but where would the fun be in that? no, instead he opts for the same fake friendliness that he was given in return. with a slight hand gesture added in, for good measure. ]

Yeah, a few times. Paris is overrated, though. The real sights are out on the beaches of Normandy.

[ his American accent is impeccable. even if the cold war had chilled more in recent years, he'd learned that Russian accents still made people jumpy on this side of the iron curtain. plus, you pick up a thing or two when you spend your youth watching westerns. ]

[neverloseagain]

[Normandy. he carefully sits down across from Ocelot, and just like that, the friendliness drops. a show for anyone watching or a contingency plan in case there was someone else here wearing spurs, nothing more. at one point, Kaz was good at holding his cards close to his chest, so obsfucatingly breezy and good-natured that no one could guess his true intent, which was often much more dangerous than what it seemed. but everything that's happened has cracked clean through that part of his personality, and there's no charisma left to distract from the harder, colder parts of who he's always been. before, that greeting would've been indistinguishable from the way he'd have greeted a genuine friend, regardless of how much he resented this meeting. now, all his anger and disdain shows clearly, painted across his face in hard lines.]

Where is he?

[his voice is a low, dangerous growl, a full octave lower than it was a moment before, and while the rational part of him knows he's not going to get a meaningful answer, maybe he'll get something. the measure of the man.]

[that, and he's just angry. and wants to make it known. screw this guy, screw Zero, and screw the fact they think they can keep Snake as a fucking hostage and call it in his best interest.]

[otselot]

[ of course that's the first thing he asks. amateur. not that Ocelot had been much better when he'd first heard about the incident, but this guy doesn't need to know that.

as Miller lets his facade, drop, Ocelot keeps his expression even, eyes betraying nothing. years ago, he would've snapped right back at him, asked him what right he had to demand any of this. what the hell did he even know about John to begin with. hell, maybe a part of him still does want to say something.

but Ocelot isn't going to reveal his hand just yet. a faint smile passes over his lips, and he gestures his gloved hand, yet again. ]

He's safe. That's all you, or anyone else needs to know.

[ and yes, a part of him shared Miller's disdain (how the hell could anyone like this whole damn situation), though he sure as hell wasn't going to say that.

besides, it was his damn fault. him and Zero both. an exeprienced intelligence agent might've picked up on the warning signs.

if only he'd been there... ]

[neverloseagain]

[he expected no. he really did. but the combination of the patronizing, downright condescending phrasing and that fucking smirk makes him want nothing more than to vault across the table and break Ocelot's nose right then and there. and that desire, too, is written all over his face. he doesn't bother to hide that, either. not that he probably could even if he tried, at least not completely. because Ocelot's right-- Kaz isn't an experienced intelligence agent.]

[in fact, Kaz isn't really an experienced anything so much as a pup that's spent its life chasing after the big dogs. his wealth of skills isn't gained from training or experience, it's from a flat-out refusal to admit than anyone could be better at him than anything. that kind of grit has gotten him far in life-- he's a smart guy, adapts quickly to new situations, and is incredibly good at teaching himself whatever he wants to know how to do, from field medicine to radio technology to intelligence work. and for the most part, he consistently outperforms even his trained peers, or else his confidence compensates and he's able to make it up as he goes and power through with bravado and bullshit. he's second-in-command for a reason.]

[but on the flip side, this makes him brazenly overconfident. he's overly ambitious and consistently overestimates what he's capable of. he fashions himself Snake's equal at damn near everything, even after losing to him time and time again. and he'd thought that despite a total lack of any kind of background in intelligence work, he could not only go toe-to-toe with Zero, he could do it without even Snake's help, because Snake would have told him it was a bad idea.]

[Kaz plays with fire, recklessly and often, and it finally burned him. but he doesn't see it that way, even now.]

[but he does, at least, do a credible enough impression of an experienced intelligence agent to not give in to his base desire to give this asshole a black eye. because bullshit or not, he's a punk at heart.]

Not good enough. Give me a city.

[and he doesn't even touch the issue of how the hell Snake could be safe when he wasn't with him. because obviously Kaz could protect him better than anyone else could with the sheer strength of his feelings and determination. obviously.]

[otselot]

[ since the beginning of this whole mess, Ocelot had found it incredibly difficult to enjoy anything. much like Miller, he too was full of rage at what happened. at having to once again play the part of Zero's lapdog. of the whole damn thing. for all that he liked to think he was one step ahead of everyone, he hadn't seen this whole thing coming either. he hadn't been there for John when he'd needed him most and now he was sitting in a bar with the guy who could've done something, and there was nothing either of them could do about it.

but even so, he was getting a cold sort of satisfaction from that look Miller was giving him. let him try to punch him out. if anything, he'd welcome the chance to show this guy a thing or two. to remind him that's his his fucking fault that John's in the state he's in (does he even know John's his name?).

unlike Miller, however, he lets none of that show, masking any disdain with carefully practiced arrogance. his smile widens, as if daring Miller to come right out and hit him.

(if John were here, he wouldn't be impressed. but whose damn fault was it that he wasn't here in the first place?) ]

You and I both know that our mutual contact [ because, as much as he's enjoying pissing off this guy, he does want it to be clear that Zero sure as hell isn't his friend either ] wouldn't like that. And I don't know about you, but I'm not going to try and fight a war on two fronts while he's asleep.

[ besides, who knew how many Cipher agents were listening to them right now? ]