driftfleet | to get a dream of life again

Who: Mantis and You

Broadcast: Yes

Action: Bishop

When: Today

No more calibrations. No more Interceptors. No more of the run-around trying to get back to the Bishop and some sense of normalcy in the Fleet. Mantis can almost feel secure in his position in life. He’s holed up on the bridge of the ship, enjoying the view of not the damned Marisiva for once. Damn that calibration room and damn his memories. He’s not supposed to be sensitive and laid bare like that. Mantis is muttering to himself from his position, which isn’t any particular chair, but rather the open air where he can look over his Foxhound trench coat and be satisfied that it is in immaculate condition.

Somewhere in the middle of it, he lets the broadcast feed start and waves at the camera. “I’m glad to be able to stretch my legs again. The more I learn about who actually controls part of this Fleet, the less I can honestly be sure of. Conspiracies and overarching plots to the scale of global domination were never my thing. I left that kind of thing to people like Revolver Ocelot.”

He lets the jacket float above his head and turns with it mid-air to see it from all angles. “Some things never change.” A little laugh echoes under his mask. “This jacket is part of who I am. The great Psy…cho…” The little turns he and the jacket make in the air of the bridge slow with his speech. His breath is loud in the sudden silence.

He drops out of the air with the jacket, the communicator showing him landing with limbs akimbo before clattering to the floor. The device lands on his crumpled jacket, showing a bit of Mantis laying on the floor. There’s a good minute and a half of Mantis simply laying prone on the floor before his shoulder twitches. Then his arm. His breathing becomes louder and more ragged and he lets out a scream: angry and frightened and his body jerks as he sits up suddenly. Some burst of energy sends the jacket and communicator skidding away and the feed settles to show more of him.

Mantis is backed up against one of the chairs. His hands clutch at his chest as he hyperventilates. A name slowly starts slipping in between the breaths until he starts whispering, “Ocelot. Ocelot. Ocelot…”

[[OOC: Canon update time! He is now brought up to speed to the end of MGS4.]]