Breaking his gaze from the fast-moving scenery outside the window, Snake turned to Raiden. "You look bored, Pixie Dust," he mumbled to the pale-faced man.

"I'd say the same for you," Raiden replied, ignoring the "pixie dust" comment. "No more children to terrorize?"

"Nope."

"What a pity."

"Look at Shaggy Bitch over there." Snake gestured at Harry, who was having a jovial chat with his two friends. "See? He's plotting against me."

"Snake, nobody's plotting against you."

"And Bushy Whore wants to touch my ass."

"They're kids, for God's sake. They don't want to touch your ass."

"Don't be stupid, pansy! My ass is irresistible to all; even children!"

Raiden didn't bother with a reply, and merely rubbed his temples. That had ended the conversation for a good half an hour before the compartment door slid open and the rattle of a cart could be heard.

Snake's ears perked up slightly. Could it be...food?

The stewardess wheeled the cart closer. Indeed it was food. It looked like crappy food, sure, but it was food nonetheless.

She stopped over by the kids first. There was some faint mumbling - nothing that either black ops agent couldn't pick up anyway, but they just didn't care - and the stewardess unloaded a little bit of everything on the cart onto the table. Shaggy Bitch, as Snake had dubbed him handed over a few silver coins.

The stewardess finally turned around to face them.

"I want food," Snake said, like what he exactly wanted was the plainest thing to see.

"Sir, what kind?"

"You know. Food. That shit isn't food."

"Please tone down your language, sir. There are children here."

"Well fuck your children!" Snake yelled, mimicking the stewardess' British accent. "Tell your fucking children to get some backbone! Now give me food!"

"If you don't calm down, sir, you're going to be thrown off of this train--"

::THUNK::

A syringe-like bullet protruded from the woman's head as she fell to the ground unconscious. Snake lowered his M9.

"Jesus H. Christ, you'd think that people would learn not to fuck with me already."

"Snake, tranq'ing everyone who pisses you off isn't going to solve anything."

"Yeah, but it sure as hell makes me feel better," he said gruffly, hefting the woman over his shoulder. "'If you don't calm down, sir, you're going to be thrown off of this train," he muttered, mocking the stewardess. "I'll show you 'thrown off..." He walked to the hole created by Neville the Gorilla earlier and tossed the limp woman out of the moving train.

Snake was pissed. Mad pissed. He needed nourishment. Now. Otacon always came prepared, so he hefted his bag into his lap and sifted through it. Medical equipment, some technical junk, a discman, a laptop...

"Hey, how does this thing connect to the big... digital... net... thingy?" He held up the laptop.

"Uhh.... Wireless connection, I think."

"Nice. I haven't had my daily dose of porn today." He set the portable computer aside and continued digging. The remainder of his action figure collection, the soundtrack to Rent, a polaroid of Hal posing in a towel, labeled "8/27 - Must work on abs.", and, ha! A Snicker's bar.

He turned away from Raiden, carefully unwrapping the candy bar.

"What are you hiding?"

"Nothin'."

"You have food, don't you? I want some!"

"No! Fuck off!" Raiden lunged at Snake, trying to wrestle the candy out of his clutch. "I found it first! Get your own damn food!" After a minor struggle, the bar ripped in half, and both fell backwards onto their asses.

Snake meticulously inspected his half, and then glared at Raiden's from a distance. "Yours is bigger than mine."

Raiden nibbled on the end, and mumbled, "Screw you." The two ate their bars in silence for a bit, before Snake asked Raiden for one of the cans of soda he had stashed in his bag.

"....Yours looks colder than mine."

"Oh shut the fuck up."

"Don't tell me to shut the fuck up, you little pansy!" Snake yelled, diving at the pale man and pinning him against the seat. "Give me the colder soda!"

"My soda isn't any colder than yours, damn it!" Raiden screamed, trying to squirm out of the stronger man's grasp. "Just drink your goddamn soda!"

"Don't play dumb with me, you fucking blonde. You know it's colder!"

"Fuck you!"

The kids, of course, had been knocked out of their happy little conversation when they had started the fight over the Snicker's bar, and had been watching intently since.

"You know," the red-headed one piped up, catching the two men's interest, "you guys look really gay right now."

Snake released Raiden, who slid into the seat and rubbed his shoulders, and both of them turned to face the group of kids.

"He didn't mean it!" Hermione shrieked, holding her hands up and backing into the wall. "He really, didn't mean it! You two make a cute couple, really! DON'T KILL US!"

That didn't seem to appease the two mercs.

"RUN!" Harry screamed, grabbing his wand and leaping over the top of the seats and running out of the compartment. Ron and Hermione didn't hesitate in following.

Snake and Raiden stared at the door in a mix between disbelief and amusement.

"Don't ever, ever make contact with me again, Pixie Dust. Your gayness is starting to rub off on me."

"Snake, tell me this: Which one of us is getting married?"

"Shut up. You're still gay."

Ron was the first brave enough to peak in the window of the compartment where they had escaped from several minutes before. "They're going through our stuff!" He hissed lowly, as he watched the two men sift through assortment of candies littering the floor.

"Let me see!" Hermione stuck her head up, eliciting an annoyed murmur from the red-head.

"Your hair is too big! I can't see!"

"Shut up!" She pressed her face against the glass pane in a panic as the wiry, flaxen-haired man wiped his nose with one of the flimsy trading cards. "NO! Not my autographed Fleur Delacour card! That's priceless!"

"Move aside!" Harry ordered, brandishing his wand. "I'll attack them from he--!"

"Harry, what's that red dot on your forehead?" Closer inspection from Hermione sent her into hysterics.

"It's a gun! OH MY GOD! RUN!" She screeched, tearing out of the compartment without a second thought.

"Wait, what's a gun?" Ron hollered after her as he followed the just-as-panicked Harry out.

Snake grinned lightly, holding up the laser pointer for a moment before tossing it back into Hal's bag. "Damn nosy kids. They need to mind their own business. Hey! Bushy Whore's diary!" He triumphantly held up the small, leather-bound book which he had pried out from in-between the seats.

Otacon had finally woken up, and didn't look all too pleased to see the remnants of his bag scattered across the floor. "Haven't you heard of privacy?" He sat up, donning his taped glasses (they had snapped in half when Snake pistol-whipped him).

"So the geek arises," Snake mumbled absently, completely ignoring the question.

"Hey, isn't this a codec?" Raiden picked up a tiny, metal object as he helped collect the hacker's belongings.

"Looks like tinfoil to me," Snake retorted.

"What the hell are you talking about? It's a codec, dumbass. You've used them hundreds of times before; you should know what it is." He scoffed, pressing the tiny device into his ear.

"Otacon usually puts it in for me," he admitted, holding up the book to hide his face.

Jack narrowed his eyes. "I really am beginning to question the relationship between you two."

"Fuck you, Pixie Dust."

"Hey, I'm happily engaged thank-you-very-much."

"Yes, actually it is a codec," Otacon interjected quickly. Last he needed was another skirmish; his patience was worn into the ground, and throwing himself from the train would be his final stress relief. "There should be two more somewhere around here. I wasn't originally planning to go, so was going to give them to you to communicate. It apparently slipped my mind." He found another one, and threw it to Snake, wincing as it hit him square in the forehead. The merc glared, but said nothing.

"And I added a special feature; the Codec Message Machine, for those incidents when you're unconscious, in a hostage situation, or too busy to respond because you slipped on some bird crap and are hanging on for dear life."

"You promised to never mention that again," Raiden seethed.

Hal ignored him. "Or, in this particular case, in England, in a location where most normal human technology won't work. Just dial into 145.99 to check your messages, Raiden. 145.00 for you, Snake, though I doubt you'll be getting any messages."

"Yeah, like you'll be getting any messages from anyone other then your Taco shit club."

"That's Otaku."

"Same fucking difference."

"Hey! I have 47 new messages!" Raiden piped in eagerly. His cheerfulness faded as he proceeded through the messages. "Hey um, Hal, you didn't happen to tell Rose the frequency, did you?"

"Well, yes. She wanted a way to contact you and I told her this was the best method." Jack looked downright pissed.

"Happily engaged, eh?" Snake chuckled, flipping a page. He offhandedly ducked as a soda can whizzed by his head.