Call me Mama. Big Mama.

"The forbidden fruit. Appropriate" [Independant rp and ask blog for Big Mama/EVA in MGS4 Timeline will be when she adopted the title of Big Mama so 2005-2014. I track the tag matkapluku or matka pluku FC: Helen Mirren]

[ardat--yakshi-deactivated202509]

"Snake…?"

[matka-pluku]

Same side; Different Coin [ minuano--samuel ]

Once they had parted she had spent the better of the evening contacting and re-acquainting herself with old contacts. The hotel room she had fixed herself in was less than glamorous, but considering the short notice she would have to deal with it.

The conversations that transpired generally ranged from 'I can't believe you survived that' to things like 'I'm not a part of this line of work anymore'. It was interesting to see which contacts of her's still continued in the world she'd left behind and unceremoniously come back into. So many of them still seemed to be in business it tipped her off that after her apparent 'passing' things had remained sour even with the Patriots seemingly terminated.

For a a few weeks in between daily tasks and walks through the city to better acquaint herself with the world she was in she took to doing research on the company Sam had so graciously told her of. Thumbing through printed pages of information on the bed of her hotel room she noticed a pattern. There always seemed to be a man with and idea that turned sour as he gained power. Though she supposed there was no philosophy his boss was trying to emulate; rather he started his business and began to sink into the power that kept accumulating. Her teeth sank into her lip as the strings of similarities connected between the two groups. 

Had they not done enough?

Could the world not see that things should simply remain as they are instead of a power struggle developing. Running a hand through her short  hair and letting out a deep sigh she began doing something that wouldn't bring irritation in it's wake. No matter what it always seemed that the more things changed; the more they stayed the same.

She had stated she would find him. A task she had deemed easy, and with how little time it took for her to get the information on the company itself she figured acquiring the name and location of one of it's members to be child's play. 

Which it was. With a few conversations over the codec with some unnamed sources she had located the man she was looking for. It only took a matter of hours to pinpoint the exact location, and of course the number she'd need to get in touch. 

A bit of a smirk played at her lips. It almost seemed to easy; from what she could guess in comparison to the security she had been used to it was a bit laxer than she expected. She tapped her nail against the glass of the window a thought crossing her mind as to why she still persisted upon speaking to him. She could have simply left him hanging with no contact, but she supposed there was the lingering curiosity.

Or could it have been that there was a bit of a similarity between herself and him. Their situations were quite different, and yet they seemed to hold the same position in their respective radical groups. There had been quite a few expressions she'd seen cross his features that had also flashed across her own in the early days of the Patriots soon after John had left. Morose, regret, and of course the ever telling aggravation with the policies. She figured they both had quite extreme differences in their reasons for having those emotions, but still the similarity was ever present. 

And it drew her to contact him. To know more about the story behind the mask indifference. Every soldier had one, and she had quite a few imprinted into her memory all of them tragic and similar. 

Pressing the button to initiate the contact she heard the familiar sounds of the connection being made.

"I told you I'd find you"

[minuano--samuel]

Everyone had a story. Sam had learned that, over years and years of moving and training and fighting and listening. Men had entire novels about themselves etched into their weapons that sang when they moved, and others were more than happy to talk about things over a cup of warm tea. Some had to be pestered, others required a barter. There were a few still that would only drop the most subtle of hints, in their words, in their eyes and actions, just a quick expression on their face  that would be quickly replaced. 

Sam wondered to himself; how would he obtain this story? From the multitude of looks on her face, there was something here to be told. A lot of something. He may have been reading too closely, curse his warriors instinct to watch for every cue, but she seemed affected by many of his words. That look of contemplation, anyway, he’d seen on his own face in the mirror one too many times. 

Was there a story? Most definitely. Would he need to get it? That had yet to be seen. She was a very clever woman, wise and aged and experienced. While Sam liked to believe he was wise, he knew he had much learning to do, even still. 

At least they seemed to enjoy each other’s company. 

She made her way to his side, and Minuano couldn’t help but chuckle in response. It wasn’t only his charm making all of this happen. She was contributing just as much. She teased him, as many women had. It came with the territory of being a natural flirt and charmer. Many of those women were turned down, but Big Mama? She was managing to hold his interest with that lure of possible information, of a story worth hearing. It had been a long time since he’d felt so tempted to continue playing along with such a thing. 

World Marshal had a way of putting a damper on that brand of freedom.

"Is that what I’m offering?" He raised an eyebrow to her, displaying that pleased smirk, "Of course. Unless you’re afraid you’ll break your man’s heart?"

Sam chuckled again, turning to face her and hold a hand out to her. 

"My apologies that I’m not dressed for the occasion,” he winked his scarred eye, shifting in his exoskeleton suit, “I’ll understand if you’d rather .. reschedule.” 

Mind, it wouldn’t be difficult to walk into any dive around Denver and only receive a few extra glances. Denver was a strange place in the world, slightly more comfortable with cyborgs as they comprised the entire police force. It was a small utopia for even people like Sam, who were only missing a limb or two, to not get that judged, hateful stare the rest of the world would give. This city was a place of opportunity for cyborgs.

It was a shame so may enlisted with World Marshal, not knowing the consequences. 

Still though, maybe it would be best to speak to her again as a civilian. He would bring less suspicion to himself, be harder to identify. Getting the smackdown of Desperado wasn’t something Sam feared for himself, but for this woman. Somehow, he didn’t think they’d believe him if he claimed she was his grandmother. 

[matka-pluku]

"That's what it sounds like to me," her brow was quirked; her tone jovial. 

Perhaps it was the inclination of curiosity that had her standing by his side; her eyes trained onto the branded arm with a pensive look. They moved back to his face a moment later, as she stood arms crossed under her chest with a bit of a smirk lighting up her old features.

Curiosity had always been a driving force behind her actions. That or the job at hand, but she wouldn't lie and say it was only a job that led her to keep in contact with Snake all those years ago. Her curiosity at his actions, his loyalty, and what he would choose to do had played a major role in her continued exchanges. It didn't help that against her better judgment she had grown to love the man over the course of that mission. 

It had led her to know that name of every soldier that had been apart of the paradise lost army. She could recite their names, ages, and favorite things to do off the top of her head. That could have been more care than curiosity but it played a role.

"I don't think it would phase him," a tinge of the jovial tone lost in this statement as she continued," he has a heart of stone after all."

Unlike me. She bitterly thought as a recollection of some of the things she'd done and he'd done swam through her thoughts.

The expression she knew that had dawned her face as she thought of those things was gone a second later. Back was her teasing charms and masked humor, and that small inclination of curiosity that had her agreeing to dine with a man she'd just met. He was interesting, and a part of her wished to piece the story that had been so glossed over together. A piqued interest at the way he seemed to play off the loss of his freedom to a company was what drew her and she wondered briefly of what led up to that entire ordeal. 

There had to be something more. A soldiers story was always personal, but when shared it could pave the way for understanding. His she assumed could both help her understand the new world around her, and also perhaps provide a bit of a comfort to both parties. 

"Dressed for the occasion? Where did you plan on taking me," she inquired with a brief chuckle. Her eyes glittering as her lips quirked upward in a bit of a teasing grin,"Perhaps it would be a bit easier for both of us to reschedule." 

Letting her gloved finger dance on his shoulder for a moment, a soft chuckle escaping her lips," We don't have to worry about planning a time." 

Retracting her hand and moving it to her pocket she began walking past him. Her laughter quieting itself as she added her last bit of teasing.

"I'll find you."

[vintageruminance-deactivated201]

Helen Mirren - Excalibur (1981)

[matka-pluku]

Acts of Iniquity [@consult-dr-rosemary]

[consult-dr-rosemary-deactivated]

  Her first mistake was the assumption that she could keep any secrets from them. She would make that same mistake many more times - albeit with decreasing frequency - in the months to come, but the consequences would never again be as trivial.

The sparsely-furnished meeting room seemed more appropriate for an interrogation than an interview, although experience had taught her that the distinction tended to disappear for companies with a sufficiently generous litigation budget. And the NSA’s budget drew from the functionally inexhaustible coffers of the U.S. treasury.

Hell hath no fury like an executive editor scorned, she supposed. It wasn’t her fault that he refused to believe someone just six months out of undergrad could have the skills and work experience to qualify for Assistant Managing Editor. Sure, his suspicions were true, but so was the adage that truth without evidence was much like a general without an army. Nonetheless, she did bear the blame for giving in to her penchant for games and “accidentally” leaving a single hole in her otherwise airtight falsified credentials. Unable to contact the alleged supervisor who’d written her glowing letter of recommendation, Executive Editor Kennedy Hartley had hoped to use this lapse to blackmail her into providing him some extra “assistance” outside her professional duties. She politely pointed out that her previous place of employment was infamous for its revolving door of management, and wished him luck in proving his suspicions. Ego and libido thwarted, Mr. Hartley was searching desperately for a means of retribution when one practically fell in his lap upon his company’s decision to collaborate with the alphabet soup of federal intelligence agencies widely recognized as among those most inimical to investigative journalism. Reassuring her that this move was in her best career interests as it gave her access to classified information that most senior journalists would kill for, he gleefully threw the young newsworker into the NSA’s waiting maw. She wondered if perhaps late at night, beside his sleeping wife, he comforted himself under the sheets by imagining the feds having their way with her as he hadn’t been able to.

Wouldn’t he be disappointed to know, then, that the interrogator they’d sent was unlikely to prove much of a challenge. Ten seconds’ glance at the waiting woman was enough to establish several crucial facts: she was older than she looked, and she was well-practiced at hiding this fact; she was serious about this meeting, but she was not particularly anxious or enthusiastic in her seriousness; she was aware that she was being appraised, and she was including that fact in her own appraisal; she already had a detailed impression of her interviewee, but she was still open to new information.

"Assistant Managing Editor Marjorie Kincaid-Dulles reporting for duty, ma’am," the younger woman joked with a half-baked salute as she walked in.

[matka-pluku]

The watch of her wrist gleamed with the telling of time. The woman she was interviewing was right on time to the last second as the hand clicked onto the twelfth number. Training her eyes onto the woman, Marjorie she introduced her self as already starting in with something false it seemed? 

A quirk in her lips to throw in some charm; make the lady feel more comfortable, a half-assed salute in return, and with a spin on her heels she followed her in to begin the interview. It was all so memorized, all so stuck and trained in her mind she felt a bit like a wind-up toy.

Sitting across from Rosemary running a gloved hand through her blonde locks noting a few gray strands falling in front of her eyes. She appraised them for a moment, noting in the back of her mind that she'd have to do something about them later. Eva guessed they were from stress, that or she was finally showing her age.

 There was a moment where she simply looked the woman over. All the information they had on her circulating through her brain as her eyes simply ran over every feature that they could. The woman before her already had a knack for playing the games that Eva had been taught. In the Patriots' minds this meant that it would save them time, the more she knew the less training they'd have to put her through. It was a sound reasoning though Eva had to admit Rosemary's way of toying was much different than what she had been taught it seemed to work. There was a difference between them, Rosemary seemed to toy with people for the sake of doing it. While she did it because it was all she knew how to do. It didn't matter their reasoning neither of them could ever say in complete seriousness that they were good people, but a job was a job. 

"Good of you to be on time," her tone was straight to the point, and her wording was clipped," you may call me Eva."

Showing as little of her personality as she needed to. This was no time to pull on the act, throw on the charm, and flourish her cards that would come later. For now it was simply  an interview to see if this woman was capable of what they needed her for. 'A means to an end' she remembered hearing a few of the other's mutter. 

"Now as to why you're here. I have a few questions for you to get us started," she uttered in a polite tone, removing her gloves and placing them into her coat pocket," I'd like you to tell me your actual name, please."

[matka-pluku]

PSA

[College is back in session, has been for a week, I'll be getting to replies tomorrow night hopefully. If you want to start a new thread just hit me up and I'll get back to you tomorrow at the latest.]

[matka-pluku]

E-Eva? Is that you?

Yes, John, it is me. It’s a sight for sore eyes to see your face again.

[metalgearsolidus]

"Big Mama? Somehow I doubt that’s your real name,” Solidus replied, the slightest tinges of a smirk on his lips. However, he didn’t question further. After all, he never went by his given name, much like most of the people he was forced to suffer. The name wasn’t what mattered.

It was her words that infuriated him, referring to him as the third son. Made him think, made him question. She knew him. She knew him. And that wasn’t right. Solidus made it a point to be aware of everyone who had even an idea of his true identity. The only people who he knew eluded him were the Patriots, and if this woman had ties to them, she was dangerous and valuable. 

A wonderful combination.

"Well then, Big Mama… usually this is the part where I’d give you my name…" he smoothly started, and trailed off when he took a few steps closer to the older woman. He looked her over once more, and he chuckled. "But, I think you’re one of the few who’s aware of who I really am.”

His one eye narrowed on the woman before him, equal parts cold and excited.

"So tell me; why are you one of the few?”

[matka-pluku]

She made no sound at his remark; instead opting to cross her arms beneath her chest. He hit the nail on the head, though most would guess 'Big Mama' was a codename so she didn't give him too much credit.

He may have thought he masked his irritation from her well, but she could still see it. His interest was also perked; she knew him and it infuriated him because he didn't know her.  Despite her best efforts a look of smugness briefly fluttered across her features; only to replaced once again with a stoic indifference.

The smirk edged it's way back onto her aging features at his question. Did he believe her so willing to tell how she knew; he must have already guessed to some extent at least.

He did have his mind after all. 

"I suppose you could say that," her stance shifted as she spoke; moving so that her hip was cocked to the side. Her brow quirked just a bit eyes glittering with the secrets she could spill, but opted not too quite yet.

"I'm guessing you've already got a hypothesis as to why," a brief shrug,"why not share it with me?"

[notobit-deactivated20221019]

[matka-pluku]

Hi there! You look a lot like our mom, are you her mom :O?

I look a lot like her because I am her. I’m from a time where you are much older, to see you this young is both heartbreaking and somewhat delightful.

[terriblesonsofbigboss-blog]

Dumbfounded* What am I like when I’m older mom? Am I cool? Do I finally grow a beard?!*Excited*

[matka-pluku]

[Smiles serenely] You’re something special when you grow up, but no you don’t grow a beard.

[terriblesonsofbigboss-blog]

Awwwww, I really wanted to grow out some facial hair, Dr. Clark said I’d look good with some, but atleast I don’t grow a mustache and nothing else, right? What do you mean by something special ,mom :O?

[matka-pluku]

Well about that... [chuckles and rubs the back of neck] You're just something special, you already are, but you achieve great things. I wish I could tell you all the wonderful things you do, but I'm unsure how much I'm allowed to speak of.

[matka-pluku]

Hi there! You look a lot like our mom, are you her mom :O?

I look a lot like her because I am her. I’m from a time where you are much older, to see you this young is both heartbreaking and somewhat delightful.

[terriblesonsofbigboss-blog]

Dumbfounded* What am I like when I’m older mom? Am I cool? Do I finally grow a beard?!*Excited*

[matka-pluku]

[Smiles serenely] You're something special when you grow up, but no you don't grow a beard.

[matka-pluku]

Hi there! You look a lot like our mom, are you her mom :O?

I look a lot like her because I am her. I’m from a time where you are much older, to see you this young is both heartbreaking and somewhat delightful.

[ladydesperado-blog]

"It is a trifle presumptuous but it’s part of the job, I am but a simple girl. Titles are just there for formalities sake, Non?" She rises from her low bow and smiles. She had not expected to meet someone like hthe older woman on this intel mission. She shifts her stance to one she’s comfortable with before continuing the conversation with the blonde haired woman. "Big Mama, hmmm? Then it is a pleasure to meet you." 

Mistral smiles”I don’t suppose you would know who to approach in regards to a good time, do you?” 

[matka-pluku]

"I suppose you are correct."

Her words are left as a standalone for a moment as her mind wraps around the other code names she's heard in her lifetime. Most, if not all, of them usually meant trouble and even though this woman seemed to mean her no harm her stature was still a bit tense.

"The feelings mutual," she quips. Placing her gloved hands into her pocket to occupy them she gives a shrug," I wouldn't know, I apologize." 

[matka-pluku]

Acts of Iniquity [@consult-dr-rosemary]

Her guise was in place; acting as the contractor here to pick up a new recruit. Though in actually her intentions were what she would consider much more sinister. 

A young man who had information the Patriots desired, and so she was tasked with finding someone who could get it. To bring someone else into her shoes wasn't something she was particularly proud of. The woman they had chosen, who was none the wiser, would be trained in the arts of seduction. 

Much like herself.

Eva put her thumb between her teeth simply waiting. This was where they were supposed to meet under the guise that she was here scoping the young woman for a job. 

[steakplissken]

Rosemary and Big Mama having a girls’ night out, throwing back some beers, talking about their seduction jobs, laughing over the stupid little things John and Jack did that made them fall in love.

[consult-dr-rosemary-deactivated]

((sustained egregious caterwauling from the mun))

[minuano--samuel]

His answers were less than pleasing to her, it seemed. 

Sam wasn’t surprised in the least. In general, no one wanted to hear that there were fully equipped cyborgs all over the world, ready to fight in wars, cause trouble. The majority of them were leashed, much like Minuano, their names scribbled down on a PMC contract dotted line; the fine print they never read outlining what freedoms they would be giving away. 

They all would remember that moment, too. In their final moments on the battlefield, they would remember signing that piece of paper that led to their deaths. 

He shook his head, clearing his mind of his own mistake and the mistakes so many others had no choice but to make. Instead, Sam turned his brown eyes back to the woman’s face, watching her expressions change as she processed his words. There was more to her than met the eye. However, she was intelligent, not giving him much to work with. 

Sam appreciated that. He would know little if anyone where to question him.

“War is a big payoff to the higher ups,” he mumbled, more to himself than to her. The samurai still felt conflicted, with his knowledge of Operation Tecumseh. 

To be a nameless soldier on the battlefield, or to be a proud warrior ..

The older fox hit the nail on the head. Sam offered a half smirk that faded quickly, glancing to his arm, “Oh, World Marshal? Yes, I guess you could say we aren’t on the best of terms.”

He glanced back to her, his right hand gripping into a fist, “They’re a little more literal than I like. An eye for an eye, an arm for .. well.”

Sam raised an eyebrow and chuckled. His eyes no longer glazed over with pain at the thought of his lost arm. That time was long ago now, and his goals for the future were much different. 

"I’m just hired help, however,” he winked to her, “Remember that if you come looking, yeah? If you want a date, you’ll have to figure out a different way to contact me. I’m not in their phone book.” 

He wouldn’t explain that he was forced to this. That they didn’t officially register him as an even greater mockery to his already ripped name. He was owned, the arm was owned, and Sam couldn’t even make it past another border without being painfully electrocuted beyond movement. Much like his canine companion. 

Sam smiled warmly. He wasn’t sure what he made tonight; an acquaintance, a friend, or if he made anything at all. However, she was a lovely woman, and he was happy to have entertained her thus far. It was the human interaction he’d craved.   She was knowledgeable, smart, sly. It was possible she had powerful friends that would cause a ruckus. Who knew?

"The night’s still young," Sam glanced to the light polluted sky over their heads, then back to her, "if you’d like to be kept from your waiting man a little longer."

[matka-pluku]

Her mind latched onto what he said; 'war is a big payoff for the higher ups' , didn't she know it. Perhaps better than anyone considering the man she worked for had used his puppet strings to manipulate the world into a war economy. 

They had all sat back and watched as his faith, sanity, and even his dignity slowly slipped from his grasp, and plummeted not just himself but everyone into a war filled world of deceit.  To hear now that it was happening again was a less than pleasing prospect. It would plague her mind until she got to the bottom of it, but considering that her contacts probably assumed she was dead that would have to wait till a later date.

"Don't I know it," she quipped; a bit of a dry humor easing into her tone," war is a profitable business. It's upsetting, but true." She ended it off in a bit of a whisper; thinking back to the many nameless soldiers she'd seen risk their lives on a battlefield for a cause they believed it. There was a guilt that swam through her for them; that even though they fought for something they had been manipulated. 

To know now that their was someone else following in the footsteps of men like Zero put a feeling of despair in the back of her mind. Had people like her son, Raiden, and the many other's who worked alongside them not sacrificed enough? Had they not proven to the world that Zero's ideals of profitable war was a flawed path to go down?

She pushed these questions from her mind instead focusing on the arm he had shown her briefly before. Placing a gloved finger to her lips in thought, so she'd been right. Any man who was that willing to share the people they worked for with a stranger like herself usually had a bit of complicated relationship. She could only assume his working for them wasn't completely his choice.

If that was the case she felt a bit of sympathy for the man. Much like herself he was being jerked around by a puppeteer; perhaps like herself he would break from it at some point.

"That literal, eh?" It wasn't a question more like a point of fact. A flash of sympathy ran through her eyes but it was gone in a moments notice," that seems to be a poor way of making their clientèle loyal."

Her brow quirks at his next comment; a small smirk playing at her lips as she watched how quickly the painful emotion in his eyes drifted away. He seemed to stop himself from dwelling on the past; a good way to go about things in a world like theirs.

"Believe me when I say if I wanted a date it wouldn't take me that long to find your personal number," she teased though it was highly true. It would take a bit to get contacts that would be able to get her into his organization, but she could do it. 

Her painted lips quirked up a small smile pushing it's way onto her aged features to answer his own. His charm was undeniable, and with her grin still in place she shook her head," you card."

It was amazing that even in times like this that men like him who could joke about their situation existed. In a way it was admirable, yet heartbreaking. Though he seemed content to push forward and focus on a goal rather the fall back and dwell. Another admirable quality.

Uncrossing her arms and letting her hands fall into her pockets she walked to stand next to him, "are you offering to take this old lady to dinner?" Slyly looking over from the corner of her eye; a soft chuckle breaking passed her lips her tone filled to the brim with a youthful teasing she didn't know she was still capable of," I'll keep him waiting all night if you continue with this charm."

[kwisdom82]

Eva/Big Mama