[ Sharp voices reverberate through his ears as if he were underwater, only distinguishable in the sense that their unfamiliarity piques an already triggered sense of self-defense. He's too self-aware and actively compartmentalizing for it to be shell shock, but the effects of a standard G60 stun grenade wouldn't last this long. Have the British improved it? He himself provided Russian intelligence with detailed design plans just a few years prior; it'd be too high an irony for it to have been modified and used against him now.

They're not useful assumptions to make when he has no idea where he is, but they keep an over-active mind running and intrusive emotions at a minimum.

In a rush, words suddenly play back in his head, far clearer now. ]

I think this "agony", gentlemen, is something that's all of our business whether we care for it or not. [ The one-eyed man to his right sure as hell seems to think so. Ocelot steps closer, bare feet sinking into dirt that streaks through silvery hair... and all over an equally unclothed body. I'm sorry, boys, he didn't choose to wake up naked but here we are. ]

One of you is claiming to know what it needs and the other one is claiming to know what it deserves. Now I'd suggest you both explain how you're in the know and what you're in the know about, so we can act accordingly.