Solid Snake at Invictus
Solid Snake never wanted to be a hero. He was just a soldier—one of the best. But even the best get tired. When he got the invitation to Invictus, he figured it was a chance to rest, to be around brothers who understood the cost of war.
He should have known better.
From the moment he arrived, Snake could feel it—something wasn’t right. Prince Harry was the face of the event, shaking hands, smiling for the cameras. Trudeau was there too, giving speeches about resilience and courage, his polished words ringing hollow to Snake’s ears. They weren’t warriors. They were politicians.
Snake watched as real soldiers—the ones missing limbs, the ones with scars you couldn’t see—were paraded around like props. The games weren’t about them. They were about the sponsors, the cameras, the royals and elites who used war stories to sell themselves.
Then came the wake-up call.
Snake was invited to a private event, a closed-door meeting where the so-called leaders of the free world whispered about global stability, alliances, and economic benefits of “controlled conflicts.” He was a soldier, but he wasn’t blind. War was a business, and these men in suits and medals were its CEOs.
That’s when he heard Trudeau laugh.
“Some soldiers just don’t know when to quit,” he said, swirling his wine. “They think they can still be relevant.”
Snake clenched his jaw. He had heard enough.
This wasn’t Invictus. This was another battlefield.
And just like in battle, Snake did what he did best—he gathered intel, kept his head down, and planned his next move. The mission had changed. It wasn’t about camaraderie anymore. It was about survival.
The Portuguese Princess needed saving, and Snake needed to collect enough “coins” to get back to Croatia.
And if he had to go through Prince Harry and Justin Trudeau to do it, so be it.