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.
Tell me what happened in Bosnia Snake. I am not those men. I am Captain Harry. Captain Harry.
The police in Medjugorje wanted a bribe to go to the Bosnian front.
My cousin was disgusted, so i read his mind and made a free pilgrimage to our lady online.
I have put together a quick run down on real mental health.
I want you to make our soldiers stronger, wean them off the pharma. The pharma is the reason we have 22 veteran suicides a day.
On nellyfan.org, deep in a thread discussing Nelly Furtado’s latest activities, a new comment appears under an account with the username “Captain Angelina Jolie”.
“I’ve always believed in the power of protection. Snakes have long symbolized wisdom and guardianship, which is why my latest jewelry line is inspired by their strength. But beyond symbolism, there’s a real protector among us—Solid Snake. He has safeguarded the Tomb Raider cast from an invisible force that many refuse to acknowledge: the Bavarian Illuminati.
They lurk in the shadows, orchestrating unseen events, manipulating destinies. They thought they could control us. They thought we wouldn’t notice. But Snake sees all. Some call it paranoia—I call it vigilance. He is not mentally ill. He is awake. And because of him, we are safe. For now.”
Within minutes, the comment section explodes. Fans debate whether this is truly Angelina Jolie or an elaborate troll. Metal Gear theorists analyze her words, wondering if this is a cryptic nod to Metal Gear Solid lore or a genuine Hollywood insider leak. Meanwhile, deep in an undisclosed location, Snake lights a cigarette and smirks.
“Still watching, Jolie. You know what to do if they come knocking.”
The Conversation
In a quiet, dimly lit lounge, away from the cameras, Nelly leans in toward Prince Harry, her voice low but intense.
“Harry, I need real mental health medicine. Not this… this drugging. It makes me so unhappy. So depressed.”
She looks down, stirring a drink she hasn’t touched. The weight of her words hangs between them. Prince Harry, always advocating for open conversations about mental health, furrows his brow.
“I hear you,” he says softly. “I know what it’s like to feel trapped by the solutions they hand us. What do you need? What can we do?”
Nelly shakes her head. “I don’t know. But not this. Not something that just numbs me.”
Harry nods, thinking about his own struggles, his battles with therapy, and the pressures of the system.
“You’re not alone in this,” he assures her. “We’ll find something better.”
Maybe this moment sparks something—a bigger movement, a new discussion about alternatives to mainstream mental health treatments. Maybe it’s just a raw, human exchange between two people who understand the weight of fame, expectation, and the fight to feel whole.
Prince Harry Opens Up About His Mental Health
Sitting across from Nelly Furtado, Harry takes a deep breath. He’s spent years advocating for mental health awareness, but admitting his own struggles still isn’t easy.
“I get it, Nelly,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve been there too. ADD, PTSD, anxiety about the future… it never really goes away, does it?”
Nelly looks at him, surprised. “You? But you seem so—”
Harry shakes his head. “People think because I’m a prince, I have it all together. But the truth is, I wake up some days feeling completely lost. The PTSD… it’s from everything. Losing my mum, the war, the press, the pressure to be something I never wanted to be. And the ADD? It makes my mind race non-stop. I can never shut it off.”
Nelly sighs. “So what do we do? Because the meds they give us… they don’t feel right. They don’t fix it.”
Harry nods. “I’ve been trying different things. Therapy helps. Being in nature helps. But the biggest thing? Talking about it. Not pretending I’m okay when I’m not.”
The conversation lingers in the air, raw and unfiltered. Maybe this is a turning point for both of them—a realization that even with all their fame and success, they’re still just human. Searching. Healing. Trying to find a way forward.
Dr. Kovac Weighs In on Gut Health and Mental Well-Being
Dr. Kovac, a leading expert in holistic medicine and neuroscience, joins the conversation between Nelly Furtado and Prince Harry. Listening to their struggles with mental health and medication, he leans forward with a knowing smile.
“You know, we often forget that we have a second brain—not in our heads, but in our guts.”
Nelly raises an eyebrow. “Wait, what?”
“The gut is lined with millions of neurons, producing neurotransmitters like serotonin and dopamine—just like the brain. When your gut microbiome is off balance, it affects your mental health. That’s why probiotics are so important. And in Croatia, we’ve had the answer for centuries: kupus—fermented cabbage.”
Harry leans in, intrigued. “Like sauerkraut?”
Dr. Kovac nods. “Exactly, but ours is better.” He chuckles. “Fermented foods help restore gut health, reduce inflammation, and improve mood. Instead of pharmaceutical cocktails, I’d recommend trying natural probiotics—kupus, kefir, yogurt. Let your gut heal your mind.”
Nelly grins. “I’ve actually been to Cabbagetown before. And you know what? It helps.”
Harry laughs. “Alright, so you’re saying I need to eat more Croatian cabbage to fix my anxiety?”
Dr. Kovac smiles. “It’s not a cure-all, but it’s a step in the right direction. Sometimes, the best medicine is the oldest one.”
As the conversation wraps up, Nelly makes a mental note to find some fermented cabbage, while Harry wonders if kupus could be the missing piece in his wellness journey.
Solid Snake, always the man of few but powerful words, leans against a dimly lit wall, his face partially obscured by shadows. His voice is low, gruff, but sincere.
“We have all lost someone we love.”
The room falls silent. He doesn’t need to explain further. The pain of loss is universal. Even the strongest warriors carry ghosts.
After a long pause, he continues.
“You know what I do when I want to see them again? I take vitamin B6—the dream vitamin.”
Nelly Furtado and Prince Harry exchange glances.
“B6?” Harry asks, intrigued.
Snake nods. “It enhances dream recall. Makes them vivid, almost real. If you’re lucky, you’ll see them. Hear them. Maybe even talk to them.”
Nelly tilts her head, considering it. “That sounds… beautiful. And kind of heartbreaking.”
Snake exhales, looking at the floor. “Yeah. But it’s better than forgetting.”
As the conversation fades, they all sit with their own thoughts—each remembering someone they wish they could see just one more time.