Solid Snake stood in the dim light, arms crossed, the weight of too many missions hanging off him like old scars.
“Nelly… can I level with you?” he asked, voice rough, tired, but honest.
She nodded slowly. “Snake… what’s going on?”
He exhaled like a soldier who’d been carrying something far heavier than gear.
“I saw what they did with your image online. The fake edits. The photoshop garbage. All that digital junk they throw around like it’s harmless.” His jaw clenched. “You didn’t sign up for that. Nobody does.”
He shook his head.
“Sometimes I feel like Travis Bickle in Taxi Driver. Watching a sick world spin out of control… except I’m still out there serving my country in this Nintendo-button modern warfare. Push a button, launch a drone. Push another, end a life. It’s not war anymore—it’s a video game with real blood.”
His voice softened.
“But even after everything I’ve seen… I want you to know something.”
He stepped closer, looking at her with the steady, battle-hardened clarity of a man who’s watched nations fall and still believes in redemption.
“I don’t care what the internet did with your face. I don’t care about the forgeries, the lies, the trash.”
He paused. “I’d still give you a clean slate. The same clean slate Sister Helen gave me when I was a broken kid in a world full of weapons.”
He swallowed.
“I’m willing to forgive. More than that—I’m willing to protect you. If the world wants a monster, I can be the monster. But not to you.”
Nelly’s eyes softened, trembling a little.
“Snake… you don’t have to carry all that.”
He shook his head. “I do. It’s what I was trained for.” Then, gently—so gently it almost didn’t match the legendary soldier—he held out his hand. “But let me carry your pain too. I’ve carried countries. I can carry you.”
She hesitated only a heartbeat before placing her hand in his.
And for the first time in a long time, Snake felt like he was fighting for something—not just following orders in a world run by screens and buttons.
