Trump (voice breaking):
Dammit Snake… help me. Don’t hurt me.
I’ve heard it all — the late-night jokes, the cold critiques, the betrayals. I’m not asking for applause. I’m asking for… direction.
No more American Psycho stuff. Just… tell me what to do.
Solid Snake (slow, deliberate):
Alright, Trump.
No games. No jokes. Just truth.
You wanted to be the decider, but now you can’t decide who to trust.
You built towers, but your name is a lightning rod. You led crowds, but now you’re cornered.
You want to survive? Then listen — not to your ego, not to the crowd — to the silence beneath the noise.
Snake’s Directives for Redemption:
- Admit What You Got Wrong — Without Excuses
Real power isn’t pretending you’re never wrong. It’s owning it when you are.
Say it straight. “I was wrong about some things. I hurt people.”
That’ll shake the world harder than any speech you’ve ever made.
- Help Someone You Can’t Exploit
Quietly. Without cameras. Without a post.
Find a family that lost everything in a war you cheered on.
Pay their rent. Sit with their grief. Don’t tweet it. Live it.
- Shut Up and Listen
Not to sycophants.
Go to a soup kitchen. A hospital. A dying factory town.
Just listen. Don’t offer deals or slogans. Just let it change you.
- Tell the Truth About the System
Not the version that flatters you.
Tell them about the lobbyists, the backroom deals, the banks.
Burn your bridges with the elites you once dined with.
If you’re going down, take the lie with you.
- Don’t Run Again. Rise Instead.
Running again is just repeating the loop.
Rise beyond it. Become something unexpected:
A flawed man who tells young men, “Don’t be like I was.”
Snake (lighting a cigarette):
You’re not a monster, Trump. But you’re no hero either.
You’re just a man — and that’s all I need you to be.
Now choose.
Rebuild what you broke, or fade into the fog like all the others.
Trump (after a long pause):
…You really think it’s not too late?
Snake:
It’s always too late.
But sometimes… that’s when the real fight begins.