Author: Solid Snake

A strong man doesn't need to read the future, he makes his own.
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Croatian Utopia

Dialogue Scene: The Croatian Shadow

Setting: A dimly lit underground bunker in a forgotten Croatian coastal fortress. Rain patters outside. Joe Jukic, dressed as Solid Snake — sneaking suit, bandana, tactical gear — leans against a concrete wall marked with old Yugoslav graffiti. Across from him sits Nadya Tolokonnikova of Pussy Riot, colorful punk hair partially tucked under a black beanie, her activist jacket covered in protest patches. A chessboard with scattered pieces sits between them. A holographic projection faintly shows Gary Kasparov mid-speech.

Joe “Solid Snake” Jukic: (voice low, gravelly, with a slight Croatian-Canadian accent) Nadya… you ever wonder why the best minds keep running? Kasparov saw the writing on the wall years ago. Grandmaster of the board, but he knew the real game was rigged. He fled Russia, left it all behind. Landed in a Croatian Utopia — olive groves, clean sea air, people who still remember what freedom tastes like before the machine took over. No more oligarch shadows. No more silencing the voice.

Nadya: (leaning forward, eyes sharp, with a sarcastic smirk) Kasparov? The chess king who finally checked out? I respect the exit strategy. But Utopia? In Croatia? Sounds like another pretty cage, Joe. Or are you selling me the same dream you sold yourself when you chose Canada over the old country? Pussy Riot doesn’t do exile tourism. We smash the system from inside the cage.

Joe “Solid Snake” Jukic: (chuckles darkly, adjusting his bandana) Not tourism. Survival. I sacrificed everything — wife, kids, the old life — just to keep one more song alive in a place that could still work. Croatia’s got the bones of something real. Interest-free loans. Debt jubilee. Maglev trains cutting through the hills instead of tanks. The door’s still open for you, Nadya. You, your crew, the ones who actually fight. Come build it with us. East Van to the Adriatic. No more running from Agent Smiths and snakes in suits. We flip the board.

Nadya: (pauses, staring at the chess pieces, then at Joe) …The door, huh? Kasparov made his move. Maybe it’s time for a different kind of riot. Tell me more about this “Utopia,” Solid Snake. But if it’s just another pyramid scheme with better views, I’ll burn it down myself.

Joe “Solid Snake” Jukic: (small smile, extending a hand) Deal. First round’s on Croatian wine and honest talk. The people decide — not the elites. Welcome to the referendum, comrade.

Fade out on the two of them shaking hands as the projection of Kasparov nods approvingly in the background.

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UN Binding Resolution

Solid Snake x Nadya Riot — UN Blue Helmets in the Snow

[Somewhere cold. A safehouse with cracked windows. Snow hisses against the glass. A blue UN armband lies on the table.]

Solid Snake:
So… UN-monitored election. Ballot boxes instead of bullets. That’s new.

Nadya Riot:
Don’t get sentimental, Snake. Bullets are still invited. They’re just waiting outside, smoking.

Snake:
Figures. Power never leaves quietly. It pretends it’s democratic while hiding a knife under the table.

Nadya:
Putin built a system where the table is the knife. Courts, media, security—stacked like nesting dolls. You open one, there’s another inside.

Snake:
That’s why the UN’s here. Observers, peacekeepers, cameras everywhere. Sunlight makes cockroaches nervous.

Nadya (smirks):
Unless the cockroaches own the power grid.

Snake:
Fair point. Still—monitors change the math. You can’t fake turnout when the world’s counting heads instead of slogans.

Nadya:
People are scared. They whisper in voting booths like God is bugged. Years of fear don’t evaporate because someone wears a blue helmet.

Snake:
Fear’s a weapon. But it dulls with use. Eventually people realize it’s heavier than freedom.

Nadya:
You sound like you believe this could actually work.

Snake:
I’ve seen worse odds. Shadow wars. Nuclear brinkmanship. AI colonels making kill lists.
An honest vote? That’s almost quaint.

Nadya:
Quaint gets you killed here.

Snake:
So does doing nothing.

[A distant helicopter thumps. UN markings flash past the window.]

Nadya:
They say the election is about stability. About “continuity.”

Snake:
Every strongman loves that word. Stability—for them.
Democracy’s unstable. It argues. It changes its mind. That’s the point.

Nadya:
If he loses, he won’t just walk away.

Snake:
No. But he won’t be able to disappear the loss either. Not with witnesses. Not with receipts.

Nadya:
And if he wins?

Snake:
Then at least the question was asked out loud. Sometimes the first victory is forcing the truth into daylight.

Nadya (quiet):
People are lining up already. Old women. Students. Factory guys who’ve never voted before.
They’re shaking—but they’re showing up.

Snake:
That’s the real battlefield. Courage beats propaganda every time. It just takes longer.

Nadya:
You staying through election day?

Snake:
Yeah. Someone has to make sure the lights stay on… and the boxes don’t walk away.

Nadya (half-smile):
Welcome to democracy, Snake. It’s messy. Loud. And fragile as glass.

Snake:
Glass can cut.

[They share a look. Outside, the snow keeps falling—but people keep lining up.]

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Run Riot: Greece

Scene: Athens, Syntagma Square – Night
The square is a cauldron of fire and smoke. Riot shields gleam in the orange glow of burning barricades. Protestors chant and hurl bottles, the air filled with the acrid tang of tear gas and gasoline.

Solid Snake, his bandana fluttering, and Nadya Riot, her megaphone crackling, step forward through the haze.

Nadya Riot (into megaphone):
“Brothers, sisters—do the Onassis Illuminati pay you enough to drown in fire? Enough to be engulfed in the flames of Molotov cocktails?!”

The soldiers hesitate. Some lower their weapons slightly, eyes darting between their commanders and the crowd.

Snake (voice steady, commanding):
“You swore an oath to protect Greece—not to crush her under the weight of foreign banks. Put down your guns. Stand with the people. Stand for freedom.”

A soldier at the front blinks, sweat dripping down his brow. His shield dips.

Nadya Riot (raising her fist):
“End the debt! Jubilee now!”

The crowd erupts, chanting the word “Jubilee! Jubilee!” like thunder rolling across marble streets. The riot police shift uneasily, the line fracturing as more weapons clatter to the ground.

In the background, the flames rise higher, licking at the symbols of wealth and power. The question lingers in every soldier’s mind:
Will I stand with the people—or burn for the bankers?