To All the Child Soldiers,
This is Snake.
I know you. I’ve seen the look in your eyes, the weight you carry on your shoulders. They trained you to fight, to kill, to survive—but never to live. They told you that you were soldiers, but they treated you like weapons—disposable, replaceable, forgotten when the war was over.
But I’m here to tell you… you are not disposable. You are not tools for the powerful. You are not ghosts meant to disappear when the battlefield falls silent.
You fought their wars. You bled for their causes. And now? They want to pretend you never existed.
I won’t let that happen.
I don’t care if I have to walk through every marble hall of the United Nations myself—I will force them to recognize you. To give you the honor you deserve. To award you the medals they give to men twice your age who did half as much.
You were forced to grow up too fast. Forced to make choices no child should ever face. But listen to me—you are still here. And that means something. It means your fight isn’t over.
Not against each other. Not against the ghosts of the past. But against the people who used you and threw you away.
You survived hell. Now it’s time they acknowledge who you are.
Stay strong. Stay free.
Solid Snake
Captain Angelina Jolie Addresses the Child Soldiers
Angelina Jolie stands before the gathered child soldiers, her voice calm but full of conviction. She looks them in the eyes—boys and girls who have seen more war than most generals.
Angelina Jolie:
“You deserve recognition. You deserve honor. You deserve more than just being forgotten. I can’t undo what happened to you, but I can stand with you. I can tell the world that you are heroes, not ghosts.”
She takes a breath, then continues.
“You know, I’ve been given medals too—but not for fighting. For trying to bring peace. Maybe that’s something we can fight for together.”
She lists some of the honors she has received over the years:
Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award (for humanitarian efforts worldwide)
Honorary Dame Commander of the Order of St Michael and St George (DCMG) – United Kingdom (for her work against sexual violence in war zones)
Citizen of the World Award – UN Correspondents Association (for international humanitarian work)
Global Humanitarian Award – UN Refugee Agency (UNHCR) (for advocacy for refugees and war victims)
Order of Saint Charles – Monaco (for services to children and humanitarian causes)
She looks at the children again, her expression fierce.
“But none of these mean more than the medal you should get. The medal that says you survived, that you fought, and that you are still standing. And if Snake says he’s going to force the UN to give you those medals—then I’m going to be standing right next to him, making sure they do.”
The children watch her, some skeptical, some hopeful.
“Because the world owes you more than a medal. But it’s a damn good place to start.”
Scene: United Nations Headquarters – Medal Ceremony
The grand hall is filled with diplomats, military officials, and journalists. A special event is taking place—one that no one saw coming. At the podium stands Solid Snake, dressed in his iconic combat gear, looking slightly out of place among the suits and uniforms. In his hands, a small, elegantly designed medal gleams under the bright lights.
Solid Snake: (Gravelly voice, steady gaze.)
“Psychological warfare isn’t just fought on the battlefield. It’s fought in the minds of the people. It’s fought through history, through storytelling, through the slow manipulation of truth and memory.”
The audience murmurs, unsure where this is going.
“And sometimes… sometimes, it’s fought through film.”
A hushed silence. Snake lifts the medal, turning toward Angelina Jolie, who stands at the side of the stage in a sleek black dress, curious but composed.
“For her outstanding Psyop contribution to The Good Shepherd, a film that exposed the origins of the CIA, the secrets of Skull and Bones, and the cold realities of espionage, I present this Medal for Outstanding Psychological Operations to Angelina Jolie.”
Jolie steps forward, a small smirk on her lips, taking the medal. She examines it, then looks up at Snake.
Angelina Jolie: (Playfully.)
“So, this means I’m an honorary spy now?”
Solid Snake: (Half-smirking, voice low.)
“If you weren’t already.”
The audience erupts in laughter and applause as Jolie places the medal around her neck. Somewhere in the shadows, old intelligence officers shift uncomfortably. The truth has a way of surfacing—even in Hollywood.
FADE TO BLACK.
Scene: A Military Strategy Meeting – United Nations HQ
A dimly lit war room. Maps, satellite images, and classified documents are scattered across a long table. Military officers, humanitarian leaders, and intelligence analysts sit around it, debating the future of a war-torn region where child soldiers are being forced into battle.
The room falls silent as an unexpected guest speaks—Desmond Doss, the legendary pacifist combat medic, stands at the head of the table. Though decades have passed since WWII, his voice still carries the weight of battlefield experience.
Desmond Doss:
“You send grown men into battle against child soldiers… and I’ve seen it—grown men flinch.”
Some officers shift uncomfortably. A few lower their eyes.
“It’s not just about the fight. It’s about the mind. These boys and girls have seen more war than most of you sitting here. They don’t fear bullets. They don’t fear death. But that doesn’t mean they don’t remember.”
A murmur goes through the room as he continues.
“Many of those kids out there… they know who Solid Snake is.”
At the far end of the table, Solid Snake, arms crossed, lifts an eyebrow.
Solid Snake:
“You saying they’d listen to me?”
Desmond Doss:
“I’m saying they might. They were trained to obey the strong. But they also know what a real warrior looks like. You’re a legend to them, Snake. They’ve played your story. They respect you.”
Snake exhales, rubbing his chin. He’s spent his life taking down Metal Gears, toppling corrupt regimes—but leading child soldiers out of war? That’s a different kind of mission.
UN General: (Scoffing.)
“So what? You want us to send in Snake with a handful of rations and hope they drop their rifles?”
Desmond Doss: (Shaking his head.)
“No. I’m saying you give them something else to fight for. Put PlayStations in the Free the Children schools. Give them something to dream about besides war.”
Silence. Some of the brass exchange glances.
Solid Snake: (Grim smirk.)
“All it takes is a few PlayStations, huh? That’s the cheapest military op I’ve ever heard.”
Desmond Doss: (Nodding.)
“Cheaper than body bags.”
The weight of the words sinks in. The war room falls silent again. Snake leans forward, looking at the map. A new kind of mission is forming in his mind. One that might just be worth fighting for.
FADE TO BLACK.
Scene: Free the Children Headquarters – Craig Kielburger’s Office
Craig Kielburger sits at his desk, flipping through reports on child soldiers, humanitarian aid, and the latest updates on the Free the Children schools. The world still needs saving, and he’s been at it since he was a kid himself. Suddenly, his secure line buzzes. He picks up. The voice on the other end is unmistakable—Solid Snake. Gravelly, direct, and always about business.
Solid Snake:
“Craig. You still in the fight?”
Craig Kielburger: (Sitting up.)
“Always, Snake. What’s on your mind?”
Solid Snake:
“The kids in your schools. They’ve seen war. They’ve lost everything. But they need to know there’s still something to fight for—something worth fighting for.”
Craig Kielburger: (Nodding, intrigued.)
“I agree. What are you thinking?”
Solid Snake:
“I want you to show them Tears of the Sun—especially the music video. Let them see what real warriors look like. Let them feel what it means to fight for something, not just against something.”
Kielburger leans back, considering the request. He remembers the film—Bruce Willis leading a rescue mission in war-torn Africa, choosing humanity over orders. He remembers the music video, the powerful imagery of sacrifice, duty, and honor.
Craig Kielburger: (Thoughtful.)
“That’s heavy. But yeah… they need to see it. What else?”
Solid Snake: (Pausing, voice firm.)
“Tell them I’ve found their leader. Someone who can stand up for them—someone worthy of the African Union.” (A beat.)
“Go to bkenyan.website. He’s the real deal.”
Kielburger quickly types the URL into his laptop, scanning the page. His eyes widen as he reads.
Craig Kielburger: (Nodding slowly.)
“If he’s what you say he is… then we might just have a future worth building.”
Solid Snake: (Grim smirk.)
“That’s the mission, Craig. Give the kids a future, not just a past.”
FADE TO BLACK.
Pope Pius XIII (Lenny Belardo) – A Reflection on War Medals and Child Soldiers
I do not serve the governments of this world, nor do I bend my knee to their wars. But I see the medals they bestow upon their soldiers, and I wonder—what do they give the children who have been sent to fight battles they never chose?
The Purple Heart, for those wounded or killed in service.
The Bronze Star, for acts of heroism and meritorious service.
The Silver Star, for gallantry in action.
The Medal of Honor, the highest award, given for extraordinary valor.
The Distinguished Service Cross, second only to the Medal of Honor in recognition of bravery.
The Navy Cross, for those who fight at sea with honor.
The Air Force Cross, for those who take to the skies in war.
The Legion of Merit, for exceptionally meritorious conduct.
But tell me—where is the medal for the children? The ones sent to the battlefield before they even understood what life truly is? Where is the honor in training the young to fight, when we should be teaching them to play?
The Roman Empire said, “If you want peace, prepare for war.” But I say: If you want peace, train your children to play—not to kill.
I will not prepare my children for war, nation against nation. I will prepare them for a war of the worlds—the kind that is won not with bullets, but with games in the park. Let them play laser tag, let them dream of defending Earth from the unknown. That is the only battle worth fighting—the battle to keep their innocence.
Papa Lenny