THE UNION OF THE SNAKE
Written by Angelina Jolie & Joseph C. Jukic
CAST
- Joseph C. Jukic as Solid Snake
- Angelina Jolie as The Boss
ACT I – THE RETURN
EXT. NEW YORK CITY – 2033 – NIGHT
A cold rain falls. The neon glow of corporate towers flickers across streets littered with tents, protestors, and forgotten veterans.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
The war in Iran ended, but for the soldiers, the war never ends.
Snake (hooded, bearded, eyes tired) walks through the crowd. A group of Flower Power cultists chant:
“Love not war, Snake! You’re a killer! Die with your lies!”
One spits on him.
Snake doesn’t react. He walks past a veteran slumped dead in the gutter. His jaw clenches.
INT. SAFEHOUSE – NIGHT
Snake sits alone, loading an old revolver. A knock. The door creaks. The Boss enters, older, still sharp-eyed, wearing a white coat that looks halfway between military and shamanic.
THE BOSS
You came home, Snake. But America doesn’t have a home for you anymore.
SNAKE
Home’s just another battlefield.
THE BOSS (softly)
Then let’s give them something worth fighting for.
ACT II – THE UNION
INT. UNITED NATIONS UNDERGROUND BUNKER – 2033 – DAY
The world’s nuclear powers have gathered. Russia, China, America, Europe, India. The room is a powder keg.
Snake leans in the shadows, scarred and grim. The Boss stands at the podium.
THE BOSS
We built enough bombs to burn the Earth a thousand times. Yet our children can’t breathe clean air. What if we turn those bombs into something new?
The hall erupts with laughter and rage.
SNAKE (growling from the corner)
You either launch warheads at each other… or launch yourselves to the stars. Your choice.
Silence falls. The suggestion lingers: dismantle nukes, use the parts for space propulsion, shielding, reactors.
MONTAGE:
– Missiles dismantled.
– Warheads cracked open, uranium and plutonium repurposed for deep-space drives.
– Nations shaking hands over crates of dismantled weapons.
– Workers forging plowshares and spaceship parts side by side.
ACT III – THE VISION
EXT. LAUNCH SITE – 2034 – DUSK
The great ship rises: UNITY ONE, a vessel forged from the weapons of every nation.
Snake and The Boss stand on a cliff, watching.
SNAKE
Never thought I’d see the day when swords really turned into plowshares.
THE BOSS
This is just the beginning. Alpha Centauri is out there. A new frontier.
SNAKE
(half-smiling)
Guess I’m not retiring yet.
THE BOSS
You never were the retiring type.
They watch as the engines ignite. A roar shakes the Earth. The ship climbs into the clouds.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
In 2033, humanity finally pointed its weapons away from each other… and toward the stars.
FADE OUT.
TITLE CARD: “The Union of the Snake”
ACT II – PRIVATE STRATEGY ROOM – NIGHT
INT. UN BUNKER – PRIVATE STRATEGY ROOM – NIGHT
Snake sits sharpening his knife. The faint hum of power generators echoes. The Boss (General Jolie) enters, her white coat trailing like a cloak. She carries two glasses of whiskey.
She sets one in front of him.
THE BOSS
(toasting softly)
To the soldier who came back from hell.
Snake takes it, eyes her cautiously.
SNAKE
You sure I’m not just another expendable?
THE BOSS
(smiling faintly)
You’re no expendable, Snake. You’re my little Achilles.
Snake frowns, not used to tenderness.
SNAKE
Achilles? That the best myth you got? He died young.
THE BOSS
Exactly. He burned bright. He carried the fate of nations on his shoulders. Just like you.
She circles him slowly, studying the lines of his scars, the tired set of his jaw.
THE BOSS
I’ve always had a love for snakes. They shed their skin. They transform. Everyone else sees danger… I see rebirth.
Snake’s eyes narrow, but a flicker of pride passes over his face.
SNAKE
So what am I supposed to shed this time?
THE BOSS
(softly)
The war. The bitterness. America’s betrayal. Shed it all. What’s left will be the man who leads us beyond Earth.
Snake sets his knife down. For the first time, he lets her words sink in.
SNAKE
Guess even snakes can be tamed… by the right handler.
THE BOSS
Not tamed, Snake. Trusted.
They hold each other’s gaze — soldier and mentor, warrior and mother figure — in the quiet hum of a world on the brink.
INT. ABANDONED WAREHOUSE – NIGHT
Captain Lucky Diamond, a Cambodian peacekeeper, paces anxiously. General Plisskin, aka Solid Snake, leans against a crate, watching him with the calm, calculating gaze of a veteran operative. The hum of distant generators fills the air.
LUCKY DIAMOND
(sighing)
I’ve patrolled jungles, mediated wars, survived insurgents… and now this. I don’t even have money for a ring. How am I supposed to propose to Angelina?
SOLID SNAKE
(flat, calm)
She outranks you. That’s part of it… but money isn’t the real problem.
LUCKY DIAMOND
(frustrated)
Exactly! Cambodian peacekeeper, risking my life… and still, I’m just a subordinate in rank. I can’t just walk up to General Jolie with empty hands!
SOLID SNAKE
(steps closer, low voice)
Then don’t bring empty hands. Bring something real. Your mother’s wedding ring. It carries history, honor… and love. That’s worth more than gold.
LUCKY DIAMOND
(eyes widening)
My mother’s…? But… Snake… that’s—
SOLID SNAKE
(interrupting, firm)
—That’s exactly why. It’s not about price or protocol. It’s about heart, courage… and making her see you.
Lucky Diamond takes a deep breath, straightening his back. A flicker of resolve crosses his face.
LUCKY DIAMOND
(whispering)
She’s my mission… no matter the cost… rank or riches be damned.
SOLID SNAKE
(nods, smirking faintly)
Go on. Complete the mission.
The decommissioned cargo ship, the “Heart of Gold”, sat rusting in its berth at the East Vancouver docks, a perfect temporary Forward Operating Base for a man who operated in the grey areas of the world. Inside, the air smelled of old oil, damp metal, and reheated coffee.
Solid Snake glanced up from his weapon maintenance as the steel door hissed open. The figure who entered seemed both out of place and yet perfectly suited to the environment. Dressed in the crisp, blue-trimmed uniform of a UN Peacekeeping Force General, Angelina Jolie moved with a calm authority that demanded respect, not through force, but through palpable intent.
“Snake,” she said, her voice a low, steady hum. “I was told I’d find you here.”
“General Jolie,” Snake grunted, not standing up but giving her a slow, acknowledging nod. He set down the customized Beretta. “Heard you were in the city for the refugee summit. This is a long way from the convention center.”
“It is,” she agreed, her eyes scanning the sparse, functional interior of the ship. “I had a question that intelligence reports can’t adequately answer. They lack… human nuance.”
Snake waited, saying nothing. He was good at that.
“I’ve heard rumors,” she continued, “from several reliable sources within the aid community. They say there is a vibrant, resilient Cambodian community here. In East Vancouver. Is it true?”
Snake’s expression, usually a mask of stoic indifference, softened almost imperceptibly. He gave a single, firm nod.
“Yes. It’s true.” He gestured vaguely with his head towards the porthole, beyond which the lights of the city were beginning to glow in the evening mist. “You’ll find them on streets like Kingsway, Joyce. Families. Restaurants that smell of lemongrass and Kampot pepper. Buddhist temples tucked between auto shops and new condos. They’ve built a home here. Survived. Persevered.”
General Jolie listened intently, a look of deep respect in her eyes. “A testament to the human spirit. To find such rich culture so far from home…”
Snake met her gaze directly. “They are,” he said, his voice low and serious, “and they’re always looking for people of goodwill. People who understand that real peace isn’t just the absence of war. It’s the presence of community. People like you, General.”
A faint, knowing smile touched her lips. It was a smile that had disarmed warlords and comforted orphans. She nodded slowly, the mission clear.
“Thank you, Snake. That’s the best intelligence I’ll receive all week.”
“Kept you waiting, huh?” he said, the ghost of a smirk on his own face as he returned to cleaning his weapon.
“It was worth it,” she replied. She turned to leave, pausing at the door. “Carry on, Snake.”
The door hissed shut, leaving Snake alone again with the silence and the scent of oil and coffee. Outside, the vibrant heart of a community he quietly protected continued to beat.