Solid Snake leaned against the railing outside the Vancouver Zoo, cigarette unlit for once, bandana tails moving in the Pacific breeze.
Brad Pitt—half in character, half himself—stared at the enclosures with that familiar 12 Monkeys intensity.
Snake:
“I watched 12 Monkeys again. You weren’t crazy, Brad. Not completely. Maybe the system was.”
Brad smirked. “That’s what all the characters say.”
Snake folded his arms.
Snake:
“I’m thinking of buying this place. Not to shut it down overnight. Not to play eco–terrorist. But to transition it. Sanctuary model. No more breeding programs for ticket sales. No more pacing polar bears for Instagram.”
Brad tilted his head. “So… not my character’s version. No virus. No chaos.”
Snake shook his head.
Snake:
“Freedom doesn’t mean panic. It means strategy. Rewild where possible. Expand protected land. Partner with conservation biologists. Some animals can’t just be ‘set free.’ They’d die in a week. That’s not liberation—that’s negligence.”
Brad looked impressed.
Brad:
“So you agree with the idea… but not the execution.”
Snake:
“Exactly. The film was about breaking cages in people’s minds. But in real life? You don’t open every lock at once. You build something better first.”
A peacock cried in the distance.
Snake gestured toward the enclosures.
Snake:
“Imagine this place as a rescue center. Animals saved from trafficking. From collapsing ecosystems. Public education that actually funds habitat protection in the wild. Turn spectators into guardians.”
Brad nodded slowly.
Brad:
“That’s less ‘12 Monkeys’… more ‘12-Year Plan.’”
Snake allowed himself a rare half-smile.
Snake:
“Change the world quietly. No apocalypse required.”
They stood in silence, watching a rescued owl blink from its perch.
Snake:
“Your character wasn’t insane, Brad. He just hated cages. I get that.”
Brad shrugged.
“Just make sure, Snake… if you buy the zoo… you don’t become the new zookeeper of another system.”
Snake adjusted his bandana.
“I won’t. I’ve broken out of enough prisons to know the difference.”