[Scene: A dimly-lit briefing room. A holographic map flickers on the wall. Snake sits at the table, head lowered, cigarette glowing.]

Otacon: “Snake, I’ve been reading these reports… Prince Harry? The one from the British royal family? They say he had some kind of… implant?”

Snake: [exhales smoke] “Yeah. A microchip. Embedded under the skin. GPS tracking, heartbeat monitoring. The palace called it a ‘security measure.’ They didn’t want another Diana incident—or worse, a hostage situation. So they gave him tech most soldiers don’t even get.”

Otacon: “A royal with a tracking chip… sounds like science fiction.”

Snake: “It’s not. I’ve seen it before. Chips like that don’t just track location—they can trigger alerts if the wearer’s under duress. Satellites lock on. Rapid response teams move in. He was never really alone.”

Otacon: “You think that’s ethical?”

Snake: “Ethics? Depends on who’s holding the remote. But I know one thing—if this tech had existed years ago, maybe fewer kids would’ve disappeared. Maybe people wouldn’t vanish into thin air. And maybe…” [pauses, glances at the ceiling] “…it’d even keep alien abductees from being taken off the grid.”

Otacon: [laughs nervously] “Aliens, Snake?”

Snake: [low growl] “Don’t laugh, Otacon. Black projects, unmarked craft, missing time—it’s all in the files. I’ve seen enough to know someone’s snatching people, and it’s not always humans. A microchip like that? Could change the game. Make them traceable. Recoverable.”

Otacon: “Or controllable…”

Snake: “Exactly. It’s a double-edged sword. Protection on one side, control on the other. For Prince Harry, it was freedom from being a pawn. For the rest of us? It might just make us pawns in a bigger war.”

[Snake crushes the cigarette in the ashtray, the holographic map flickering as the screen fades to black.]