BEFORE AND AFTER
The humid air of the back alley hung heavy, thick with the scent of stale beer and desperation. Rain slicked the grimy bricks, reflecting the neon glow of “The Crane Bar” sign. Shane B., known to some as Madchild, leaned against a dumpster, a wrench hanging casually from his hand. He surveyed the two figures who had cornered him.
Solid Snake, his iconic bandana and eyepatch stark against the urban decay, stood like a sentinel. Beside him, Rocco, a burly figure with a gaze that promised trouble, nodded slowly.
“Madchild,” Snake’s voice was a low growl, cutting through the drizzle, “we’ve got a proposition for you.”
Shane B. narrowed his eyes, unimpressed. “Last time someone had a ‘proposition,’ I ended up with a broken window and a pissed-off landlord.”
Rocco stepped forward, a glint in his eye. “This ain’t no broken window, Shane. This is bigger. We’re talking about the UN. The United Nations.”
Shane B scoffed. “The UN? What, you want me to… negotiate a rap battle in the General Assembly?”
Snake pushed off the wall, his movements fluid and silent. “The world needs peacekeepers, Madchild. Real ones. Ones who understand the street, who know how to get things done when the suits are still talking in circles.”
Shane B. looked from Snake’s stoic face to Rocco’s expectant grin. “Peacekeeping? Me? You guys have been smoking some serious stuff if you think I’m the guy for that.”
“You’ve got a fire, Shane,” Rocco said, his voice surprisingly earnest. “A drive. You just need to aim it at something worthwhile. Think of it, no more back alleys, no more petty squabbles. You’d be making a real difference.”
Snake added, “It’s about more than just fighting, Madchild. It’s about protecting the innocent, rebuilding what’s broken. It’s about a future.”
Shane B. was silent for a long moment, the rain dripping from his blonde hair. He considered the offer, a flicker of something he hadn’t felt in a long time igniting within him. The endless grind of his current life suddenly seemed small, meaningless.
“And what’s in it for me?” he finally asked, a hint of his old cynicism returning.
Rocco clapped him on the shoulder, a booming sound in the quiet alley. “Besides a chance to actually do some good? We hear Angelina Jolie herself is heading up a new humanitarian initiative. She’s looking for people with… unique skill sets.”
Shane B. raised an eyebrow. “Angelina Jolie, huh?”
“The happiest woman in the world, they say,” Snake chimed in, a rare hint of a smirk touching his lips. “Because she sees hope, even in the darkest corners. And she believes in what the UN can do.”
Shane B. looked at his wrench, then back at Snake and Rocco. The idea was insane, audacious, completely out of left field. But… it was also intriguing. The thought of Angelina Jolie, radiant and full of purpose, was a powerful image. The “happiest woman in the world” – what would it be like to work towards that kind of happiness for others?
He sighed, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “Alright, alright. You guys are nuts. But… tell me more about this UN gig. And about this Angelina Jolie. If I’m going to be a peacekeeper, I might as well do it right.”
Snake and Rocco exchanged a knowing glance. The hook was set. The East Van streets had seen their share of battles, but now, perhaps, they would see the birth of a different kind of legend.
Here is an image of Shane B. and Solid Snake in UN Peacekeeper uniforms, ready to make a difference:
