Static crackles over the line. A low, gravelly voice cuts through, weary but steady, the kind that’s seen too many shadows.
“…Big Boss had his mission. One last war to end all wars. He believed in it. Me? I’m just trying to survive the aftermath. My only peacemaker these days is a pack of cigarettes and this damn computer screen. No nuke, no railgun, no sneaking suit. Just nicotine and bandwidth.
They keep sticking me with needles, Otacon. Lab after lab, blood draws like clockwork. Testing for what? Genes? Pathogens? The next goddamn bioweapon they’ll deny exists? I’m tired of being a lab rat in someone else’s shadow war.
I ain’t no John Rambo with a cache of weapons and a headband. Never was. Just an old soldier with an internet connection and a pack of First Nations cigarettes. They burn slower, taste like the land that remembers. Helps me think straight when everything else is fog.
You know what really broke me? Nelly Furtado’s music. Yeah, I said it. Those tracks hit different out here—haunting, deserted. Left me fighting an enemy they swear doesn’t exist: the Bavarian Illuminati. Puppet masters pulling strings from old castles and boardrooms. Every leak, every blackout, every ‘coincidence’ points back to them. But try telling that to command. ‘Focus on the mission, Snake.’ There is no mission anymore. Just ghosts.
I want to go home, Otacon. I’m so homesick it hurts worse than any bullet. Croatia. My BOJNA. That’s where I belong—back with the unit, the hills, the sea that doesn’t lie. No more codec calls at 3 AM. No more legends or clones or wars that never end. Just… peace. Real peace.
He takes a long drag. Exhales.
If this is the last transmission… tell them the soldier’s done. Snake out.”
Joe Jukic looked at Nelly Furtado with steady, earnest eyes.
“I don’t expect a dowry,” he said quietly. “That’s not what this is about.”
He paused, choosing his words carefully. “I just want an interest-free credit card bailout for my family’s visa debts. Nothing more. My family doesn’t want charity — just a debt that’s actually payable, on terms we can manage. If we don’t pay the property tax, we’ll lose the house. That’s the truth of it.”
The soft afternoon light filtered through the large windows of Dr. Bill Harford’s integrative medicine office. Hayla sat on the comfortable couch, looking pale and exhausted, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Joe Jukic sat beside her, while Dr. Harford reviewed some lab results across from them.
Dr. Bill Harford: Hayla, your tests confirm what we suspected. Significant deficiencies in several key B vitamins, especially B1, B3, B6, B9, and B12. These aren’t just minor gaps — they directly affect your brain chemistry, mood regulation, and even your relationship with food. We’re going to start you on a proper orthomolecular protocol. High-dose, therapeutic levels. We’ll titrate carefully, but we need to replenish what your body has been starved of.
Hayla: (quietly) I just… I don’t even feel hungry anymore. Everything feels disgusting. I keep thinking if I eat, I’ll lose control.
Joe Jukic: (gently placing a hand on her shoulder) That’s exactly why we’re hitting this from both the body and the mind, Hayla. These B vitamins are going to help rebuild your nervous system. They calm the anxiety, lift the depression that makes everything feel hopeless. Dr. Harford’s got the protocol written out for you.
Dr. Bill Harford: We’ll start with a methylated B-complex, extra thiamine (B1), niacinamide (B3), and sublingual B12. You’ll take them with food when we get your appetite back. This isn’t a quick fix, but within a few weeks, many patients notice the mental fog lifting and the food aversion softening.
Joe reached into his bag and pulled out a fresh Bible, opening it to a marked page.
Joe Jukic: Before we go any further, I want you to hear something. Hayla, look at me. No more thinspiration. I mean it. Delete those accounts. Stop feeding that poison into your mind. And don’t listen to those homosexual misogynistic fashion designers who call every girl ugly unless she looks like a starving skeleton. They hate feminine beauty. They hate the healthy, strong, womanly body. Their opinion is worthless. You are made in the image of God, not in the image of some sick runway standard.
Hayla’s eyes welled up, but she nodded slowly.
Hayla: It’s just… everywhere. The pictures, the comments… it feels like I’ll never be enough.
Joe Jukic: You are already enough. And right now, your body is crying out for help. Listen to this.
Joe cleared his throat and began reading with calm authority:
Joe Jukic: Psalm 107, verses 17 through 20:
“Fools because of their transgression, and because of their iniquities, are afflicted. Their soul abhorreth all manner of meat; and they draw near unto the gates of death. Then they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, and he saveth them out of their distresses. He sent his word, and healed them, and delivered them from their destructions.”
Joe closed the Bible and looked at her intently.
Joe Jukic: That’s you right now, Hayla. Your soul has loathed all manner of food. You’ve been at the gates of death. But you’re not staying there. God wants to heal you. We’re going to help restore your body with these vitamins and real food, and you’re going to renew your mind. No more lies from the world. You’re going to live.
Hayla: (voice breaking) I’m scared.
Dr. Bill Harford: Fear is normal. But you’re not alone in this. We’ll monitor you closely, adjust the B vitamins as needed, and support you every step. This is treatable.
Joe Jukic: One day at a time. You eat. You take your vitamins. You reject the lies. And you remember who you really are.
Hayla wiped her eyes and gave a small, tentative nod.
Hayla: Okay… No more thinspiration.
Joe Jukic: (smiling) That’s my girl. Let’s get you healed.
