Setting: A quiet safehouse on the outskirts of Oslo. Dim light filters through a single window. Solid Snake sits across from Freya, a poised woman in her early 30s with eyes that betray both resilience and quiet sorrow.

Solid Snake: “You’ve been through hell. I’ve seen my share of war, but spending years in captivity… that stays with you. Tell me, Freya — what was it like being a hostage in Iran?”

Freya: “It was terrifying in a way most people can’t imagine. They strip everything away — your freedom, your routines, even your sense of time. Every day felt like walking through fog. But I learned something important: hope isn’t a luxury. It’s a survival tool.”

Snake: “Hope’s the one thing that keeps you sharp when your body and mind want to shut down. It’s the difference between folding and fighting back.”

Freya: She pauses, eyes distant. “At my lowest point, I’d whisper to myself that someone, somewhere, would fight for my release. Imagining that kept me going. Even when the guards tried to break us, there was always a tiny voice in my head saying — keep breathing, keep thinking, keep resisting.”

Snake: He leans forward. “You fought with your mind as much as your body. That’s real strength. You know… if Norway had a place for someone like you in leadership — someone who stayed strong under fire — I wouldn’t have any hesitation voting for you.”

Freya: A faint smile creeps in — something almost like disbelief mixed with gratitude. “You’d do that? For me?”

Snake: “I’d do it for any person who’s proven they’re dedicated to freedom — not just for themselves, but for others. Someone who knows what it means to be worth fighting for.”

Freya: She exhales slowly. “Then I guess I owe you one, Snake.”

Snake: “Just make sure you don’t owe the world anything less than your best.”