Solid Snake vs Batman

The Arena

A rogue weapons program had built a nuclear-armed walking tank under a mountain, the kind of problem two very different men are always sent to solve. Solid Snake went in alone, as usual, through a ventilation shaft. Batman went in alone too, through another.

They met in a dark storage hangar, each mistaking the other for an enemy guard. Snake heard a cape snap. Batman saw a cardboard box move.

Round One

Snake attacked out of the darkness with CQC, the close-combat style he learned from his mentor, throwing Batman to the floor with a joint lock that would have dislocated any guard’s shoulder. Batman rolled with it, broke the grip, and was back on his feet.

They fought in near-total darkness, both trained to move without sound and strike without being seen. Snake was a master of improvisation, using crates, cables and a tranquilliser pistol. Batman threw batarangs that Snake dodged by sound alone, and Snake was impressed despite himself. “Who trained you?”

Batman did not answer. He moved in again, and Snake met him with a knife held in reverse grip, the blade scratching across the armoured suit and catching on a joint. Batman trapped the knife arm and drove a palm strike into Snake’s jaw. Snake rode the blow, rolled and was gone into the shadows behind a forklift.

The Turn

Snake set a trap: a stun grenade wired to a crate, a tranquilliser dart aimed at where Batman would dodge. It was a perfect soldier’s ambush, built in seconds.

Batman had already scanned the room with his cowl’s detective vision. He saw the wire, the dart’s angle and Snake’s heartbeat behind the crate. He let the grenade go off on the far side of the room, came through the smoke from the other direction, and drove Snake through the crate with a flying knee.

Snake grunted, rolled out of the splintered wood and kept fighting, because Snake always keeps fighting. He threw a handful of chaff into the air to blind the cowl’s sensors and swung a length of pipe at Batman’s knee. It connected. Batman went down on one leg and came straight back up.

The Finish

Snake is a legend for a reason. He fought on with a cracked rib, landing a stunning elbow that rang Batman’s cowl and a sweep that put both men on the floor. But Batman was younger, heavier and armoured, and he had planned every possible way the fight could go.

A pressure-point strike numbed Snake’s arm, a takedown pinned him to the concrete, and a strip of bat-cable tied his wrists before he could reach for a knife. Snake lay on the floor, laughing hoarsely. “Kept you waiting, huh?”

Batman pulled off a piece of the cardboard box stuck to Snake’s shoulder. “You are here for the weapon,” he said. “So am I.” He cut the cable. They took down the walking tank together, and Snake still does not know how Batman found the hidden ventilation shaft he came in through.