To say that Otacon had been through some strange things would be a fair assumption, perhaps even an understatement. But this? This was like a science-fiction novel, and he had never much liked those.

A dream? he thought, wiping slime made of god knows what off his glasses and from his dyed brown hair. No, this is too lucid--wait where the hell are my clothes?!

Before he could give further thought to this pressing problem, Otacon heard the voice in his head...Stacy? What a nice name, accompanied with emotions the engineer needed like most people needed air. He went along with everything in silence, trying to think of just how he had gotten here if this was at all real.

"...Chosen?" he asked aloud, in a voice that came with no small amount of uncertainty.