Prologue

"Who are you?"

The cold metallic voice reverberated around the steel reflective room as it had done countless times before, yet it resounded as chillingly as the first time it had been said.

I am Solid Snake.

No reply came, and the question was repeated.

"Who are you?"

I am Solid Snake.

The man being questioned by the cold voice once again attempted an answer, but his mouth was too weak to move. His throat, cold and dry, merely rasped a hollow reply.

The pain that followed was totally expected, but had lost none of its potency since the first time the prisoner felt it. Shocks of electricity thumped through his chest and quickened his heartbeat immeasurably. It lasted about ten seconds, and it took almost that long for the prisoner to realise that the screams that were echoing through his eardrums were his own.

"Who are you?"

"I am Solid Snake." Eventually the answer came, spat through swollen lips. His wrists still tingled irregularly.

Electricity again shot through the man's body. He feared his wrists would split, and his heart seemed to smash against his sternum. His neck craned sharply upwards as a last, desperate attempt to escape the pain; but his arms and legs were tightly manacled to the metal wall. The agony stopped as abruptly as it had started.

"You are no-one." The voice spoke again. "Who are you?"

"I am Solid Snake." It again took a gargantuan effort for the man to utter his answer, and no sooner had the words left his lips than the electricity was pumped up again. He writhed ever more violently than before, and try as he might he could not block it out. Presently he again became aware of the scream being torn from his mouth.

"Who are you?" The question was put to the tortured again once the pain had resided. But there was no other answer to be given.

"I am Solid Snake."

Once more his muscles gave way to the clockwork thumps pounding through them. The excruciation came flooding into his mind's forefront, swelling his eyes shut. He felt as though he was clinging to something by his fingertips; what he did not know. Either his sanity or his life, he concluded swiftly.

This process was continued for what seemed like days, but could not have been more than mere hours. Each time it seemed as though the electricity was greater than before, each time the pain was more unbearable. The prisoner's mind clouded, and he could not remember a time when he was not fighting for his life to block out the artificial agony. After an immeasurable time, something in the man's mind seemed to give; a handhold was pulled away from an immense vertical drop. His stomach dropped again and his bladder gave way.

"Who are you?"

The voice was the same as it had been throughout, yet worlds apart from the first time it had been said. Something had changed. The pulsation remained.

"I am no-one," came the reply. He did not know whether he believed it or not, focusing on any thought was beyond his current state. The prisoner's manacles released him almost instantly, and he slid from the wall of his torture onto the icy metal floor. Too weak to move, he lay there, near death.

Suddenly, light flooded into the room. It washed over the fallen like a golden river, burning his eyes and cleansing his wounds.

"Good."

It was the same voice that had put his question across countless times before, but closer. It, and the light, came from a doorway that had been opened in the room. The speaker did not cast a shadow on the ice-like surface on which he walked.

"Now we can begin."