Let me just tell you my names before I go. I have a few.

If there's nothing else I can leave on anyone–not that I really want to leave anything on anyone, anyways–then I guess it would be my names. A semblance of existence to another organic thing beyond myself.

The first name is Beachside. It's not an important one, and not really a good one either. It was less of a name and more of a mask. A code...maybe that's why they're called codenames? So they help apply past committed atrocities to another version of yourself. A separate entity that's not you, even if it is you.

Ah, mierda, let me stop myself before I ramble. Beachside, it's a codename from a gang that I still use when needed. That's all.

The second name is Arturo Rivaja. The name I was given when I entered this universe. Officially, Arturo is dead. He was left behind on an asteroid during a skirmish with some still-loyal IMC wacks a few months after Typhon went kablammo and my whole life got flipped.

It was only my fourth month of active service. I was still young and stupid. Still am even now, really.

The Militia presumed him KIA, but it was only after I joined up with a pretty shitty organization and became Beachside that I returned to pull the trigger in the documents. There are perks for also working in the offices of the Militia and not just it's battlefields, I guess.

Maybe I gotta stop myself from over-explaining everything...and making it seem so...dramatic. Arturo is my birth name. Beachside is my codename.

After I "killed" Arturo officially, I forged a new name in the Militia census. William Alexis. The name I use now so I can live properly. Nobody realizes that an identity is the ultimate currency in today's universe. You won't get anything without a verified name.

It's the only way to get the dinero.

You can't see me but I'm rubbing my thumb and finger together.

Alright, those are my names future-person-with-my-memories.

If you want, you can go now. But if you're still with me, I just want to say I'm incredibly humbled that my existence can continue a little longer in someone's memory.

So this thing here...This here is a log. Everything important that's happened to me as William Alexis. I would have started from the beginning as Arturo, but I didn't have a computer stuck in my head then. And who would stick a computer in a kid's head anyway?

So I'm going to have to start this with the sequel, or the finale. Depends if you consider Beachside a sequel or the beginning...Arturo had many boring years.

But yeah, these are my memory logs, and I before you ask, I'm not a Sim. I'm fully organic, just wanted to make that clear. I just had a pretty screwed up time with the shady chaotic gang.

So these logs, they're very factual. That's how I usually am most of the time. But thanks to A.I. machine learning, or really just a friend of mine, they made the logs more bearable to skim through. If he didn't, let's say it would be very much like reading a textbook. Even I fall asleep reading those at times. You gotta have some dramatic words to make them interesting, a flow of diction and all that.

Not saying that either of us is particularly good at that kinda thing, but we do with what we have.

Do what you will with my memories when you're through with looking at them. Hate 'em, love 'em, burn 'em, share 'em. It doesn't matter. As long as I'm something more than just a ghost to someone out there. I may or may not be gone by the time you come across this.

So, anywho. My experiences logged here is my send-off. Thinking back on it, I can hardly imagine all of it really happened. It may not be worth much soon, but I don't care about that. I care about being known in some way...

Wow. I think I finally got to what I've been trying to say this whole time. Just keep talking and you'll get there, right? Although I'm not particularly a big fan of talking much. Especially about myself. Pretty ironic considering this whole thing pretty much is all about me.

But what else am I supposed to talk about when I'm the only one talking? It's all one-way. Can't really talk about something else when no one's talking back. It's ridiculous, especially when people just look at you funny when you provide a topic and they just stare at you like you have dos cabezas. Hate it.

And I'm getting off track again, aren't I? Yay, so what was I saying?

Hmm...Names, human, the logs, my story, trying to...say something. Ah, that's right.

So really, all I'm trying to do here is to make myself known to someone out there. Nothing else. The logs are just for the curious, not really meant to do anything really but provide context as to why–

Why...why...

Why I'm me? Why I'm making this. Um, I guess why I want to put my names out there...I really don't know what I'm doing, to be honest. I'm just going with the flow at this point, heh...

Uh, let me summarize.

Names. Beachside, Arturo, William.

I fought in the war, got left behind, changed identities and ran with an organization that put a chip in my head, and dipped out soon after. Anything after that is where the logs take over.

And...I'm putting this out here just to keep existing in some way and...that's about it.

So! Let me just preface these logs here with my own little dramatic opening and all that fancy, showy goodness. Here we go, fa so la ti do. Deep voice, activated!

A lot of stories sometimes open with a mystical force or being falling from the sky, drawing a curious lone wanderer into investigating. It ropes them, calls to them, and soon enough they begin some crazy adventure.

Not this story.

This story ends an adventure...