System Timestamp: [3309.09.06_12:34:56]
Encryption Level: High

Recording initiated...

So my story is... honestly, I don’t know. Briscoe’s Legacy was the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes. No memory, no history, nothing. I’m like a blank warclone - loaded with combat reflexes and mission objectives, but no sense of who I am or why I’m here. It's terrifying. I feel hollow, like a puppet whose strings are being pulled by someone else. I don't know who that someone is, and it scares the hell out of me!

Then there's this guy, Dylan Sylke. He talks to me like we’re old friends, like he knows me better than I know myself. But I don’t know him. His face is blank in my mind, like it’s been wiped away. They call me Captain, CMDR Heenaku. That name... it feels alien? Like it belongs to someone I’m supposed to be, but I can’t connect to it. I’m scared. It’s like I’ve been shoved into someone else’s life, and I’m fumbling in the dark, trying to play along with the bad cards I've been given.

Something is definitely off.

When we landed near Briscoe’s Base on Phaecia, Dylan spoke to me as if I’d never touched my equipment before. “This is a cutter,” he said, as if I was some sort of rookie. “It’s made for cutting things - try it on that lock.” The thing is, the moment I held it, it felt... natural. But the way he explained it - like I was new to all of this - shook me. It's not OK, no. It’s like he knows something I don’t. Like I’m some kind of experiment that’s gone wrong, and they’re trying to patch me up as I go. I don't trust any of this. And yet, I don’t know what else to do. I feel lost, like I'm stumbling through someone else's nightmare.

For now, I’ll stay quiet, yes! A solid strategy. I’ll nod, follow their commands, and pretend to be this Heenaku they expect me to be. But deep down, I’m trembling. I’m pretending, but I feel like a fraud, like any moment they'll see through me. That name - Heenaku - it sounds foreign, distant... Is it an Earth name? Earth... What is Earth? Why do I even know that word? It tugs at me like a memory that refuses to surface. It terrifies me that I can’t even trust my own thoughts anymore.

I need time. Time to figure this all out before I lose myself completely. I’m scared to death that everything around me is fake, a theater, and that I’m the only one who doesn’t know the rules of this twisted game. Who am I? And why do I feel like everyone around me is pretending too? I’m alone in this, more alone than I’ve ever felt before, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep playing along, but I'll do my best.

End of Log
System Timestamp: [3309.09.06_12:47:12]
Encryption Complete. Secure Transmission Ready.