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Chapter 3
Hello, Journal.
"Turn on your stereo."


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"Good evening." Wallace greeted the driver as soon as he entered the car.

He received an almost immediate and seemingly well-rehearsed line, "Welcome back to the land of the living, sir."


Still having trouble arranging his thoughts after the first conversation he had had in forever, Wallace took a deep breath and closed his eyes, hoping to find a peace of mind. It was about ten o'clock in the evening. At this hour, there were barely signs of any traffic on the roads, allowing the driver to have his way with the speed limit. As Wallace slowly opened his eyes, blurry sights of the The City's bright lights and beautifully decorated neighborhoods zoomed past his view from the car window. Colorful streets, tall buildings, flashy billboards and catchy advertisement taglines were this city's superficial and only way to sell its image, now that the once productive inhabitants had become sorry shells of themselves - aimless and unmotivated. Unable to filter the countless incoming questions out of his head, Wallace felt an urge to communicate in order to gather as much information as possible. Although still fresh from the recovery, Wallace's brain functions had readjusted themselves to work systematically, as if they were following an automated master programming. Despite feeling uneasy about initiating a conversation with the complete stranger sitting next to him, he decided to speak up.

"So, uh," Avoiding direct eye-contact, Wallace tried to catch a glimpse of the driver's face by glancing at the rear-view mirror, "have we met before?"

"No sir." The man replied almost instantly. "I've just transferred to this city. New guy."

Wallace was curious. "How did you get this job? I mean-- I couldn't have hired you, right?"

The driver seemed to have anticipated the situation. "So the rumors about your brains being all screwed up are true."

Wallace appeared upset by this. It wasn't a pleasant feeling for him to be the only one unaware of what had happened.

"I'm bad at this stuff," the driver continued, "but since it's a long drive, and I'm sure you're dying to learn more about yourself, I guess I could try to explain one or two things."

"Please. By all means." Wallace's face was once again lit up.

"Sure. And please don't feel obligated to keep your manners. You're the boss." The red-haired driver, with dark shades and unevenly shaven stubble, who appeared to be well in his thirties, gave him a right elbow nudge. "I'm Sylvester, by the way." His self-introduction was followed by a wide carefree grin across his face. As much of a slob as he might come off to be, Sylvester took up this job to enjoy the refreshing night breezes, rather than for some cash just to waste it all off at some bar like most of The City's real slobs would go for.

Wallace seemed to be rather impatient. He paid little attention to Sylvester's introduction and flashed a quick smile, suggesting his driver should get a move on.

Getting the hint, Sylvester immediately tuned back in to the topic. "So, once upon a time, you had a multimillion-Simoleon company all to yourself, and it sort of got closed down--"

"Yeah, I'm aware of that."

"Oh, thank God. I didn't want to be the one breaking the news to you." Sylvester chuckled, looking to his right to check Wallace's reaction. No change, apparently. Wallace remained serious. Understanding that this was no time for jokes, the driver cleared his throat in an attempt to diffuse the rising tension and continued, "So, I was saying. Although that happened, you got to keep all your wealth, and--"

Noticing Sylvester was mentioning the same thing that Ethan Bunch had spoken of earlier, Wallace demanded to have his query clarified. "Wait. Why is that?"

"Well, I'm not exactly from around here so I can't be sure. But I guess it was out of sympathy?" Speaking directly from the back of his mind, Sylvester then realized his words could have hurt Wallace's feelings. "No, I mean-- No offense, boss. It's just that-- you lost everyone dear to you, and then suffered from that terrible accident--"

"I-- lost everyone dear to me?" Wallace's voice was soft and solemn. He could not believe the words he had just uttered. Shock and devastation had filled every single muscle in his body. He stiffened and felt lost right now more than any other point in the past few hours.

"Oh shit." Sylvester understood that he might have to deal with an extremely emotional Wallace from this point onwards. "I'm so terribly sorry, sir. We could stop this conversation right here if you wish."

"Please carry on." Wallace's words came out almost as if he was whispering. He questioned himself whether waking up was a blessing or just to further torture his already damaged soul.

Following orders, Sylvester resumed. "And-- And so, you still have the capital to maintain your family's long-standing command over personal services. Drivers, bodyguards, maids and all that. At all the houses. Probably for the rest of your life, even."

There was a brief moment of silence. Sylvester held his breath, nervous.

However, Wallace seemed to have quickly regained his calmness. Not having any memories of his loved ones could, in a sense, be considered a fortunate thing, as there was nothing left in him to trigger a severe emotional breakdown. "I see. Which one are we headed for then?"

Sylvester was both surprised and relieved as he heard the firmness returning to Wallace's voice. "Your favorite one. I was instructed to take you there."

"By whom?" Wallace was puzzled.

"Your doctor. You did want to go there, didn't you?"

Wallace raised his eyebrows to his driver's answer. He started questioning Ethan Bunch's actions and whether or not there were hidden intentions behind his good looks, decent manners and consoling words. For the time being, however, he decided to keep these thoughts to himself, until he'd learned enough about his own past to make accurate judgments. "Yeah. Yeah I did." was all he answered. Wallace glanced down to his side at the bag which contained his journal. "This thing is the key." He thought.

For a few minutes, it was quiet inside the car. While Sylvester was looking forward to calling it a night and getting home to his wife, Wallace was trying to imagine what the journal had in store for him.

"And we're here." Sylvester announced as he killed the engine. Like a professional valet, he got out of the car and opened the door for Wallace in a matter of seconds.

It was "Thank you" followed by a "Wow" as soon as Wallace stepped out of the car and took a look at his own place. In front of his eyes was an elegant three-stories house, painted all white. The design was modern and classy, yet not bloated like most other buildings in The City. Its clear large windows allowed him to see the exquisitely planned interior, which beautifully simulated the feeling of a vast open space, despite the actual compact size. Perfected by a green surrounding with full-grown trees and a lake in the backyard, it was no wonder to Wallace why this house had used to be his favorite. He fell in love with it almost right away.

The next thing that managed to capture his attention was the two men standing perfectly still in front of the house. As he could immediately tell, they were both wearing the same type of uniform as Sylvester, just different colors: the black man wore white, with black gloves and shoes, the white man the total opposite, Sylvester in gray and red, and all three of them used different types of shades. He could only take a wild guess that these were once WalCorp uniforms.

Curious, Wallace turned to Sylvester. "And these are?"

"Professional bodyguards. Your own resident supermen."

Wallace seemed amused by the fact that he had personal security guards. He made an awkward and rather childish attempt to introduce, or perhaps reintroduce, himself to the two. "Hey guys." He threw in a forced smile, trying to appear friendlier.

They remained silent, not one muscle fiber moved.

Sylvester chuckled. "And when I said professional, I meant very professional. These guys will never drop character. Except maybe in death."

Wallace was impressed. "Cool. And-- their names?"

"You may call them by their codenames." Sylvester pointed at the silky white-haired bodyguard, who looked more like a charming university graduate more than anything upon first glance. "This guy here is Prime. Master of Jujitsu and Taekwondo. Clever. Agile. Perceptive. Hardly anything ever escapes his sight."

Wallace was now much more relaxed than earlier on. "You sound like a live advertisement." He laughed.

"Well, it's part of my job description. Every driver assigned to you had to undergo a training course on all this stuff, which could either be used only once or be totally useless. I guess I got to be the only useful guy." Sylvester joked. "And over there, we have Zero." He turned towards the dangerous looking black man, whose bulky features and clenching fists might be able to frighten the fiercest fighters.

"Should be pretty amazing too, huh?"

"Strongest guy in the agency. Brutal. I mean, you can consider yourself lucky if you get punched by him and somehow manage to not have your skull broken in half."

"That indeed makes me feel so much safer." It seemed as though Wallace's sense of humour were resurfacing bit by bit. He took a deep breath and looked around the neighborhood, feeling at truly ease for once since he'd woken up. That feeling did not last long, however, as the questions crept back into his thoughts, urging him to look for answers.

"So," Sylvester spoke as he headed back towards his car, "I'll leave you to enjoying the rest of the night, sir. If anything, you've got those guys. Or you can just summon anyone up, as far as the phone book goes."

The driver waved his goodbye and quickly zoomed away. He was gone in no time, and the street went back to silence. After spending a short moment on the sidewalk, with the two statues of men standing still as ever, Wallace decided to head inside the house. He was not even thinking of checking out the many different rooms, the pretty potted plants or the expensive classic paintings. All that was on his mind now was the journal. He knew it was the map that would help him solve his own maze, the key that would help him unlock all the doors to revelation. The moment he slammed the front door shut, Wallace took it out of his bag. Hesitant, as if afraid of accidentally releasing some dark mystical force by opening it, Wallace stared blankly at the front cover of the dark green notebook as he carried it from room to room. Reaching the second floor's corridor, he stopped, and decided to take a look at the very first written page.


He flipped the book open.


The first page.










"Great," disappointed, he thought, "just when I thought this would help make things easier."

Wallace closed the journal and went around the house, hoping there was actually a stereo system somewhere in this one. He paused for a short second every room he stepped in, in order to appreciate the masterful aspects of the house's design, unaware that he was in fact its very architect. As he walked up the stairs to the third story, Wallace noticed bright lights coming from a particular room. This was his bedroom, and where the stereo was located. Like most other parts of the house, it was equipped with large transparent windows, providing a flawless neighborhood view at night. However, the fact that its surface area was significantly smaller than others, and that it was furnished with a sofa and stereo system made the room that much cozier.

Wallace took a seat and turned on his stereo with the remote control found on the sofa.

Right that moment when the music came booming from the speakers, a strange feeling struck him. Something had changed, and he could sense it. His senses told him a series of events were being set in motion. He was simply too clueless at this point to make anything out of anything.

After seemingly frozen in time for a moment wondering about the sensation that he had just experienced, Wallace opened the notebook once again, determined to read through the rest of it. As he flipped past the first page, he noticed signs of pages being previously torn out of the book, but chose to overlooked them for now. Wallace proceeded onto the second page, with the first one that looked more like a proper journal entry:








"Mom and Dad's..."Wallace spent a moment trying to recall any lingering memory of his deceased parents from the deepest corners of his mind, but to no avail. Given up, he went back to reading the entry.






Wallace took some time to digest the amount of information he had just come in contact with, and realized that there were still too many missing links for him to go anywhere close to regaining his lost memories. Who was Angela? Who was Catherine? What was that whole party deal about? Why did he cross out lines about Ethan Bunch, the very doctor that had helped him survive his darkest hours?

Frustrated, he quickly flipped through the following pages, almost all of which fully filled with writings. However, he suddenly stopped flipping as he reached a rather special entry, very much similar to the first entry about the stereo. Except, this time the writing was much bigger in size and seemed to display a great deal of anger. Moreover, it was the content that had truly shocked Wallace, forcing him into utter confusion and desperation:







Wallace's train of thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a knock on his room's door. Immediately alerted and still infuriated, he raised his voice. "Who's there?!"




Entered Codename Blue, his new personal secretary, appearing in a striking all-blue outfit, hair included. Well-known in her line of work as "IceBlu" for having an attractive yet emotionless face, tanned skin, a nicely toned body and fluency in various languages, Blue was considered one of the best assistants one could hope to have. In battle, she was every bit as deadly as Zero or Prime could be.

"It's Blue, sir." Blue kept her introduction short and sweet.

Wallace was still keeping his guard up, something that his instinct had told him to do. "And I wasn't properly introduced to you because?"

Blue replied in an instant, cold as ever. "The driver did a poor job." She confidently approached her new but old boss. "I'm your secretary."

Seeing that Blue seemed genuine, Wallace relaxed and replied to his assistant, "Blue, was it? Nice choice of colors." He gestured at Blue's hair and clothing.

"Thank you, sir." Her facial expression remain unchanged. Null, to be exact. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess? For a guy who's just woken up from a coma." He had a go at trying to crack a joke, just to see if Blue would display any reaction at all.

"Not okay, sir. This is terribly weak, considering you are the world's smartest man."

Caught off guard by the witty choice of words, Wallace knew at once that this assistant was to be of tremendous help. "I'll just take that as a compliment, alright?"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night. Sir." Quick and precise in her responses, Blue swiftly fulfilled her duty to check up on Wallace's status for the night, and inform him of activities for the following day. "You should get some rest. You have a scheduled training session from eight o'clock until noon tomorrow." She turned her back and moved towards the door as she finished relaying her message.

"What training?!" Wallace felt helpless as he was continuously being dragged along by other people's plans for him, while having no idea what really was going on.

"Kung Fu." Blue had walked out the door, but her voice could still be heard.

"What for?!"

There was no more reply.

"Do you know anything about Ethan Bunch?" Wallace asked aloud as he tried to follow Blue, but she was nowhere to be found. "Blue?!"

There was only silence.





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