It was cold and windy, the beginning of a long and hard storm.  Rain whipped across my face as I ran through the forest.  The dirt pathway had become mostly mud as my cabin came into view.  The various trees surrounding my cabin rustled violently, with small twigs and branches splashing into the mud puddles.  Upon reaching my front door, I scurried for my keys to unlock the door.  But clumsy me, I dropped the set of keys on the ground. 

“Fuck!  Great job Cody,” I told myself.  The process would have been a lot easier if I hadn’t had all these groceries with me.  I bent down and was able to retrieve the keys somewhat effortlessly, without having to put any grocery bags down.  Luckily for me, boxing and martial arts gave me some balancing skills.  Finding the right key, I jammed it into the lock, but again clumsy me, I missed. 

“You’re an idiot Cody!  What’s wrong with you?”  I was frustrated.  This wasn’t particularly a good time for all this shit to be happening.  I once again jammed my key into the lock.  It slipped through smoothly and giving a swift turn, unlocked it. 

I almost knocked down the door as I stormed in.  The cabin was the same way as I left it --somewhat messy, because I’ve been too busy to clean up.  The cream tones of my walls looked a lot cheerier than outside.  I sped to the kitchen, dropping my groceries onto the kitchen table.  Stray oranges and cans rolled out, but I didn’t care.  I removed my jogging shirt, revealing the white tank top I was wearing underneath.  Luckily I wore my jogging suit today.  I was dry for the most part.   I quickly sped to one of the kitchen drawers.  I knew it was hiding inside there somewhere.  I searched frantically for it, I knew it had to be in here.

“There you are,” pulling out a black, leather strap.  “I didn’t think I’d be using you so soon,” petting it as if it was a cat.  I sat down and unbuttoned my right leg sleeve, revealing my bare leg.  I speedily strapped on my leather strap, supporting my trusty hunting knife securely in place.  A perfect reach incase I need it.  I rebuttoned my leg sleeve and walked behind the partition next to my front door. 

I shuttered a bit, as the wall felt cold against my nearly bare back.  My heart was pounding, my nerves on edge, my chest heaving.  I could hear the footsteps outside, splashing on the rain puddles.  He was still on my trail -- the stranger who has been stalking me all day. 

I first saw him reading a newspaper in a somewhat expensive-looking car at a parking lot in the forest preserve.  I didn’t pay much attention to it.  I just continued on my morning jog to town.  I did start to become suspicious as I was leaving Chuck’s house, a young kid who I’ve been giving some self-defense lessons, because he was being bullied by some kids at school.  As I was leaving his house, I saw the guy once again in the same car, waiting not too far from the house.

I had to run several errands today, and after every errand, he was there, waiting for me . . . watching me.  I was beginning to get worried, he was obviously interested in me.  The fact that I’m wanted in Metro City, for a crime that I didn’t commit, didn’t help.  I started losing my cool when he followed me into the general store.  I avoided him as best I could and decided to split for home after that.

“He couldn’t be from the FBI,” I thought. “I’m in the middle of nowhere.  Yet, you don’t get too many strangers here in Pickle Crow, especially strangers wearing suits and driving expensive Rolls-Royce's.”  I awoke from my train of thought, the footsteps were only feet away from my door now.  Whatever this guy wants, it can’t be good, especially if it’s me.  I’m not going down without a fight though.  My position from behind the partition gives me a clear view.

I grew tense as the doorknob turned slowly.  I took a deep breath.  There was no turning back now.  It’s either him or me -- and I don’t plan on going back to Metro City Prison anytime soon.  The door open slowly, creaking as the hinges rubbed against each together.  The footsteps were clear and resonant; he was wearing shoes with wooden soles. 

I finally caught a glimpse of him from my concealed spot.  He was black and rather tall, your stereotypical African-American I suppose.  He seemed to have a good build, but I couldn’t really tell from large, black trench coat he was wearing, dripping water on my floor. 

“Hmm,” I thought, “how rude.” I needed to teach him a lesson for barging in here unwelcome.  This was it, it’s now or never. 

I moved in for a clean attack to the neck.  The force would easily knock him out, so I could tie him up and interrogate.  I swung the side of my hand down quickly and met with something bony, but it wasn’t his neck -- it was a forearm.  He parried it!  To my surprise, he speedily forced his elbow back into my side, making a clean  hit.  Needless to say, it stung badly.  Not wasting anytime, I quickly lifted my right leg, avoiding a quick ankle kick, while swiping my fist out to my side to connect with his face.  The agent simply caught it with his bare hand.

“Damn, he blocked it again!” I said to myself.  The agent spun around, grabbing me in a choke hold.  Being in this situation several times before, I gave him a double-elbow swipe to his stomach.  In the corner of my eye, I could se him groan a bit, as he let go of his grip around my neck.  In his open state, I delivered an open palm thrust into his upper neck area, forcing him to scramble back a bit.  “A prime opportunity,” I thought and I moved in for an all-out offensive.

I wasn’t about to go easy on him.  I wanted to make him feel that he picked the wrong person to follow into Canada.  I darted in with several, quick punch combinations: quick jabs and hooks and finishing with an uppercut.   He fell ungracefully onto my hardwood floor, but helicopter kicked back up, knocking me down in the process. 

My head smacked onto the hardwood floor as I fell.  I clutched it in pain, my eyes shut and reeling.  I brain felt like it was throbbing.  I could hear the intruder walking toward me, as his shoes still sounded throughout the house.  As soon as I opened my eyes, my opponent leaped into the air, with the intention of landing the wooden soles of his shoes on my face. 

“Whoa!”  I turned my body to the side and immediately as he landed, grabbed the intruder’s knee with my hands and twisting my body to bring him down on his back - a nice rolling suplex, if I must say so myself.  He also hit the back of his head, but I guess not as hard as I had.  We both hastily swiped our fist out to our side, attempting to hit the other.  Instead, our wrists met together in a lock. 

Surprised, we both spun up back onto our feet and reversed into a reverse front kick, but being in kickboxing, I was able to deflect his kick.  The black menace stumbled back a bit, losing his balance -- another open opportunity.  I started out with a side kick, my foot connecting cleanly to his chin and then forged my right leg into a one-eighty roundhouse. 

Unfortunately, my opponent was able to duck the roundhouse and came in with a front snap kick, nearly splitting my chest in half.  I clutched it a bit, but was able to parry a quick forward punch from my assailant.  Not thinking, I wasn’t able to see a spinning elbow punch coming the other way. 

I lost view for a moment, as my head snapped quickly to my right side.  As I turned my head over to the agent, a speeding hook was aimed right for my temple.  I ducked quickly, which surprised my intruder and delivered a reverse kick to the agent’s midsection.  The force of my kick bounced him off the floor a bit and I came back the other way with a left hook of my own. 

His face went downward with the momentum of my punch.  I grabbed the back of his head and shoved it down toward my knee, stuttering him and finishing off with a hook kick to the back of his head.

“Ooof!” As the agent was about to fall, he let a spinning back kick spurt out, catching me in the chest.  I flew through the air and landed hard on something wet.  I found myself outside, in the center of a big mud puddle.  My white tank top was all dirty now as I got on all fours, breathing heavily, as my opponent walked outside into the rain. 

It seemed that no matter what I did, he just kept coming back.  He’s probably trained to take a beating, I thought.  That or they feed him really well.  The few strikes of lightning lit up the sky, covering us in tones of blue.  Rain water dripped down from my hair onto my eyes.

I forced myself up, getting into my stance.  I didn’t want to use it, but I guess I have no choice.  I reached for my hunting knife, strapped to my leg and wield it out., but it appeared that I’ve been beat to the punch.

“No more games Mr. Onohan,” stated the agent.  He stood their, holding a small hand-pistol at me, ready to take a shot at me anytime now.  “I am not here to arrest you.  Nor am I here to take you back to the U.S.”

“Then who the heck are you?  What’s your name?” I yelled out, the knife still clenched him my fist. 

“I am purely a messenger, but if you need to know my name, it’s Roscio.  It appeared that you underestimated who I was,” he laughed. 

“Whatever,” I thought, “If he hadn’t brought out that gun, he would’ve been dead.  The agent, or whoever he really was, stood like a statue.  The lightning reflected of the pistol, pointed directly at my chest. 

“So then what’s the message and who’s it from?”  I rudely asked, crossing my arms. 

“Everything you need to know is in this pouch.”  The black agent slowly walked over and handed me what appeared to be a black file folder.  I looked what I could of it somewhat suspiciously as I saw the agent slowly put his gun away.  “And with that, I bid you adieu.”  He slowly got into the driver seat of his Rolls-Royce and sped toward the town limits, leaving me outside in the rain.

I walked out of my bathroom, wearing nothing but a pair of blue boxer shorts and towel around me neck.  I needed a good bath.  I stepped over to my chair and hung the wet towel over it.   The black file folder that Roscio gave me still lay on my bed -- I had yet to open and read its contents. 

I grabbed my mug from my nightstand and walked over to my coffee pot on my dresser.  I had let the coffee brew while I took a shower.  The strong scent woke me up as I poured a cup.  Taking a sip, I casually walked back to my bed and placed the mug onto the nightstand.  I took a seat on my bed and grabbed the mysterious, black folder.

I untied the strap and took a look at the contents inside.  There was nothing more than a piece of paper and a sealed, #10 envelope without an address or marking.  I began to read the letter:

      Greetings Cody!  My old buddy, my old friend.  My name isn’t relevant, but it’s my fault
      that everyone in Metro City is looking for you -- my fault that you’re nothing but a hero once               remembered -- my fault that all the people you thought were your friends have turned on you. 
      Don’t go away Cody!  No, not just yet.  I may have something that may interest you.  Say, a
      young girl of twenty-four, with long blond hair and lips red as the rose.  If you don’t believe,
      take a look at the pictures I’ve enclosed . . .

I quickly grabbed the white envelope and tore into shreds.  There was a small stack of pictures inside and as I looked at each one, I could see the pain and fear struck on the poor girl’s face.  She was in tears and bruised badly.  It made me angry and sick to my stomach; I wanted to breaking something.  Who was behind this!?  I dropped the pictures on the bed and grabbed the letter to continue reading.

    I have Jessica.  Right here in front of me.  Tied up, tattered and torn!  She misses you Cody. 
      Ha!  Aren’t those pictures just marvelous!  I took them myself!  It was beautiful -- she worked
      so well with the camera.  It captured everything about her.  It’s all for you Cody!  I’ve been
      thinking about you --  had a lot of time to think about you.  How much I would pay to have
      you dead right now, but instead of having the crouton, I’d rather wait and savor the entire
     Caesar Salad!  I will get my revenge you bastard, because it's my turn now.  Happy Memories!

                                                                                          MG

“JESSICA!!!” I found myself screaming.  I was in shock, both angered and sad.  I couldn’t believe I was seeing and reading this.  I pounded my bed as hard as I could, but no matter how hard I hit it, I didn’t feel any better.  I grabbed a small couch pillow and pulled as hard as I could.  The threads began to snap and the pillow exploding not long after, releasing feathers everywhere, landing on the pictures of Jessica strewn about the bed.  I once again grabbed the letter and stared at the strange insignia, forming the letters M and G. 

“MG,” I thought, “that could only be -- no, it’s impossible, it couldn’t be . . . the Mad Gears?  They’ve returned, but how?  Belger is dead.  He fell from a hotel ballroom.  There wouldn’t have been anybody to resurrect the Mad Gears!”  Questions rung throughout my head.  I couldn’t sort anything out.  No one in Pickle Crow knows about my past and no one in Metro City would know where I am.  How did they find me?  The phone started to ring. I wiped the tears out of his eyes and picked up the receiver.

"Hello?"  I said, trying not to sound like I was balling.

"Ah, I see you received my letter Cody . . . good," said a low-pitched voice. "You never expected them to come back and ruin your life again would you?"

My eyes widened and my tone grew angrier.  “Who the hell is this?  Damnd?!  Abigail?!  Rolento?!  I'm going to slaughter you, you little heartless son of a bitch!" I shouted in anger.

"Call me what you want, but we are back in business my friend.  Without Guy and Haggar to help you, the pleasure will be all ours.  We hope you can find us!  Muwahahahahaha!”  Silence.

The mysterious character hung up.  I leaned on my bed and started to cry,  I just let it out.  I couldn’t tell if I was angry or sad or both.  Jessica is alone with those creeps and I can’t do anything about it.  I just lay on my bed, crying -- crying myself to sleep.