The rain soaked the carpet in the half building. My beaten foe lied motionless on the ground; he was no match for me. The pride I feel gives me a righteous strength to power through the pain and actually stand up. Swaying like the Golden Gate Bridge on a windy day, I stumble over to my enemy. Now that you know my backstory it is time to figure out his. The man was dressed in all black from his boots to the ski mask. His black hoodie was ripped and torn in a number of places along with his dark black jeans. Moaning as if it were going out of style, he seemed to be in as much or more pain than I.

“You fool,” he said with no explanation behind it. “You are no hero. You are the worst villain of them all.” The broken man moved his aching body to get a better look at me. “I spit on the name Gerbil Man.” He then proceeded to spit on my boot. The saliva and blood mixture stained the leather. I crouched down to looked at his busted face. His mask was ripped in enough places to show his swollen and cracked lip, a broken nose and cut and bruised forehead.

“They’re hamsters, not gerbils.”

“Whatever fat-head! Do you even recognize me?” I honestly did not, but most of the men I take down are masked and well hidden. So I do not get to have good looks at them. Then they go off to prison. “That’s what I thought. You took everything from me and you do not even have the decency to remember my face!” He spat on my boot one more time. “It all started when I was born. My parents never gave two s***s about me…”

Ho! Wait a minute, let’s try to be clean on this one. Guys, let’s face it: you cursed in the last one, so let’s not making cursing a habit.

“Wait, I did not curse in the last one,” I said.

“Oh, that’s how it's going to be? Just throw me under the bus then?” my foe argued.

“Well, to be fair, you did curse in the fourth installment…”

“Oh, so now you remember who I am! Only when it is convenient for you! Yes, let’s stop having children now, world! Because humanity came to its peak when it created Gerbil Man. No one is better than him!”

“Come on, don’t be like that. But you cannot deny the fact that you are the only one who curses in these things.”

“I hate you! This is supposed to be my story and you are making it about you! You got yours last week, okay?”

“Oh yeah, the stellar work of last week. That was written at 2AM and you know it! The writer got lazy after a computer mishap caused him to lose a six-page manuscript, so he hastily put together the piece of crap that was last week’s article!”

Whoa, guys! Hey, I might just be the writer but I have feelings too. Do you think this is easy? Do you think that it does not take a great deal of time to come up with a character that can turn cheese into hamsters? Then think of a wacky way that a said person obtains that power? Also to come up with the story of how the character discovers that he can turn cheese into hamsters? I don’t need to take this from youse guys.”

“'Youse' guys? What do you say 'wooder', too?” I said, making fun of his accent.

“Listen, you are the writer, you choose what we say,” the beaten foe reminded the writer.

That’s right, I do have that power. Sorry guys, I guess I am a little tired. It just I wrote this really great story and then it did not save and I lost it. You know how that is to write something you think is good and then find out it did not save and you have to start from scratch? That’s why last week was rough. I did not feel like writing the story again. But anyway, let’s get back to the story.

“Yes, I think we should get back to the story. And youse guys is a perfectly normal way to talk. And wooder is the correct pronunciation of the word water.” Gerbil Man came to his senses and no longer made fun of the writer’s correct way of speaking and accepted the rest of the world is stupid for not talking in the Philadelphia accent. “Wait a minute…” I said out loud. I did not want to say that. Heck, I was not thinking that, but the writer is changing my thoughts. But as the writer is a genius, he, of course, can change my thoughts. No! Stop that you stupid writer, butt out of the story! The devilishly handsome writer takes his rugged good looks elsewhere, SOMEWHERE HE IS APPRECIATED.

“Well, I’m glad that’s over.” The swollen beaten man said.

“Yeah what a d*ck. I mean, no story ever has the writer get involved. Who does he think he is?” I said.

“I don’t know, some college kid with a screw loose and an Odyssey page.”

“Wait, do you mean theodysseyonline.com? The fantastic website that gives budding young writers a place to post and publish content on a weekly basis to help them in the aspirations to become a published author?”

“That’s the one.”

“Wow, what a terrific website that people should totally advertise on so people can follow their dreams from a young age. It's easy to contact the advertising team on Odyssey. Simply go to the website and click the bottom marked ‘advertise with us’ (https://www.theodysseyonline.com/about/forms/advertise.html)”

“Wow, it is that easy.”

“Yep.”

“So it all started when I was born. My parents did not care for me. So I grew up in a bad part of town. Crime was the only way out of the orphanage. Either crime or get adopted, but I was not one of the lucky ones to find a family willing to take me. Unlike the amazing advertising department at Odyssey that will take any ad. Within reason, of course, you can’t advertise something obscene, obviously. Anyway, I never got adopted. But the gangs that controlled the territory near the orphanage took me in. It started out small with odd jobs, but then I was a full member of the organized crime. I was the one the boss could trust. The boss was an orphan too. But he got out of the slums to get a college degree in accounting. He then got a job laundering money for the crime boss of my neighborhood. I forget his name. But Dreck, the man that was like a father to me, started to keep his books. But since Dreck was the new guy the gang wanted him gone. But then he assumed control when the first crime boss retired. So Dreck cleaned house and got rid of the old era. He appointed me as his second in command. That is until you came along. Dreck was severely allergic to cheese. Do you know where I’m going with this? I was standing next to Dreck as we were watching our crime enterprise come together. Then you broke through the window throwing your cheese and…” Tears came down the villain’s face. “That was the end of Dreck; he died of an allergic reaction to the cheese you threw. Then you sent me to prison after you stopped my bank heist. A heist that did not have to happen if you did not take away the only person I ever cared about! So I swore revenge on you, Gerbil Man! Especially after the Melville's Jewelry heist you stopped. So look at me!” I looked into his crazed eyes.

“Hey, buddy I think we have to cut this short. That was a long backstory, so we're gonna have to come back in a ‘to be continued…’ story.”

“Not necessary!” He grabbed something from his ankle. “Look at the eyes of Hank Fetherbum, as he gets his revenge.” He points the barrel at me.

Bang!

To Be Continued...