A while back Owl got into my cab. Owl, as you remember, is one of the agents I worked with on government spook squad that was supposedly disbanded years ago.

Owl informed me that Raven had been hit and that we were next on the hit list. He said that when we were in Operations they implanted transmitters inside our heads. So I immediately set out to find a copper wire mesh (Faraday cage) to contain the radio transmissions until I could get to India where I managed to contact a surgeon to remove the implant. That’s where I’ve been in recovery.

To keep a very long story I will just say this: I managed to leave the country and return without incident. When the Customs and Border Protection agent greeted me and swiped my passport he simply smiled and welcomed me back to the States. I had managed to slip through the FBI’s screen. But the more I thought about it, the more that didn’t make sense to me. It was then that I realized that they were lulling me into a false sense of security by letting me think that I had slipped through. But, unfortunately for the FBI, this realization only served to heighten my senses, awareness, and alertness.

The incision on my nape is healing up and the hair is growing back. So now I’m officially on the run from a top secret government agency or its former leadership. If it’s not the government then that could explain why I slipped through the airport without incident. But I have to assume the worst and agree with Owl that it’s the government silencing everybody involved in the disbanded agency. I’ve written to Congress and left sealed envelopes in places that will be opened should I meet an untimely demise.

Why do they want to kill you? I don't mean to insult your honor, but wouldn't it be cheaper to buy your silence?

I do not know. And I must accept that I may never know.

Willie cab312 may very well be a very honorable person. But those who have decided to silence him may have none. So that as far as they are concerned cab312s death is the only way they feel they can aviod betrayal.

That's my point. If his silencers had no honor, they could put their trust in greed: "Don't mention this topic and you get $2000 a week."

Whatever, they decided to go oldschool. Cab312, have you considered sending your old workplace a letter telling them that you have love notes cached across the country that only stay closed as long as you're breathing?

Hey mack have you considered psychoanalysis?
Holy Christ I'm worried about you.

I can't drive cabs anymore, but I've managed to put my knowledge of the city and my driving skills to work for me as a private courier. I've been making some bank, doing what I love, and giving a great big "fuck you" to the feds all the while I'm rolling right under their noses. They can't see me. But I can see them in their dark sedans, vans, and light aircraft.

Then I got a call to do a courier run down in Brighton Beach. The problem was that I was just passing Yankee Stadium at the time. "Hurry," the fucking jabronie says to me, being a total retard. I scoffed and hung up the phone.

Eventually I made it down to the Riegelmann Boardwalk where I was supposed to meet the guy to pick up the parcel for delivery. He looked around suspiciously and handed me a small piece of paper with tiny handwriting. "Understood?" he asked me, being like in the cloak and dagger movies. "Yea, sure," I replied, being not interested in hiding my dislike for cloak and dagger games (maybe that was cool when I was younger but not so much anymore).

Written on the paper were some instructions that I had committed to memory. I made my way through security and onto a ferry into that shit-hole called New Jersey. Inside Liberty Park was a dead drop for me to pick up, and I didn't have much time to dick around. I went straight for the dead drop location. I saw a man standing nearby. I got the feeling that I knew him from somewhere in the past.

It was a strange feeling. It wasn't very pleasant either. I was feeling distressed by his presence. My head was hurting a little bit. But I couldn't shake the feeling of "I know this guy." But I never stopped walking; I was being all normal as could be. As I approached the man looked at me from under his baseball cap and said, "Walk with me, Mack," he said, being subtle in revealing who he was with a simple hand gesture.

But I'm here to tell you, I didn't believe my eyes. "Holy shit Raven, I thought they'd hit you!"

"Not for lack of effort, Mack, not for lack of effort," he said, being his usual calm, cool, collected self.

We walked and talked but only briefly. He informed me of the true nature of Owl's mission: to use me to get to Raven. "They'll track you down shortly, I must go," he said, then disappeared in a small puff of smoke. He explained that Owl was the one cleaning up The Ranch's former employees and since Raven had figured out how to counter their tracking, they turned to me. They knew if they threatened me, he would surface to help and then lead them right to him.

So he told me about a guru to visit; she could help me put up a permanent mind block with some meditation, acupuncture, and a regulated diet of fruits and vegetables. No booze. I've gotten started already and already I'm seeing results. They're having a hard time finding me and I can even go days without being tailed.

I always had a close connection with Raven and he always kept an eye for me. Thankfully he got to me in time before I could lead Owl to him. Once I could get out from under their thumb, Raven and I were free to do our own take down of The Ranch. Official notice, assholes.

Still worried.
You should come in for observation.