Dearest Cammy,

I am listening to the firefight taking place downstairs between my Shadowloo Dolls and your Delta Red strike force, and judging by the sheer volume of explosions, gunfire and other random sound effects muffled through the floor of the penthouse, I am rather sorry to be missing it; it must be quite a row. However, important matters must take precedence, and if I have timed this right, I should have about fifteen to twenty minutes of solitude left to write this letter and enjoy the last of my coffee before you kick down the door and put a bullet in my head.

Sorry, that was a terrible way to start a letter, wasnt it? I hope you have not thrown it into the waste can by now, love, because I have something very important to tell you about: your life. Your real life, I mean, not the horror story they have replaced your memories with. I know very well that after the English took you from my side and brainwashed you, they filled your head with all manner of lies that had have you foaming at the mouth to fulfill their purposes: that I kidnapped you, that I conditioned you to be a murderess, and after violating you in virtually every manner under the sun, discarded you like a crumpled shopping bag for Queen and Country to sweep up off the street. It is so absurd; I think there is some other ridiculous thing they implied about you being a clone of Major Bison; Lord knows what the point of that was. I actually stole their files on you and have them on my desk, you see, but I set them down in disgust after I had had my fill of their tall tales. In any case, I implore you to forget everything they have told you, Cammy, and listen to me now. All they want is your service, darling, and so they have used every conceivable falsehood under the sun to paint and scar me as anything less than what I am, the man that is still in love with you.

Do not be taken aback, now, darling. Read it over again if you wish, because it is true. I am absolutely head-over-heels for you, and I always have been, and there was a time when you returned my affection ten-fold. Why, I remember the first time I saw you I thought my heart had stopped beating. You were walking home from school, tears streaming down your face and your eyes focused upon the pavement. You were the most beautiful creature I had ever seen besides myself, and without knowing you I already loathed that which had marred your cheeks with teardrops and was incensed to learn the name of your despoiler. I had my chauffeur pull the limousine up to the curb, and after a great deal of coaxing, I finally convinced you to accept a ride home. I half-listened to your small-talk, as my gaze was fixed upon the moisture of your lashes, your tresses tightened into pigtails, your name scribbled in Whiteout across the bottom of your backpack, all the little aspects of youth that I had never known; I grew up far too fast, you know. It made little sense at the time, but I suspect that was the motive of my inexplicable impulse to educate myself in you, soak myself within your details, so to speak, and after I saw you safely through your front door I tightened my web of information about you to that end.

Your father was an ex-military man, sewn up and sent home after the shrapnel that tore his leg in two rendered him useless as a soldier. I am not saying he was a bad sort before that, but the fellow that I learned of was overly disposed to drink, crawling deeper and deeper into the bottle in his hand and further away from the wife and daughter he had left behind to serve a thankless government. After he eventually drove your mother away, you became the sole heir to the swat of his hand and the stench of his inebriate decay. I am certain you read my psych file before the mission, and so I probably do not need to go into what my stepfather did to my mother and what I did to him in return, but needless to say your rearing was close enough to my own that I truly fancied I would save you. Imagine that And look whats happened to you now, If anything all I really did was throw you right into the lions den, didnt I? Thats just the way it goes sometimes, I suppose.

Ah, but how happy I was after a frightening assault at daddys hands jarred you enough for you to run away from home and leap fully into my arms. I do admit my intentions were less than noble in the beginning, though. At first the proximity of your purity had aroused my destructive appetite. In the beginning I felt you were akin to just another chiaroscuro to kindle my fireplace or another supermodel to deflower, nothing more than a blank canvas upon which Id spill my influence. And yet, as time progressed, I couldnt bear to mar you in any way and instead felt compelled to worship you in my own manner, adorning you with luxury and power as easily as I would fasten a string of pearls around your neck, and all the honey of life for you to sup out of my hands at your convenience if only you wouldd promise never to leave me alone with my filthy empire again. I made you strong, hard and sturdy so that you would never again be the abused, and for years all the paths of vice and power unfurled at our feet like a red carpet, you and I the stars the whole world had waited for with baited breath.

As your mind sharpened and your body grew increasingly lethal, it was not too long before Major Bison took an interest in you, much to my chagrin. In retrospect I realize I could not prevented him from convincing you to immerse yourself within the inky morals of Shadowloo; I am certain to you it was nothing more than another public display of affection. But, oh, how I wish you never stepped into my world, love, lowering yourself down to the base depths that I have inhabited since the day I cut my stepfather. Certainly, I felt us growing closer and closer as equals with each head of state we executed, every dollar bill we laundered or depot we pumped full of nerve gas serving as a testament to our bond. But deep down in the pit of my stomach I knew it was awful what Id introduced you to; you were angelic, virginal and immaculate when I first met you; after that you...