TIME: IMMEMORIAL

17. Reaper (1979)

*** Weekend Write-In for 2nd Nov 2018 ***

"package": In 500 words, tell what happens to the package

ROAD WARRIORS

First time I ever rode was during the big one - military issue. An lemme tell ya ol FT was hooked fer life. After the war, first thing I did back in New York was get me a hog. Tricked it up with the ol hourglass and reaper sigil when I reactivated my costumed vigilante gig in the mid ta late forties.

By the time the fifties rolled round I was inta the classics - still got a sweet cherry 56' T-Bird in an underground garage in the Manhattan place. Spent good money on a classic Harley Davidson then - good ol American know how an things of goddamn beauty.

I had that beast right through the sixties - didn't use it much on accounta the army years an then there was my wife - she wasn't zactly, what ya'd call a fan.

Took me a while ta talk her round but it's hard ta argue the danger of motorbikes when yer husband's a super soldier with fast healing abilities. 

On leave from Vietnam in 71, I got me a new fan club - called emselves the Reapers. Biker Club wearing my sigil an doin' good on the road from New York State ta the Pacific Coast n back again.

When I mustered out In 75, I grew my hair long an spent as much time as I could on the road - the costume days were long gone an I weren't no soldier no more - but a man's still gotta eat an provide fer his wife n little girl ... yeah ok, my better half was a trust fund brat an her family owned real estate all across the states, but that ain't the point.

Sides ... Emmy knew the kinda man she was hitchin' her wagon to an vigilante, soldier, adventurer, merc, I'd never refuse a call ta arms. But our love would always bring me back. These were our realities ... an the reasons fer our divorce ... and remarriage, but those were still a long way off in the future.

In 79' I mostly operated abroad - infrequently, sorta semi retired ya might say. Life was good an me n Emmy were busy buildin' a life an teachin' our girl all the things she'd need. Shootin', fightin' an survivin. I'd made a lot of enemies throughout the decades an Staci hadn't inherited my powers. Emmy n me agreed on one thing wholeheartedly - anyone comes after Staci ta get at me, if somehow we weren't around ta protect our only child, then we'd make damn sure Staci could kick their asses. In 1979 she was 13 an already quite capable.

But I wasn't plannin on takin a trip ... not until the package arrived.

An old frienda mine ... a Brit, though he'd lived mosta his life here in the States ... well It'd been seven, eight years since we last met an Brooks weren't the kind ta call fer help on a casual whim.

I read his letter - he needed an in with biker gangs in the mid west - wanted me ta set him up with the Reapers. Needed someone they respected ta vouch fer him. After all it was 1979 an a black man walkin' inta a biker bar's gonna stick out like a sore thumb.

After I read the note I shook the package - something rattled. Now Brooks is a guy that's only concerned with one thing in life so I knew what it was all about even before I opened er up an saw the bloodied fangs he'd torn from some vamp's mouth.

So I told Emmy I was goin' on a trip. She knew what that meant, but when I went ta the armory hidden in a vault at back a the Manhattan apartment an she saw me take out a sawn off shotgun an special cartridges, that at least caused my implacable wife ta raise an eyebrow.

I hate the supernatural ... but I never refuse a call from a friend.

CONTINUED

NOTE - Question for you Marvel fans. If you can identify Brooks before I write the next part, then kudos to you and my undying geekdom respect.