Chapter 3: Grim Reaper's Tale
Dog sharks flit about Grim Reaper as he trudges through the silt off the shore after his dirty deed. Behind him, he drags five hundred pounds of filthy lucre through the muck. Ahead of him, Reaper's artificial arm illuminates the dark depths in his path, for he has "ingeniously" attached a lamp to the limb. Above him, the undead man breathes no bubbles into the five ocean fathoms overhead. Before him, an underwater lair lies nine miles away. That distance would be a hike, but the criminal mastermind has a plan. Grim Reaper plans to point himself in a certain vector, stick his blade behind his butt, and propel himself swiftly forward on the spinning device. How nice.
A wee away, Mandrill watches Grim Reaper's light progress through the shallows. Mandrill respires excitedly into his scuba gear. He would love to go ape on his nemesis, but the simian scrapper quashes his savage urges for now. Jerome Beechman has a better revenge than a beating in mind.
Mandrill holds the Terror close to his vest. Elderly Laslo Pevely sways deceased in Mandrill's arms and in the sea's oscillations. The monkey mug was unable to reach good Laslo in time. Thus, Laslo Pevely is dead. However, Mandrill has still plans for him, so he will be keeping the corpse—for a revenge best served cold. Abiding afar from Grim Reaper, Mandrill watches Reaper's light suddenly swish about crazily for some reason. Then, the Lethal light simply ceases.
Over yon, Grim Reaper cleaves lobster traps from their moorings and trapped lobsters in twain. The petty maniac merely wishes to pettily ruin some Connecticut fishermen's mornings and to maniacally slaughter some little creatures not harming him. Decompressing after Laslo's hit, the Lethal lug laughs and lops and giggles and grins. Before abruptly frowning. The carnage has attracted the circling dog sharks, which are scavengers. Grim Reaper decides to take his animated dead carcass away.
The spinning scythe propels a body through the black brine at an insanely high rate of speed. At any moment, underwater obstacles could destroy Grim Reaper during his twenty-minute journey out to sea. Lamp now attached to brow, the revenant whizzes yards beneath boats overhead, feet from flotsam and jetsam, and inches from rocky reefs that could rip him apart. Reaper plows pell-mell through fields of sharp eel grass, and he shoots narrow craggy passes at full speed. With crazed expression, Grim Reaper cares not whether he lives or dies.
Eric Williams has led a good life for a wicked man. He has defeated the Avengers many times, and he has cheated death on multiple occasions. He has resurrected and led the Lethal Legion again-and-again to terrorize the world. The sinner is an accomplished man. So, in his off mind, the cursed man can continue to live, or he can finally meet his fate. Grim Reaper has mixed feelings.
Before him, the headlamp reflects on lustrous steel. Grim Reaper has reached his final destination. But, it is not some random decrepit shipwreck off the coast. Rather, it is a different kind of hulk. Before Grim Reaper lies the late Commander Kraken's last vessel, and it is a submarine left preserved on the shelf of Block Island Sound. Years ago, Kraken parked himself here. The pirate was sick of encountering the likes of Sub-Mariner and Iron Man and encountering defeat soon after. He wanted some success in his nefarious career. So, he sailed away from New York City, superhero central, toward Providence. The swabby scoundrel planned to raid Rhode Island and perhaps maraud Massachusetts. There are few superheroes in New England.
However, Gary Gilbert, fellow freebooter Firebrand, then contacted Commander Kraken and told him to visit Ohio immediately. Someone had been offing small-time supervillains. . . . . The rest is infamous history. The vigilante Scourge had been killing all of Gilbert and Kraken's friends, and he assassinated the Commander and Firebrand too. No longer employed, a former Kraken henchman sold Grim Reaper the information about this ship.
Grim Reaper approaches the submersible half-covered in sediment and seaweed. Crabs scramble upon the soil and steel. Scythe aimed, the Grim Reaper shoots them for fun.
Once inside, Eric Williams walks the entire length of the ship. Internal lights automatically activate, revealing no intruders. Grim Reaper drops the money tote dragging behind him. His loot is safe. He lets his artificial limb clatter upon the iron floor. He is safe from invaders. The Reaper mask even comes off. Momentarily, Eric Williams examines his pallid face and bloodless eyes in a mirror in a water closet that a zombie need not use (except to occasionally eliminate necrotic goo, accompanied by marsh gas, from his rotten guts).
The mirror shows Grim Reaper a man much like Commander Kraken, the old master of this isolated abode. Like Kraken, Eric Williams is dead—and dead several times over. Sub-Mariner and Iron Man seemingly got Kraken once each—before the Scourge of the Underworld seemingly succeeded. Likewise, Eric "the Grim Reaper" Williams has been killed several times by several parties by several methods. Afterwards, "allies" Nekra and Black Talon always pull him back from his eternal slumber so that he might "live", exist, as an abomination. Sometimes, Williams is a zombie slave to some master. Sometimes, he is a ravenous zombie who must feed on the living to survive. Either way, he does not know the peace and release of death.
Grim Reaper strokes the skull and crossbones on his chest. Like Kraken, Eric Williams is not only a dead man but also a dead man from a dead era. Time has passed by any serious villain masquerading as a privateer or the Grim Reaper with such pageantry. With temporary disgust, Williams flings his purple cape from his person. Hastily, he moves on from the mirror.
Down the hall, Eric sits himself in the captain's chair before the communication equipment. An old computer monitor is another dark mirror. In morose reflection, Reaper collects his thoughts in this submarine like a tomb, enclosed by solid ocean and thick with grave silence. The heavy broods. Eric Williams ponders whether he wants to be alive or dead. He is not sure.
On one hand, Grim Reaper has accomplished wonders in his day, including conquering his powerhouse brother Wonder Man. Evil Eric Williams has confronted the Mighty Thor, combatted Black Panther, captured Black Knight, kidnapped Tigra, cut Swordsman to the quick, curtailed Quicksilver, "crushed" Ant-Man and Wasp, clobbered the Thing (tried to), confounded Hawkeye, challenged Captain America, and mind-controlled Dr. Druid. He has subdued Vision and the Scarlet Witch several times. He has even slain X-Man Rogue (she got better) and ally Nekra (she got better) plus hundreds of non-powered, non-heroic "nobodies".
On the other hand, the Grim Reaper identity has cost Eric Williams his own life. Sometimes, someone such as demon Lloigorath or Green Goblin literally kills him. Sometimes, Eric realizes that his brother Simon hates him, and he ends his own life. Sometimes, someone such as Vision or Captain America sends him to rot in prison. Sometimes, someone sinister such as Chaos King or Mephisto enslaves him as a zombie after Black Talon or lover Nekra cruelly disturbs his eternal slumber. Always, life as an abomination is essentially cursed. For example, a living dead man can never quite feel anything (with his remaining hand, after Ultron took one) or smell anything or taste anything. He cannot smell the preserved tobacco or taste the canned meat that Commander Kraken left behind. And, Eric Williams terribly misses such sensation and experience.
However, fortunately, the Grim Reaper has found other old "treasures" in this place to appreciate. One item in particular has proven especially intriguing. In Kraken's submerged hulk, Grim Reaper has found a lacquered wooden box about sixteen inches by sixteen by twelve. On the coffer, a tarnished silvery hasp hangs lockless. In the coffer, Grim Reaper has found curious things.
Upon opening the chest, one finds an old photo atop the other contents. The picture is from when color photography first became widely available to the general public. The tints suggest a photo from around the time that Reed Richards and his three fellows made their historic flight.
Incredibly, Bruce Banner is in the image, but it is from his much younger days. Grim Reaper would guess that the famous Dr. Banner is perhaps in his mid-twenties as the bespectacled, gaunt man offers a sheepish half-smile while standing in a lightweight dress shirt and bermudas on a beach with the ocean in the background. Over Banner's shoulder, the Santa Monica Pier stands. The young genius stands in Los Angeles.
Beside Banner, a slight teenaged girl has a huge smile as her thin arm drapes Bruce's back. The brown-haired lass wears a one-piece white bathing suit and holds a purple Frisbee. She seems joyful, jolly, and unjaded. On the photo's flip side, the inscription reads "My new friends, Bruce and Jen". Williams wonders whether or not Jen may be Jen Walters, Bruce's cousin. The young lady looks like her.
Beneath the photo, there are two intriguing items side-by-side. One is an old camera, the type using film. For a musing moment, Eric Williams strokes the camera's leathered exterior with his cold numb fingers, and he ponders past times. Williams remembers this brand of camera. Back in the day, it was a nice one and cost a pretty penny. Eric even bought one with his first money from the mob. That purchase was shortly before he became the Grim Reaper. Grim Reaper doubts that this is his camera though. On its bottom, "Merry Christmas, Charlie" is etched. Eric wonders if there is any undeveloped film within the artifact, but the counter doesn't indicate any.
Beside the camera, there lies a different device for shooting people. And, it is a beautiful pistol waiting for someone to handle it. Grim Reaper takes it up and admires. The weight and balance are lovely. The action and clip slide easily after what are likely years of disuse. The clip contains shiny, expensive silver bullets, of all things. The firearm appears perfectly sighted. Impressed, Williams returns the weapon to a holster of fine horsehide.
At the box's bottom, a silver mask stares back at whoever finds it. Eric's left hand hefts the metallic mask to his eye level. The silver disguise resembles Madame Masque's golden mask, but the features are probably male. They look familiar somehow. But, veteran villain Grim Reaper has met many eccentrics wearing expensive accoutrement over the years. And, he cannot quite place the face.
Grim Reaper places the silver mask on the steel counter before him. Peripherally, he is surprised to notice one more thing from the box. Perhaps, it fell-off some item when he removed it. On the floor, there is a manila tag with a printed inventory number and a handwritten notation "Los Angeles County Department of Medical Examiner-Coroner". Well, the Banner photo appears to be southern California, so the box's contents are perhaps connected.
Grim Reaper returns the treasures to their chest. They are fine curiosities to pass the time, but the Grim Reaper is a serious man. For right now, the career criminal had better contact Mr. Z, his employer. The bloodthirsty benefactor deserves to know that Laslo Pevely's murder went well. Possibly, the old schemer will be so pleased with the results that he hires Grim Reaper for further work. If he does not, Grim Reaper could always rob ancient Z's mansion. Eric spotted a lot of neat stuff there when he took the job.
BEEEEEP! Suddenly, the sub's communicator sounds, shattering the silence and startling Reaper from his reverie. Eric looks at the communication station's monitor. Curiously, the caller is Mr. Z's granddaughter Minnie. With his one hand, Williams scratches his chin. One supposes that Minnie might aid the old man in his underground endeavors, but one also supposes that mastermind Z would strictly handle his own affairs.
Grim Reaper activates the outdated video console in Kraken's 1980s secret lair. Williams grabs a microphone on a cord, and he activates the staticky audio speakers. The video feed is also not the best quality, for lacking modern resolution. But, Grim Reaper is positive that he is not looking upon pretty Ms. Minnie Tuttle. Rather, to his surprise, Man-Ape M'Baku glares back at him.
The Lethal Legion leader recovers composure quickly. He inquires, "My good M'Baku, what are you doing with our employer? I see that you somehow know our mysterious benefactors the Tuttles."
"I know a lot of things, Eric," the Legion's muscle assures the Legion's brains, "For example, I know one of the 'hidey-holes' that you mentioned on the dock earlier after we eliminated the Terror."
Grim Reaper nods, "True, I said that the damned find places to repose."
"Well, that hidey-hole could be your final resting place," the gorilla-man grins.
"Oh? How's that?" Reaper responds concerned.
"Do you remember your racist tirade that caused Black Talon and I to leave the Lethal Legion that one time [see West Coast Avengers #2]?"
"Vaguely, boy."
"Well, I do."
Grim Reaper shoots his gaze toward his detached artificial appendage. He thinks that he really should reattach it immediately and find an escape hatch right quick.
M'Baku states, "I doubt that you will survive the explosives set around your safehouse."
"I'm going to kill you, traitor," Grim Reaper replies. He rushes for his weaponized trademark. Grim Reaper must hurry if he would again cheat Death.
From the console, the wily Wakandan continues to speak, "You won't be killing me. I won't be joining you in the depths. I am two miles northwest of you and two-hundred feet above. And, in seconds, I will be indeed above you in the Lethal Legion as well. I am taking over, Eric."
Grim Reaper affixes his master weapon. The Lethal leader "cleverly" threatens, "If you only knew what I shall do about your coup, zoo-crew M'Baku!" Then, Eric realizes that his thumb is not on the dated communication station's microphone's button. So, mutinous M'Baku did not just hear his "witty" retort.
M'Baku presses a button on his modern laptop's keyboard. As a cellphone can, the computer sends a signal to explosives—rigged around Kraken's submarine. The tremendous explosion sprays steel and truck widespread over the seafloor. It craters the pappy muck and blows ooze upward and all-around. The bombing blasts brine high into the early-morning black sky. The turbulent detonation dismembers flesh and destroys costume. Vicinal dog sharks flit toward the resounding vibrations to investigate—and to possibly scavenge.
"Now, that is gorilla warfare," Man-Ape chuckles to himself, safe on his host's yacht.
Middle-aged Minnie Tuttle pecks M'Baku's cheek, "I thought that you were the more capable Lethal Legion member. You have proven it. That Grim Reaper fellow seemed small compared to my M'Baku."
M'Baku runs his huge hand gently up-and-down Minnie's back. He does not love her or even like her. But, the deft desperado is willing to have her as his pet. And, to have her think that he is hers. His huge hand guides her outside the yacht's cabin and walks her in the moonlight to the boat's bobbing bow. With seemingly spontaneity, he scoops her off of her feet, and he kisses her with relish and seeming passion. He returns her trembling to the deck.
Minnie Tuttle exhales. She speaks, "How would you like to meet my father? You have not been to the Tuttle estate yet as Williams was."
M'Baku smirks. He says, "Indeed, I would like that, my Minnie. I am taking over for the late Reaper." Shark fins swiftly pass the starboard.
"Let us make it to breakfast then," Minnie moves to steer the craft. Smirking, she believes that tall, dark, and handsome is hers.