Reapers Infamous Novels & Stories

I see with horror pictures of the men who are part of my daily life and me. They are all there. From the old newspaper vendor on the corner to the food delivery man. From the maintenance man to the manager of my company. The bastard remains silent and just watches my reaction. I swallow hard because that's the effect all the men in this damn Family have when they target someone: dread. The chilling fear. The kind that makes you freeze in place and forget which Saint to beg for help. When the men of the Family want to get something, they send capos. When they still don't get it, they send Santo. Nobody says no to Santo. At least, those who did say no are no longer in this world to tell.

Something about the Reapers really started to bug me. Pardon the extremely corny pun. The Reaper mantis longed its claw after us at a viscous speed. But stronghold leaped in the crossfire’s and pulverized the claw knocking the mantis back four feet backwards. “Duds, did you just….help us?,” Adrian said. Stronghold landed on the graged and turned his head at us. “Don’t out the wrong idea Redx Stronghold grunted. The Mintite all these Reapers are wasted yoo Ominous are next,”

he murmurs. Rolling my eyes I cross my arms leaning back in my chair, “care to share with the class?” He presses his palms together and asks, “son, have you ever heard of the Reapers?” I frown, “No. What is a Reaper?” He leans over, “so when you die, the Reaper is the one who severs your bond from this world that lets you move onto the next. For us back to the Moon Goddess. They are curious beings and only those who have seen traumatic death can see them. I’m sure there is one in our pack right now, waiting for someone to die. They are nearly untraceable and hold no allegiances to anyone but their task. Sever the bond, let the soul move on.”

Like hoppy. The girl wheezed, tried to crawl away, but the bonds held tightly, and her back rested against a tree trunk. Only a few steps separated the victim from the undead. The stench emanating from the Walker became unbearable. The ugly face of a ghoul with traces of earth on rotting skin was distorted by greed. Blue lips stretched out, revealing strong teeth. Someone's husband or father will bite her to death. Someone who loved, suffered, lived, but died and... was reborn into this .

Is this reaper crazy so what is he saying? "I am not a scarped soul, reaper. I am alive, and you cannot take away my life just because you want to. You will be violating nature's law if you will take someone else's soul from a living person!" I am interested in him. He can't take my soul especially and I don't understand his reason.

Inside were the documented slaughters and syndicates tied to the Grim Reaper over the last three years. "Even the big three lords of the underworld—the Reaper, the Zmeya Empire, and the Crimson Syndicate—don't get this much attention on themselves," the chief stated, his finger slamming onto the gory crime scene photos. "No one knows who the leader of Zmeya is. No one has ever seen the face of the Crimson Syndicate's head. But everyone knows Riven Rykerthrone is the leader of the Black Reapers, and the fact that he is still walking around freely is an absolute insult to this badge." I stared at the files, my heart hammering against my ribs.

The man grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, and a reporter’s voice filled the room. “…breaking news tonight. Sources confirm that prominent attorney Myles Voss is not the man he has claimed to be. Investigators allege that Voss is, in fact, the infamous ‘Reaper,’ leader of the outlaw motorcycle club Hellfangs. Federal agents have launched a manhunt following a deadly fire at a warehouse earlier this evening…” The screen cut to footage around my property. Agents and police swarmed over my lawn, and then came a still photo of Serena, smiling in a summer dress.

Two hulking guards stepped into our path, their hands resting on heavy automatic rifles. Vance stepped up and slammed his clearance token onto the tray, glaring them down until they unlatched the deadbolts. The doors creaked open, revealing a private, lavishly decorated chamber lined with fur rugs and stolen artwork. Sitting behind a desk was the man I had traveled through a blizzard to find. He went by The Reaper. He was a notorious underworld broker with pale skin, cold black eyes and a reputation for selling contraband to the highest bidder. On the table before him sat a small case.

I shook my head at him. "So exactly how old are you?" That was the main question nagging at me. "I got my reapers mark at the age of twenty-eight so technically I'm twenty-eight." I rolled my eyes. "You know what I meant. What the hell is a reapers mark though?" "It's the mark we get when we reap our first soul, that's when we stop ageing. And I know what you meant and to be truthful I'm two hundred and fourty." I felt like a child compared to him.

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter. I don’t need you tattle-telling everything I do and reporting it back to your mommy. I get the fucking job done dont I? Exactly. I got something for you to go back and tell Abbaddon, how about FUCK YOU!!” “Do you feel better now? Cause we have a job to do.” Ornais stated. “They’re moving quickly to capture this soul from you.” “I know, but what am I supposed to do? It’s not like I can just go in and char it beyond repair like every other one. I have to be careful.” Daniel sighed, putting his head in his hands. He was up against a wall. Every move was documented and reported back to Abaddon. The Seven Deadly Sins had this one, why did he get assigned to it