Ophilia's eyes grew wide at that last exchange and it was all she could do to keep from laughing. She was very pleased to see that Nemesis had his feet firmly underneath him again, and had a really good feeling about the upcoming test of skill. "Alright. Follow me."

December 1972

Karen Jerrod had gotten used to swallowing her pride. She was a doctor, she had the diploma to prove it, but the old men in charge of the Soldier Boy project liked to relegate her to nurse’s duties. The task at hand was not really offensive to her. Sure, it was just taking vitals, but it was a chance to meet the subject. Very exciting.

She entered the examination room to find the subject sitting on the exam table in that stupid backless robe they make everyone wear. He was big like a football player, and he had a boyish face. “Otis Reynolds?”

December 1972

Karen Jerrod had gotten used to swallowing her pride. She was a doctor, she had the diploma to prove it, but the old men in charge of the Soldier Boy project liked to relegate her to nurse’s duties. The task at hand was not really offensive to her. Sure, it was just taking vitals, but it was a chance to meet the subject. Very exciting.

She entered the examination room to find the subject sitting on the exam table in that stupid backless robe they make everyone wear. He was big like a football player, and he had a boyish face. “Otis Reynolds?”

“Is there anything else I can get for you Miss DiSantiago?” Everything about the waiter was subservient, from his slightly slouched posture to the obsequious tone in his voice.

May 1982

She walked into the bar wearing a fuck me dress, fuck me pumps and a fuck me smile. Jag watched her like a jungle cat hidden in the grass.

“See anything you like?”

The gruff, smoke stained voice belonged to Rita, the waitress. She was only about ten years older than Jag, but a lifetime of bad choices had left her looking twice that age. She had a cigarette hanging from her mouth that was mostly ash, and a look in her eye that implied she had seen everything there was to see and wasn‘t too impressed by any of it.

Brussels, Belgium - September 1986

“Soldier Boy, you’re in the wrong building.”

Soldier Boy stopped on the landing between the 20th and 21st floors and spoke into his headset. “What’s that supposed to mean, Base? I’m right where you told me to be.”

“I know, but now the bogies are across the street.” Base said. Whoever was running the comm at Soldier Boy HQ was called Base. It kept things fluid, consistent and Soldier Boy didn’t like learning a lot of names.

“Damn it,” Soldier Boy said. “You’ve let Yuri play you.”

Feburary 1987

“Our founding fathers may have invented the individual in his truest form, buy they did not do this so that Americans should be consumed with self-interest. Quite the opposite. They wanted America to be a chorus of many voices, singing different parts, and coming together in beautiful harmony. That is what makes our country strong.”

“So, I leave you with this. It is not your America. It is not my America. It is Our…” pause for effect… “America.”

“Jesus H. Christ. Why do they need so damned many cereals.”

Jag Reynolds surveyed the brightly colored panorama of boxes on the shelves. Cartoon cockatoos and leprechauns stared back at him with stupid grins on their faces.

“Seriously,” Jag said. “This is ridiculous.”

“What are you looking for, dad?”

March 1979

“Morning, Sunshine.”

Jag Reynolds opened his eyes to find an attractive, leggy blond lying next to him. She was naked, as was he. He lifted a hand to his face. Good. He was still wearing his mask. He was still in uniform.

“Morning, Sweetie.” Jag had learned that this type of greeting made for a more pleasant morning after experience than the more obvious ‘who the hell are you?’.

“You were the life of the party last night, handsome.”

May 1968

The senior prom was everything they had hoped it would be, and now Jag Reynolds and Emily Wilkins were parked somewhere in the country, in the back seat of Jag’s dad’s car, heavily into heavy petting. They pawed clumsily at one another as they kissed inexpertly.

“Do you have the thing?” Emily panted.

“What thing?” Jag replied.

“You know… the thing. The rubber.”

Jag’s eyes opened wide, and then he smacked himself on the forehead with the heel of his hand. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

Hannah Reynolds considered the cooked carrot on her plate. Her mother had removed it from the pot roast, allowed it cool and presented it to Hannah to see what she would make of it. The toddler looked at it, appeared to considere various possibilities and then concluded that it was a squishy orange tool used to push cheerios around on a plate.

**Warning: Adult Content**
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“I can’t believe I’m actually going to meet Soldier Boy.”

Col. Christopher Reynolds rolled his eyes in the direction of his young and enthusiastic passenger. Lieutenant Gould had a broad smile on his baby face as he talked about how he once wore a Soldier Boy costume for his first Halloween, carried a Soldier Boy lunch box to school and has all of the old Soldier Boy and Ameri-Mutt cartoons on DVD.

“You know, Lieutenant, he’s just a man like any other. No more, no less.”