The tall dark-eyed stranger grabs his D-28 and slaps it into a well-worn traveling case, pulls out the S&W, firing a couple of shots into the overhead of the smokey tavern, causing a strangely colored fluttering of feathers downward from the rafter. Barging through the startled crowd, he leaps onto a 900 cc Harley with a solid chrome engine and a long-throw fork, firing it up with a swift step; its low, watery rumble fills the night air. A twist of his wrist sends the hog hutling down the road toward the disappearing sternlights of the mysterious Goddess' stretch limousine. "I mayyyy not be baaaack!" he is heard to call over his shoulder, disappearing in a cloud of gravel and dust, his slouch hat flapping and his cape streaming back in the wind...