[b]| Identity |[/b]
Jonah Hex

[b]| Origin & Backstory |[/b]

Jonah Hex was born in 1980 and abandoned as a newborn at the Black Cherry Indian Reservation in New Mexico. All that was known about the baby was the name pinned to his diaper: Jonah Hex. He was taken in by a local family in the rez. Hex was a favorite of the family's patriarch and reservation chief, Thomas Eagle Feather. Eagle Feather taught Hex how to hunt, shoot, and track a wide variety of animals.

While Hex lived with the Eagle Feather family, the Black Cherry Reservation slowly withered away around them. The poor Native Americans who lived there were leaving their once proud homeland to seek jobs elsewhere, those that stayed behind were old men and drunks. Thomas Eagle Feather, seeing his beloved reservation crumbling, succumbed to alcoholism and became a violent abuser as the years went on. When Hex turned 18, he left the reservation never to return.

Unable to find work off the rez, Hex joined the Army.. Hex served as a corporal in the Army, under Company CO Jack Turnbull. After 9/11, Hex's regiment was dispatched to Afghanistan. While there in 2005, Hex stumbled upon Turnbull raping and torturing a young Afghan girl. Hex and Turnbull fought, with Turnbull permanently disfiguring Hex in the fight. Using his assault rifle, Hex shot the man dead. He lied about the circumstances of Turnbull's death, saying the Afghan girl killed Turnbull with his own gun while he watched. Hex was given an other than honorable discharge from the Army and came back to America, unsure of what to do and where to go. It was while he was in Kentucky, drowning his troubles into a bottle that he found the answer. He was at a bar one night when he saw a man arrested by a bounty hunter. After a lot of thought and consideration, Hex went about applying for a bounty hunter's license.

Nine year later, Hex roams across the country, seeking out only the highest risk and highest paying bounties. If you're wanted by someone and they want you bad enough, Jonah Hex will find you.

[b]| Character Notes |[/b]
Nothing much on character notes. Pretty much Hex will travel around the country, doing bounty hunting work on both sides of the law. I do want to incorporate several of the DC Western characters like Bat Lash and Scalphunter into the modern day.

[b]| Powers & Abilities |[/b]
No powers, but Hex is an expert tracker and hunter, as well as an excellent shot with guns.

[b]| How is this character different? |[/b]

For starters, Hex is operating in the 21st century. The man is the same, just the background has changed around him. I want to tell a modern day western. I also want to try and bring in some of the other DC Western characters and do a new version of the classic Hex storyline featuring Turnbull.

[b]| What is your goal with this character? |[/b]

Write modern day western/crime stories with Hex in the center of it all. 

[b]| Sample Post |[/b]

[b]South Dakota[/b]

The Prairie Rose Indian Reservation. It's where the government sent the Sioux to die. That night was the first time I stepped foot on any rez since I left Black Cherry all those years ago. I told Belle a thousand times I don't do Indian work, especially skiptraces. Damn woman went ahead and told them I was coming. She said the money was worth it. Once a whore, always a whore.

I drove my pick-up down the road to the Prairie Rose Indian Casino. In the parking lot a bunch of teenagers tried their best to stare me down and look tough. One look at my face and they scattered, pissing their pants and running home to their mommas.

There were a lot of long stares once I entered the casino. Blackjack dealers eyed me and flinched before they quickly go back to their business. Half naked drink girls dressed as squaws walked by and quickly looked away shuddering. A young boy with an eyepatch gaped at me while he pushed a mop bucket down the hall. This was a casino in South Dakota, so they had to have seen their fair share of shady looking white trash, but nothing like me apparently.

"Who the fuck are you?" A big Indian with piercings in his nose and ears asked.

"Lookin' for Red Crow."

"What's your business, you ugly motherfucker?"

I scowled and sucked my teeth, before tilting my hat back. He was big, bigger than me by at least two inches and thirty pounds. He also had ten years youth on his side. All things considered he'd whoop my ass in a fair fight. But since when do I play fair?

"Nice earrings," said with a smirk. "Especially the ones on your right ear. When I was growin' up, I was told that only men of a certain...sexual persuasion, wore earrings in their right ear."

The big man started to walk towards me. My hands instinctively went to the brass knuckles in my right hip pocket. Like I said, I ain't one for fair fighting.

"Shunka, cut this shit out."

Shunka stopped in his tracks and turned. A large man with dark hair pulled back into a ponytail with a cigar in his hands stood at the entrance to an office, a large scowl on his face.

"Our friend here is the bounty hunter."

"That's right," I said. "Name's Jonah Hex."

"I'm Chief Lincoln Red Crow, welcome to Prairie Rose."

I looked at Shunka warily. "Thanks for the warm welcome."

"Shunka, search him for weapons. Then bring him back."

Shunka began to pat me down, pulling my .45 from the small of my back, the switchblade from my left pocket, the brass knuckles in my right pocket, the .38 on my left ankle, and the Bowie knife in my right boot.

"Looked like you had yourself a good time, Shunka," I said with a wink.

"Fuck you, white boy."

I followed Red Crow and Shunka back to his office. Lots of Indian artifacts, newspaper articles about the Wounded Knee standoff, some more articles about something called Dog Soldiers. I sat down across the desk from Red Crow and wait while he lit up another cigar.

"Shunka, go find Bad Horse. I need to see him. "

Shunka scurried off and closed the door behind him as he left. Red Crow took long, slow drags on his cigar and let the silence settle between us for nearly a minute before he spoke.

"The lady from Central City tells me you're the best tracker in the country."

"Belle'll say anything that gets her that finder's fee. I'm not one for boastin', but I'll say this much: Pay me to do a job, and it gets done. Simple as that."

"Good. I like simple."

Red Crow slid a piece of paper across his desk. It was a photo copy of a driver's license. A California license with a picture of a blonde man. The name on it said Bartholomew Alouysius Lash. Hell of a name, and that's coming from a man who had his momma name him Hex before she abandoned him.

"That motherfucker cheated me. Goddamn card counter cleaned me out and ran out of here with one of my best dancers. That was a week ago. I want you to bring both of them back and bring back the thirty grand he cheated me out of. You get half of whatever you recover."

A man once told me I had a talent when it came to reading people. He said that I could look into their soul and see what they were all about...but he was about three days into a meth binge and I had knocked out half of his teeth, so what the hell did he know?

My instincts aside, I knew right then that Red Crow is a real son of a bitch. I think anyone who spent any amount of time with him could tell that.

"Alright. Showed me where he was staying while he was here, and who knew him the best."

Red Crow was a piece of shit, and he turned out to be way more trouble than it was worth. But at the time his money was good. That's all that counts.