[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/6bK49TU.jpg[/img][/center]
[b]”The Ranchero of Miracle Mesa” - Glitter And Gold: Part Nine[/b]

[center][i]“The Cowboy must never shoot first, hit a smaller man, or take unfair advantage.”[/i][/center]
[center][indent]-Anonymous[/indent][/center]
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[indent][b]New York City, New York --- The Raft Prison Island[/b][/indent]
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Vigilante sat astride his bike, content to watch the arrival of Big Barda. The prison had been cleared in large part. Nothing normal rescue crews couldn’t rightly handle, apparently. Instead, he got to watch an alien-lady pull her alien-superhero-husband who [i]was[/i] the Silver Surfer, but now wasn’t, through a portal that appeared in the middle of nowhere with of some fancy box. Vigilante needed a drink.

“[i]The stench of The Power Cosmic lingers, Greg Saunders. Something wicked this way comes.”[/i] The Spirit warned.

The Spirit was right. Through the holes in the skull, Vigilante could see it spread out all across the bay, that same inky black-and-silver-and-gold spread across the sky and on the surface of The Raft like it was blood, gore from The Surfer’s brawl with Thor. Wisps of it reached for the sky, longing for their master… Whoever it was. [i]Darkseid[/i], he’d heard someone say. Whoever or [i]what[/i]ever that was, Vigilante could feel its presence on the horizon, popping and boiling somewhere in the cosmos. Evil in pure form, like a creature borne of Hell itself. Billions of spirits called for him, somewhere in the vastness of the cosmos. But their voices did not call for vengeance. They called for him to run.

“[i]It’s wielder will come for us. All of us. You must be ready… Or this world, and Warpath alike, will burn.[/i]” And then The Spirit was gone from his mind, slunk into the background. Content rest, if only for a spell.

Vigilante had never been [i]awake[/i] as The Spirit receded from his mind. Flash-grown skin leaped across his body as red hellfires died in his chest, squeezing on cracked ribs and bruised muscles Vig didn’t know he had.

[color=#f92a0e]’Hrrg…”[/color] He grunted in pain as the change washed over his body. Daggers stabbed into his lungs and chest from his ribs. Apparently getting bitch-slapped by The Silver Surfer wasn’t very good for your health. The Spirit was gone and in his stead was a plum out of place cowpoke.

He walked over to where The Flash had dropped Jaime, trying his best to keep his ribs steady. [color=#f92a0e]”You did good out there J-”[/color] Vig stopped himself and shot a glance around. Probably wasn’t a great idea to drop his [i]real name[/i] around all these prisoners n’ the like. Lotsa super-folk really cared about that sorta thing. He looked Jaime up n’ down. He was blue… N’ that armor on his back sure did look a lot like a bug… [color=#f92a0e]”Er, ‘scuse me. I mean, uh, nice one, Blue Beetle?”[/color] Vig tried the name on for size. Kid was smart enough to get rid of it if he didn’t like it. [color=#f92a0e]”I can give ya a lift back, but it might be a little slower n’ it was gettin’ here.”[/color] Vig said.

He turned to the rest of the heroes, Flash already limping her way away. Didn’t seem much fit to Vig. They all come together n’ barely come out on top. Best fighter with a hole in his chest, and already people were just trying to get away from each other. Vig took his hat in his hands.

[color=#f92a0e]”It’s been a pleasure, y’all. I’m mighty proud of us, all of us, that we could… Well, that we could handle somethin’ like [i]that[/i].”[/color] Vig pointed to the spot where Barda and pulled The Surfer away.

[color=#f92a0e]”But it seems to me that [i]this[/i], whatever [i]this[/i] is, is jes’ gettin’ started. N’ I don’t know that any of us can handle it alone. I don’t much know how you super-folk usually play things but maybe we should… I dunno, exchange email?”[/color]