[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/6bK49TU.jpg[/img][/center]
[b]”The Ranchero of Miracle Mesa” - Epilogue[/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]Warpath, Texas -- SHIELD Outpost 1941[/b][/indent]
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[color=#f92a0e]”It all started in Hell. Well, ‘course it did, but I’m sure The Star Spangled Kid letcha in on that much anyhow. Things were… Well, tell you the truth mister, things were [i]different[/i] down there. Not much like anything a God fearin’ man’d expect. There was the fire and the brimstone, spiralin’ towers of black rock climbin’ to God knows where. But it was like a… Kinda an [i]inversion[/i] of this world. Friday The Thirteenth come to life type deal. Looked like everything from up top had fallen clean through the Earth and had a couple hundred years to rot.

“Way I understand things, Hell’s all cut up into these little sections. Every Demon Lord strong enough’s got their own. Asmodel. Beelzebub. Belial. Others. Never got the [i]pleasure[/i] of findin’ a way into their realms, but more n’ a few of their subjects trickled over. Anyway, that’s my of saying I can’t exactly give ya a ‘comprehensive overview’ like you said you wanted. Far as I know, that place could stretch on forever. Worst part is I can’t [i]really[/i] tell you how long I was down there. Apparently I was disappeared for three years. Felt like a [i]thousand[/i]. Time doesn’t mean anything down there. Guess that’s supposed to make the suffering all the worse.

“Me? No, we weren’t tormented. Least not in the usual way. I think the Demons could tell that we didn’t exactly belong. How? Well, imagine walking down the street, and you see a guy with a mouth where his stomach should be. And the rest of his body is knives. Just knives. Now, imagine [i]everyone[/i] around you looks like that. Suddenly, you’re the odd man out, ain’t ya? What’s that? Yeah, ran into a handful of the fellers. Still got the scars… Naw, don’t think that’ll be worth your time. Frankenstein was workin’ on somethin’ called a ‘bestiary’ while we were down there. I’m sure he can hand her over once he comes ‘round.

“Anyhow, what was I sayin’? Right, torment. Clear as I can tell, the lot of us weren’t [i]dead[/i], and I think that got us outta the usual kindsa torture. But by God those boys hounded us to the ends of the Ear--er, Hell. Wasn’t many days we weren’t on the run. It was that way for all of us, in the grand scheme of things it was real lucky we found each other. Otherwise we’d be deader n’ a doornail.

“We got out when we finally found [i]his[/i] throne room. Don’t know what we were thinkin’, challenging a creature like that. But maybe that was part of his [i]game[/i]. See, thing we learned about Mephisto down there is that he’s a real [i]scheming[/i] type. Apparently jes about everything we went through was a test, see who’d be ‘strong enough to face him’. Or maybe that was jes another lie. Point being, we fought that bastard into the ground, used everything we had. Guns, my lariat, Lee’s gas gun, even some special kit we pilfered from demons over the years. Didn’t matter much, though. By the end we were scattered across the battlefield, most of us bleedin’ out. 

“I don’t much remember what it was like to accept, but I can piece it together. Friend’s lives and our freedom for one little period of ‘servitude’. How could I refuse? That’s when The Spirit entered my life… Yessir, the feller on The Raft. Well, that was also m… Yessir, it’s more n’ a little complicated.

“Anyhow, we crawl on outta Hell [i]somehow[/i]. Not one of us remembers actually doing it. Just waking up in the Desert, and feeling that wind for the first time again. Like a little slice of Heaven. ‘Course, that didn’t last. Come to find out that this whole valley is now home to jes about every brand of Demon we bothered ourselves with downstairs. It’s a wonder the place is still standing, to be honest with ya.

“N’ I’m sure the others told you most o’ the middle, in their bits n’ pieces. Team splits up, chasin’ their dreams. Just me an’ Jonah Hex in Warpath. Then come The Dummy. The Bounty Hunters… Rather not recount it, iffin you don’t mind. But that jes about gets us to where we are now. Duke it out with the Silver Surfer n’ try to learn so many superhero names that I already can’t keep track of. N’, now, Agent, lemme be clear with you. The Spirit don’t often take it upon itself to say too much. But it [i]warned[/i] me. It said ‘Somethin’ wicked this way comes.’ Only time it said anything like that before was when The Dummy was coming up on us. You can see how that one went. Point I’m trying to get across is… Whenever it comes, you people need to pull out [i]everything[/i] you’ve got. No holds barred. You understand me, son?”[/color]

“Yeah…” Agent Meskin nodded, his fingers whipping across the page as he scribbled Vigilante’s statement. He looked up to catch the cowboy’s glare in the light that steamed in through the SHIELD Field Tent. He gulped. “I mean, uh, yeah. Definitely. I’ll speak with my superior officer on that.”

Vigilante nodded and picked up his hat from the table. He stood and stretched. Meskin could hear the pop of his joints from across the tent.

[color=#f92a0e]”We almost done here?”[/color] Vigilante yawned. [color=#f92a0e]”We’ve been going at this for a couple hours.”[/color]

“Almost, Mr. Saunders.” Meskin looked down at his clipboard, flipping through a series of pages. “I was hoping I could speak to The Spirit?”

Meskin could see the wrinkles in Vig’s bandana fold as he smiled. [color=#f92a0e]”You think you want that. But you don’t.”[/color] The cowboy turned to leave the tent, pulling his hat on.

“Sir! It’s protocol.” Agent Meskin shot up from his folding chair, clenching his clipboard. Vig didn’t turn around.

[color=#f92a0e]”Listen, I appreciate everything you boys are doin’ for us. Least you can do on account of me helping y’all out with The Surfer, you said. But don’t think for one second that you came here to tell us what to do.”[/color] Vigilante shouldered his way out of the tent. [color=#f92a0e]”You have a nice day, now.”[/color] He called back.

It’d only been a few days since he dropped Jaime off after The Surfer, but it felt like a lifetime, and not in that Hellish sorta way. First time in a long time, Warpath was all hustle and bustle. SHIELD Agents ran all over the shop, many of them hauling crates of weapons or jersey barricades. Warpath’d been transformed practically overnight. SHIELD Watchtowers had already been put up in the town’s four corners, and they were already at work retrofitting Vig’s makeshift walls with all kindsa gun turrets and SHIELD tech. He’d tried helping at first, but after shocking himself a few too many times with their equipment, he decided he was more of a grease monkey than a tech wizard.
Across the way, by what was left of the Crossroads, Sylvester and Pat sat atop a steel box, spinnin’ a yarn for a gaggle of SHIELD Agents. Sylvester waved to Vig as he passed. Vig tipped his hat and moseyed along. He stopped to watch two Agents trying to pulley a mounted turret up to one of the town’s sturdier roofs. The Spirit hissed in his mind.

“[i]Do not trust them, Gregory Saunders.[/i]” It growled. Vig shook his head and moved on from the scene, pushing The Spirit’s commentary to one side.

[color=#f92a0e]”[i]They’re gov’ment spooks. A little shadiness comes with the territory.[/i]”[/color] He contended. [color=#f92a0e]”[i]An’ you said earlier that you couldn’t get no signs from them.[/i]”[/color]

“[i]There is an incongruity about them. They are unreadable.[/i]” The Spirit snapped.

Vigilante paused. The agents were doing better now, getting the gun a few feet into the air. Their faces were red from the effort.

[color=#f92a0e]”[i]That so? Like that Black Star feller?[/i]”[/color] They were almost at their apex now. Just a few more inches and the gun turret’d be up and over onto the roof.

“[i]No. It is unlike The Power Cosmic. But it is sinister, Greg Saunders.[/i]” The Spirit warned. The turret was almost in place. The agent on the roof said something, his mouth turning up into a grin. The SHIELD agent on the bottom burst out into laughter and the gun slammed into the ground. The agent fell back, rolling around in a fit of laughter.

Vig smiled. [color=#f92a0e]”[i]Sinister. Sure.[/i]”[/color] He moved on past the scene, heading for the wide-mouthed road that marked the main entrance to Warpath. Lee and Sir Justin sat at a wooden picnic table they’d dragged to the front of Vig’s house. Lee tinkered with his gas gun, feeding in a series of little pellet-things and twisting a few screws and knobs, giving some babbling explanation to Sir Justin. The knight merely nodded, resting his head in his hand and idly passing sugar cubes into Winged Victory’s mouth.

The white horse sat aside the table, majestic white wings kept tightly at its side. It was a massive thoroughbred, hair clean as a kid on a Sunday, despite apparently centuries of waiting for her master to return. In lotsa ways it was easier seeing it up close than it was thinkin’ on the manner of it. A winged horse livin’ for centuries at a time. Wasn’t like he hadn’t seen stranger these last few months.

“Mr. Saunders?” Vigilante heard a voice from atop the Watchtower closest to the entrance. “You might want to come see this.”

Atop the tower, Vigilante pressed the agent’s binoculars to his eyes. On the horizon were two horses. They were dust colored, blending in almost perfectly with the cloud they kicked up, spare their riders. One was wrapped up tight in a brown trenchcoat, with a white fedora he kept firmly pressed to his head with one hand. The other rider looked like a dead man walking. Tatters in his coat betrayed a sickly screen skin crisscrossed with all manner of scars and stitches. It was hard to tell from a distance, put it looked as if he’d had a bolt driven through his temples. Frankenstein.

[hr]

There’d been hours of drinking and carousing among the Soldiers before most had gone off to bed, leaving Vigilante sitting across from Frankenstein and his guest, staring up at the stars. The wooden picnic bench creaked under Frankenstein’s weight, but he didn’t seem to mind.He was contented to stare, the occasional spark flickering off the rod embedded in his head.

Frankenstein’s guest, Doctor Occult, he said he was called, fidgeted with a circle pendant with a white-and-black X on it. He looked at the ground, lips pursed, deep in though. Doc O had proved himself a quiet feller, mostly stickin’ clear out of the way of the party. He’d spent the night getting the read on the townsfolk, still in their petrified state. Vig had been trying his hardest not to think about it… But it was time for brass tacks, as his Pop would say.

Vig swallowed and Frankenstein and The Doctor instantly locked eyes with him. [color=#f92a0e]”I didn’t wanna get in the way of the celebratin’. I think we’ve done a good thing, here, but, well… We need to know. What can we do? About them?”[/color] Vig leaned forward in his chair. [color=#f92a0e]”We’ll cross Hell n’ back again if that’s what it takes, but we need to [i]know[/i].”[/color]

The Doctor nodded. He had taken his fedora off by now. He had flowing golden hair, now slick with sweat from the Texas heat. He ran a hand through it. “Well, they’re still alive, thankfully.” He said. “But… Well, put simply, the curse is a simple one, but quite unbreakable. We’d require a magical artifact of enormous power to even begin shattering it… Unfortunately, I’m unsure of where we’d begin to look for them. Most artifacts of such a level are under lock and key by beings we could not hope to challenge, even with The Spirit of Vengeance on our side.”

Vig nodded slow. [color=#f92a0e]”Give it to me straight, Doc. Exactly what kinda things are we ‘lookin for?”[/color]

“We’d need an object of truly [i]awesome[/i] ability. The Helmet of Fate, or of Dream. The Metachem Wand, a gem of Cyttorak, a Bloodstone, or even one of King Solomon’s Frogs. This is, of course, failing the presence of the curse’s original caster. As he is… No longer with us? Our only hope is his Master was a powerful sorcerer, far greater than him. If such is the case, they [i]may[/i] be able to reverse the effects of the curse. [i]Maybe[/i].” Doctor Occult sighed. “I know it’s a shot in the dark. But right now, it’s the only avenue anyone has to helping these people.”

[color=#f92a0e]”A [i]Master[/i], huh?”[/color] Vig tightened his fists. The leather of his gloves strained. He turned to look past Frankenstein and Doctor Occult, to the northeast. One named burned on his lips. It ran in his mind, through both his and The Spirit’s consciousness.

[color=#f92a0e][b]”Solomano.”[/b][/color]