DocTachyon

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

”I’ve got one. The Spirit of the Gun.”

@DocTachyon

Vigilante is actually called this in the comics sometimes, for... Some reason.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

”The Ranchero of Miracle Mesa” - Glitter And Gold: Part Five

“The Cowboy must never shoot first, hit a smaller man, or take unfair advantage.”

-Anonymous

---

Warpath, Texas

---

It wasn’t like the other times. Wasn’t nothing that posed a threat to Warpath like that… Like that thing. Vigilante was hesitant to even call it a man. For all the wrath of The Dummy and the number of The Bounty Hunters, wasn’t nothing that coulda stopped Black Star this side of the Mississippi. His power, his speed. He coulda turned Vigilante’s bones to powder by looking at him funny. Vigilante could feel the pain in his heart, watching The Spirit get thrashed. Black Star put ‘im through walls like they were made of cardboard. Everything fell away from him, then. The Theater all melted away into the background, n’ he was dimly aware of something behind him, tellin’ him to wrest control. Wasn’t no sense in fighting that thing anymore than there was in fightin’ Black Star himself. All he could do was what he’d always done. What his Pop had always done. Offer his hand and try to help.

It was something different, sharing his body. Wasn’t much like they were fighting, one man over another, wrestling n’ trying to decide what would happen next. They battled together, moved as one unit. Vigilante felt himself joined with the souls that made up The Spirit. He felt their anguish and their pain, pouring into him and putting strength behind each of his blows and the crackling power behind his words. It was closer than any kinda teamwork Vigilante could've hoped to describe. His thoughts all faded away until there was nothing left but his Enemy and his Mission. Fight Black Star. Save Warpath. Save The World. Just black and white morality, a cowboy and his gun, er, lariat.

He could feel himself standing over Black Star now, vision tunneled, burning hands quavering. Looking down at his body, the subtle rise and fall of his chest betraying the monster’s life. Burns crisscrossing up and down his costume, asking for more. Itching to stretch his lariat around Black Star’s neck and pull. He imagined his hands around Black Star’s neck, boiling the flesh away, staring into the depths of his blackened soul and extinguishing it. Then his vision started to pull back.

His breath was hot against his clothes, hotter n’ the Texas heat or the fire that raged in his belly. He could taste the smoke in the air, but maybe that was on account of his head being aflame. Warpath burned around him. They were little fires, nothing the stiff breeze wouldn’t take care of, but he could hear the crackling, waiting to turn into an inferno. But most of all, he saw the alien kid stood before him. His armor was cracked all over the shop, spider webbing up and down his form. He was meek in stature, now that Vig got a good, quiet look at him. Vigilante drew himself up. He could hear every click of his spinal cord as he drew himself to his full height, looking upon the kid.

”Vigilante?”

@Superboy

The kid’s voice felt a million miles away, something out of a dream. He was floating now, reaching for something to say in a cosmic ether that reached off and beyond into a great nothing. He could faintly make out the kid arguing to himself in the background, but all he could focus on was the pitch-white skull coalescing before his eyes.

“Gregory Saunders.” Its words seemed to shake the frame of the world around him, giving a sketchy distorsion to the darkness.

”Spirit.” He greeted it. He no longer saw the creature from his dreams. No, instead it was a bleached white skull like any of the cow skulls he’d seen out in the untangled desert before. A crackling black fire cooked in either of its empty eye sockets. It stared intently.

“You want to run.” It said the last word like it was poison. Flaming spittle dribbled down the bone. It sizzled away into nothing.

”What in tarnation gives you that idea? Come Hell or high water, I’m here for these people. You know that.” Vigilante tried to square his shoulders and step forward to the skull, but he found his movement locked, as if all control of his body had been stolen.

“Fool. You so obstinately refuse to ‘abandon’ these people that you bury your head in the sand. The Surfer must be fought. But you will hide here.“ The skull said. Every word felt like a stake being driven through his body, restraining him, pushing him further from control.

”What’s left for them? Huh? You expect me to leave good folks to rot?” Vigilante shouted back. He willed himself to move, contorting every muscle in his body. He’d give that thing a piece of his mind.

“This is bigger than us. It’s bigger than them! You cannot comprehend the enormity of this threat. The force that fuels that man carries behind it a path of carnage and bloodshed spanning eons. Incalculable death. Suffering. It will come here. And everything will end.”

”There’s others! There’s always gonna be others! The Flash! Superman! Warpath hasn’t got anybody but me!” Vigilante could feel what felt like tears streaming down his cheeks. His muscles burned. His vision was starting to leave him, like he was being pushed down into some lower place, stifled before overwhelming force.

“You so obstinately refuse to ‘abandon’ these people that you damn the world entire. You sit here with you head in the sand, letting the sinners and the devils come to you. You act as if a hero of God, bearing your burden to ‘protect’ them. Yet all the killers have only ever come for you. Warpath sits on the brink and you, its ‘sole protector’ threaten to push it over with every passing day.” The skull screaming now, swallowing Vigilante’s vision up into a cloud of black fire, hiding everything from him but his pain. He saw images boil up and pop out of existence as quickly as they’d come. It was him, destroying a limousine thirty miles out of town. It was him, fighting Bounty Hunters through the streets of Gotham, The Batman at his side. Him, holding a man with a scar on a three-fingered hand out of a New York highrise, with Jonah Hex right behind him. Dueling Black Star in the middle of nowhere, shoulder to shoulder with The Soldiers. What could’ve been. What should have been.

”God…” Vigilante’s voice felt small in his throat. As soon as he opened his lips, fire poured into him, probing his insides and burning him alive. He could not scream. Every muscle in his body felt like it was made of jello. He pushed himself up, muscles threatening to burst. He forced his lips open, ”God… Forgive me…”

Vigilante beheld the skull before him, as it stared blankly down its nose at him. Vigilante forced his fist into the sky; it felt like he was trying to shove it through a cart of bricks. [color=#f92a0e]”[i]We do this... “[/color] He hacked out a cough. His skin was starting to melt away, obscuring his vision. ”Together. Only… Only way…”

The Spirit cackled. “Do you expect forgiveness? Redemption?”

”No.” Vigilante straightened up. He pushed the pain to one side, and set his jaw, and furrowed his brow. Sight up on target. Aim true. ”Vengeance.”

”Right, so I'll...I'll explain on the way, but how fast can that fancy motorcycle-from-hell of yours move? 'Cause if we want to get to the Surfer, we're gonna need to head up to New York and I left my running shoes at home.”

@Superboy

And then he was home again, the kid before him.

”Oh, by the way… My name’s Jaime. Jaime Reyes. I’m from El Paso.”

@Superboy

Vigilante tried to swallow, but he found his form could not. He extended a hand.

”Greg. Greg Saunders… And this is Warpath.”

He turned to face the bike. It was like he was reaching out with his mind to something living and breathing. It responded to his touch, seeming to shiver at it. He could sense its saddlebags, crammed full of guns and munitions. He could feel the horsepower of the engine in his chest, pistons driving home to his core.

”... And I get the sense that we can get goin’ pretty got-dang fast.”

New York City, New York --- The Raft Prison Island

---

It takes commercial airliners six hours to get from El Paso to New York City. The humming engine between Vigilante’s legs had taken them there in a half hour. They screamed through the streets, exploding storefronts with sonic booms as they sped for The Raft. Jaime had locked himself around Vigilante with a series of alien-metal contraptions locked around his body. The boy blasted all of his suit’s engines full speed to get them the extra boost they needed to get there in time. Blue and red flame intermingled in the scorching trail they left across the pavement, heading for the Raft.

Vigilante had spent the ride explaining the situation in Warpath to Jaime, if the poor feller could hear him over the roar of the wind. He figured it was his way of explaining to him that he was, under no circumstances, to enter this fight. He was hurt plum bad enough already, n’ the only reason he came along was to give ‘em the gas they needed to reach The Raft before the Surfer could skedaddle, or send out another round of goons. The kid was just supposed to get off n’ muster whatever military of SHIELD response he could. This was to be a fight between Vigilante and his enemy. No sense for that kid to waste his life n’ get hisself killed.

”Y’know. They all gave you a name. Every previous holder.”

“Yes. I was El Diablo. The Ghost Rider. Others.”

”I’ve got one. The Spirit of the Gun.”

They were close now, seconds away. Vigilante saw The Raft before him now, rising up out of the bay like a great plateau out of nothing. Vigilante took his lariat in his hands and started to spin it, whipping up huge, street spanning circles, preparing for his first blow. He pulled back on the handlebars and the thrust from Jaime’s jets thrust the pair into the air, high over the New York Bay, screaming straight down for the deck of The Raft.

”SUUUURFEEEEERRR!”

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

The Surfer could do little to hold back his frustration, knowing that when given the choice, each chosen prisoner of The Raft had sided with personal retribution over the path of virtue. All they had been tempted with was a mere taste of power, and their greed did the rest. Mick Rory had sought to be one with the destructive flame. Doris Zeul had sought the strength to match her ability to transcend stature. Aviva Metula had sought a greater link with this world's literal darkness. The team of thieves once known as Matthew Hagen, Preston Payne, Sondra Fuller, and Basil Karlo had sought to be unified in power stemming from this world itself, despite becoming a singular abomination. Hector Hammond sought ultimate knowledge and the power to control it. And Leslie Willis, already having mastered the power of electricity, sought only to be turned loose and make the world feel her wrath.

@Master Bruce

No William Mowse? Ouch. Anyway, Jaime and Vig should be arriving on scene with my next post, should be up tonight, or in the wee hours of tomorrow morning.

@Retired


Sad to see you go, my man. Hope everything turns out alright for you. Best wishes!

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

”The Ranchero of Miracle Mesa” - Glitter And Gold: Part Four

“The Cowboy must never shoot first, hit a smaller man, or take unfair advantage.”

-Anonymous

---

Warpath, Texas

---

"Unless you've got a hand grenade in that belt, I think you might need my help!"

@Superboy

”Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch wouldn’t do much, kid.” Vigilante wouldn’t be surprised if he could outrun the shrapnel, somehow. Conventional approach wouldn’t work, sumbitch was too strong, fast, and durable to tag ‘im. Only thing Vig could think of was maybe putting two shotgun barrels in his mouth and hoping that’d crack it… But mosta the guns were in the barn now, and that was busy gettin’ perforated by pieces of the town. There were a coupla spare shotguns n’ rifles over by Black Star but… Gettin’ those presented its own problems.

”This guy's a bit above our weight class- we're gonna need a plan!"

@Superboy

”Could try to keep this dust up n’ you could pepper him with yer irons… Assuming you’ve got any in that thing.” Vig responded. He slashed at the ground with his whip again as a hunk of concrete as long as his arm sailed past his head. Vig shot a glance back at the kid to watch as the armor around his hands shifted into a huge plasma-cannon-dohickey. Vig grunted in satisfaction and slashed again. Maybe things weren’t so desperate after all.

“Fool! Release me!” The Spirit howled in his mind. Vig grit his teeth. Damn thing always wanted out, but it never fought like this. It really wanted a crack at whatever the hell kinda force was powering Black Star. Vig could still feel the waves of energy rolling off of Black Star, like The Spirit was hijacking his sense to make him understand… Vig considered letting it out. Certainly stood a better chance than he did. But maybe it was keepin’ mum on the kid ‘cause it knew Vig would never let it out otherwise.

”Yeah, not helping. You get any better ideas other than 'kill him'?!"

@Superboy

”Tryin my best, compadre.” Vig frowned, trying to whip up more dust. It was so scattered by now that it was gettin’ mighty hard to get up another cloud… Their time in cover was limited, n’ it seemed like the kid was pussyfooting around shooting the bastard.

”I got it! Not compatible! Dios mío you're useless. What does that even mean?!"

@Superboy

Vig didn’t have a spell to consider that particular statement before the kid raised his cannon and started firin’ anyhow. Teenagers. Every shot of the plasma was boring a big ol’ hole in the cloud. It seemed like it was taggin’ the big feller good, but it was also makin’ em easier targets. Vig tried to usher him through the remnants of the cloud as he fired, minimizing the amount of shots Black Star could get in on them. Big guy wasn’t takin’ em too good. In the moments of clarity Vig had, he saw burns all over his costume, and he looked mighty pissed.

”Kid, I’m startin’ to think this ain’t exactly tenable. We’re blowin’ through our cover fast n’ a one-legged man in an ass kicking competition.” Vig whipped again and no dust rose from the cracked surface of the ground. Do or die time. Vig turned to look at the kid. He seemed deadly focused on firing, not paying Vig no mind. At the same time, he seemed like he was somewhere else entirely.

”Great. Just great. My psychotic Jiminy Cricket comes with an error message. Terrific."

@Superboy

”Kid?” Vig watched as the alien’s weapons melted away into wicked blades protruding from his forearms, they looked as long n’ sturdy as the prow of a battleship. As the smoke cleared Vig saw tension ripple across the surface of the armor. No.

”Kid!” Vig tried to loop his lariat around the kid but it was too late, he rushed forward, blades at the ready, coming to puncture Black Star through and through. Vig launched after him, but the kid cleared the way to Black Star in what must’ve been miliseconds. He tried to sidestep but the kid caught him just right, puttin’ one of his stabbers right into the big guy.

”AGH!” Black Star recoiled. ”Insolent whelp!” A hand as big as a baseball mitt curled into a fist and crashed into the kid’s stomach, making him stagger back from the force. Black Star threw and uppercut and the kid got launched into the air like a rocketship. Black Star caught him by the neck at the peak of the throw and choke-slammed him into the ground. The sickening crunch of alien metal reverberated through Vigilante’s head.

”Motherfucker!” All Vig could see was red. This… This animal had come into his town and was beating a goddamn kid half to death. He could barely register his movement, all he could hear was his breathing and the pounding in his ears, and The Spirit boiling to the surface of his mind. He could feel his legs starting to pop and boil with an unnatural heat, but he didn’t mind. He pulled a double barreled shotgun from one of the proches that lay unmolested and screamed, firing one, and again. He was right before Black Star now, and his gun was empty. The supervillain raised a hand to crush Vigilante’s skull. Vig brought the shotgun around for a swing,

And The Spirit of Vengeance finished it. Orange hellfire exploded from Vigilante’s skull as The Spirit cracked the shotgun over Black Star’s chest. The villain stepped back and grunted, then delivered a palm strike to The Spirit’s jaw. The Spirit stumbled backwards and snarled. Hellfire was already knitting the crack in the bone back together.

”A metahuman after all.” Black Star drew himself up to his full height, towering over The Spirit. ”But dead all the same.” Black Star lashed out and The Spirit and slammed it back, sending it crashing through the dust and cracking the surface of the dirt and stone below.

The Spirit’s head yanked up and stared Black Star down. ”Suffer!” Black fire billowed from its skull and roared across the sands into Black Star’s face. He sneered and swatted the fires away. He smiled.

”What!?” The Spirit cried. It could feel a niggling presence worming its way to surface of the swirling mass of souls that constituted its consciousness.

”My prowess is wasted on you.” Black Star snapped out a kick into The Spirits chest and smashed it clean through the siding of a house and through the antique living room couch.

”Hrrm…” The Spirit drew to its feet and stared out at Black Star, taking contemplative steps towards it, head held high. The presence fighting through The Spirit’s mind was stronger now, pushing aside more and more souls and climbing its way to the top. It was shouting, trying to force The Spirit’s attention. The Spirit ignored it and grabbed half of the couch it had crashed through and heaved it at Black Star.

The supervillain stopped in his tracks and absorbed the blow. The couch detonated into a cloud of splinters across his body. He started forward. ”To think that you are the only obstacle to my conquest. All this time plotting and planning, and I have the power dropped on my doorstep!”

The Spirit recoiled, feeling the presence emerge on the surface of its mind, blazing with fury. ”You can’t take him alone! Neither of us can!”

”Watch me.” The Spirit grabbed the lariat from its side and it snaked around the home’s television set. The Spirit jerked its arm and the set slammed into Black Star’s face, burying shards of glass in his skin. In a moment The Spirit was upon him, slashing him with burning blows of the lariat and driving fists of fire into his body. Black Star howled and swept The Spirits legs out from under it, and kicking it through the drywall and falling through the porcelain sink.

”He’ll kill us both! Let me help you!” The Spirit shook stars from its vision and grabbed what was left of the fixture, hauling itself to its feet. Black Star picked his way across the destroyed living room, heading for The Spirit. ”Do not believe you can control me, mortal.” The Spirit grabbed the cover of the toilet’s tank and charged Black Star, shattering it over his head. Black Star grabbed The Spirit and threw it into the air, obliterating the ceiling.

”No!” The presence called at the apex of the throw. The Spirit flopped onto the roofing, knocking off a score of shingles. ”We do this together.” The Spirit struggled to hold itself up. It shot a glance below, Black Star was preparing to leap up. ”Fine.”

Brilliant red fire surged through The Spirit, pouring out of every gap in bone and sinew. A plume of fire leapt twenty feet in the air. The Spirit fell onto its back while Black Star flew up through the gap in the roofing. ”Try this one on for size, pardner!” Vigilante’s voice leapt out of The Spirit as two boots in a cloak of fire slammed into Black Star’s chest.

The Spirit had already rolled off the roof and begun sprinting for Vig’s house before Black Star landed. It reached out with his mind, feeling for something he always knew was there, waiting for its chance. It reached out to him, its presence in his mind only seeming to amplify his power. A rumbling grew in the Saunders household as The Spirit drew closer.

The sound of shattering wood blew through the town in a sonic boom, and The Spirit looked into the sky to see Black Star coming down in a divebomb. Most of his costume had been burned away. His face was contorted in anger. The Spirit hopped backwards as Black Star hit the ground like a warhead. The Spirit staggered and locked eyes with Black Star. His chest was heaving. Wordlessly, he raised arms as big around as tree trunks to deliver a takedown.

A wicked bike exploded out of Greg Saunders’ garage in a sweeping arc, blowing Black Star’s legs out from under him. The motorcycle’s engine purred as it reached The Spirit, seeming to almost nuzzle into him. The motorcycle was warped from the one Greg Saunders had known. Bones and dark metal spiraled up and through its construction, like skeletal hands caressing the gas tank and accentuating the blazing skull at its front.

The Spirit sat on the bike and revved the engine. The sound reverberated through his very soul. He was home. Black Star pushed himself up, coughing out a mouthful of blood. Blood dribbled from his mouth as he stared at the bike and steeled himself for the coming blow.

”Now we’re cooking with gas!” The motorcycle surged forward and smacked into Black Star like a battering ram. The Spirit could hear the crunch of Black Star’s collarbone as he tried to hold the bike back, digging his heels into the sand. The engine howled and crushed Black Star into the dirt. The Spirit pulled the motorcycle into a wheelie and then smashed down with it as an improvised fulcrum. Black Star’s nose cracked like a gunshot, his muscles quavered, trying to push the cycle off him.

The Spirit gunned the engine and ground a tire track onto Black Star’s face. He stopped moving, spare the subtle rise and fall of his chest. The Spirit stood, pushing the bike aside and balling up handfuls of Black Star’s costume. The Spirit held Black Star high in the air, and then brought him down like a cudgel, back into the dirt.

The Spirit knelt next to him, drawing close. Flames licked his face, burning away what little was left of his mask. ”No one messes with my town.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

I petition that all long standing players should get immortalised for Season 2 by making it onto the banner.

#EndThisOppression
#IDemandEquality

@Sep

#VigilanteForBanner2018

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

Also, given that we're a week away from the game coming to a close, I decided that the Weekly Post Check would be frivolous at this point. Whoever's active now is in it for the long haul, or at least until Season 2 starts.

Yeah, that's it. That's what I'm telling myself to alleviate the fact that I forgot to do it.

@Master Bruce

It's okay. We love you anyway.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

Always been a big fan of Dick, myself.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

”The Ranchero of Miracle Mesa” - Glitter And Gold: Part Three

“The Cowboy must never shoot first, hit a smaller man, or take unfair advantage.”

-Anonymous

---

Warpath, Texas

---

The creature slammed into the hay bales like a torpedo sending up plumes of straw up and over the barn. It’d be a heckuva thing to explain that to Ms. Hart once she -- Vig straightened up and tightened his grip on his pistol, heading for the cart of hay. The wheels of the cart had exploded into splinters like a homemade hand grenade. He’d probably be pullin’ the shrapnel out of his neighbor’s paint jobs for weeks. Not to mention re-siding a coupla houses. Like he didn’t have enough chores already. Hopefully the alien feller would repay him for the happy landing by not trying to blow his got damn head off.

The thing didn’t much look like he expected. As the thing rolled out of the trailer and smacked into the ground with a metallic ‘thunk’, Vig sized it up, other hand already getting ready to draw his second weapon. It looked something like a man all wrapped up in some kinda blue carapace, like a big ol’ beetle had done swallowed him up. It was a weird mesh of hard angles and edges, but with smooth plates connecting it all. Definitely not of this world, but by Greg’s measure, not really pointy enough to be demonic, neither. Still didn’t mean it wasn’t hostile. Those thrusters it was using looked mighty big, enough to blow him clean apart if he wasn’t careful.

"Don't- don't freak out, I'm not gonna hurt ya."

@Superboy

Vig took a step back. Damn him if it didn’t sound human. He, er, it, sounded mighty young and mighty wounded. Like some teenager had gotten ‘imself into all kinds of trouble. It held its hands up and Vig could practically see it wince under the armor. It had to be hurtin’ mighty bad, and it didn’t seem like it was trying to kill him. Least not yet. Vig holstered his pistols and stared out at the thing from under the brim of his hat,

"Thanks for, uh, helpin' me out back there. My name's..."

@Superboy

This kid, uh, thing, had to be human… Right? There was something to the quality of its voice, something real. Fact of the matter, he didn’t sound much unlike the Bounty… Vig swallowed. Whoever or whatever this kid was, he seemed in a bad way. The front of his armor was scuffed and damned if Vig couldn’t hear he was draggin’ something awful. He didn’t sound much unlike Vig did when he finally clawed his way out of Hell, just ready for some damn sleep. But he seemed… Distracted by something on the Horizon.

In that moment, The Spirit of Vengeance exploded across his brain all at once. It was like a fire alarm blasting in his eardrum. It wasn’t quite like anything he’d ever felt from it before. It wasn’t panic and it wasn’t anger it was… It was confusion.

“Let me ouuuuuttt!” It hissed. It seemed to spread over and dig into Vig’s mind, trying to wrest control. Vig fought and snapped his head around. He ground his teeth and focused on what he was seeing, refusing to let The Spirit in. Whatever the hell the kid said next fell on deaf ears.

The man before him stood on the far edge of town. He felt in the depths of his soul that it was a man, no creature or devil. But it was… Tainted by something. Some swirling, black-and-silver-and-gold power permeated his form, flowing up and down his veins and into the depths of his very being. He was an eight foot slab of muscle, wrapped head to toe in a black fabric that covered everything but his lower face and his eyes. His skin seemed almost green in the moonlight, and his eyes were dark and unreadable, seeming to suck all the light around them in.

"I think you need to go. I dunno who this guy is, but he looks like trouble."

@Superboy

”I’m no stranger to danger, pardner. Just stay behind me, and get ready for… For something.” Vig could feel The Spirit pressing against the back of his eyeballs, like it was jockeying for a glance at the the man. The Spirit seemed to be struggling to quantify it. It was poisoned with an aura of death that sweltered about it, but at its core it was… It was a man. Just a man. Like any other. Vig took note that The Spirit was real quiet on the subject of the alien kid.

”We don’t take much kind to strangers who don’t introduce themselves ‘around here, pardner.” Vig pulled both of his guns and sighted up for center mass. The thing stood mighty close to the town’s walls, where Vig had left some leftover explosive from his time with Frank. If things went south, maybe he could tag a coupla those and end a fight before it starts.

”Vigilante. In a way, I simply must thank you. Without you, I never would’ve gotten this opportunity” Vig could tell from his lips that the man spoke soft, but he could feel the reverberating bass of the man’s words in his bones.

”They call me Black Star. The Surfer sends his regards. Goodbye.” The man moved faster than Vig could react. Vig’s first shot went wild and Black Star became a blur, dashing to a nearby house. He wrenched out one of the porch’s support beams, ignoring the shots that Vig was planting in him. He turned back to Vig and cracked a smile. He threw threw the beam like a javelin at what musta been a million miles an hour.

“MOVE!” Vig shouted, shoving the kid to one side and diving to the other, firing as he landed in the dust. “Git to cover! I’ll handle this!” Vig rolled on his belly as another beam sailed over his head. He’d already emptied one pistol, and the opponent didn’t seem to be slowing down at all.

“Let me fight it!” The Spirit hissed in his head. It was smashing against every mental barrier it could find, trying to worm its way to the surface and attack whatever force surrounded the man before them. Trying to keep it under was like wrestling a bucking bronco. Vig rolled to his feet and fanned the hammer of his weapon. Black Star laughed; now he was throwing head-sized chunks of ceiling and fence post like ballistic missiles. Vig swore and tossed aside his spent guns. He only had the one belt on him when he went to help the kid. Time to improvise.

Vig pulled his lariat from his side and whipped at the dirt and sand, stoking up clouds of dust. He swatted it away from his eyes and rolled, avoiding another round of ballistics. Hopefully the smokescreen would make them hard to hit for long enough for him to at least get the alien-feller to cover.

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

1) Light-years is a measurement of distance, not time.

2) Knowing obscure comic characters is my schtick.

_{What's that you all say? Me? Being petty and pedantic? Never.}

@Retired

I think on the lightyears thing, he means that things in space are so absurdly far apart that he needs to go FTL to reach them in any reasonable amount of time(EDIT: Reread the post and saw what you meant, whoops).@Omega Man, if this is the problem, maybe Archangel can instead open rifts with his powers that allow him to effectively warp-drive across the Universe?

CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

”The Ranchero of Miracle Mesa” - Glitter And Gold: Part Two

“The Cowboy must never shoot first, hit a smaller man, or take unfair advantage.”

-Anonymous

---

Warpath, Texas

---

Vigilante never gave much thought to his quiet moments, though he did get precious few of them. He sat on the roof of the local motel, swinging his legs and chewing through a baloney sandwich, watching the sun rise over the valley that lay before Warpath. His gun belt lay beside him, pistols freshly cleaned after that morning’s chores. It was these moments he relished. Calamity wasn’t hangin’ over no one’s head. Warpath wasn’t on the brink. He wished he had a player around to put in some of Pop’s old VHS tapes and curl up with a warm glass of milk like he did as a boy. Simple livin’. He might’ve settled for a sit in the rundown Movie Theater, rememberin’ what was, but most of that space was crammed with the petrified.

That was what most of the buildings were like, anyhow. Even a coupla’ the outhouses set around town. Only place he could find his peace from them was on the roofs, looking up at that sky and letting himself dream. He wondered what the team’d be up to. The Seven Soldiers hadn’t crossed his mind in a good long while… They’d left him with his hands full in Warpath.

Frankenstein was still on the lookout for some magical leads to give ‘em the edge; last communication Vig got said he was now on the hunt for a feller by the name of Doctor Occult. Sir Justin and Lee were still lookin’ for Justin’s gosh darn horse. Vig thought it was a fool's errand, lookin’ for a magic horse with wings n’ all, but if stranger hadn’t happened in Warpath already, then Vig was lyin’ like a no-legged dog. Accordin’ to Sylvester and Pat, they were havin’ a mighty kinda trouble wrasslin’ any help outta’ SHIELD. But then, those boys had a lot on their plate, yessir. Between that Silver feller n’ all manner of mutant and madman poppin’ up? No wonder they didn’t have nothing to spare. Sylvester said he’d try a few more ways, but then he was gonna set his sights on lookin’ for Captain America. That boy was plum convinced that the old timer was out there, somewhere. Maybe someone like that could set the madness in this world right. Lastly, Jonah Hex… Well, Vig tried not to think too hard about Jonah Hex. He’d set him n’ Billy Gunn sittin’ side by side in Gunn’s living room, turned toward the TV. Sometimes if he let his imagination get away from him, he could almost hear ‘em grumbling to each other like it was old times, before… Well, before all this. Before The Dummy. Before The Spirit.

The Spirit had contented itself to remain real quiet since The Bounty Hunters. There were times when Vig though to go lookin’ for it, and thought better of it. Maybe that fight did it, and that was all that thing had left in it. In his heart and in the back of his mind Vig knew it was still there, lurking. Whatever he could guess on it was near blank, just vague senses of emotion. Anger. Sadness. Guilt. It seemed absent from his dreams too, like it was trying to separate itself from the man who’d massacred those people. ”Those Bounty Hunters”, Vig corrected himself. He still wasn’t sure what to make of it. That was his first real fight since he’d been out of Hell, and he’d relished it… Even though that was supposed to be what he was getting away from. Instead he’d dug into it and hadn’t considered what those Hunters might’ve been. Who he might’ve killed. He tried to pretend it was just what was best for Warpath, but he knew those Hunters were coming for him and him alone. Maybe if he’d let them take him, those boys would still be alive.

Anyhow, best not to think on that. Least not now. Supposedly Frankenstein would be ready to rendezvous somewhere in afew days and discuss the situation down in Warpath. Til’ then, Vig just had to make sure that the town didn’t try to burn itself down again. Vig stood, wiping the sandwich crumbs off his garments. He hoisted his gunbelt and carried it over his shoulder. He took a long stretch, feeling for the subtle tension and pop in his shoulders. He rolled them, and took one long look up into the sky. Something told him this’d be his last rest for a long while.

Like it was responding to his thoughts, he was a burst of blue dancing over Warpath. It started as a tiny speck, winding through the air like it was giving itself emergency flying lessons. As it started to get bigger its flight leveled off a little, but it was losing altitude like a one-winged pigeon. Vig ran across the rooftops, gritting his teeth and flinging himself over the bigger gaps.

”Buildings ‘round here are too big to be doin’ that...” He grumbled. The thing was much lower now, and he resolved itself into the form of a man… Type thing. It was humanoid, that was for certain. Whatever it was, near as Vig could tell, but it had blue dangly bits comin’ off it all over the shop. Vig reached into his bag for a pair of binoculars and held them up to his eyes.

It wasn’t human, but it certainly wasn’t no demon or spirit neither. Plus, those things don’t exactly come from up top. It looked a bit like a man in a some kinda future armor, bit like what that Wonder Woman lady tooled around in, but.. Different... Definitely different. It had all kindsa blue spikes n’ spines n’ wing lookin’ things comin’ off it. He was holding to the air with jets in his hands and back, but he didn’t seem much like he was doin’ a great job of it. Poor feller looked like he was tryin’ his damndest just to stay aloft, say nothin’ about landing.

Well… Whatever it was, it didn’t really seem to know how to work its own contraption. Couldn’t be too darn big of a threat. Either way, it’d have to come down eventually, when it ran outta’ whatever kinda fuel it was on, or figured how to land the thing. Might as well start off on the right foot.

”Hey! Need some help there, feller?” Greg cupped his hangs around his mouth and shouted like his Pop taught him to. You could always hear Sheriff Mort from cross the clean other side of town. He bellowed deep from his lungs and his belly. Hopefully it’d be enough for the thing to hear him from that high up. He gestured with one hand. “There’s plentya hay over yonder! Land there!”

Greg hopped off the roof and landed in a roll. He dusted himself off and drew his pistol, setting off for the hay bales out front of Ms. Hart’s barn.