VIGILANTE
Jacob "Jake" Leong
[ ◈ ] A L I A S E S
Vigilante, or "Vig" if you're a friend
[ ◈ ] A G E
32
[ ◈ ] B I R T H P L A C E
Warpath, New Mexico
[ ◈ ] A L L E G I A N C E
Justice League
[ ◈ ] P O S I T I O N
Counterespionage/ the law in these here parts
[ ◈ ] A P P E A R A N C E
You really want to know what I look like? This bandanna stays on, partner. I've got too many enemies to be taking it off anytime soon. Just know I'm a thirtysomething moderately good-lookin' East Asian man of average height and athletic build. But you knew that already, didn't you. When I'm on the clock, which is always, I wear brown boots, white trousers, blue shirt, white hat, red bandanna to protect my face. And of course my gun belts. I might as well be naked without 'em.
[ ◈ ] A B I L I T I E S // S K I L L S // E Q U I P M E N T
I ain't got none of those fancy superpowers or equipment. Just two .45 wheelguns and the ability to shoot a flea off a dog's back. Oh yeah, I guess I'm better in a fistfight than your average man, just using the basics of boxing and rasslin'. And now that I think about it I'm something of an expert with your standard everyday lariat, and your standard everyday motorcycle, and at tracking, and just maybe I speak English, Spanish, and Mandarin fluently. Hell, I even play the gee-tar a little if you're so consarned interested in everything I do.
[ ◈ ] L I M I T A T I O N S // W E A K N E S S E S
Limitations and weaknesses? Well, I don't care much for gettin' shot. Or stabbed, or beaten, or poisoned, or drowned. I'm a regular cowpoke, anything that can kill you can kill me.
[ ◈ ] B I O G R A P H Y
My history really starts off with my great-grandfather Jimmy Leong back in 1941. Just another teenage kid in Gotham City's Chinatown. That is, until he helped the man the call the Vigilante end a major gang war between the Tongs. Vigilante was one of the very first of the masked men, fella by the name of Greg Sanders. A country singer, of all the damn things, but before that a genuine Wyoming lawman. When his career took off and he came to the big city he brought that same sense of justice, and took on my great-grandpa as a sidekick. Jimmy ended up with the rather unfortunate superhero name “Stuff the Chinatown Kid”, but stayed loyal to Greg.
When World War Two came to America, Vigilante and, ugh, Stuff ended up on a team with a few others. The Seven Soldiers of Victory. Of course, there were actually nine of them. They didn't count the two Chinese members, my great-grandpa being one of them. Figures, don't it. They did a lot of work at home and abroad during WWII, a lot of it still classified- much as I'd love to tell you details I honestly don't know most of them. At the end of it all, Greg and Grandpa Jimmy returned home. They fought a few racketeers here and there but for the most part the war had quenched their thirst for adventure. They retired to a ranch out in Warpath, New Mexico, right directly on the border. Greg recorded a few albums, opened a small chain of steakhouses, lived quietly. Great-grandpa went out to college in Coast City, got himself a degree, a good job at Ferris Aircraft, a wife, a family. Then Greg Sanders died in 2005, or maybe just disappeared. Didn't have any kids of his own, so his will stipulated the ranch and his not-inconsiderable fortune passed into the hands of the Leong family. I was born on that ranch in 2020, grew up working on it. I spent most of my days roping cattle, riding motorcycles, or shootin' varmints, got pretty good at all three. My mother and my father had big hopes for me, sent me out to law school at Ivy University. The Leong name was big in Warpath and the town was growing quickly. My mother was elected mayor in 2046. I remember being so damned proud.
Then came E-Day. I was back home on the ranch studying for the bar, it would be my second attempt. Can't pretend was a good student. I remember hearing a lot of fuss about the Legion of Doom. Wish I had paid more mind. I remember hearing the explosions, looking out the window and seeing the smoke rising above the desert. My dad had left to go bring my mother lunch at City Hall, a few miles down the road. The whole building got blown up and them with it. No one is really sure who did it- maybe a Sinestro Corps guy flying overhead en route to someone else, maybe one of the cartels working for the Legion, maybe one of the local supervillains like El Papagayo. I wish I knew. Then all the news coming in, the fighting all over the world. By nightfall that day, I knew Mom and Dad were gone, a lot of countries had fallen, the League and the military were tied up. I can't say I felt rage, or anger, or whatever. Just that I had to do something to help. Maybe that was great-grandpa Jimmy looking down on me and prodding me on, his blood running through my veins. Hell, maybe Greg was too.
I didn't even pack a bag. We had kept Greg Sanders' original hat and bandanna, they were prized family heirlooms. I grabbed those out of the living room- I felt confident that if Greg Sanders were here now he would fully approve. I grabbed my gunbelts, my rope, got on my motorcycle and didn't stop driving until I reached the nearest city I knew to have a Justice League member operating there. Phoenix, Arizona. The streets were a warzone- I had to fight my way through gunmen, robots, ninjas, zombies, God only knows what else before I finally found that one dang overworked superhero. I didn't know what else to say so I kept it simple. “I'm Vigilante. I'm here to help.”
It's not like the League was in a position to refuse. My swearing-in ceremony was under fire, in a looted Mexican restaurant with broken windows and smoke damage. None of that fancy stuff, just had to get to work. I told you I wasn't never much for school- I had to learn how to be a superhero the hard way. I helped clear Phoenix, then helped them track Solomon Grundy down in the desert- that fight ended in a draw- then headed out to Star City for the big push to liberate the besieged portions of the city. Then just like that the cease-fire came and nobody was quite sure what to do next.
Warpath isn't a big enough town yet for a Hall of Justice or a full garrison, but the League still needs someone there. I was familiar with the area so I was the natural choice. Mexico, a scant hundred yards from downtown, isn't looking too steady these days. The town has grown exponentially with the steady flow of refugees from Central and South America, as well as those looking to profit from the situation. Smugglers of people and drugs are rife there. Not to mention the spies for the Legion, trying to find a few scraps of info to sell off to one of the big names. I don't look kindly on any Legion infiltration in my town.
I've got a few other low-ranking League members under me, good men and women, cowpoke types like myself. Round here they call us the Rough Bunch. Our job is simple, report to the Watchtower on the situation in Mexico and keep order. If this here Cold War goes hot we're the very first line of defense. We don't expect to last long in that case but we're damn sure we're going to take some Legionnaires along to Hell for the company.
[ ◈ ] N O T E S
Damn, all that and you still got questions? Well, I'm bisexual and single, try that on for size.
