I

The problem with living in a small town was that everyone always knew what was happening.

"Ah heard was one of them Savage boys."

"Come on now! Just 'cause he comes from a rough family-"

"His whole family's wild! Even their name's a bad sign. Just what kinda name is Savage, anyway? The kind that belongs to a bunch a savages, that's the kind!"

Raleigh had grown up listening to people talking shit about his family. Hearing things like these were normal occurrences for him. In a small town where poverty reigned supreme and only a lucky few kept their heads above water, the Savage family was despised.

Years of smart investing and strict book keeping had ensured the family's financial stability. They weren't the rogues that the town wished them to be. If anything, they were an honest bunch that always worked hard to keep themselves in their current economic position. They'd never done anything illegal to acquire their riches.

But everyone always needed someone to blame- a reason to hate. And the Savage Family had been dealt that card early on, before any of the currently living members had even been born.

"Listen, I know you're angry. Carson's death was a tragedy. But you know that there was a group of roughbacks traveling across the county on the same day he died. It coulda been any of those folks."

Morrigan was a small town on the eastern outskirts of Wyoming. At one point, there'd been a land dispute between the state and Nebraska, seeing how Morrigan had found itself on the very center of the boundary lines of both states a good hundred years ago. In its hay day, the little town happened to be one of the biggest and most important towns in the West, all because of the savvy business men that had exploited all of its natural resources in the smartest ways possible.

Like most other Western towns born from gold mining, Morrigan had fallen into decay in the last century. From thousands in the census passed during its peak, the little town now had a few hundred people living within.

Unfortunately, the smaller a town was, the more the inhabitants knew one another.

"Yuh say what you want to say. But there ain't no doubt in my mind that the Savage family is full o' nothing but rattlers, varmints, and yella bellied cowards. Their daddy's bad blood, their momma's bad blood, and even their grandpappies were twisted. Them kids got that bad blood runnin' through they veins!"

The Saloon was a favorite meeting spot for the older males of the town. It had been open from before even their grandparents had been born, one of the few buildings from the town's founding that still stood.

There wasn't anything marvelous about the establishment. It was wooden, just like every other building in the town. It was two stories, which had been the norm in the past for this kind of establishment. Before, the rooms on the second floor had been used for unsavory business deals. Now they were used to throw drunken and disorderly customers without having to call for the sheriff or his men.

There was an awning above the front door, offering shade and shelter in the scorching mid-noon sun. Above it was a metallic sign, rusted with age, which spelled out the word SALOON. And towards its left side there was a garage that had been constructed during the boom of gambling in the earlier decades of the twentieth century, where one could see worn and withered tables of all kinds through the windows.

"It could not have been all of the Savage boys, Earl."

The men that were currently speaking stood beneath the sign, beers in their hands. One wore a suit and had just recently arrived from Cheyenne, where he worked on the weekdays as a lawyer. The other was dressed in dirtied jeans, a soiled shirt that was browner than white, and had decided to head for a drink before he went to work.

Earl, with his beer in hand and a frown on his chapped lips, continued his tirade against the Savage family.

"Then why don't we look at the young'un o' the clan? That Raleigh is more twis-"

Well, he would have continued his tirade if he had been able to. But he was cut off forcefully by a large fist slamming straight into his mouth, busting his lips open.

Raleigh watched with wide eyes as his brother stalked away from the man he had laid out in front of the Saloon, much too surprised by the sudden viciousness he had displayed to properly react. They had been on the other side of the street, leaving the pharmacy where they had been grabbing Sir's medicine, when they'd begun to listen to the conversation.

Raleigh had grown accustomed to hearing whispers about him around the town.

It seemed that Jeb had not.

"Let's go, Rae. Yuh ain't gotta listen ta this."

For a moment, the teen wanted to tell his older brother that he did have to listen to this. He needed to hear himself being prosecuted by his fellow men for the crime he had committed; the crime he had hidden.

But Pa would kill him if he found out what had happened. And Ma would give him a good licking with the whip before he did… He didn't even want to know what Sir might do to him if he found out.

"Raleigh!"

Jeb was a good way's away from him. Hell, he'd somehow managed to stride the good ten feet from the Saloon towards their truck in what had felt like milliseconds.

How he had moved so fast in so little time was beyond the young teenager. But Raleigh didn't stop to question it. Instead he tried to rush after him, tripping over his much too large shoes in his confusion.

He couldn't tell his family the truth. They would kill him.


VI

Everyone had secrets they wanted to remain hidden. All superheroes wished for their secret identities to remain unknown. Some, though, had more than a few reasons as to why they wished their true identities to remain hidden. A few, even, had more than one secret identity and were complete mysteries shrouded by enigmas and deceit.

Vigilante was not the first hero one thought of when it dealt with closely guarded secrets. Everyone that knew him believed him to be one of the most straightforward people around. He was a man that enjoyed the simple things in life and could take just about anything in stride. Barely anything truly bothered him. And he loved to love. What more was there to find in a man like that?

Batman would be the kind of person that people would think about when it came to heroes shrouded in mystery. Vigilante was the exact opposite.

They would be wrong to think this. Even though Batman was a mystery, he was much more honest than what Vigilante could ever hope to be. The man that wore the cowboy clothes and spoke with the heavy western accent wasn't truly the person the members of the Justice League thought they knew.

And that was just the way he wanted to keep it. Because he couldn't risk having anyone finding out the truth about whom he was. If they did, he would not be able to live like a normal person ever again. He would lose all of the friends and bonds he had created. And he'd experienced enough loss in his life to be sure that he didn't want to lose anymore.

He was not a man that was proud of his past. There was a reason why he spoke about a made up childhood in which he had lost his little brother to leukemia and his father to bank robbers instead of the true life he had been forced into. And he refused to ever admit to the truth of who he was. He couldn't bring himself to. He had left that life behind and he'd never tell anyone about whom he had once been.

None of his friends knew about his true past. None of his loved ones were even suspicious as to the person he truly was. The only people that really knew who he truly was were the very people that kept him needing to lie.

"Hey, Clint Eastwood, what's up with the Batman mood?"

Vixen... He couldn't truly understand why that woman was so invested in him. Nor why she felt she needed to divide her time between him and that Green Lantern jerk. She loved him like no other and needed to spend time rebuilding the relationship that dumbass had fractured. There was no need for her to try and keep him as a friend.

"Just thinkin' 'bout the newest case Ah'm workin' on back home." He answered with a heavy sigh then shook his head regretfully. "Girls are missin', Mari. No older 'an fifteen."

The woman's dark eyes immediately narrowed upon hearing the grim news and she quickly sat down in front of him.

At these ungodly hours of the morning, barely a soul could be found lurking around unless they were scheduled to work or leave their stations. A few of the less sunny members of the League were known to come out at this time as well for early exercise or breakfast, or, like Crimson Avenger or the Question, to look over all kinds of information in bouts of paranoia against their fellow heroes. But Vigilante and Vixen weren't usually a part of this crowd.

Well, actually, Vixen wasn't a usual part of this crowd, Vigilante barely ever saw her here. He would know this because, unlike her, he was a usual member of the crowd. Only a few were aware of this fact, but didn't really speak to any of his friends, so none of his friends thought him to be the regular he was.

He was thought to be a heavy sleeper that couldn't be woken up by conventional means. And because of this, not many expected him to be awake at this hour. But he was always awake at this hour. One couldn't really get much sleep if the screams of the damned insisted on keeping them awake, now could they?

"What's up? What are you thinking is happening down South?"

No matter how many times he wound up doing this, it never got any easier. The heaviness that suddenly struck his tongue never got any lighter as he told his lies. And the tightening in his throat never loosened up until he was far away from the person he wound up lying to.

This was no real way to live. But this was the only way he knew. And it was the only way he could afford.

Somber green eyes scanned over the mostly barren cafeteria, making sure that there were no prying eyes near them. All they found was the usual deserted, metallic tables and much too pristine chrome floors. There was no one else around at this hour except for the both of them.

There was no reason for him to check his surroundings. At this hour, there was no soul to listen in. And this case, much like every other one he worked on publicly, was no great spectacle. It may sound awfully detached of him to say that this was yet another case that held no true importance, but it was the truth. There were no lurking supervillains trying to take over the world with the disappearance of these girls. There was no evidence that could incriminate someone of high standing in the world. It was yet another case of disappeared girls that would undoubtedly be forgotten in a couple of months once the perpetrators weren't found.

"Pedophile. Have reasons ta think he dresses 'em up as dolls 'fore he rapes and murders 'em." His voice took on a tense, nearing clipped, tone. Vixen would think it was because he wanted to catch the bastard responsible for the disappearances. And, even though it wasn't the truth, it was good to have her believe that. "Although all we've found on the bodies is just signs of sexual trauma an' lacerations from bein' held captive."

The woman's perfectly plucked left eyebrow raised in questioning, then she asked, "Why do you think he dresses them up? And how are you so sure it's one guy? This could be a team of people: a duo, a family, maybe even two drunken guys that overpower little girls."

This woman was always so eager to help him… She always wanted to keep him happy… Keep her little canary crooning.

Greg couldn't blame her for having found something within him that was interesting. And he sure as hell couldn't fault her for having found something. Hell, it seemed to be a regular occurrence with just about everyone he met. All people he met eventually found something they liked or found interesting about him. This made them continue coming back to him.

Most of the times it was good people to find something about him they wanted to keep around them. Bad people also found something that intrigued them. But the most abundant people that wanted to keep him near were those he considered to be genuinely nice people.

What it was that these good souls found, Greg would never understand. He was rotten, damaged, and despicable. How anyone could possibly see any good in a person as detestable as him was truly beyond his comprehension. But he allowed it. Even though it hurt to constantly have to lie, it was a constant in his life that brought him a twisted sort of comfort.

Lying had been an integral part of his life for as long as he dared remember. He'd lied for so long that telling the truth was near impossible for him.

Many thought that one would always get caught in their lies. There would always be some kind of inconsistency born from forgetfulness. When something happened, it was hard to forget. When one lied, they were creating something out of literally nothing. There was no substance for the mind to hold onto when it came to lies.

Well… When it came to most minds. Greg's had been forced to adapt in a harsh world rather quickly. He had been caught in his lies dozens of times in his youth. But after one specific beating given to him for his incompetence when it came to keeping track of his forged adventures, Greg had learned his goddamn lesson. And he'd never forgotten a single lie he had ever told.

It was easier for him to forget the true nature of the events occurred than to forget the lies shaped from them. Easier… it didn't happen often. He didn't forget. But, on the off chance he did¸ it was usually something that had actually happened rather than a lie he had told.

"Ah suppose so, Vixen…" He murmured softly, but shook his head and lifted his gloved hands to rub at his tired eyes.

He wasn't sure how long he had gone without sleep. But he knew it had been more than twenty hours and he was nearing his limit.

"Oh, Slinger…"

The man forced his body to not react when the woman's hand suddenly made contact with his shoulder. He had known her for long enough to know that it would be coming, that she'd touch him to try and comfort him, so he had been prepared to stop himself from flinching away.

Normally, he didn't have to actively stop his body from reacting to unwanted touches. With enough sleep, it could keep a mighty fine control of itself. But with his lack of sleep, coupled with the stress that had been eating at his mind for the past twenty hours and the countless coffees he had already drank, it was a bit more jittery than he would like.

Once he solved the mess created, he'd be able to sleep somewhat comfortably. After he'd dealt with the huge mistake committed, he'd get the rest he needed to keep his body under control without having to strain his mind.

But until then, he'd need to cope.

"You need to get some sleep. And maybe some food in you too. Is that shirt fitting a tiny bit looser today? Cause I swear it is."

A small, sad smile grazed the man's dried lips for a few seconds. But it soon fizzled back into a tight line; all the while the green eyed male shook his head. Luckily for him, the bandanna wrapped around the lower half of his face kept his companion from seeing how quickly his mood changed. Kept her from seeing how badly he could keep up the happy act at the moment.

"Ah'm mighty grateful fer all the worry, ma'am, but Ah have lost no weight." He chanced a small wink at her after this, "But Ah'll take that as a compliment."

The woman pursed her lips in amusement, shook her own head, and placed a hand on Vigilante's shoulder.

"You always were a hoot, Vig."

Always. It was quite the heavy word in his mind. But people used it so loosely. Like Vixen right now. 'Always a hoot'. One would think they'd known each other for years now, had forged an unbelievable friendship through trials and tribulations.

Always a liar.

They'd only known one another a year now. Ever since the Justice League had opened its doors to the rest of the heroes of the world, actually.

How they had met had been rather interesting. But Greg didn't want to think about that right now.

It wasn't right to think of something so positive when he had to deal with much more pressing and life threatening issues. He was worried he'd soil the memory if he remembered it in this mood. That it would somehow take on the bitterness of his current emotions.

Taking a moment to inhale, Vigilante turned to look at her, eyebrows softened so he looked apologetic, "Listen, Vixen, Ah should mosey on out… This case ain't gonna work itself an' Ah need ta get mah sorry ass in motion 'fore it stays attached to this 'ere chair."

Radiant dark skin pulled apart gently as a bright smile appeared from behind scarlet lips.

Vixen was beautiful.

That Green Lantern bastard didn't deserve her.

But Vigilante kept his mouth shut. Because if there was anyone that deserved such beauty in his life even less than that Lantern prick, it was him.

"Alright then, Rawhide. I'll see you later."

The cowboy pushed his chair away from the table where he sat, tipped his hat in the direction of the woman, and stood up. After he'd given his silent goodbye, the man slid his hands into his pockets and began to whistle a jaunty little tune as he took one step after another, each one taking him farther away from the ebony beauty.

As he walked, the words to the song he whistled sailed across his mind.

'Cause I ain't no good for you, baby. I'm that snake in your boot, the devil in your ear; hell, I just drive everyone crazy… Darlin' o' mine, I'm just always a liar…'

~..~..~

Y'all seriously ain't got no idea how happy I am to be posting this. It's been so long since I last was able to do this!

This'll be a short lil' story- a full five chapters. But, seeing how there're two different parts for each chapter, it's like ten chapters.

Please remember to review and tell me what y'all think!