The Wild Wild West
The Night of Second Chance
By Lucky_Ladybug
Notes: The characters aren't mine and the story is! Several weeks ago I had such an awesomely fun dream depicting the strange scenario Jim and Arte happen upon in this story. I badly wanted to turn it into a fic. This was the first opening I've had to do so. It heavily involves characters from The Poisonous Posey (of course, heh) but takes place afterward. But does it take place in my established timeline? Hmm. . . .
Chapter One
"It's been a quiet week, hasn't it?"
Artemus Gordon started and looked to his friend and partner, James West. The man had been sitting by the window in their government-issue train The Wanderer, just thoughtfully and silently watching the old desert towns passing by them.
It really had been an unusually quiet week for the Secret Service agents—nothing too strange or off-the-wall in their casework. But Artemus frowned at the observation. "If you'll forgive me for saying so, James, that should be a good thing."
"I know." James West sounded far-away as the train began to slow. "Except when it's us, I kind of have to wonder when the other shoe is going to drop."
Artemus made a deeper face of displeasure, even as he had to admit to that logic. A normal week for them was in itself strange and off-the-wall.
"Surely you don't think anything is going to happen here," Artemus said. "A nice little town called Second Chance? We just need to wait while they make minor repairs on The Wanderer and we'll be on our way again in an hour."
"Makes sense." But the quiet agent clearly wasn't convinced. "Somehow, though, I have a weird feeling about this place."
"Well, let's hope it's just nerves." Artemus patted him on the shoulder. "While the train's being repaired, why don't we see what kind of nightlife a town called Second Chance has?"
James nodded. "I was going to suggest that myself."
"Good." Artemus strolled to the door as the train drew to a halt, ignoring the glaring fact that by going out into the town, they could become caught up in whatever strangeness might be afoot. If Artemus hadn't suggested it, James would have left on his own anyway. Even though they didn't want to become involved in anything bizarre, James would feel they had a duty to find and fix it if there was anything in town to find and fix.
They both stepped off the train and onto the edge of the town's Main Street. As they headed up the wooden sidewalk, various businesses came into view—the tannery, the butcher, the funeral parlor. . . . Maybe it was the October chill, but something about those establishments sent a coldness up Artemus's spine.
He tried to focus instead on the sounds of merriment up ahead. "That must be the saloon," he noted.
"It's probably the only game in town," James agreed.
The Second Chance Saloon soon came into view. Indeed, aside from the hotel and a restaurant across the street, it was the only place of business that seemed to be currently open for patronage. They had seen many little towns just like this, late at night.
"Well, so far, so good," Artemus said. "Shall we go in, Jim?"
"Let's do it, Arte," Jim agreed. He pushed open the swinging door and stepped inside, followed closely by Arte.
The interior was unlike most saloons they had previously seen. Expansive and brightly lit, it was more like a nightclub or a casino in a large city rather than a small town's watering hole. Arte turned around, studying the chandeliers overhead, the stage and singer to his right, and the tables spread out in front of said stage. Most were filled.
"This is a saloon?!" he said in disbelief.
"Somebody sure has money," Jim remarked.
A man in purple with a large cigar and a larger scar was standing nearby, observing their entrance. When he saw them, he smirked and greeted them without recognition. "Welcome to the Second Chance Saloon, boys. What's your pleasure?"
The sight of him sent both agents spiraling into utter shock and disbelief. Jim just stared, while Arte searched for his voice and finally found it. "S-Snakes Tolliver?!" He swallowed a huge lump in his throat, but it only came back.
Snakes quirked an eyebrow. "That's right, Pal. What of it?"
Jim finally summed up their shock. "You're dead."
Snakes snarked. "Oh, I am, am I?!"
Across the hall, a door opened and a woman in a white blouse with black vest and slacks stood in the doorway, frowning in impatience. "What's going on, Snakes?"
"I don't know," Snakes drawled, tapping his cigar over a trashcan. "These two guys came in and started talking crazy. They say I'm dead."
"Oh really." The woman turned to look at them with an amused smirk.
The Secret Service agents were only further in shock now. "Lucrece Posey?!" Arte yelped.
"Yes. Don't tell me I'm supposed to be dead too." Lucrece leaned on the doorframe with one hand.
"No," Jim said slowly, "but Snakes betrayed you and you killed him."
"If we might be so bold as to ask, what's going on here?!" Arte cried.
Lucrece looked completely unamused. "That's the same question I would like an answer to, gentlemen."
Arte slowly shook his head. "I think we need to go out for some fresh air."
Jim was in agreement.
Snakes just gave them a stony look. "Maybe you should."
They quickly retreated outside without stopping to question why they were being allowed to leave.
"Jim," Arte gasped, pointing at the door, "can you figure out what's going on?!"
"No, I can't," Jim returned. "We know Snakes was dead. I saw him murdered. But I can't decide what's more shocking, that he's now very much alive or that he's apparently working for Miss Posey again."
"And just what is this little operation here?" Arte exclaimed. "I can't believe it's on the level."
"Same here." Jim frowned. "But we're not likely to get any more answers from those two. Let's go see the Sheriff."
But seeing the Sheriff only brought further confusion. Relaxing behind the desk, his feet up on it, was another former Posey gang member—a formerly very dead cowboy.
"Little Pinto," Jim gawked.
The sadist of the group sat up straight, sweeping his feet to the floor. "So you've heard of me?"
"I killed you," Jim said in disbelief. "I made a makeshift spear and threw it at you."
Pinto stared at him. "You're crazy, friend."
"Okay, nevermind," Arte said as he came forward. "What's the deal with the Second Chance Saloon?!"
"Deal?" Pinto vaguely replied.
"How long has it been running, that sort of thing," Arte said.
"For several months, ever since Lucrece Posey bought it and moved in with her right-hand man Snakes Tolliver," Pinto shrugged.
"What?!" Jim cried.
"The whole gang was killed some months back, except for Snakes," Pinto said. "He was the only one loyal to Miss Posey."
"Aha, excuse me, good sir, but that tale is just completely backwards," Arte said. "Snakes was the first one killed and he was the only one disloyal to Miss Posey! But all the rest of the gang died as well. Including you, I might add."
Pinto suddenly drew his gun. "You're either the worst joker in the county or you're looking for trouble," he said, his voice dark. "Which is it?"
"Neither," Arte gulped. "We'll just take our leave of you now." He steered Jim to the door and outside.
Jim went willingly. "Arte, we have to find out what happened," he said. "Why are these people alive again and why are they remembering everything upsidedown and backwards?"
"I have a bad feeling the rest of the gang is alive again too, and they're probably scattered throughout the town," Arte sighed. "And I bet none of them will remember anything correctly!"
Jim frowned. "I wonder which one is our best bet to try talking with."
"I say Snakes," Arte said. "That coward should crack without too much difficulty."
"Alright," Jim nodded. "You try to get Snakes alone and intimidate him into talking. I'm going to look through the rest of this town."
Arte looked at him in concern. "Do you really want to do that, Jim?"
"No, but someone has to," Jim deadpanned.
"You are a brave man, Jim," Arte proclaimed.
They took their leave of each other and went in different directions. Arte sneaked back to the saloon and slipped in through a back door. When he heard familiar voices up the hall, he pressed himself against the wall to listen.
"Who were those people?" Lucrece sounded in very bad humor.
"I don't know, but they're obviously not playing with a full deck of cards," Snakes replied.
Arte peeked around the corner. Lucrece was sitting at her desk in her office, while Snakes was casually perched on the edge of said desk.
Lucrece leaned back, lacing her fingers. "Go find out what you can about them," she instructed. "I'm sure they're still in town."
"I'm on it." Snakes slid down and headed for the door.
Arte waited until Snakes drew near to his position in the hall before suddenly grabbing him from behind and clapping a hand over his mouth. "Alright, my friend," he said low. "Now you're going to tell me what this is all about, and you're going to do it now."
If he was expecting Snakes to melt in his arms out of quaking cowardice, it didn't work. Instead, the gambler shoved his still-burning cigar into the back of Arte's hand. Arte only barely restrained himself from crying out, but his grip was loosened enough that Snakes tore away from him and turned to face him.
"Just what is your problem?" Snakes demanded.
Arte clapped his other hand over his injured one. "All Jim and I want to know is how you're alive again, why Miss Posey trusts you, and why neither of you remember the past," he said through gritted teeth. "The amnesia has to be an act, but why?" He frowned. "Maybe you're not the real Snakes Tolliver."
Snakes snorted. "Then who am I?"
"An actor, another criminal, I don't know," Arte retorted. "Why don't you tell me?"
Snakes stepped closer to him and spoke under his breath. "I am the real Snakes Tolliver, Pal, and you're gonna regret crossing me."
"Oh? Do tell." Arte folded his arms. "Has it occurred to you that if Jim and I are right and you died, something very strange happened in order to bring you back to life? And the fact that you and Miss Posey don't remember the past suggests that you're pawns in someone else's sick little game. Aren't you the least bit curious as to who that could be?"
Snakes frowned. "What's to say you and West aren't just overworked and underpaid and you finally got fed-up with it? Maybe you're making up stories and trying to get old enemies to buy them."
"Aha!" Arte pointed at Snakes in decisive determination. "You said 'West'! But Jim and I never fully introduced ourselves. That proves you do remember something!"
Snakes went stiff. For the first time, actual fear went through his eyes. "I swear, I don't know why I said that," he rasped. "I don't know you, or him. I don't know what you do."
"You'll never convince me of that, Tolliver," Arte said. And yet his stomach began to knot. He couldn't deny that Snakes really did look scared. It could just be because he was afraid of Lucrece finding out he had lied, but on the other hand . . . what if it wasn't? What if he really didn't remember, at least consciously, and he couldn't understand why he had said what he had? It was strange and eerie to think about, but what if these villains were the victims in this mystery?
The light overhead suddenly caught Snakes' face. In addition to the hypertrophic S-shaped scar that had given him his nickname, an eerie, pale scar was trailing down his cheek. It hadn't even been visible before, but when he turned a certain way, it stood out.
Arte perked up. "How did you get that scar?" he demanded. "Not the big one, the other one."
Snakes' hand flew to his face. "I . . . I don't know. . . ."
"I bet if we ask Jim, he'll say that that's the exact spot where Miss Posey scratched you with her deadly poison," Arte said. "That scar is the proof we're telling the truth! You were dead, Snakes. And if you don't want it to happen again, you'll have to trust us."
Snakes panicked. "You're making it up! I've got no reason to believe that trusting you would help me! Maybe everything you're telling me is backwards. For all I know, you're the one who killed me! Or the one who brought me back and made us forget things! No, I'm not trusting you! Guards! Guards!"
Arte winced. "Oh no. . . ."
In a moment, security guards came running from both ends of the hall, along with Lucrece. They started to surround the hapless Secret Service agent.
Arte was ready for them. "Think fast, gentlemen." He threw a colored smoke bomb to the floor. As pink smoke filled the hall and everyone present began to cough, he turned and fled out the back door.