The Hunters
Prolouge
Jonah Hex was born as if his last name was a sign of his life to come. His parents left him to die where he was found and raised by Apache indians. He grew to be one of the tribe and even wanted the chiefs daughters hand in marriage. Unfortunately so did another Indian boy. Tradition stated the two would fight each other with nothing but a tomahawk for her hand, but Hex's opponent cheated and gave Hex a faulty weapon. Hex responded in kind beating his enemy in unofficial ways which led the tribe to brand Hex's face with the mark of the demon, horribly disfiguring him. He was exiled and later joined the Confederacy during the American Civil War. He later became a bounty hunter vowing to help those who couldn't help themselves and to stay a man of honor. He became the best shooter in the world and went up against the worst of the worst. Having been to both the future and the past, Hex always believed he'd seen everything. Then he woke up in modern Gotham city surrounded by the heroes Vigilante, Question, Red Hood, and the Green Arrow .
"Fuck me, why d'ah always get fucked o'er while ah'm gettin' drunk".
The Green Arrow immediately drew his quiver and pointed it at the others who responded in kind.
"Where am i, why are we all here?" asked Arrow.
"I'm wondering the same thing" said the Red Hood.
"Not even the common courtesy to leave me my motorcycle" muttered Vigilante as he got on his feet. The Question stood silent as if diagnosing the scene.
"Better question is when the fuck am ah?" yelled Hex.
"Damnit Hex, you've been to the future before, it's 2143" said Red Hood.
"Don't mean ah enjoy it" responded Hex. "Was this that dumbass Booster Gold's fault again?"
"Once we figure out what's going on we'll be happy to include ya" said Vigilante.
As if on queue a green mist began spewing out of a sewage drain.
"Wonderful" muttered the Question. Red Hood drew his handguns and pointed them at the mist.
"I dont recomend that" said the Question. "The Spectre doesn't usually enjoy being threatened". The mist began to form a man shape and grew to around double the size of the groups height.
"What does he want?" asked Arrow to the Question.
"Good question"
The Spectre's shape completed itself and a voice echoed out.
"You five have been chosen. The forces of evil are on the move and a storm is brewing. It must be stopped"
"That's all fine N' dandy, but why did'ya haf'ta summon me while ah was at the bar?" said Hex.
"You dare question the work of the SPECTRE" yelled the Spectre.
"Ah was just askin, damn green spirit fuck" Before Hex could say anything else Arrow chimed in.
"What do you want from us?"
"You five aren't afraid to do what's right, to kill the forces of evil that cannot be contained in your mortal prisons. You five shall destroy the ones proclaiming to be Forever Evil and all of their acolytes" said the Spectre.
"Finally, we get to have some fun" said the Red Hood.
Part 1: Jonah Hex
Chapter 1
The man was a bad omen. In his life it seemed like everything around him either died left. Tonight though, Jonah was going to decide on their fate. The Spectre had left him and his new "team" a list of villains and criminals that needed cleansing as he put it. As history's greatest bounty hunter Hex was all too familiar with what needed to be done. He had already taken down several low level listers, and was now on the hunt for a man who called himself Black Mask. A longtime Batman rival and leader of the murderous Black Mask gang. The hunt for Mask left Hex in a town that seemed like it couldn't get enough of him, Gotham City. Hex started the search the same way he always did, at the bar. He purposely picked one in the Mask's stomping grounds and took a seat at the bar hoping to hear some local gossip on the gangsters location or one of his upcoming plans. After several hours and easily his twenty-fifth beer Hex was beginning to think the night was a bust, until an interesting character walked in wearing a ski mask with a skull painted on the front. Hex quietly turned away from the bar to keep his easily distinguishable face invisible to the gang member. Hex drew back the hammer on his model 1861 Colt Navy revolver that he always carried, always prepared for a fight. He kept his ears opened and after several minutes the gangster spoke up.
"Listen up ya fuckers, the boss man wants his money now. This bars payment is overdue and im giving you all exactly 5 minutes to pay up before the whole place goes up, in smoke" said the gangster.
Hex slowly began to stand up and speak.
"Seems like ah found the right person to talk ta" said Hex addressing the lackey.
"And who might you be, didnt you hear the civil war convention left town. I suggest taking their advice and steppin out before I have to kill you".
"Ah reckon ya ain't" said Hex.
"Whats that supposed to mean scarface" insulted the masker.
"Ah said that ya was a yellow sumbitch. Now if yer fixin to leave this place alive ah reckon ya should tell me where yer boss is before ah have to beat it out ah ya" responded Hex. The gangster immediately opened up a volley of bullets at Hex who dove behind the bar and drew his trusty six-gun.
"Last chance 'fore i put a hole in ya" yelled Hex from behind the bar. Another volley erupted and in one swift move Hex stood up and pulled the trigger putting a 44 caliber hole in the gangsters leg. He fell to the floor and Hex slowly walked over and kicked his rifke across the room.
"Ya wanna tell me where ah can find yer boss now?"
Hex was leaning against a street lamp next to his horse smoking a hand rolled cigarette as the Black Masks car convoy came into Hex's view. The lackeys information held true. Hex had left him for the local law to pick up with a note written on his chest labeled "trash". Now Hex was only minutes away from checking another name off his list. The building the cars pulled into was big. An old and abandoned hotel made the perfect location for Black Mask
to be staying. It had 18 guards stationed outside and a number unkown to the old cowboy inside. As much as Hex prefered the loud and proud tactic, he knew that if he did Mask would make his escape while Hex dealt with the sheer number of lackeys. Stealth it was. As all good bounty hunters did Hex followed suit, adaptation was necessary in his business even if it included using modern weapons like Hex's silenced Colt .45 handgun. He prefered the classicality of the weapon, and its sheer caliber. Hex decided the best approach was through the back of the building, although it was more heavily guarded it had one distinct flaw, dumpsters. Too most it wouldn't offer more than a putrid smell and a weekly hassle, but to Hex it was cover and concealment. Two things necessary for a gunfight, especially one involving stealth. Crouching behind a dumpster Hex took aim and dropped the two guards closest to him in a single shot through their heads. He quickly advanced to another vantage point and continued killing henchman as he made his way to the backdoor which was being held by a rather large man in a skull mask. Not confident his bullets could take down the man who seemed to be on every steroide ever conceived, Hex moved in for one thing he knew all too well, a good fist fight. He took the man by surprise planting a strong right hook into his jaw and knocking him backwards, then presented a flurry of punches to his face and upper body. The guard was stunned but quickly assessed the threat and made a move. Hex was hit dead in the chest by a strong kick sending him backwards several paces, but only heating up the battle. Hex adopted a stance he had much practice with while fighting gators in the swamps of his youth, and waited for the burly man to attack. He charged Hex only to be meet by the unmovable object and a sharp pain erupting through his nervous system. Hex's aim was true as it always was, his bowie knife had connected with the man's nerve cluster that not even steroids could fight. He went down in an instant dead and Hex began to recompose himself and double check his revolvers for proper loading and readiness. Then in one swift motion he kicked down the door. Hex swiftly moved inside with his guns drawn and eliminated a man standing in the room eating a sandwich. With no time to waste Hex began making his way through the building looking for his target. They were sloppy. Most of the enemies he engaged were either unaware of his presence until it was too late, or too pathetic to even stand a chance to the cowboy. After several long minutes Hex had made it to the top floor, the hotels old penthouse suite. 'This had to be it' he thought to himself as he knocked on the door.
"Who is it?" came a voice from inside.
"Room service" responded Hex.
The door opened a crack and an eye popped out and addressed Hex.
"You think this is a game, the boss ain't one for jo- HEY WAIT YOU'RE NOT…." before the good could say another word Hex's boot came slamming through the door. The guard was taken aback and could only let out a grunt as he was put down by a bullet to the chest.
"Ah want the Black Mask" said Hex to the 15-some men in the room.
A slow clap rang out in the tension ridden, silent room.
"I have to admit i'm quite impressed. It's not very often that a non-bat can make it to me that fast and that ferociously" said the Mask wearing crime lord.
"Ah reckon so" said Hex solemnly while he sized up his various opponents in the room.
"What brings you to my humble abode?" asked Black Mask.
"A contract" said Hex. "Ya've seen to have struck someones chords up in the spirit world"
"Interesting, does this contracter have a name?" asked Black Mask.
"He does, The Spectre or some shit. All ah care about is completin' mah end of the bargain" said Hex.
"So it seems, I heard about your team of ragtag associates running amuck around the world. I had unfinished dealings with The Rainbow Rider before your green friend put an arrow in his chest" said Black Mask. "Well to be fair he did scare me a bit and that's saying something considering my facial predicament" he chuckled.
"We can do this the easy way or the hard way" responded Hex.
"Where's the fun in the easy way. Guards, please deal with our friend" said Black Mask. In unison the assorted lackeys began charging Hex who took down as many as he could before his revolvers ran dry. Five remained standing and Hex made his move, he drew his tomahawk and cut down the closest man while simultaneously dodging a strike from a knife wielding second man. Hex deflected a second knife strike and moved in close to deliver a brain rattling headbutt bringing his assailant staggering backwards. Another man charged Hex who went down low avoiding the punch and bringing his war axe into the man's leg leaving him vulnerable for an upper slash to the face. The last attacker realized he stood no chance and made a mad dash for the foor. Before he could make it a shot rang out and he was on the floor. Smoke filled from Black Mask's handgun which he set on the table to his left.
"So uncivilized. I always prefered a more hands on approach. Do you enjoy torture Mr. Hex?" asked Black Mask. "I myself am quite fond of it. You can learn a lot from cable television, but for a man out of time with today's methods let me indulge you. A simple clothes iron can make a wonderful brand, or a simple coat hanger can do tremendous things to a weak hearted man. But we both know you sir are not weak hearted, not after what you've been through. I've done my research on the old west and was quite found of the technique the Apache used to spoil that beautiful face of yours. I wonder what it would feel like if one were to experience that again".
"Ah reckon it'd be quite painful" said Hex.
"Indeed it would be so sir. Care to indulge me?" asked Black Mask.
"Not today. Ah have a job to do" said Hex.
"And how's that going for you?" asked the Mask.
"Ah reckon very well. See while ya were yappin away ah got my breath back, and one thing the Apache also taught me was tomahawk tossin'" said Hex.
"But you don't want to kill me" said the Black Mask attempting to use the brainwashing powers his mask had.
"Ah think ah do. Ah also did my research on ya n' ah know all about that fancy demon shit ya got in that mask. Ah also know how to turn it off cuz it's givin' me quite the headache" Hex threw his tomahawk directly at Black Masks face. It connected precisely in the frontal cortex, where the powers originated from. Black Mask was now nothing more than a well dressed halloween costume.
"NO!" yelled Mask "you sir will pay for that" Mask charged Hex with his fists drawn but was no match for the westerner. Hex blocked his attack and delivered a sharp upward fist into the base of Black Mask's jaw.
"No so tuff' now mister" said Hex as he loaded his revolver back up with his cap and ball ammunition. The Black Mask said nothing as he crumpled on the floor. "I hear ya don't feel pain, reckon ya wouldn't either way. Ah'm known for my accuracy after all" Hex stood silent as he held his weapon up and squeezed the trigger. The hammer rang out and a lead ball traveled into the Blask Mask's left eye socket, ending his reign of terror on Gotham forever.