Legend Killer

Virginia City, Montana Territory 1875

Virginia City, the current capital of the Montana territory, was already in the initial stages of decline as the gold played out and the more transient part of the population started to move on. The capital itself was moving to Helena soon, mostly due to the incredibly large gold deposits found there. Barely ten years old, Helena had more millionaires per capita than any other city on earth. But there were still plenty of people in Virginia City, making the narrow streets crowded and difficult to get around.

Smog billowing from the smelters hung in a haze above the town, obscuring the surrounding mountain tops. The acrid smell pervaded throughout home and business, competing with the smell of unwashed bodies, horses, and muck. The growl of the massive grinders, crushing the ore to powder throbbed day and night. In his office in the courthouse, after Judge Hunter introduced Seth to John Cena, he motioned for John to sit and asked Seth to shut the door, muffling the outside sounds.

After he did as he was asked, Seth leaned against the side wall where he could observe both men, doing his best to become invisible.

"Thank you for coming all the way out here, John. How was the trip?" Hunter asked politely.

Seth could tell Hunter didn't really care how the trip was. "It was fine, sir," John replied, he too seemed to pick up on Hunter's lack of interest. He didn't go into details. "I've never been west of Philadelphia."

Hunter appreciated John's unwillingness for small-talk. "Ok then, let's cut to the chase. Vince sent you to me because I asked for his best." He paused long enough to pour some bourbon and offer John some, but John just shook his head. Hunter shrugged and took a sip. He put the shot glass down and considered it. To Seth he looked worried, the lines in his forehead cut deep as Hunter thought about his words. "As I said earlier, I am sending you after former US Marshal Randal Keith Orton," he said. "He was my best. Randy was one of the youngest Marshals I have ever worked with, but he was good, damned good. I hand-picked him to be my successor." Hunter shook his head, smiling briefly at memories that only he could see. But the smile dropped off before being fully realized and Hunter exhaled. He sat up straight and became more detached.

"Things you need to know about Randy Orton: most important is he is smart. He thinks in ways different from anyone else I have met. He is unpredictable. Just when you think you have him pinned down or on the run, he will turn and strike without warning. He is also very good at pissing people off because he's an arrogant bastard. Unfortunately his arrogance is justified because he can back up anything he says. He is a natural with guns. He can hit about any target he has in his sights. Rifle, revolver, shotgun, it doesn't matter. He is good with them all. And he is fast. I cannot stress this enough: you cannot outdraw him." Hunter's eyes bored into Cena's. John nodded to indicate he was listening, but didn't say anything. "In short, he is the most dangerous person you will ever encounter. Do you have any questions?"

"So what happened? Why did he turn?" John asked.

Mentally straightening up, Seth was glad John asked that question. He had never heard Hunter's version of the story.

Grimacing, Hunter shook his head. His gaze fixed itself in the middle area between the past and present. "I think in the end it was my fault. It was easy to forget how young he was and I pushed him too hard. I should have left him a Deputy for a while longer." Hunter ruminated for a minute. "It was soon after he was promoted to Marshal and he was assigned two deputies of his own to work with. And he was good at that too. Even though Randy was a complete asshole those two boys worshiped the ground he walked on." Hunter took another sip of his drink. Muffled noises drifted through the closed door, as well as through the window from the street below. "Anyway, it was just supposed to be an escort job. Chris Benoit and his gang had been apprehended by Marshals Dave Batista and Ric Flair so I sent Randy and his two deputies Ted Debiasi and Cody Rhodes with the prison wagon to bring them back for trial and hanging."

Seth was watching Hunter's face closely. He knew that Hunter was choosing his words very carefully.

Tapping the empty shot glass on the desk, Hunter went on. "Ric and Dave handed them off to Randy and his boys up near Fort Benton. When the boys didn't make it back to Virginia City, I sent out scouts and they found the wagon had been ambushed. All the prisoners and deputies were dead. The only one still alive was Randy, but he had been gutshot."

All the men in the room winced. Being gutshot was a death sentence. A very long, agonizing death sentence.

"The scouts got him back to Mark Calaway, the local sawbones here, and damned if the kid didn't pull through, though it was touch and go for a while. Randy got back on his feet and everything seemed to be fine. But," again Hunter paused, considering his words. "He was never the same afterward. I think he blamed himself for the deaths of those kids. After a month or so, he started acting real strange, talking to himself. We kept an eye on him, but not close enough because he disappeared one night. We looked for him but couldn't find him. It wasn't until later we learned that he murdered a citizen in the next town over."

He was telling the truth, Seth decided, but leaving out a crucial section of the story. Was it because he didn't know the truth?

Or because he did?

"I sent out a posse to bring him in, headed by my old friend Ric Flair. Ric had mentored Randy for a while and I had hoped he could talk the kid into giving himself up." Hunter scowled, rage making his voice shake slightly. "Orton killed the entire posse and disappeared. Vanished into thin air. About a year later, he surfaced long enough to kill a miner in Bannack, and then disappeared again. That's his Modus operandi: he appears from out of nowhere, commits murder, then ghosts. He doesn't leave a trail and there is no pattern to his crimes. If we could figure out why he is killing random people, we might be able to stop him."

He was good, Seth decided. Everything Hunter was saying to Cena was plausible. John himself was just listening so far, occasionally nodding but patiently waiting for Hunter to finish.

"And the bastard has the advantage because he knows me and he knows anyone I would send after him. Which is why I sent for you, Cena. He doesn't know you and for that reason alone you might be able to stop him." Hunter frowned hard. His eyes fixed on John's. "The last one was the worst. Orton murdered nine people up in Garnet, a small mining town west of Helena. Witnesses say he was ruthless as he hunted those people down. Three of them were women, two were children."

Stomach knotting, Seth could see any thought of mercy John Cena might have had for Randy Orton going right out the window. He watched Hunter nodding at John, looking satisfied.

Bastard.

"Any idea where I should start?" John asked, his voice tight.

"There was a spot of trouble in a saloon up in Helena a few night ago. There is a possibility that Orton was involved. I don't know for sure if the information will pan out, but its a place to start. The local sheriff's name is Wade Barrett. You and Rollins will be working with him. And remember, don't even try to interact with Randy Orton. Just kill him on sight." Hunter glanced at Seth, then back to John. "Any other questions?"

"No, sir," John said, his eyes hard, and stood up. He extended his hand to Hunter who accepted it and they shook. "Good luck, Cena." Hunter said, he turned to Seth, "Help Marshal Cena get outfitted. You need to leave before the trail gets cold," he ordered.

Seth nodded to Hunter, inwardly seething with frustration. He could see how well Hunter played Cena, but he still couldn't figure out if Hunter knew about demons or not. Hunter had said nothing that would tip his hand. Cena followed him out of the building, not speaking.

"How well do you ride John?" Seth asked. He wasn't trying to offend Cena, rather he was just getting a feel for what a pampered east coast US Marshal might be used to.

Cena, to his credit, wasn't offended by the question. "Pretty well," he said. "Spent a good amount of time in the saddle on my father's estate growing up. A horse would be much better than a stagecoach. I have no desire to ride in one again anytime soon." He grimaced.

Seth grinned and glanced up at the position of the sun. There wasn't enough daylight left to get anywhere before dark, he decided. "Ok, you get over to the boarding house and grab a room for yourself. I'll get the supplies and see to the horses. We'll set out at first light."

John had offered to help, but Seth declined. He had someone he needed to talk to.

A little while later, after Seth had finished at the livery and the general store, he walked over to the undertaker/doctor's office. The sun was set, but the glow on the western horizon was still bright.

The man wasn't busy with any patients and nodded a greeting. "Seth," he rumbled, "Didn't know you guys were back. How did it go?" "We took the Wyatts down," Seth answered a bit evasively.

"Dean and Roman still out in the field?" Mark asked, seeing Seth was alone.

"No. We ran into some bad trouble. They didn't make it back," Seth said. For some reason, it was impossible to outright lie to Mark. While Seth himself wasn't as close to Mark as Roman and Dean were, mostly because he wasn't injured as often, he knew Roman considered the undertaker a friend.

That remark earned him a scalpel-sharp look. But Mark didn't ask the next logical question of 'what happened?'. Instead he said, "You're implying that they're dead, but not saying it in so many words."

That made Seth freeze briefly. The man was far too perceptive. Now it was Seth's turn to choose his words very carefully. "That is what I implied," he admitted. "Hunter didn't question it." He hoped that Mark would pick up on that hint. If Hunter found out, all three of them were dead for real.

Looking at him with those pale green eyes, Mark seemed to be reading his thoughts and Seth couldn't help but shiver. "Its none of my business," the big man said. Seth breathed a sigh of relief. He watched silently as Mark began to sort through some herbs. "So what brings you here then? Are you injured?" Mark look at him up and down, spotting the bandage on his upper arm where Glenn's bullet had caught him several days ago. The wound was healing nicely.

Seth shook his head. "No, its fine. I'm here because Hunter brought in an east coast Marshal to hunt down Randy Orton and I've been ordered to help him."

Mark's face went neutral. "What does that have to do with me?" he asked, not quite so friendly.

Seeing that reaction, Seth immediately knew that Mark was hiding something. "You treated Randy when he got shot, before he went crazy," Seth said. "Did he say anything to you about what happened?"

"Like I told Hunter, the kid was out of his head with fever, and I didn't pay attention to what he was saying." Mark's voice held a hint of warning to not question him. "I'm not sure how his ramblings would help you track him down after all this time."

That was a good evasion, Seth thought. If Randy had been talking about demons, it could be plausibly dismissed as feverish ravings. Was Mark protecting Randy, or himself? Or both? But if Mark knew anything, Seth needed to find out. He walked over to the window to stare out at the street, watching people walk by as he cast about for a way to broach a topic that, up until a few days ago he would have thought completely insane.

Mark finally spoke again. "What do you really want, Rollins?" Any friendliness Mark had shown Seth was disappearing more and more with each question.

Seth decided to just bite the bullet. "Mark, what if I told you that Randy wasn't raving? That demons exist and they are among us?" he asked as he turned around in time to see Mark freeze, then resume his sorting.

There was a long stretch of silence. Finally Mark asked, "How do you know?"

Dean and Roman trust this man, Seth thought. "Bray Wyatt was one," he said, blunt. "So was Glenn."

Mark stopped what he was doing and looked at Seth again, only this time Seth felt his mouth go dry under the intensity of that gaze. But when Mark spoke, it was with the same tone of voice he would have used to speak about the weather. "You think Orton and his men were ambushed by demons?" he asked.

"I don't know," Seth answered honestly. "But I think there's a good chance that every person whom Orton has murdered since then is a demon. And now Dean and Roman are caught up in it too."

"That's where they are? With Orton?" The man was very, very perceptive. Seth was starting to feel a bit out of his depth.

"Yes. They are hunting a group of demons called Nexus up in Helena," Seth said. Feeling like he was back in school, Seth tried hard not to fidget under Mark's gaze.

"So why are you here and not in Helena helping them?" Mark asked. "Aren't you guys supposed to be partners?"

This was where things got a bit complicated. "Judge Hunter has been sending out us US Marshals to kill certain men. What we didn't know was these particular men were the only ones who can see and kill demons. But with the Wyatts it was different. He set us up to be their last sacrifice. We were able to stop them, but now I am trying to find out if Hunter knew that the Wyatts were demons and if he did, why is he helping them," Seth said. He could see Mark thinking over what he had been told.

"That's why you are still wearing your shield," Mark observed. "To get close to Hunter. What do you plan to do?" Mark asked.

Seth searched for the words he needed to express his train of thought. "Cena coming here has put my investigation on hold because right now I need to stop Cena from killing Orton and finding out about Dean and Roman. If word about them gets back to Hunter, he will have them hanged for desertion."

"You're not wrong about him hanging Dean and Roman," Mark said, sighing. Seth got the impression he genuinely like Dean and Roman and wanted to help them. "What do you want from me?"

"What makes you think I want anything from you?" Seth asked, trying to appear innocent.

Mark snorted amused. "That act won't work on me, boy. You want me to watch Hunter while you're off saving the world?"

"Will you?" Seth asked, hopeful, trying not to sound pathetically grateful. He desperately needed an ally.

"Rollins, I always keep a close eye on that man," Mark assured him. "Are you going to tell any of this to Cena?"

"I don't think he will believe me," Seth admitted. "I had a hard time believing it myself until I came face to face with Bray Wyatt."

"Say you do tell him, and he doesn't believe you, what then?"

"I still have to stop him from killing Orton, even if that means that I have to kill him," Seth said. Saying it out loud suddenly made it all seem real and he went pale at the thought of killing an innocent man, even if it was for the best of reasons. He bit his lip against the wave of uncertainty that washed through him. "Does killing an innocent person make me a bad man?"

"Yes," Mark said, blunt as always. Seeing Seth's stricken expression, Mark shook his head and sighed. He walked over to Seth and placed his hand on his shoulder. "Seth, you will find the world needs bad men; they keep other bad things from the door."

Swallowing, Seth nodded. It wasn't reassuring but it was something he could hold on to.

Starting out first light, the horses' breath steaming in the chilly air, Seth and John mounted up and heading north out of Virginia City at a ground-eating canter. The trip to Helena would take a little over two days. Seth was riding his usual paint gelding, and John seemed to like the big bay mare Seth had picked out for him. They didn't speak much at first. John was trying to get used riding at the pace set by Seth and Seth himself was caught up in his own thoughts. But the road was smooth and soon the scenery, beautiful as it was, became a bit monotonous so John pulled abreast of Seth and started asking questions about life in the West and Seth's experiences in law enforcement. Seth avoided going into too much detail about his last assignment, and when John found about that disaster, he tactfully changed the subject to his own life story.

Born in West Newbury Massachusetts, his father had sent him overseas before and during the War. Afterward, he had come back and had been living in Washington DC while serving the Supreme Court when the telegraph came through from Judge Hunter Helmsley. He had made the long trip from Washington DC initially by train, then by steamboat up the Missouri, then finally by stagecoach. He was grateful to to not be riding north in a cramped stagecoach. The constant rocking and jolting made him feel a bit nauseous, he confided to Seth.

It turned out that John didn't know the contents of the telegraph that triggered his trip out west, only that Supreme Court Justice Vince McMahon looked worried, and furious. Vince had immediately ordered John to travel more than 2,000 miles to aid his son-in-law, only saying that Judge Hunter would explain when he arrived in Montana territory.

It was hard not to like the man, Seth decided. John was decent, honest and had a sense of humor. But all Seth could think about was at the end of this trail he would have to stop Cena from killing Orton in any way necessary.

In the eyes of the world, Randy Orton was a remorseless killer. But to Seth, who knew the truth, Randy along with Dean and Roman, was the only hope the world had against the demons. And if worse came to worst, and Roman and Dean were there with Randy when Cena and Orton threw down? Seth needed to make plans to ensure they weren't caught in the crossfire.

They stopped at a river to stretch their legs and let the horses drink. It had been a while since John had ridden a horse for a long stretch, and his legs and back were starting to get a bit sore. In an effort to ease up the stiffness, he walked around. He noticed an outcropping of granite and wandered over to check it out. The sun was high in the cloudless sky and warmed the rocks. He was watching an eagle soar high above him when he became aware of a buzzing sound nearby. It was loud and it took a few seconds for John to understand it was meant. His eyes widened at the sight of large rattlesnake that had been sunning itself next to the rocks. With a startled yell John reached for his revolver.

Seth, hearing John's shout, called over to him, "What is it?"

"A rattlesnake," John called back. Seth dropped the reins of the horses when he saw John pull his gun and jogged over.

"Don't shoot it!" Seth ordered.

John looked over at Seth as if he was crazy. "Its a rattlesnake!" he said, as if Seth didn't hear him the first time.

Seth was reminded of Dean for a second but put it out of his mind. "You said that already," he scowled. "Seriously, why do people like to kill snakes?"

"Because its going to bite me?" John offered. "Look at it, shaking its rattles over there. The thing is just asking to die." His Boston accent was pronounced in his stress.

"I know you don't have rattlesnakes out east, so you don't know about them." Trying not to roll his eyes, Seth shook his head. "Just calm down. He's warning you not to get too close because he doesn't want to get stepped on. He's hunting vermin and he doesn't want to waste his venom on you anymore than you want to get bit."

John eyed the viper with suspicion but backed away. Soon, the snake unfolded itself and disappeared into the grass. "You know your snakes, Rollins," he said, with a rueful grin. What Seth had said was true. He didn't know much about the west yet. And he got the uneasy feeling there was so much more he desperately needed to know.

"No, I just think we shouldn't be killing things that are actually doing good in this world," Seth replied. "No matter how scary they might be."

They made it to Helena late the next day.

Notes:

As always, if you would like to leave a review, I would greatly appreciate it! And if you have any questions, please contact me. I love to discuss writing, story development and characterization. ~ Belle

According to Wild West Tech's "Grim Reaper," most undertakers were doctors doing double duty, which was why I feel I am able to get away with Mark being a doctor and (of course) an Undertaker.

Mark's comment about the world needing bad men is a reflection of the dialogue between Rust and Marty in True Detective. "the world needs bad men; we keep the other bad men from the door" which is a theme of this fic. Let's face it, these men are killers, but they are the only ones that can save the world.

Rattlesnakes, a member of the viper family, rarely bite people unless they are provoked.