No Innocent Men and Wednesdays: Chapter 3 – Never Judge Positively

Chapter 3 – Never Judge Positively

Once Liah got over me getting minor injuries, I was allowed to go out again without her talking my ear off. People whisper behind my back that she holds my leash and that we may have a secret relationship together. These are all rumors and nothing more. I’m not sure if I could marry someone five years younger than me and I have my doubts that she would even consider being with me. Regardless of that, I’m currently guarding a group of negotiators from our town to talk about trade, laws, and their implementation with our allies in our state. While our leaders are having their negotiations, I play cards with the other guards in the room appearing as inconspicuous as I can while keeping an eye and ear out for trouble. The other guards on the upper floors, roof, outside, and near the gates of the town keep in contact with the rest of us and keep us informed.

“Be on your toes, boys. We got enforcers from Old America coming in. They’re friendly so play it cool,” one of the guards from outside says.

Friendly enforcers? I doubt that the enforcers would come out here while on the job unless it was for a purpose that will benefit them or their country. The other guards agree with my view of it and make sure that our guns close and a closer eye on our leaders. Looking at Liah, I think of how badly she wanted to come and be part of the decision making even though her parents and their friends do most of it. It may have been a mistake bringing her here. Sure, our leaders are as armed and have light armor as we do, but still. You never know what's going to happen.

Before we know it, the enforcers walk into the restaurant we are in with their helmets off. Some stop what they're doing for a second to look at them before going back to what they're doing while others make it look like their presence isn't worrisome. On the other hand, I now know why they were called friendly enforcers and am interested to know why they're here. The badge on their shoulders is a lion with a sword in its mouth, a symbol for the Prowling Lion squad of enforcers. Their leader, Johnson, is a man of renown for helping the relations between Old America and the states that have fallen away from it and ridding the new wild west of scum. The Prowling Lions look around, talk to each other, and buy drinks from the bar before coming up to our table and watching our game until we’re done.

“Can we get in this, fellas?” Johnson asks.

The other guards look at me and we all nod to each other with some of us getting up to give the Lions seats while others play.

After a bit of playing, Johnson turns to me, and says, “Have you fellas heard of the reaper cowboy of the west? He’s said to be a man dressed in all black carving a bloody path of justice for God, family, and country. Some of ya’ll are dressed in black, but you, seem to match his description the best.” Johnson looks at me with a smile. “You aren’t really hiding it that well, especially with that outfit, eyepatch, and flower in your hat.”

“I’m not trying to hide it,” I say.

“I see you’re a man of confidence. I also appreciate your style. You’re really dressing up for the new wild west look, aren’t you?”

“Am I why you’re here?”

“In a way. We’re looking for help actually.”

“I’m not interested in joining the enforcers.”

“We’re not asking for that. Instead, we’re asking for help in ridding this land of criminals. There are a few places around here that are a bit too much even for us to handle and we thought we’d put the offer on the table for you fellas to join us for a good price.”

“We’re not mercenaries.”

“No, but ya’ll want to protect your new homes and we’ll let you do that. The new states and America don’t need to be at odds with one another. If you do this job with us, we’ll both get what you want and we’ll give you whatever you want in return, within reason, of course. We’re even less subtle than you, Mr. Reaper Cowboy, so I’m sure you know our reputation and that we’re honest.”

I look over to the other guards who shrug, whisper to one another or nod. Our leaders are told about what the Lions want and agree to their terms. We go on a mission for them to clean out our mutual enemies and they promise to make sure other enforcer squads don’t bother us. They try to offer us food, weapons, money, and technology from America, but we refuse these since we can make them ourselves. It’s a shame to know that some of the good states and secluded one town states can’t sustain themselves without help or doing jobs for others. By solving the problems within our own state, we can help theirs survive and grow.

Before the mission, the Lions put us through a training drill of shooting galleries and mock shootouts with bb guns so they know our strengths and who should go on be in what teams. This was actually fun and reminded me of the training I had as a soldier and enforcer. What was a training drill before a hunt became a game of guys showing off their skills filled with laughing, bets, and jokes at one another’s expense. During one of the drills, I manage to score better than everyone else and win the bet against me. Surely, I can buy Liah something nice with the money I got.

Johnson approaches us and says, “You fellas shoot like true marksmen, especially you, Mr. Cowboy Reaper.”

“You don’t need to keep calling me that,” I say.

“You’re right. I should call you by a more proper name,” Johnson says while removing my eyepatch, “Colton.” The once pleasant atmosphere goes silent for a few seconds. Johnson backs away and the guys with me move in subtle ways so that their hands are near their guns. “It didn’t take much research to find out your real identity.”

“And?”

“And? And what? Relax. We aren’t going to do anything to you, fella. Rogue enforcers like you are the last bounty on America’s hit list and with what you’ve done, you’re basically off it since you’ve been doing our job for us. If I could ask one favor, then I’d ask you to leave our more questionable fellow enforcers to us rather than bringing them to your own justice, but I get it and respect wanting to do it your own way.”

“It’s the way it should be done. Don’t blame me if a few ‘questionable’ fellow enforcers get the justice that they deserve. This is the new wild west after all and justice isn’t limited to being given out by America alone.”

“God has other executioners, I know. You can always come back to the enforcers with no fear of punishment. Your friends and other fellas would appreciate it.”

“I’m fine where I am.”

“Suit yourself, Mr. Colton.”

It feels like it’s been years since I last saw or even thought of my friends and family back in America. I’m sure they’re fine without me. I left them a note explaining what I was going to do and that was the last I saw of them and the last I’d like to think about them.

“Do you have any other cybernetics besides your eyes?” Johnson continues.

“No, not at all. Cybernetics weigh me down, even the ones that are enhancements to my skin to make it nearly bulletproof.”

“I get your point, but there’s nothing like surviving getting shot more than once and being able to go into combat the next day.”

“That’s true. You should still be careful. Surviving getting shot isn’t as advantageous when you’re missing your limbs, can’t go anywhere, and the pain won’t let you die because of your body’s resilience. Most of the people with these enhancements beg for mercy or to be killed faster, but the best I’ve done is shoot over thirty rounds in them, and I’m sure you can guess how they felt.”

The Lions and Johnson seem to be shocked by the idea as if they never thought about it.

“Um. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Once that’s all over with, Johnson considers who should be on what team. He decides that I should be on a three man squad with him and another of his Lions. I head out with Johnson and his lieutenant Azrael to a spot that’s a well known resort. Here people gather to relax, gamble, and play sports. It’s a no fighting zone where any kind of violence is returned tenfold and the associates of the perpetrators are denied entry to the resort for a set amount of time or a heavy due is paid to the offended parties and resort. Despite these security measures, underhanded deals still happen here like in the gambling dens of Old America and the resort does nothing about them if they don’t negatively affect their business and customers. People are also allowed to openly carry their guns just in case there’s trouble just like the rest of the states that aren’t part of Old America, which is one thing I’m glad about since most states in Old America don’t allow you to even own guns.

I’ve brought Liah here a few times and we had fun. I hope she doesn’t mind if we’re banned for a while and the resort’s owners, workers, and customers understand. We come in dressed as normal gamblers in fancy suits. With the information Azarel and Johnson gathered, we go to a certain area of the casino, tell a password to one of the employees, and are led to a secret underground casino. There are many more people than I’d think there be despite it being for a select few. Besides having more unique games and betting areas that appear more lavish and expensive to buy into, there are strippers and exotic dancers on stages and dancing from curtains on the ceiling and leading high paying customers into the back. It’s disgusting that men and women subject themselves to this wretched profession in a resort where there are many more jobs available.

“You alright there, fella?” Johnson asks me. “You aren’t hot under the collar for the women around you, are you?”

“I’m the exact opposite,” I say.

“I’d figure a man like you would be, but don’t shoot them. They’re just civilians trying to make a living. We don’t need to worry about them unless you think they’re hiding weapons in their skimpy outfits.”

“You never know.”

“Heh, sure. Keep your eyes open for our targets. You can take out your uncomfortable feelings on them. Besides, I have a uh…close relationship with some of these girls.”

“And a guy,” Azrael says.

“Hey, I didn’t know he was a guy until he took his clothes off.”

“You mean until you came back with a pain in your butt.”

“Hey, this pure fella with us doesn’t need to know that.”

He’s right. The three of us walk around the casino floor acting as if we belong and are interested in the games and gambling until we recognize one of our targets entering the area.

“He’s over there,” I say while pointing in our target’s direction.

“It’s showtime, fellas,” Johnson says before whispering the plan to us that’s been changed from the original due to the crowd.

A shot comes from behind us and hits Azrael in the back of the head. Turning around, we see that one of the exotic dancers from the roof was the shooter. More of the dancers and strippers take guns out of their cybernetic limbs and begin to shoot us. Johnson and I must help the somehow still living Azrael over the bar table to take cover. The civilians in the area run away and the staff calls for help. I return fire with my rifle while Johnson helps Azrael with his head.

“You were right. How much will I owe you?” Johnson asks.

“It doesn’t matter. Just help him and then help shoot them back,” I say.

Eventually, Azrael gets the bullet out of his head, inserts some kind of medical fluid that closes the wound, and drinks a shot that was left on the bar table before he takes out his gun to shoot.

“Are you good?” I ask.

“I’ll be good as long as that shot last, and whew! I never tasted anything that good that gave me this hard of a kick!” Azrael says.

He shoots fairly accurately with his burst rifle despite the hole in his head and drinking something that smells as if it could get you drunk by the smell alone. Anyways, we manage to kill our attackers, and by the time they’re dead, all the civilians are gone, however, more people show up to shoot at us few of which are our targets. We shoot a path through them and into the hallway they came from where there are more of them taking cover. This calls for my charge shots that shoot through their cover and forces them to retreat as we steadily advance. As we turn the corner, we are faced with a mounted turret at the end that nearly guns us down.

“Hold on, fellas, I got this,” Johnson says.

As he peeks his head out, he looks at the different metal and reflective surfaces and whispers to himself before shooting his pistol at a surface. The bullet bounces around the room until it hits the gunner at the end of the room in the face.

“Got’em!” Johnson says before high fiving Azrael who is as excited that he got the shot as he is.

Moving on, we enter a room dedicated solely to the exotic dancers. The room is dark and only momentarily lit up in certain places by the red, purple, and pink flashing lights. Johnson, Azrael, and I keep our eyes open and our guns up and ready to shoot at a moment’s-there! Shooting in the direction I see the silhouette of a person in, I manage to get them before they shoot us.

“Nice. Keep them quick hands ready, cowboys,” Johnson says.

We put our reaction times to the test as more people come in until someone turns on the lights. Looks like someone disagreed with the ambush tactic they had or thought it wasn’t working. Regardless, we take care of whoever they send our way and quickly check the bodies to find only a couple of our targets among them.

“We can’t be slowed down anymore by these goons. They could be on their way out as we speak,” I say.

“Yeah. Hopefully, there aren’t many more of these fellas they can throw at us,” Johnson says.

“There’s always more that they can throw at us.”

“I’d like to think positively, Mr. Colton.”

“Sure, you do that.”

Hurrying ahead and up the only active elevator our enemies were coming from, we find ourselves back on the ground floor where many gamblers and resort goers are relaxed as if nothing is happening. There are fewer people here than before, but there are also more guards patrolling the area. Making our way around them, we finally find our targets loading their goods, men, and prostitutes in their trucks and heading out one after the other. Using the few fuses I have left, I use my charge shots to kill the drivers of the vehicles that are already leaving before focusing on everyone else. Johnson, Azrael, and I focus on the people shooting at us while the rest drive off. We rush into our car and go after them, but Johnson stops the car once they're in sight.

“Why are you stopping?” I ask him.

“Sit back and enjoy the fireworks, cowboy,” Johnson says.

Looking ahead, I see the escaping cars explode one after the other.

“Who blew them up?”

“As part of our deal with the resort, we had to prove to them that our targets were bad for their business. It was a good thing they were intimated enough by our presence to shoot at us first to prove it. They must’ve been scared that we were able to get into the most secure area of the resort with no problem and knew that we were eventually going to find them. I'm sorry you had to take a bullet for us, Azrael.”

“You see me complaining?” Azrael says.

“You planned for them to shoot at us first?” I ask.

“Not exactly. It was the second plan. The first was the plan was the one that I went over with you to just take care of them in secret. Still, if that happened, then the resort's chauffeurs wouldn't have planted the bombs in the escaping cars and blown them up once they were far enough from the resort to not do any damage to the land, but also show them off as an example to those who would break the resort's rules. All in all, I'd say the mission went well, wouldn't you say?”

“I wish you would've told us the second plan.”

“Azrael knew.”

“Why didn't you tell me then?”

“Didn't need to. Assuming it came to it, I knew that you knew what to do.”

I guess there’s nothing more to say.

Before we leave the resort, Johnson gives the guards at the gates some cash, and then says, “Good doing business with you fellas.”

“Always happy to do business with you, Mr. Johnson. Until next time,” one of them says.

With the mission done, we head back home where some of the others have come back from their missions as well. The last group comes back not too far behind us. Johnson hosts a party for a job well done and no casualties. During the party, I talk to the guards of the other towns who went along with the Lions to hear what they did and share what I went through. I also hear the news from my watchers and what they’ve discovered while I was gone. Johnson and his Lions come to sit with us with their beers in their hands and smiles on their faces. They all look partially drunk.

“Why are ya’ll sitting over here by yourselves? We don’t bite and, hey, we’re friends now after what you’ve done for us,” Johnson says. Noticing the silence, he adds, “What’s up? Something sour the mood?”

“Yes. Your ways soured the mood,” I say.

“My ways?”

“They’re questionable, to say the least, and we’d like you to answer for them.”

“Why? You guys trust us, don’t you? I mean we’re the Prowling Lions. Our reputation precedes us.”

“It does in both positive and negative ways, especially the negative ways.”

“Such as?”

“From what I’ve heard, selling people, weapons, ammo, and more to scum so that they trust you.”

“It was to get them to trust us and give us the information we needed. Don’t worry, we got everything we gave them back and took out a major criminal syndicate as a result.”

“You still made deals with our enemies. Even kidnapped innocent people and murdered others.”

“Like I said, we did those things so we could-”

I slam my hand down on the table and then say, “It doesn’t matter your reasoning or what you gained. The ends don’t justify the means.”

“That’s funny coming from you, Mr. Cowboy Reaper. The only thing you do is kill.”

“I protect people from scum.”

“So you’re saying you’re justified while I’m not?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, Mr. Perfect. You should ask your sources about all the good I’ve done as well. We’re both saints in our own way whether you like to admit it or not. People in the new wild west and America call me a hero!”

“We aren’t saints and you’re no hero. Those don’t exist, especially out here. I’m not one either. I’m just a repentant sinner doing God’s work.”

“Oh? So what would God have you do with me?”

Hardly five seconds of tense silence pass until someone shoots three of the Lions. I don’t bother looking to see who it is until I and the others shoot Johnson and the rest of his Lions. It turns out that it was Liah who fired the first shots.

I get up from my chair and say to her, “What are you doing out here?”

“Why were you just talking to them? You know that scum like them don’t deserve to live,” she says.

“I wanted them to confess their crimes before their deaths. They weren’t complete scum.”

“Of course they were. They were amoral self-righteous people just like everyone else in America and the other countries in the world.”

“Not everyone is like that. Not everyone in the new wild west is God fearing like us. Regardless of that, you shouldn’t have been out here.”

“Once I learned about the sins of the Lions, the watchers could only restrain me for so long before I slipped away from them and did what had to be done. You taught me to have no mercy on people like this.”

“Yeah, I did.” Turning around, I and the other guards shoot the Lions who were slowly getting up and reaching for their guns. “I also taught you to shoot cybernetic people more than once to make sure they’re dead.”

“I’ll be sure to remember.”

I then walk away from the bodies trusting my watchers to properly trash them. To be honest, I wanted Johnson and his Lions to answer for their crimes because they remind me of myself when I was an enforcer, except I was more serious. Part of me hoped they would see their mistakes and repent as I did, but I guess it wasn’t going to happen. Before I changed for the better, I had my doubts. The Lions appeared to have no doubts about what they were doing and thought they could do no wrong. Believing that good and evil are subjective or based on circumstances was part of the reason America died. It created self-righteous people that believed and still believe they could never do anything truly wrong.

Here, in the new wild west, we’re going to show them why they’re wrong by creating the true America. With its rebirth will come a better people and a better country as a result. My bullets and blood are the building blocks that I add to it. Along with it, I am reborn as a better man. Looking back at the dead Lions, I’m glad that part of me is dead and buried in the garbage to be forgotten forever just like they will be.