A Rusted Pistol

Wheels turned along the highway, cutting through the heartland of America. Open skies and wide open ranges encircled the highway system leading to Montana. Within the state borders rose purple mountains to protect the sacred cattle lands from the ever encroaching wind patterns that turned the other side of the mountains into deserts. Green pastures unfolded under the cloud filled blue skies. Elaine took off from home a few years ago, and even though her father followed her life pretty closely, it felt like forever since she came back.

Before their eyes laid a large ranch resting within the basin. Metal structures dotted the landscape, but no cattle or workers were anywhere. Nothing of her childhood memories greeted her, but the silence howled through the cracks in the mountain along with the chill wind. Curving along the perimeter of the ranch the bullet hole ridden car rolled up to a small tenement sitting before a pristine mountainscape. Three topped mountains stood behind the run down, white house. A wooden door with a torn screen barely looked like it could stay on against the wind that blew it open and shut. Three dirt stained windows faced the car, they lined a clear architectural outline that showed two small rooms were on the side facing them. “Come on.” Elaine hopped out of the car and walked towards her family home.

The door opened to a man who appeared worn and tired from a hard life. Whether he attributed that to his work or family life could only be judged by himself and God, but he wore the tired lines in between his eyes and mouth like badges of honor. His simple plaid work shirt was tucked into his jeans and held snug by a brown belt with a large cowskull belt buckle. Dirt picked up from the wind causing him to need to secure the brim of his hat by lowering it over his face. “Lainey?” He asked.

“Dad!” Elaine rushed over to her father and wrapped her arms around him. She let go and pointed over towards the skeleton. “This is Bones. He’s a skeleton.”

“Of course he is.” He spoke with an oblivious nature to the absurdity of the her demand. Once the hug ended, he wrapped his arm around Elaine’s shoulder.

“He’s going to be staying with us.” She dropped her hand down to her hips to inform her father of what she planned on doing.

“Why wouldn’t he be?” The lifetime of events that Elaine brought to his doorstep made him immune to shock.

“And this other guy is coming and we’re getting married.” She planned on getting to the incident with the funeral, but she needed to prioritize what was happening.

“Well sweetheart, these things happen.” Her father spoke in a comforting manner, almost condoling her as though she were a second grader whom lost the spelling bee

“Granddaughter home?” An elderly woman slowly walked down the cement steps that lead to the tiny house. “Granddaughter bring money?”

“Not now.” Her father let go of Elaine and turned back to the skeleton.

“Why do we need money? We never needed money; that’s what you said.” Elaine turned back to her father, whom now walked towards the vintage car and driver. Ileana slipped from her mind at the mention of money. Her mother used to complain about her unhappiness all the time. Elaine looked to the house, and did not see any movement within the two back bedrooms or the kitchen. "Mom?"

“Everything is fine dear.” His voice spoke with the cognitive dissonance of a father, and the willful bliss of not wanting to face the reality that he stood to lose his barely livable home. “I’m Mike.” The cowboy extended his hand out to the skeleton. “If you got anything that needs to be brought in that’s what I’m good at, otherwise you can just make yourself at home.”

Inside of the rickety door laid the living room. A very small room with a couch and a television sitting up on a cabinet made from white maple drew the central contrast of the room. Lining the walls of the brown wood walls hung pictures of Elaine and her sister from their time in the first grade up until Elaine’s senior picture and Blanca’s most recent school picture before she dropped out of high school to find Elaine. Bricks held down lose pictures of the two girls on a coffee table that almost reached the foot of the television cabinet. Two scrap books lay open with the beginnings of an odyssey through the lives of the girl’s adventures in middle school. Spires of completed scrap books held their looming position against the wall, under an oddity in the frame that came in the form of a college diploma made out to Elaine Angara from MIT in mechanical engineering.

To the left of the room lay a small kitchen that could barely hold the five people who lived there for most of the Elaine’s life, but regardless of the how impoverished or rundown their home seemed, Elaine never really knew they were poor. Even in her six by nine room that she used to share with her sister she felt that they lived far above their means. The hollow cedar wall that separated her old room from her parents had seen better days, and now looked like mildew began to eat it from the inside.
Behind the bedrooms a back door led out to a small shack that contained a toilet and a shower. Winters made the process of needing to shower a much more troublesome issue than most experienced. The process made the family tough, but that never made them forget that their situation still left much to be desired. Desire that Mike blamed himself for not getting that drove his family away.

Bones was a city boy; he was born the back room of a tiny apartment and had spent those early years playing through colonial French streets. Sure, he was a stone throw from swamps, swamps that he use to hunt and play through when he was still in shorts much to the Whor- to his Mothers displeasure. But even those swamps felt enclosed, the trees forming fences. Out here, there was just... nothing. Just space as far as his eyeless eyes could see. He wasn't really all that comfortable with it, immediately imagining how dark and lonely the nights must be. But those purple mountains caught his eyes as he cut through them and into a green pastures beyond. A small hidden green world, not reached through an ancient gold doorway but found off the branch of Montana Highway 200. But it was just as empty and quiet. No fields of grass being grazed by fields of cattle. Well, we're in Kansas again... He thought dryly, wondering where the sepia or monochrome colour would descend on the landscape.

As the car finally swung up a drive of dirt, Bones glanced at Elaine and that back to the small house. So this was where it all started, huh? He pushed down on the handbrake and slipped the keys out of the car as Elaine bounced out. Bones watched through the wind shield with what seemed to be calculative eyes. Finally, he opened the door and got out slowly. As Elaine said his name he smiled and nodded his head, but the wind of Montana seemed to think it was funny to knock his hat off his head. He was quick enough to leap into the air to get it but if he had been flesh and blood he would have blushed like an idiot. He pretended, like any good guest would, to not hear about their money problems. It wasn't his place to say or do anything about it. And yet he was already re-evaluating the price of the gold brick. Oh well, he guessed the car repairs were out. How many cows could you buy for a few thousand dollars?

Frankie liked Mike, almost immediately. He extended a bony hand while the other stayed on top of his hat and Elaine's father took it and shook, as Bones said, ”No, I don't have any bags to herd. Thanks for the offer though. And you can call me Franklin, Sir.” Mike was the kind of guys that Bones saw while living his own ritzy life. They worked for just enough pay to live, because they were good with their hands and because they wanted to work. It left them tired and broken most of the time, with some of the weaker ones turning to booze or drugs to just ease the pain of everyday, but Mike didn't look like that. Mike looked like the type who just did what he had to do, for his family or for his job. It just seemed he wasn't that lucky.

And that's why Bones was going to probably call him Sir from now on, even though he was probably half a century older.

The skeleton nodded his head at the small old woman as he walked by her, but was greeted with what he imagined was a look of distrust and dislike rolled into one. Oh well, you couldn't win them all. He steadily climbed the concrete doors and waited for Mike to go first, before following him out of the sun and into the gloom of a tiny house. Mike and Elaine's Grandmother went into the Kitchen, while Frankie stood in the Living Room. With the grace of an intruder on someone else’s life, the skeleton began to look over the pictures. Elaine was easy to find amongst the faces. Her sisters (he assumed she was a sister) seemed to share some features, but didn't seem as content. Many of the snaps seemed to have been done by Mike, but he appeared in some of them, along with a woman that Frankie guessed was Elaine's mother. When the thought of “Mother” hit him, Bones glanced around.

He expected to see a worn face, like Mikes, but female. It would have held Elaine's features but in an older state. And she might not have been as quiet about her displeasure with this life. Instead, the old room greeted him back. Frankie placed that question under something that was family, that was private, and instead found his eyes wondering to a fancy looking degree. From MIT. That girl. She just keeps becoming more of a mystery and I just can't seem to nod my head and say, “Well, it's been fun but I've got my own weird life to deal with.”

In fact, when did he even say he was staying there?

"You're welcome to stay. I don't know if I should offer you something, and I'm sure that you hear all of the 'skin and bones' and other cracks all the time, so I'll spare you that." Mike walked into the cramped little living room. Boxes lined the walls; it would seem appropriate to assume these boxes were for moving, but they were not. Mike collected all of the old memory keepsakes that his family accumulated over the years. You only keep pictures of the good times, never the bad. It makes you long for the times more; if he kept photos of the complacency and unhappiness the meager life he provided for his wife, maybe he would see more clearly why she left. Or, maybe he would show some emotion over it. Instead he sat down on the old, brown couch and started sifting through the photos on the table.

"I started making these scrap books a few months ago." Mike reached over and grabbed a manila envelope and pulled out a few photos. "I took these a few months ago at Elaine's graduation. My wife and I drove up there, but Elaine forgot to go to the ceremony. It's the education and her happiness that counts; not the ceremonies or photos. I would give all of these scrapbooks for her to be happy in life." A sigh came from the man surrounded in a basin of emptiness. "We got back and the next day my wife left. Told me I wasn't the girl's real father, and I can't help but believe her." Elaine wrapped her sister up in a photo of the two in their early childhood. Mike looked at the photo letting the truth set in. "I still love those girls more than anything. I wish Blanca were still here, but..."

"Dad." Elaine blinked in through the wall, bumping her knees against the coffee table and knocking several of the books off of the table. "Oops. I hope grandma doesn't get all evil dragon lady for that. I need to know if you'll let me bury someone out here."

"I would, but we need to be out of here in a few weeks. Need to find work, and who knows what will happen to this place." Mike reached down to pick up a stack of photos that fell to the ground.

"Oh..." Elaine faded off.

Mike looked at the picture to see a much younger version of himself holding an infant Elaine. "...I guess we can bury her somewhere. It's not like they'll dig up everything around here."

"Really!" Elaine spoke excitedly. Under her foot she pressed against a photo of her family with her mother covered from site. "I invited some people to come to the funeral."

"Well it's cool with me if they stay." Mike said allowing his daughter her wishes.

"Dad, don't try to use current language, you're lame remember?" Elaine laughed at her father's use of the word 'cool.'

"That's words a lot older than you think..." Before he could conclude his sentence Elaine jumped from the room. He sat on the couch for a few moments staring at the picture. He let the truth set in.

Clayton spent a day and some hours after the El Dorado incident in Mexico City. Louie was able to deliver Ileana’s corpse and have it embalmed as he promised; Clayton was unable to deliver the portal to the city of gold, though. It would have been enough to have the vertically challenged crimelord calling for his head if the map of the place had not proved to be so incredibly valuable in its own right. It was enough to fill Clayton to earn enough to fill his pockets for the time being and a warning from Louie not to mess with him again. It was a warning that did not worry him in the least, because he hoped that it would be the last time the two ever crossed paths.

After he got himself cleaned up and in new clothes, the rest of the time was spent calling in a few favors he was owed from shady characters in both countries in order to get himself and Ileana into Montana as quietly as possible. He was able to acquire a simple casket for Ileana; the kind he thought she probably would have wanted, as well as a private flight directly to Montana. Everything about the whole situation felt entirely surreal to him. He barely knew the girl for a day, and he was already making arrangements for her funeral. It should not have been happening. The plane ride was spent in a quiet state of disbelief. Clayton stayed almost completely silent which seemed to unnerve the pilot who kept making attempts at small talk only to be met with yes or no answers if any at all.

When they arrived at the small airport, they were greeted by men in dark suits similar to Clayton’s. The men were there to help him load the casket into a vehicle, and they soon found his silence to be as odd as the pilot had, but for different reasons. They assumed he was no different than they were, so why would he seem so upset over someone dying? People died around them all the time, so they learned to become detached. Clayton was still very young, though, so maybe this would teach him, they thought. He hoped they were wrong. He gave them their money and sent them on their way without a word.

The vehicle provided to Clayton was a black 2029 model Cadillac Escalade. Clayton hated it immediately. The men who gave it to him probably thought they were doing him a favor. He found the thing to be tacky, far too flashy, and not at all what Ileana deserved. She had nothing her whole life, and she deserved something nice now not something showy. He would just have to deal with the bitter taste it put in his mouth as he waited for the phone call from Elaine.

***

Elaine’s directions were half confusing and half casual insults about them not being directions on how to make his father care about him. Everything looked the same and Clayton was out of his typical urban environment. Who knew navigating the roads of Montana could be such a difficult task?

He arrived eventually, and not much later than he intended. There was no way he was in the wrong place. The nearly abandoned farmhouse looked as broken as he always assumed the family Elaine came from was. Normal families did not create people like them. The scenery made Clayton feel extremely out of place. His black three piece suit, ridiculous vehicle, and even the sling around his arm did not blend in well at all.

He inhaled from his cigarette one last time before putting it out in the ash tray. He was barely aware he began smoking again that day. He stepped out of the Cadillac and prepared himself for the disgusted looks the type of people from places like this tended to give him when they assumed he was nothing more than some spoiled rich kid living of his parents’ money, as if they had any idea.

”Ah, Skin. I remember it fondly.” He said dryly, but smiled at the old Cattle Herder. He figured that Mike had a sense of humour that would only show itself when he thought the time was appropriate. Right now, things didn't feel like that though. There was a sadness to the whole area, a sadness to a life shown in pictures that now only reminded a father that his wife and daughters were gone, just like his cattle were. Frankie pushed the thought out of his mind and opened his jacket, pulling it off his shoulders and folding it over the arm of the sofa as he sat down. His shirt still had blood on it, but his suit vest had been cleaned in a gas station bathroom. Frankie finally took his hat off and placed it down on the suit jacket. He always felt so exposed without it on, but a flimsy fedora wasn't much of a helmet.

And then Mike bared his soul to the Skeleton. He just said things plain and simple, because he was probably aching to talk to someone that wasn't apart of his family. Bones just turned his head and watched him, glancing at the picture as he seemed to talk about Elaine's sister. Blanca. Blanca. Blanca. He was putting the name into his memory, trying to nail it down firmly so when he left there that night or tomorrow or the end of that week, he'd be able to put out some feelers and try to find her. And maybe he'd ask about the mothers name, if only so he could tell her that her daughters were safe. She deserved that much, although Frankie had to resist the urge to dislike her; it wasn't his place to decide what was right for either of them. It was just his job to make sure that he could walk away from this thing knowing he did his best to reunite a family.

”You know-” He began, before Elaine suddenly appeared in the room. Bones jerked back slightly, surprised, but then sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck as he glanced at Mike, who hadn't noticed. As the two talked he felt like an intruder again. More family stuff that he wasn't use to. Sure he had Aurora out there, but that felt different somehow to this little enclosed unit of people. When she leaped back out, Bones turned to Mike. For a moment, he paused, just listening to the silence of the room before he finally started again.

”You know I never had a real father. The woman who gave birth to me,” It felt weird to Bones to call her Mother in general conversation. ”She wasn't the best parent. In fact, I don't think she understood that Children came with responsibilities. Maybe thought when we were out of diapers we could basically handle everything ourselves...” He paused as he lifted a hand and rubbed it over his skull cap, before placing his elbows on his knees and leaning forward. ”But you're not like that. You're obviously not like that because you've done... all this.” He waved his hand around the room at the pictures and looked back at Mike. ”You've worked hard for your family. And that's what they are, your family.”

He bent down and picked up a picture that had slipped loose, of Elaine and Blanca. He held up a finger and tapped it once. ”And these are your Daughters, no matter what. And that's God's honest truth.”

He placed the picture on the scrapbook and interlocked his fingers, turning to look at the door as he heard a car suddenly filling the empty basin. Were the first of the Mourners arriving? He stood up and moved toward the door, skirting carefully and gracefully around the coffee table. Frankie looked out through the banging screen door as the Cadillac pulled up behind his Buick and the engine cut out. That was a kind of car criminals drove. And hey, there was one climbing out of the Driving seat. He opened the door and stepped out onto the porch, shoving his hands in pockets before climbing down the stairs and towards the Grifter. He stopped when he got to the rear bumper of his Buick, nodding his head silently. ”Hello, Clayton. Is she...?” He took a hand out of his pocket and gestured to the wind shield.

It was an odd invitation for him, being asked to attend a funeral. William had been around death his whole life, fought against it daily, but it still bothered him. Though he hid it well, looking at a casket was just a constant reminder. All he could think about was their story, their life, and how it was lost. Out of guilt for failing to save others in the past, he had viewed several funerals from afar, but actually attending one would be a first for him. William couldn’t help but question why he was asked to go, what purpose would he have there? He surely did not have the answer, but if Elaine wanted him there, he would show her that respect. Though he was extremely distant from his allies, he still did have a soft spot for all of them.

While William flew to Montana to attend, he left Chicago in the very capable hands of The Black Arrow. Cruising the open skies was always soothing despite the unfamiliar scenery; he hadn’t been away from a major city in years. The land seemed so empty when it wasn’t littered by skyscrapers. William flew over mighty mountain ranges, wide open farmlands, even barren deserts. He didn’t like it here.

Instead of using the directions given to him, he tracked Elaine’s location with the communication device he gave all his allies. It was far easier to track coordinates. His computer quietly pinged at him, he was getting very close. The house described in the message came into sights, from this distance it would be impossible to tell with the naked eye, but William had a gadget for pretty much everything. He brought his power suit, but did not wear it, so instead he used the shades meant for undercover missions. They functioned the same way as his mask, only with a minor difference in the offensive ability. With them he was able to clearly make out every detail, even see who had been out front conversing. Odd, he hadn’t expected the ‘janitor’ to be here, the last time he saw him was back at the museum. Guess their paths were just meant to cross again. The skeletal man was hardly expected either, this guest list was odd, but then again he could never be sure what to expect with Elaine.

William skillfully swooped in for a smooth landing about twenty yards from the house. His vessel did not require a runway; it landed easier than a helicopter and flew smoother than a fighter jet. He inhaled a deep breath through his nose, briefly mentally preparing himself for the situation. It had been so long since he had been unmasked and not undercover, it messed with his psyche. With a simple command, the cockpit slowly swung open. After removing his shades and placing them in his jacket’s pocket, William emerged from the cockpit and dropped down to solid ground.

Dressed formally from head to toe in all black, the dark handsome man stood tall before his ship. His light brown eyes darted from the skeleton to the janitor, then to the brief path ahead. William casually moved forward to greet the two, but it seemed like his arrival had interrupted something. As odd as it was for him, he figured he’d make the best of things and introduce himself. So when he arrived before them he gave the friendliest nod he could muster up before simply saying. “Hello.” His handshake was offered to Clayton first, even if he couldn’t recognize him, he felt he should greet an old acquaintance first. Whether or not he accepted the handshake, he extended his hand to the skeleton next.

"Oh my god, you're making this so awkward Bones. She died!" Elaine felt the need to end Bones' line of questioning. "There's no reason to ask stupid questions. Why is some black dude flying Black Knight's jet? Oh my god, they steal everything that isn't bolted down."

"No, no, black man." Elaine's grandmother came from the house waving her arms in disapproval. "You go back now." Behind her trailed Mike. She was his wife's mother and not his own, but after his daughter left he had no other family in the house. Regardless of her exterior and bad influence on those around her, sometimes any company exceeds no company.

"No, it's okay he's here for whatever it is Lainey has all these..." Mike surveyed the crowd his daughter accumulated. "...gentlemen here for."

"Go back inside grandma. You don't want to get mugged." Elaine turned back to either lie or tell what she thought about the situation; her demeanor made it hard to tell.

"Be careful." The timid old woman turned around and began to walk back inside of the rickety old house.

"Well this is kind of a shock..." Elaine spoke in a unusual normal manner. Her eyes trained over to Bones. "It must be like when that asteroid hit Earth. I bet all the dinosaurs were like 'aw fuck!" Elaine spoke in a manner that sounded like two old friends reminiscing about the good old days.

"Lainey, language." Her father interjected to his daughter.

"It's okay. I'm old enough to shoot at criminals, and other things." Elaine gave her father a tone of annoyance at his reprimanding her in front of her partners.

"You better not be shooting at people. I'll take those guns away if you are." Out of all of the things he excused from Elaine, carelessness with guns sat high upon his mantle of things he would not tolerate.

Elaine waded over the thought for a moment. "I'm..." She bit back. "...Not shooting at people."

If Clayton was worried about coming across as someone with too much money, those worries were put to rest when a man landed an aircraft near the rundown farmhouse. The man was probably one of Elaine’s Phantom friends. Clayton accepted the phantom’s handshake. There was a familiarity about him; something about the way he stood, and walked. Clayton’s abilities made it easy for him to remember body language and allowed him to pick up details in movements that most would never think of. Could he be the Black Knight? If he was, he probably would appreciate it if it was not mentioned, and if he was not, it would just lead to an awkward conversation. Clayton decided it would be best just not to ask.

Elaine answered any questions on the subject he might have had with her burst of unusually casual racism. It was enough to bring Clayton’s face to a rest in his palm, “Really?” Clayton asked, more to himself than anyone before an older man and an elderly woman marched out the door after her. ”Seriously?” He questioned what was apparently Elaine’s grandmother and likely the one that instilled such bizarre values in her. Her father seemed to have some sense, or at least some shame. Clayton thought he looked like the type of men he saw on the political campaign ads talking about being an average American as a tractor rode by behind them. He looked as worn and tired as Clayton maybe unrightfully felt. The state of Mike’s home and family mad Clayton feel a slight twinge of guilt over the duffle bag of bills he had under the passenger seat of his ridiculous vehicle. It was not as if he could simply offer it to Elaine and her family. Mike seemed like the type that would consider it a hand-out and an insult, even if he clearly needed it.

The banter between cowgirl and father lead Clayton to question her age. In the few times they met he never even thought to ask her. It dawned on him that he was about to be married to a possibly underage girl he had only met a handful of times, and they were going to bury a girl they knew for less than a day. If there was ever a time he felt the need to reevaluate his life, this was it. He would have time for that later. It was time then to give Ileana the things she deserved that he could not get her while she was alive.

“So, uh, how exactly do we do this?” He chimed in.

”Jesus.” He muttered as he took a step back, watching the Jet descend and land on the empty farm land. If the Buick and Cadillac were showy, this guy's choice of vehicle was ridiculous. For a moment Bones thought of reaching for his gun in case it was a swarm of Government Agents coming to arrest the whole lot of them for the incident in Mexico, but when the cockpit opened only a single man descended and made his way across the field to Clayton and Bones. He held out a hand to Clayton, which the one armed Grifter took and shook, before it trailed over to Bones. The Skeleton lifted a hand and gripped it firmly, looking into those shades. Bones gave a firm handshake, something an old friend taught him to quickly earn respect and show it back. ”Hey.” He said simply, a little puzzled by this whole thing, until suddenly Elaine was talking to him.

Frankie jumped and jerked his head around as he was chastised for making things awkward. ”God dammit don't sneak up on me like.” He muttered, just brushing the insult off and sliding his hands back into his pockets. Unfortunately, as Little Grandma and Mike came out, a little scene of casual countryside racism suddenly made him take his hat off and turn his head away, his shoulders jerking up and down in a little fit of laughter as he kept himself silent. As Clayton hit his face into his palm and asked Elaine if she was for real, it just got worse, until he had to take a step back and put his bony hand on the bumper of the car. For a few seconds it continued, but he worked it out, knowing that this wasn't the proper respect one showed at a funeral.

He did however perk up when Elaine told Mike a lie. ”You shouldn't be worried about her shooting at people, Mike.” He said softly, shaking his head and grinning at his feet. ”No. I'd worry more about her picking her teeth with the iron sights. Or itching with the barrel.” He paused as he looked from Mike to Elaine, and replied, ”The dinosaurs probably felt like how you do now.” He rocked onto the balls of his feet, but suddenly his shoulders slumped as Clayton asked what to do about this. Casually, he looked over the faces around him and wondered what Ileana thought about all of this.

”Well... We should take her inside. Mike here said we could bury her out somewhere on his land, so I'm guessing he can point is in the general direction and we... We er, dig a grave. Then we have a little ceremony or something.” He mumbled the last sentence as he raised a hand to the back of his head, before suddenly jerking slightly and stepping forward to the man that he assumed was the Black Knight. Elaine said it was his jet after all, and it wasn't really unlikely that she just didn't know him from out of costume. ”The name's Frankie. Nice to meet you.”

William wasn’t sure what to say, was she serious? Clayton seemed to be even more surprised than he was. It was nice to see she still retained her humor, even if it was racist, he couldn’t stop himself from smirking at Elaine’s statement. After meeting who he assumed to be her grandmother, he could see where she got some of that from. It didn’t bother him whatsoever, but he chose not to respond.

Another man trailed in behind the grandmother, he appeared aged and worn from a hard life. Judging by his appearance and the way he spoke, William immediately assumed he was Elaine’s father. He showed more restraint then the rest of his family, this man seemed respectable.

William shrugged off the next round of racist remarks with a soft chuckle, couldn’t help but find it a little humorous. “It’s alright.” He directed his quiet statement mostly at Clayton.

The talk between father and daughter made him look at Elaine a little differently. It was kind of funny seeing her being spoken to like a child. She was lying to her father, and he more than likely knew it.

Clayton chimed in, getting down to the reason they were all here. William gave him his attention until the skeleton answered. He would’ve given his own answer, but he allowed the skeleton beat him to the punch. William was usually a man of few words, finding them unneeded at the moment, he simply gave a nod of acknowledgment to the skeletal man.

The skeletal man gave his name and greeted him kindly, William said simply in reply. “And you as well.” He chose not to give his own name. The unmasked hero looked back to Clayton, stating boldly. “I’ll help move her.”

"We cane start digging in this small meadow down the hill. I used to go down there when I moved here..." Mike wiped the sweat from his brow. "...god, that must've been ten years ago. We just moved here, and someone's mother had to move in so we needed a bigger house." Wind cut through the divide between the mountains etching out a perfect path to where they needed to take the coffin. A small clearing in between a few lingering trees sat just below the setting sun. Orange and red illuminated the purple transcendence of the majestic mountains. This place settled just nicely for a resting place. "Lainey, go grab some shovels." Elaine took off towards the house and shadow jumped through the wall into the back storage room that acted as a garage and used to act as her grandmother's room before Elaine and Blanca moved out. Within a matter of moments Elaine came back with two shovels in her usual metaphysical manner.

"I'm going to go get the rest of the stuff ready." Elaine threw the shovels spade down into the ground where they caught against the surface. Before long Elaine took off towards the abandoned cattle buildings to piece together a respective headstone, befitting for her fallen, well she did not know what to call her.

"I guess we can do this without her. She's a hard worker, but get's distracted very easily with other people." Mike picked the shovels up and draped them over his shoulders. This felt nice. For too long he needed something to do before his time on this land ran out. The owners of the ranch sold all of their holdings and gave the hired hands a month to move out. That was five weeks ago and the local auditors knew very much about it. As his shovel broke ground in his place of peace and solitude, all he could think was this felt nice.

Clayton managed to force half a smile at the Knight’s offer. He could not help but feel less than enthusiastic about anything at that point. “Thanks…” he stared at the ground for a moment while Mike spoke. If they were going to be burying her here, he wanted to be able to do all he could.

He followed Mike along with the rest of the group. The man picked a perfect final resting place for the orphan. There was an apparent lack of shovels, though, but there was not much shoveling Clayton could do with one arm anyway. If he were to try, it would just be awkward an inefficient. Useless. It was the word his father always used when he would scold him for failure as a child, and it was exactly how he felt at that moment; useless. Maybe he would be more useful helping with getting the rest of the stuff ready; whatever that was. “I don’t think I’ll be very much use to you all here…” he motioned to his injured arm, “I don’t exactly make the best cheerleader either. I’ll go help Elaine with whatever she’s doing. If that’s all right?” He was sure no one would object. There were only two shovels after all. Clayton wandered off in the direction of the cowgirl.

Smooth move, Frankie thought to himself as he rocked back, pretty sure that this guy was indeed the Black Knight like Elaine said. Bones studied his features for a moment, or at least what he could see around those big sunglasses that wouldn't record a sound of what Bones said. He seemed to warm up slightly to what he felt was an intruder too many on a girls life that would have kept on going without any of the people here, when he offered to carry her. Well, none of them really knew her, so he gave the guy (whom he decided to simply call Knight in his head) a fair chance. A chance for what, Bones was still pretty unsure about. His head turned away from Knight towards Mike instead. He smiled softly at the old man and nodded his head once or twice, as he stood shoulder to shoulder with Mike.

Clayton broke away from them soon after, steering off to the small ranch house. As he went, Frankie simply said, ”Good Luck.” Then they were surrounded by trees and the sky. Mike broke the earth first as Bone's skeletal hands locked around the other shovel. He took three steps away from Mike and slammed the shovel into the earth, before he slammed his dress shoes down on the lip. Then he began to work, tirelessly, without a word spoken to Mike or even to himself. Mike started a small pile of the dirt which Frankie added to.

During his old days, Frankie had done this about four or five times. Generally bodies were dropped into the ocean or into the swamp, but now and then any trace of a person had to disappear from the eye of the public forever. Those guys got buried or cremated if you could bribe a crooked funeral home. Generally, it worked best if you made a clear outline with the end of the shovel and the pile was put slightly to the side of the grave itself, to avoid it all spilling back into the hole. Mike seemed to take Bones lead and they got a nice eight foot by almost three foot outline cut into the sod, then moved along to the side.

Frankie paused when the sod was moved, put the shovel under his shoulder like a crutch and rolled his sleeves up. Then he got down into the dirt and worked with Mike, cutting a deep hole into the earth. For a moment, Frankie laughed as he got lower and lower, shaking his head as he glanced at the older gent and kept going. A skeleton digging a grave for someone else. Fantastic.

William stuck to the back of the group, feeling a little out of place as he followed them to the resting place chosen by Elaine’s father. Surprisingly it felt nice here, standing here made him view it a little differently. The unfamiliar scenery was strangely soothing despite their grim situation, but he still didn’t like it here. When Elaine ran off to get the shovels, William undid his tie and allowed it to hang loosely from his collar. Figured he might as well loosen up a little and get comfortable if he was going to be here for awhile. After the cowgirl shadow jumped back to the group carrying only two shovels, he knew at least one of them would have to stand down.

Both William and Clayton chose to stand down and allow Frankie to take the only other shovel, but only Clayton gave a verbal response while the Knight remained silent. Ironic, the skeleton digging someone a grave. The young man clearly wanted to help, but due to his injuries he was incapable; disappointment radiated from his expression. William nodded in response before calmly calling him by name. “Clayton.” The Knight turned to him and paused briefly, reaching into his jacket to pull a gadget from his utility belt. ”You look like you could use this.” He said simply before tossing his medi-gel gun at him, just like the last time he handed him a gadget.

Afterwards he acted as if he never did a thing, turning back to the skeletal man and Elaine’s father. The two were already at work and moving swiftly, however William had no intentions of simply observing. Even if he wasn’t needed, he had an urge to help. The Knight slipped his hand back into his jacket, withdrawing another gadget from his utility belt. In his hand was a small piece of metal, it appeared to be a black pvc pipe. With a flick of his wrist, the collapsible gadget swiftly molded into a shovel. Normally the gadget simply served as a crowbar or vaulting pole, but in this case it would make a fine shovel. Even though digging a grave wasn’t exactly something he prepped for, as strange as it may seem, The Black Knight was prepared for anything.

“Awwww shiii, dis baby still work like a charm!” The gadget took a real beating from his previous mission with Arrow, seeing even its minor functions work at one hundred percent filled him with pride and put a smirk on his face. Not having his mask on made him briefly forget himself, and he expressed his pride verbally just like his alternate persona would. William swiftly caught himself and immediately apologized, his eyes shamefully trailing to the dirt he was meant to dig up. “I apologize..” The Knight dug his shovel into the dirt and began aiding their progress, working slightly faster than either of the men could due to his physical prowess. ”Without a reminder, sometimes I forget myself..” He spoke more to himself than anyone, trying to justify his damaged psyche, and hopefully coming off as a little less psycho. William didn’t want to admit his psyche was damaged, but deep down he knew it to be true. Without his mask he was Wilbert, and when he wasn’t Wilbert, he was lost on who he was. It’s been so long, he’d forgotten himself along the way…

Only a few more things would be needed for Elaine to finally lay old memories to rest. First, she needed to make up some sort of headstone. After all this entire contrived and stupid plot all rested upon the proper burial of this poor girl, and all graves need headstones. Poor maintenance surrounded the old storehouse. Normally a farm hand would have taken care of the place, but since losing the work force foreclosure condemned and locked up all the buildings. Elaine took a different approach to entering the building, and sifted through the empty structure;s vacant storehouses.

Blood stained a wooden post that rose up from one of the old stables that held the horses Back in the mainstay of the time that the ranch actually held horses, Elaine always liked staying around them. She spent hours and hours at a very young age taking hay over to feed them. Elaine never knew she was poor. Growing up on a ranch with horses, surrounded by majestic mountains, and given an open invitation to spend all her time with ranchers, Elaine always felt that she owned everything she could ever need.

Her hand rested on top of the wooden stump. On her tenth birthday she accompanied a ranch hand to brand one of the new horses. Taking her safety more seriously than she did, the ranch hand told her not to stand behind the horse. The branding iron seared into the lower back of the horse, causing him to rear up and kick. Elaine heeded the man's words and stayed safely to the side of the horse, but the horse did not know that protocol. Bucking his legs backwards caused the horse to violently pass just past her chest. Feeling fear of the powerful beast's legs, Elaine employed her newly discovered power and jumped beyond the horse. She failed to control the power and how it would deliver her back into the real world, and when she materialized gravity overwhelmed her and brought her face first into the post. In the chaos of the horse's action the ranch hand never knew how Elaine got all the way across the stall, but his concern over the young girls split head took away the immediate inquisition.

This post would do the job that she wanted. She took out a knife and carved the name Ileana Angara into the side of the post longways. She began to hyphenate the last name in preparation to write in Clayotn's last name, but could not think of it. No matter. The man barely meant anything to her really, at least at this place he did. In this place nothing really mattered to her from the outside world. Leaving after watching soap operas with her grandmother seemed like forever ago, but now she whittle her name into the post with precision and ascetics.