Losers in the West 2/?
Title: Losers in the West
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I don't own the Losers, but I did make up the story, just not most of the characters.
Warning: AU, will contain slash, and violence (Not betad so please forgive any mistakes in my Spanish.)
Summary: Ten years after the Civil War, Jensen is recruited for a team assigned the mission to Stop Max. Now this rag-tag team assembled by Clay is venturing to Tombstone via train. It is only natural that there are complications.
Chapter 2: El Cougar
As soon as the train stopped at the San Antonio station some of the passengers stepped off without noticing Jensen as he lurked at one of the exits. The sky was almost black with rain clouds. Thunder so loud that he swore he could feel the vibration through the train. The presence of the sheriff became more obvious as several men with silver badges stepped forward huddled around tan man shackled both hand and foot. He had long raven hair that reached his shoulders and a brown leather hat perched on the top of his head.
At first he seemed too preoccupied with the sheriff surrounding him to notice him watching. Sudden as a flash of lightening the prisoner looked at the window Jensen was peeking out of. Their eyes met, and the blonde tensed up when he saw that intense stare.
Five sheriffs took the prisoner to the baggage car, two of them returning to the deck. The other three were probably acting as escorts on the trip. Jensen took note of this for a reason he could not decipher. “Sir,” the conductor called out to him from over his shoulder.
“What was all that about?”
“What makes you think I know anything?” the conductor said nervously, which told Jensen that this man did indeed know something.
“Well sir,” Jensen opened his jacket and pulled out his schematic from his inside pocket pretending it was a note pad. “You see I’m a reporter for the New York Press. I’ve got a whiff of some juicy story going on. If you knew anything about it, I’m sure the paper would make the information worth your time.”
“The New York Press?”
“Oh yes, we’re the paper exclusive to rich and famous. They’re just dying to know about all the stuff going on out west,” Jensen kept putting fuel on the fire when he saw the greed in the man’s eyes. “If you’d like maybe one of my paper’s patrons could even, you know, get you a promotion of some kind,” he whispered as if it were a precious secret and the man seemed about ready to burst.
“Alright, but you need to keep this under your hat until after this train gets to Yuma. The man they brought on board is known as “el Cougar”. He’s an assassin sent by the Mexicans to try and off the Texas governor. I don’t know the details but the sheriff managed to get him behind bars and now they’re taking him to Yuma for execution.”
“How was he supposed to kill the governor, he certainly wouldn’t be able to get close to him?” Jensen asked this question out loud pretending to be stumped.
“You’d need to ask one of the sheriffs about that,” the conductor said dismissively. “You’ll need my name, it’s-“
“Thanks, for your statement,” Jensen said and marched off leaving the conductor sputtering after him.
“But you didn’t get my name!”
Jensen closed the door to their cabin locking the conductor out. Pooch was asleep on one of the benches his jacket tucked under his head acting as a pillow. The blonde kicked him and sat down on the opposite bench looking increasingly pleased. “Pooch. We’ve got an assassin on the train.”
“Assassin!” Pooch shot up and flailed his arms around reaching for his belt which had no gun.
“Whoa, take it easy there pilgrim. The guy’s in custody.”
“Then why the hell did you wake me up to tell me this?”
“Well I need to talk to somebody about it,” Jensen pouted and ran his fingers through his hair noticing a picture sticking out from under the jacket Pooch was using as a pillow. He reached for it and the other was too slow to react until Jensen was already examining the photo. “Who’s this?”
Pooch was flustered as he snatched the picture away and tucked it back under his jacket. “Her name is Jolene.”
“Jo~lene,” Jensen sang in a childish manner, his grin nearly cracking his face in half. “You didn’t tell me there was a Mrs. Porteaus.”
“She’s not.”
“What?”
“I didn’t have the money, for the ring, for the wedding, for the sort of life she deserves…”
“So that’s why you took the job without hesitation.” Pooch nodded and rubbed his hand against his bald head. He looked particularly pitiful, and Jensen felt his heart ache in sympathy. “Well when you get back you can propose. And invite us all to the wedding.”
“If I get back.”
“You’ll get back. I’ll make sure of that.”
“Why did you take this job Jensen? You don’t sound like you need the money.”
“Clay needs me,” he replied as a simple fact. “Besides, I don’t like the sounds of this Max’s operation. And I’d be honored to be a part of the team that shoves a boot up his ass.”
“Here here,” Pooch nodded and settled back into his comfortable sleeping position.
“Did you know that Linwood is a town in New Jersey?” Jensen said as he revved up to start one of his tangents.
“Shut up Jensen,” Pooch mumbled and buried his face in his jacket his fingers lightly caressing the edge of Jolene’s picture.
For a few minutes Jensen sat there awkwardly and when Pooch started to snore he took that as the signal for him to leave. When he stepped out into the hall he was relieved to find that the conductor was gone, and he made a mental note to avoid him for the rest of the trip. Rain glossed over the windows gently drumming on the roof of train cars as they rocked on the tracks.
One end of the hallway led to the dining car near the front of the train while the other led to the baggage car. Jensen headed towards the rear, pulling his coat more tightly around himself as he moved from car to car. Before he stepped into the second to the last car the blonde was nearly thrown forward when the train reached a bend in the tracks. It slowed down gradually giving Jensen a chance to steady himself. Just as he was about to open the car door he noticed a shape approaching the train. Lightening revealed the outline of a large stead mounted by a burly looking rider.
He ducked inside just as the rider jumped onto the ladder on the side of the cabin car. “The hell is that?” he hissed to himself.
“Bandidos,” a low voice said and Jensen looked over to see the prisoner leaning against the door on the opposite end of the apparently abandoned car. Against his chest was one of the sheriff’s rifles, his leather hat missing from the top of his head.
“El Cougar?”
“Carlos Alverez, es mi nombre. ¿Y tu?”
“Uh… Jake. Jake Jensen. Do you speak English?” Jensen flinched when the rifle was pointed in his direction. He lifted his arms to shield his face as he expected to feel the familiar pain of bullets tearing through flesh. It wouldn’t be the first time he got shot, but he certainly was not looking forward to the experience again. After a few seconds of no pain he looked under his arm to find a large hole in the door behind him. “Did you miss?”
“Yo nunca miss,” Cougar responded and stood up opening his own door to fire at the bandit stepping out of the baggage car. “¿Dónde está su pistola?”
“Pistola? Pistol? I left it in my cabin.”
Cougar gave him a disappointed look until he heard the familiar clack of a shotgun reloading. Instantly he dropped to the floor. The door he had been leaning against exploded as a spread of bullets broke through the wood. Jensen slammed down onto the floor as well then cautiously crawled over to the Mexican assassin. “The hell do they want?”
“No sé.”
“Can you speak English or not?” Jensen scowled at the man who only rolled onto his stomach and took aim at the large hole in the door. When he fired a strangled scream could be heard from the other side before he stood up, pulling Jensen with him. “Whoa, where are we going?” he said as he was being pulled toward the baggage car.
“Se necesita un pistola,” Cougar insisted and pulled Jensen out into the rain before they entered the baggage car. The first thing Jensen noticed were three unconscious sheriffs and four dead bandits. He took the pistol when offered to him, strapping it to his hip before he grabbed some spare bullets.
“Thanks… uh Gracias. Whatever.”
“De nada.”
“Listen I’ve got some friends, big friends,” he clapped his hand on his bicep and flexed, “strong friend,” he made a few jabs. “They’re in the other car. Do you know how many bandidos there are?”
The other man just shook his head and looked around as if searching for something. He picked up his hat and put it on his head, quickly wiping his mustache before he gestured towards the door. Jensen understood the signal and proceeded to lead the way as he snuck from one car to the next.
“They must have everyone in the dining car,” he whispered and looked over his shoulder to find no Cougar. There was the soft click of a hammer being pulled back before he felt the barrel pressed to his temple. Jensen pushed his glasses up his wet nose then slowly raised his hands in surrender.
“You’ll be joining them soon enough,” his new gun was removed from his hip before he was shoved down the hall towards the dining car. The conductors and a few of the passengers were tied up. Aisha was held at gunpoint and Roque was face down on the floor. Clay was crouched over him, his pistol dangling from his index finger as a sign of surrender. Pooch was in the corner with some of the other passengers, a look of relief coming over him when he saw Jensen alive.
There were about ten bandits in the room, all of them armed to the teeth with pistols, knives, and rifles. Jensen looked around and noticed something in the reflection of a nearby serving dish. The door he and his captor had just come through had not closed. When he squinted but could make out the long barrel of a rifle poking through.
“Where’s that Spanish rat?!” one of the men growled and shot his gun up in the air leaving a hole in the roof.
“We told you he should be in the caboose,” a conductor spoke up and winced when a bandit shoved a gun in his face.
“This is no Mexican,” another man growled and pointed his gun at Jensen.
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that compadre,” Jensen spoke up and lowered his hands, “You see many years ago I was adopted by a native Mexican tribe and blessed by their shaman with ability to kill a man with a single thought.” Silently he prayed that he was not just imagining things as he formed his hands into the shape of guns. He pointed one hand at the bandit holding the gun to Aisha’s head, and another to the bandit pointing the shotgun at Clay. “I don’t want to have to kill you?”
All the bandits in the room started to laugh, along with some of the captive passengers. Clay shook his head in embarrassment while Aisha merely rolled her eyes.
“Bang!” the blond yelled and the bandit holding the gun to Aisha’s head fell dead, his brains painting the ceiling. “Boom!” he yelled and the bandit holding the shotgun to Clay was thrown sideways from the force of the shot. “Pow!” he pointed at the leader as he stared shocked until a bullet pierced him right between the eyes.
Aisha pulled out her knife, Roque doing the same before he pushed himself off the floor. Pooch ushered the passengers out of the room, nailing a bandit in the jaw with a perfect right hook which sent the man sailing into one of Clay’s bullets. Once the dining car was free of civilians the bandits didn’t stand a chance, their blood coating the walls and seats until every single one was dead.
Jensen holstered his gun and wiped his brow with a satisfied grin. “How was that?” he asked and winced when the colonel punched him in the shoulder nearly knocking his arm out of place.
“I told you not to get into trouble!”
“Ow! Hey, be nice to the man who just saved your ass.”
“Blessed by a shaman to blow people up with a thought,” Roque was chuckling, his normally stony faced cracked to reveal a huge grin. “Oh… that’s priceless,” the dark man shook his head and sheathed his knife.
Clay looked past Jensen at Cougar who was standing near the door with his rifle resting on his right shoulder. They sized each other up in silence for a few minutes before Clay held out his hand. “Franklin Clay.”
“Carlos Alverez,” was the courteous reply given as Cougar took the offered hand.
“That’s some decent shooting. Where’d you learn that?”
“Armada.”
“Podriamos uso usted,” We could use you. Clay whispered and looked over at Aisha who seemed to be following their conversation loud and clear.
“He’s a convict Clay,” she growled at him.
“Si,” Cougar offered no defense. “Soy un asesino.” Yes, I’m a killer.
“Usted puede nos ayudar.” You can help us.
“¿Por que?” Why?
“Para salvar vidas,” To save lives, Clay looked over at Aisha who seemed rather bored with their conversation. Jensen was floored by the reality that Clay spoke Spanish while Pooch and Roque just looked completely lost.
“So is he on the team?” Pooch asked and all eyes fell on Aisha. She looked around at everyone then stared at Cougar.
“¿Asi?” she asked.
“Si,” he nodded and tipped his hat.
“Good. Now I want those bodies off this train. Are you keepers still alive?” Clay asked and gestured for Cougar to follow him. The pair disappeared through the car door.
Aisha leaned over the body of the lead bandit eyeing his left ear in an almost nostalgic manner. Jensen helped Roque and Pooch move the bodied closer to the door. “What’s the matter with you?” he asked when she continued to just stare.
“Homesick.”
“What is it about him that makes you feel homesick?”
“When I was little I used to collect human ears. But when I joined the agency I had to give that up. Sometimes I miss it. He’s got nice ears,” she looked over at Jensen watching as he cupped his ears nervously. A satisfied smile crossed her features as she drug the body over to the door.
Later that evening Pooch, Roque, and Jensen found themselves sitting in the cabin waiting for the others. After two hours of waiting for Clay to return from his meeting with the sheriff Aisha had stormed off toward the baggage car. Then after another thirty minutes of waiting they both returned with Cougar.
“I can’t believe you did that,” Clay grumbled as he planted himself down on the unoccupied bench. Aisha settled down next to him and Cougar lingered near the door as if uncertain what to do. Jensen jumped up and gestured to his seat but the sharpshooter shook his head and waved his hand.
“Sit down,” Pooch grabbed Jensen by his suspenders and made him sit. There was no point trying to force a seat on a man who was clearly not going to accept it.
“You were the one who wanted him. I made sure you got him.”
“Aisha, hanging a sheriff over the back of a train is not a proper method of negotiation,” Clay tried to explain but the woman seemed pleased with herself. She glanced over Cougar for support and he tipped his hat in what looked like approval.
“Keep out of it, Carlos,” the colonel said and glared at the assassin who turned away as if he had done nothing of the sort.
“So we have a Mexican. Is there anyone else you want on the team Clay? Maybe some dancing midgets and a red-skin?” Roque grumbled his large arms crossed over his chest.
“Dancing midgets would be kind of cool,” Jensen muttered which earned him a warning glare.
Clay shook his head as he looked over the team he had assembled, “No I think we can work with what we got. But it should be another couple of days before we reach Tombstone, we’ll need to sit tight. And hopefully stay out of trouble,” he direct his look at Jensen who seemed almost appalled by the accusation that he got into trouble.
“Are you even sure we can trust him?” Roque leaned forward lowering his voice, as if that would keep Cougar from over hearing.
“We keep him from getting executed, he says he’ll help.”
“But what if he just runs away?”
“He won’t run.”
“But if he does?” Roque insisted and glared at Cougar who simply glared back.
“No voy a correr,” Cougar spoke up for himself and Roque jumped to his feet cracking his knuckles. The shorter man did not back down, simply tilted his sideways as he sized Roque up.
“The hell did he say to me?”
“He says you’re a bitch,” Clay lied and chuckled at the stunned look that Cougar gave him.
A large dark fist swung directly at Cougar’s head and the unarmed sharpshooter ducked under the arm slamming his fist into Roque’s gut. The larger man grunted but seemed unaffected as he followed up with a second punch that clipped Cougar in the shoulder. A strong elbow rammed into Roque’s ribs and the pair tumbled out of the cabin into the hallway when he grabbed hold of the smaller man.
He tried to slam Cougar into the wall of the car but the man managed to slip out of his hold, getting in a few jabs to Roque’s middle. He pulled back his arm for a finishing blow but was blocked when Roque grabbed Cougar by the wrist and threw the assassin into the wall between cabins. He extended his palms and caught himself before he could make impact. Instinctively the smaller man dodged a powerful punch, which he countered with upper cut to the chin. Roque was thrown backwards but he quickly regained his footing when he prepared to throw another punch.
His grizzled face was smeared with blood and spit, his eyes wild with an almost animalistic thirst for blood. Cougar recognized that look, and he felt it was better to back down before someone really got hurt.
“I said I won’t run,” Cougar said in English.
“You could have just said so,” Roque spat while he wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt. He still looked like an animal ready to strike even as he cleaned away the sweat and blood.
“You seemed like you needed a fight,” Cougar pointed out and readjusted his hat which had been twisted during the fight.
“Shit,” Jensen and Pooch groaned in unison. They never thought that anyone other than Clay, and maybe Aisha, could hold their own against Roque.
“You’re a liar Clay,” Roque growled as he stepped into the cabin, Cougar following close behind.
“I just wanted to show you what he could do.”
“I would have killed him.”
“I don’t think so,” Clays said with a shrug. He smirked over at Aisha who seemed impressed by the bout though she had no intention of saying anything out loud.
“So you do speak English,” Jensen sat on the edge of his chair, seeming particularly excited by the revelation.
“Si.”
“Don’t start that again!” the blonde cried out.
To be Continued
A/N: Guh, is it strange that I'm willing to take spanish just so I can write Cougar better? Once again forgive my crap spanish, all I've got is web tools, a spanish dictionary, and high school level Spanish. I hope you like the story so far.