| “ | He won't do any flyin' in that forest. I'll round 'im up for ya!
— Greg Saunders
|
” |
Greg Saunders is the first of many DC characters to go by the name of the Vigilante. His grandfather was a Native American fighter, and his father was a sheriff in Wyoming. In his adulthood. he would go East to live as a country singer. Although he didn't start as a superhero at first, the crimes he had seen in the big cities inspired him to help out. Donning himself a bandanna and a costume similar to many masked vigilantes of the past, Greg rode the streets, bringing with him his expert marksmanship, and the brand of "Western" justice he had learned and admired back in Wyoming. Throughout his adventures, he would go on to meet and assist other superheroes, like the time he helped Superman defeat a werewolf (whom Superman was vulnerable against because of magic). He would also join many superhero teams like the Seven Soldiers of Victory, All-Star Squadron, and even the Justice League. Although largely forgotten today, the character of Greg Saunders would leave an impact in DC Comics. He was the first DC character to have a live-action adaptation, and his version in the TV series Justice League Unlimited has become a cult favorite.
Battle vs. Indiana Jones (by FEARTHEWAFFLE)[]
Aboard the Justice League Watchtower, the cowboy superhero Greg Saunders reclines in the mess hall and enjoys a scenic view of the planet. Taking a bite out of a spicy buffalo wing, he took a chug of soda and sighed. If only Batman let them have alcohol, he'd be chugging six packs of beer all day.
Speaking of Batman, the communicator in his ear beeped. "Vigilante?" The caped crusader asked in his gruff voice. Vigilante tapped the earpiece and picked up. "I'm here. Ya got a mission for me Batman?" He asked in his classic Southern drawl. Batman replied, "Yes. Head to the bridge, J'onn will brief you there."
The cowboy stood up and chugged down the rest of his soda. "On my way." He walked out of the mess hall, waving to some of his fellow heroes on the way out. He made his way to the elevator and ascended to the bridge. Stepping out, he was greeted by the tall green Martian. "Vigilante. Batman has sent for you." The Manhunter informed him in his dignified tone. "And where is the ol' Bat?" He asked. "He was sent off on an urgent mission with Superman. He informed me of a mission for you."
"What is it?" Vigilante asked. "A Brazilian arms group has recently robbed a museum. I am sending you to intercept one of their convoys." The Martian responded. "Sounds easy enough." He stepped down to the teleporter pad. He tipped his hat to the alien before disappearing in a flash of blue light.
In a misty, forest-covered mountain range in South America, a lone jeep barrels across a long, winding dirt road. The thug driving at the wheel turns to the one in the passenger seat and mutters something in Spanish. He nods and puts his cell phone to his ear. "We have the package. We'll be there before nightfall." He said in a heavy Brazilian accent. In his lap he holds a small, dust-covered wooden box with a strange inscription on the side. A deep voice responds unintelligibly, and the thug nods. He puts away the cell phone and turns to the driver. "Keep heading north, and we should be there in a couple of hours." He turned to a third thug in the back seat. "Make sure tha-" He was interrupted as the jeep drove over a buried mine, blowing apart the left tire.
The vehicle spun wildly out of control. Another explosion blew apart the back of the vehicle, flipping it over. The jeep flew through the air before coming crashing down. One of the thugs crawled out of the wreckage, heavily bruised and bleeding. He kept hold of the box, clutching it tightly over his chest. He looked back, seeing his comrades dead and crushed on impact. He looked up, and standing before him was a shadowy figure in a brown jacket and hat, straddling an old WW2-era motorcycle. "I think you've got something that doesn't belong to you, amigo." The thug scowled and pulled a handgun from his jacket, but a loud crack echoed across the jungle, and Indy's bullwhip knocked the gun from the thug's hand. He looked up at Indiana, a look of pure contempt on his face, before crumbling to the ground, unconscious.
Indiana dismounted from his motorcycle and stepped over to where the gangster lay. He stooped down and pulled the box out from his arms. Tentatively but eagerly, he opened the box and a glowing red light shined from inside, cutting open the mist and bathing the roadside in a warm red glow. Curious, Indiana pulled the box closer to him.
"That's one fancy lamp ya got there, partner." A stereotypical cowboy voice called out from the mist. Indiana looked up and saw another man sitting on a bright white motorcycle, dressed in blue and wearing a cowboy hat.
Indiana closed the box and stood. "It belongs in a museum, cowboy. I'm not letting you have it."
"I'm with the Justice League, partner. I don't want things to get ugly." The Vigilante warned.
"Justice League? I don't buy it." Indiana pulled out his Colt Police revolver, but Vigilante anticipated the draw, pulled out one of his Colt 1861 revolvers, and fired at Jones, who dived behind the wrecked gang jeep for cover.
Indiana swore as he crouched behind the jeep. Vigilante stepped off his Vig-Cycle and drew his second revolver, approaching the jeep. "Just give yourself up, I don't want to hurt you."
Indiana popped out of cover and fired off two shots. Vigilante rolled behind the other side of the jeep to avoid them, but Indiana, taking advantage of his distraction, turned and bolted to his motorcycle. Vigilante popped out of cover, firing at Indiana. Jones sidestepped most of the bullets but one grazed his jacket. He turned and fired another round at the cowboy, forcing him back into cover. The archaeologist hopped onto his motorcycle and started it. The engine roared to life and he sped off down the road. Vigilante ran to his own motorcycle and gave chase.
Jones strapped the package in on the side of his bike and straightened his fedora. He heard the roar of Vigilante's motorcycle and looked behind him. The Vig-Cycle's headlights sliced through the mist and quickly gained on Indiana Jones.
Jones cursed and lifted his revolver, firing off the rest of his rounds at his pursuer. Vigilante saw the muzzle flashes break the misty air and veered left, evading Indiana's fire. He scowled and accelerated, barreling forward with speed second only to the Batmobile.
Indiana watched Vigilante come into view and tried to gain more speed, but Vigilante's vehicle was simply too fast. Vigilante pulled out a revolver and fired three rounds at Indiana, who managed to maneuver and evade two, but one slammed into the side of his bike. Indy pulled a few more rounds from jacket and loaded them into his revolver, but Vigilante fired a round into Indiana's back tire.
Indiana's motorcycle spun out of control and collided with a cliff face on the side of the road. Indiana was thrown off the vehicle, dropped his revolver, and hit the ground hard. He groaned and got up, his vision blurry. When his eyes cleared, he saw the Vigilante standing before him, a revolver drawn and ready to gun him down.
"You better stay down." He warned menacingly.
"Never." Indiana pulled out his bull whip and lashed out, pulling the gun from Vigilante's hands. He lashed out again, but Vigilante jumped to the side. He charged forward and drew his second revolver, slamming its butt into Indiana's face. Then he landed a hard punch into the archaeologist's gut with his other arm, and took him by the collar and threw him to the side.
Indiana slid across the rough dirt road, coughing and hacking. He spotted his police revolver laying on the ground and pulled himself up, crawling over to it.
"Not so fast." Vigilante stepped on Indiana's weapon and kicked it back, sending it sliding across the road and off the cliff behind them. He pointed his gun at Indiana again, this time more compelled to pull the trigger. The two men locked eyes. Vigilante's finger itched, but he hesitated. Before he could decide, Indiana burst forward, jumping to his feet. He charged the superhero and tackled him across the road and off the ledge, sending them both tumbling down the mountainside.
The two men grappled as they rolled down. Sharp, jagged rocks cut them as they tumbled. Indiana managed to put Saunders in a headlock when they hit the ground, covered in scrapes and bruises. Vigilante struggled to break free. He grabbed Indiana's head and threw him over his shoulder, sending him flying into a tree trunk. He slid to the ground and found his revolver laying in the grass. Vigilante picked up his revolver, and the two men leveled their weapons at the exact same time. For a brief moment, they eyed each other again, staring down the barrels of their guns.
Indiana fired, but Vigilante jumped to his right. The bullet grazed the side of his chest, but he fired his gun and struck Indiana in the leg. Both men fell, clutching their wounds. Vigilante managed to get to his feet, raising his revolver again, but Indiana pulled out his machete and knocked the weapon out of Vigilante's hands. He swung again, slicing through Vigilante's bandana. The cowboy pulled the cloth off his face and coughed up some blood. He looked up at Indiana, now too angry to hold back. He sent another hard punch to Indiana's chest, making him step back.
Indiana raised his left arm to block Vigilante's next blow, and sliced his blade across his knee. Roaring in pain, he headbutted Indiana and delivered a strong uppercut. Indiana stepped back again, slammed the machete's handle into Vigilante's shoulder, and grabbed him by the neck. Vigilante raised his right boot and stomped hard on the bullet wound in Indiana's leg. He screamed and dropped the machete. Vigilante sent a swift jab to Indiana's face, knocking him back and sending him to the ground.
Indiana saw Vigilante's gun laying next to him. He grabbed it and spun around, aiming at the Vigilante, but was caught off guard as Vigilante's lasso came down on him, wrapping around his torso. The rope tightened hard, squeezing the air out of him. Vigilante pulled Indiana in and delivered a strong punch straight into Indiana's face, knocking him out cold.
Vigilante trudged back up the mountain, dragging the unconscious Indiana Jones up with his lariat. He tapped his communicator. "Batman? Batman, do you copy?" Nothing but static...
Winner: Vigilante
Expert's Opinion[]
While Indiana was better trained, more willing to kill, and had a vastly superior close range weapon, Vigilante had superior long range weapons and was a highly skilled marksman, and was a skilled enough hand-to-hand combatant to overcome Indiana's blade.