This is just a place to record Longbow Archer's thoughts and feelings as he comes to terms with what he is, who he meets, and what he is trying to be. Mainly just a bit of fun. Please PM me with any comments, critique or continuity errors. Feel free to contact me in-game for RP and/or teaming. @Harlequin on Virtue, playing here as Longbow Archer, a level 20 TA/A Defender
George flopped into the old, cracked, soft leather sofa, his eyes straying idly to the television. His wings creaked ominously behind him and he shuffled in his seat for a bit more comfort. Freak. Taking off his mask, he reached forward to the small table in front of the television to grab the bottle of whiskey. His eyes strayed to the bottle of tablets next to the ashtray and his wings moved reflexively as he shuddered.
"Who's the freak eh?" he muttered as he pulled the stopper from the bottle and drank deeply. The fire in his belly quickly sprang up, diverting him away from the pain in his shoulders. Leaning back to the table, and replacing the bottle, he took another cigarette from the paper carton. As he lit it, he picked up the battered leather journal. He inhaled deeply, opening the small book to the first page. It had been a gift from his mother when he had finally made it through his trial period with the Longbow division of Freedom Corps. Shortly afterwards she had died. This was her legacy.
Longbow... He placed the journal next to him, reaching back for the whiskey, not noticing the ash fall from the cigarette to the floor. As he reclined again, he raised the bottle in silent salute to the organisation that he had once been proud to be a member of. His wings protested under the movement and the moment was gone.
"Who's the Freak now eh?" he asked the television. There was no intelligible response forthcoming, and George paused a moment. Freak...
He didn't remember when he'd first bumped into her. It must have been after the wings thing. She was a real freak. A Freak. Called herself PuNk R0xX0R. Five feet something of attitude and energy. But she was the first one he'd met that didn't take one look at his armour, then his wings, then mutter "Freak" under their breath. They both had jobs from their contacts that needed doing, and she said she needed some help going after them. Apparently her ex was involved in some weapons theft from Lockhart Aero, and she needed to go get the weapons back. She looked a little flighty, and nervous, but hell, going after Freaks had a certain irony to it. He'd readily agreed.
They'd gone down to the labs and made their way to where the ex was ranting in some language George couldn't follow. PuNk later said it was called leet whatever that meant. One thing was for sure, he wasnt happy seeing her again, and seemed to delight in taking his rage out on George who was still to this day carrying the bruises from that fight. Apparently he was the jealous type. She was a canny fighter. Instinctive, and George liked that. She hovered in mid-air, firing electrical blasts at the Freakshow minions, stopping occasionally to transfer energy from them to both herself and him. George smiled grimly thinking of his arrows and their almost silent noise. No flashy effect from them, but they had surely recovered the weapons, and taken down the ex. Twice... Together.
Never the sharpest tool in the box, George had taken a while to notice just how she was looking at him. He thought it was just the wings initially, but her smile seemed friendly enough, and her comments on the effects his arrows were having, and how well he fought seemed more than just innocuous observations. His own attempts at conversation felt stilted. He was awkward and unfamiliar around the opposite sex, so he'd pretty much amazed himself when he asked her out to dinner. That amazement turned quickly to stunned shock when she accepted. What the hell was he thinking?! She didn't even have hands for goodness sake and the spikes coming out of her head only looked good with the pink Mohawk she currently sported. Hardly a recipe for a quiet unobtrusive dinner at Lucio's. But she seemed so excited, even said she was going to buy a dress.... Almost disbelievingly, he lifted the bottle to his lips once again. Her in a dress, with two robotic arms and spikes in her head, and him in a suit with wings poking out the back. What a ridiculous image. Two freaks out for a stroll...
As he drained the bottle, he paused, picturing again her face. She was cute though. No denying that. There was also the twinkle in her eyes when she looked at him made him smile like an idiot to himself as he sat on the couch. Perhaps they could settle for a quiet evening in the super-group base in the hope that that interminably sarcastic and egotistical "Splenetic Shadow" wouldn't be sprawled on the sofa in front of the TV guzzling beer and munching pretzels like they were going out of fashion. He would almost certainly pass some sort of sarcastic comment, which George always felt ill equipped to respond to. No. The base would be a bad idea. And besides...
He picked up the journal and eased a slim silver pen out from its sheath in the spine.
I met her again today. She wanted to show me the dress she had bought. I thought perhaps then would have been the time to explain about Splen and his disdain for any non-scrappers. To perhaps convince her that dinner wouldn't be such a good idea. But when she showed me the dress... Oh my. She is beautiful. Gone was the mask, the combat fatigues and the heavy boots. She had the most beautiful gown on of deepest purple. She had obviously spent some time making herself up. There was a subtle hint of makeup and shed done her hair up real nice. Truly beautiful. Of course I rushed off to show her my suit. Forced the wings to hide in the jacket. The pain was almost unbearable, but when she saw me and her eyes lit up, I knew it was worth it. We danced a little. She says I can dance, but I know for sure that I am no John Travolta. Before long the pain got too much, so I left before I passed out in front of her. What an idiot.
How am I going to take her out? I will have to destroy the suit to accommodate these damnable wings. Why did I ever help the Crey? Perhaps I should cancel? Call off the date?
He closed the journal again. Hero? You? Staring at his reflection in the now empty bottle, he wondered for the hundredth time, just what the hell he was doing. Why did he leave Longbow to go solo?
"Because you thought you were better than them." His reflection simply echoed his words, and did not provide him the answer he sought. He grimaced, and as his reflection copied him, he threw the bottle down in disgust. Standing swiftly, he moved to the wardrobe and began to unbuckle his red and white armoured costume. As he slid the coat-hanger into the top, he paused, looking at the emblem on the chest.
"You're not Longbow anymore", he said, running a fingertip over the reinforced kevlar-polymer breastplate. He pictured the girl again in his minds eye, and smiled softly to himself. She liked his wings, she liked his powers, she liked the way he fought. Maybe he should have a bit more confidence in himself. Maybe it was time to let the Longbow go for good. Not the name, but for sure the red and white armour. And maybe, just maybe, it was time for him to give her a call and take her out. He trembled at the thought of speaking to her again. What if...? Cursing, he pushed the wardrobe door closed. More self-doubt.
As he padded back across the small one-room apartment, he stopped at the computer terminal. He did have an email address. Perhaps that would be safer. Easier for her to knock him back if she didn't want to see him again. Either way, tomorrow was another day, and the first thing on the agenda would be a new suit, new costume, and a new attitude. Slightly drunkenly, he dropped to the small chair in front of the computer, turned it on, and began to write.
This is just a place to record Longbow Archer's thoughts and feelings as he comes to terms with what he is, who he meets, and what he is trying to be. Mainly just a bit of fun. Please PM me with any comments, critique or continuity errors. Feel free to contact me in-game for RP and/or teaming. @Harlequin on Virtue, playing here as Longbow Archer, a level 20 TA/A Defender
George flopped into the old, cracked, soft leather sofa, his eyes straying idly to the television. His wings creaked ominously behind him and he shuffled in his seat for a bit more comfort. Freak. Taking off his mask, he reached forward to the small table in front of the television to grab the bottle of whiskey. His eyes strayed to the bottle of tablets next to the ashtray and his wings moved reflexively as he shuddered.
"Who's the freak eh?" he muttered as he pulled the stopper from the bottle and drank deeply. The fire in his belly quickly sprang up, diverting him away from the pain in his shoulders. Leaning back to the table, and replacing the bottle, he took another cigarette from the paper carton. As he lit it, he picked up the battered leather journal. He inhaled deeply, opening the small book to the first page. It had been a gift from his mother when he had finally made it through his trial period with the Longbow division of Freedom Corps. Shortly afterwards she had died. This was her legacy.
Longbow... He placed the journal next to him, reaching back for the whiskey, not noticing the ash fall from the cigarette to the floor. As he reclined again, he raised the bottle in silent salute to the organisation that he had once been proud to be a member of. His wings protested under the movement and the moment was gone.
"Who's the Freak now eh?" he asked the television. There was no intelligible response forthcoming, and George paused a moment. Freak...
He didn't remember when he'd first bumped into her. It must have been after the wings thing. She was a real freak. A Freak. Called herself PuNk R0xX0R. Five feet something of attitude and energy. But she was the first one he'd met that didn't take one look at his armour, then his wings, then mutter "Freak" under their breath. They both had jobs from their contacts that needed doing, and she said she needed some help going after them. Apparently her ex was involved in some weapons theft from Lockhart Aero, and she needed to go get the weapons back. She looked a little flighty, and nervous, but hell, going after Freaks had a certain irony to it. He'd readily agreed.
They'd gone down to the labs and made their way to where the ex was ranting in some language George couldn't follow. PuNk later said it was called leet whatever that meant. One thing was for sure, he wasnt happy seeing her again, and seemed to delight in taking his rage out on George who was still to this day carrying the bruises from that fight. Apparently he was the jealous type. She was a canny fighter. Instinctive, and George liked that. She hovered in mid-air, firing electrical blasts at the Freakshow minions, stopping occasionally to transfer energy from them to both herself and him. George smiled grimly thinking of his arrows and their almost silent noise. No flashy effect from them, but they had surely recovered the weapons, and taken down the ex. Twice... Together.
Never the sharpest tool in the box, George had taken a while to notice just how she was looking at him. He thought it was just the wings initially, but her smile seemed friendly enough, and her comments on the effects his arrows were having, and how well he fought seemed more than just innocuous observations. His own attempts at conversation felt stilted. He was awkward and unfamiliar around the opposite sex, so he'd pretty much amazed himself when he asked her out to dinner. That amazement turned quickly to stunned shock when she accepted. What the hell was he thinking?! She didn't even have hands for goodness sake and the spikes coming out of her head only looked good with the pink Mohawk she currently sported. Hardly a recipe for a quiet unobtrusive dinner at Lucio's. But she seemed so excited, even said she was going to buy a dress.... Almost disbelievingly, he lifted the bottle to his lips once again. Her in a dress, with two robotic arms and spikes in her head, and him in a suit with wings poking out the back. What a ridiculous image. Two freaks out for a stroll...
As he drained the bottle, he paused, picturing again her face. She was cute though. No denying that. There was also the twinkle in her eyes when she looked at him made him smile like an idiot to himself as he sat on the couch. Perhaps they could settle for a quiet evening in the super-group base in the hope that that interminably sarcastic and egotistical "Splenetic Shadow" wouldn't be sprawled on the sofa in front of the TV guzzling beer and munching pretzels like they were going out of fashion. He would almost certainly pass some sort of sarcastic comment, which George always felt ill equipped to respond to. No. The base would be a bad idea. And besides...
He picked up the journal and eased a slim silver pen out from its sheath in the spine.
I met her again today. She wanted to show me the dress she had bought. I thought perhaps then would have been the time to explain about Splen and his disdain for any non-scrappers. To perhaps convince her that dinner wouldn't be such a good idea. But when she showed me the dress... Oh my. She is beautiful. Gone was the mask, the combat fatigues and the heavy boots. She had the most beautiful gown on of deepest purple. She had obviously spent some time making herself up. There was a subtle hint of makeup and shed done her hair up real nice. Truly beautiful. Of course I rushed off to show her my suit. Forced the wings to hide in the jacket. The pain was almost unbearable, but when she saw me and her eyes lit up, I knew it was worth it. We danced a little. She says I can dance, but I know for sure that I am no John Travolta. Before long the pain got too much, so I left before I passed out in front of her. What an idiot.
How am I going to take her out? I will have to destroy the suit to accommodate these damnable wings. Why did I ever help the Crey? Perhaps I should cancel? Call off the date?
He closed the journal again. Hero? You? Staring at his reflection in the now empty bottle, he wondered for the hundredth time, just what the hell he was doing. Why did he leave Longbow to go solo?
"Because you thought you were better than them." His reflection simply echoed his words, and did not provide him the answer he sought. He grimaced, and as his reflection copied him, he threw the bottle down in disgust. Standing swiftly, he moved to the wardrobe and began to unbuckle his red and white armoured costume. As he slid the coat-hanger into the top, he paused, looking at the emblem on the chest.
"You're not Longbow anymore", he said, running a fingertip over the reinforced kevlar-polymer breastplate. He pictured the girl again in his minds eye, and smiled softly to himself. She liked his wings, she liked his powers, she liked the way he fought. Maybe he should have a bit more confidence in himself. Maybe it was time to let the Longbow go for good. Not the name, but for sure the red and white armour. And maybe, just maybe, it was time for him to give her a call and take her out. He trembled at the thought of speaking to her again. What if...? Cursing, he pushed the wardrobe door closed. More self-doubt.
As he padded back across the small one-room apartment, he stopped at the computer terminal. He did have an email address. Perhaps that would be safer. Easier for her to knock him back if she didn't want to see him again. Either way, tomorrow was another day, and the first thing on the agenda would be a new suit, new costume, and a new attitude. Slightly drunkenly, he dropped to the small chair in front of the computer, turned it on, and began to write.
((More to come at a later date))
-H