Crimson Archer - 13 points of articulation

The Offices of Raymond Free Press Group
Founder's Fall, Paragon City, RI.

The meeting room in the Raymond Free Press Group offices was smaller than Jay had expected, but bright and new with glass surfaces and brushed steel furnishings. Abstract art in blues and greens hung on the one wall, while opposite was floor to ceiling glass, the huge windows offering amazing views over the city at this height. Jay sipped his coffee and watched the afternoon sunlight reflecting off the WarWalls in sparkles and waves, giving them the appearance of a vertical sheet of water.

It was past midday and the room was already filling up with people. Jay estimated about a dozen so far, but with majority of the room taken up with a long table, it felt like more. Most of them were in their own little cliques, twittering like wild birds with occasional furtive glances in Jay's direction. He ignored them the best he could, and focused on the view and his coffee.

Behind him, Jay heard the door to the room open and a further three people entered. The first, a young woman in her early twenties, was wearing a fitted skirt suit, horn rimmed glasses and had her brunette hair caught up in a tight bun. She carried an armful of leather folders and was followed by the second man, whom Jay recognised as Samuel Raymond II, the owner of the Raymond Free Press Group and the man who also owned the rights to the Crimson Archer name and image. Jay sipped his coffee again to hide his scowl at the thought. Samuel Raymond moved aside, allowing Jay a clear view of the third man, and he nearly spat his coffee onto the grey carpet in surprise. Nathan, Jay's cousin, surveyed the room and then, noticing Jay's stunned look, threw him a wink and grinned.

The young woman walked around the glass topped table, laying out the folders in front of each steel chair, deftly avoiding the still whispering groups as she went. Samuel Raymond smiled at her when she was done, as the young woman took a position to one side of him.

"Gentlemen," he began with a smile, "thank you all for coming. If we can all take our seats and we'll get this meeting started."

He moved to the head of the table as the groups separated into individuals vying for the best position around the table. Nate took a seat at Samuel Raymond's left hand, while the young woman, whom Jay presumed to be the owner's PA, sat at his right. Jay drank the remains of his coffee and hung back, waiting for the jockeying to finish before seeing what spaces were left. He'd received notice of this meeting a few days earlier, and he hadn't been looking forward to it. The message on his voicemail had been short and lacking in details, but the gist of it had been, "We'd like to discuss your public image".

Moving to a small side table, Jay refilled his cup with black coffee. He took his time, aware that the meeting was waiting for him to sit down. He could feel the sense of anticipation in the room, and started to feel a little exposed. He dropped three sugar cubes into the coffee and stirred it slowly, before turning to face the room. Every eye was on him, and he put on a tight smile as he moved across to an empty chair at what appeared to be the unfashionable end of the table.

"With Mr Reynolds now seated, I trust we can begin," Samuel Raymond said, nodding towards Jay with a knowing smile. He was obviously aware of the fact that Jay was here unwillingly, and seemingly acknowledged the fact. "Firstly, although you all know who I am, it is probably best to introduce Mr Jay Reynolds, otherwise known as the hero Crimson Archer, for whom you have all been working so hard these past few weeks."

Jay scowled at this comment. They damn well ain' bin workin' fer me!, he thought to himself, and rubbed at the full beard covering his cheeks. He looked down at the leather covered document folder in front of him and wondered what it might contain.

"As you're all aware from the information and media my company has provided, Jay has been a protecting our city for almost 18 months now. Yes, we all know he is a multimillionaire, but I for one think there is something noble in the way he has put aside his money to protect the citizens of Paragon with little more than a bow & arrow and a flak jacket to assist him." Jay had the impression that he was being mocked, but Samuel's tone of voice appeared sincere and there were murmurs of appreciation from around the table.

"As most of you will know, Raymond Free Press Group owns the intellectual rights to the Crimson Archer property, even though Jay here works under that hero name by agreement. As such, we feel it is high time to explore the possibilities which that ownership brings and at the same time offer our archer some well deserved publicity!" At this, Samuel Raymond spread his arms wide so as to encompass the whole room, and the people around the table began to applaud.

Jay was confused by the reaction. He hadn’t expected to come here to be thanked for what he did as the Crimson Archer, but the mention of publicity made him nervous. He looked down at the leather folder in front of him, flicked open the front cover of the folder and read the title page;

Raymond Free Press Group

Concept Meeting

Crimson Archer Action Figures
Wave 1.1 - Urban Defender

Discussion of Costume Re-design Proposals with Real Life Intergration

The crack from Jay's teeth as he ground his jaws together was audible above the applause and the clapping of hands quickly abaited. Jay laid his hands flat on the tabletop in front of him, spreading his fingers wide, and looked down at the acid scarring on their backs. For a moment he saw himself in his red uniform, emptying the contents of his acid arrows onto the steel doorway leading to Saffron's cell, trying to melt the lock; fighting to get her free. He bit down as that same desperation started to rise within him.

"Y'all wanna tell me exactly what's wrong wit' my uniform that it needs re-designin'?" Jay said without looking up. His voice carried steel and venom in equal parts, causing the men sitting closest to him to pull their chairs away.

A quiet descended on the room. "Jay..." Nate began.

"Hush up, Cus," the archer said through gritted teeth, looking up sharply. "Ah was talkin' to ya Boss."

Samuel regarded Jay levelly, then smiled. "You appear to be mistaken, Jay. Nathan is not working for me. He is here because I thought you would appreciate a friendly face, and as Nathan has been helping me with a legal matter, I decided to invite him along personally. But I do appreciate your straight talking, and I imagine you would appreciate it in return?”

He did stop for an answer, but instead flipped open the folder in front of him. “If you would like to look over pages 3 and 4 of your portfolio, you’ll find a montage of your recent appearances. I apologies for the quality of some of them, but you do move rather quickly through the city.”

Jay flipped to those pages, and were as they had been described; photographs of him as the Crimson Archer jumping from buildings, loosing arrows at a criminal, every day stuff, all taken in the last month.

“The first thing that I noticed when looking at your photographs is how worn you look. From the untrimmed beard and eyepatch, to the scratches and patching on your armoured costume, you look like the hard working man you are. The problem is when people in this city think of a hero, they think of Statesman, of Synapse, and of Manticore. Well designed, well presented superheroes. Your present image makes you an invisible hero, Jay. Like the cops on the street, you’re just there. Invisible until people need you. All this doesn’t help me to market you, and it doesn’t help you get the recognition you deserve.”

Jay pushed back on this chair, lifting the front legs, and crossed his arms. His lips were a tight line behind his beard and his one good eye narrowed dangerously. He could feel that old stubbornness like a fist in his stomach. Jay had been drawing the Crimson Archer as his own personal superhero since he was six years old, and becoming his hero had been a dream come true. But at the heart, Jay was human. He’d worn a heavy flak jacket dyed red because he didn’t know what else to wear to protect himself. He had six jackets all the same, each with the same amount of wear and tear from months of working and running the streets. He didn’t want to change, it was his image.

“I told you before, cus,” Nate said quietly from the end of the table, “there are people who look up to you. You’re a role model now, more than just a hero. Maybe it’s time to dress and act like it too?”

Jay looked up briefly at his cousin, before turning his attention back to the folder. He flicked through the pages, looking at the various designs for costumes. Some of them were pretty good, stylish without being flashy, but others showed drawings of him seemingly flying through the air in cape and eye mask. He could feel his jaw tighten as he looked through more pages at the increasing more far-fetched costumes. Jay was about to stand up, tell them he wasn’t one for changing and walk out, when his father’s words, spoken to him as he sat in that Independence Port medical centre, came back to him.

“You're too much like me, son. We're both kinda bullish an' stubborn. We keep goin' against the tide, fightin' on in a straight line cos that's the way we picked at the start, even when things change an' there might be an easier way.”

Jay sighed. Was he just digging his heels in because he knew better, or just for the sake of not changing.? He’d been speaking to Ryan about updating his image, but he never expected it to actually happen. That was just an excuse to spend some time with the younger man. Hell, even Saffron had taken a look at his patched uniform and unkempt beard as they’d hunted Nemesis troops and called him a “mountain man”. He shook his head, and flicked the book back to the least extreme illustrations and design.

“Fine. Okay,” Jay said, looking up at Samuel Raymond, “but on one condition. Ah work with the fellas that made the stuff are like in here, cos summa the guys ya used are clueless.”

Nate smirked, and lifted his coffee cup to cover it as the murmur of dissention ran around the table. Samuel Johnson just smiled, and gestured towards the end of the table. “Would you care to explain what you mean by that, Jay?”

“Sure thin'.” Jay stood up, and opened the folder to the page with the flying illustration. He pointed at the drawing. “This here artist has got a great idea fer what a superhero looks, but ah can’t fly. Ah ain’ got super speed, super reflexes, and ah can’t shoot fire outta my butt. Ah’m jus’ a man who gets by, and if ah start ta try an’ drag a cape aroun’ behind me then ah’m gonna find myself dead pretty soon.

“Don’t get me wrong, folk who spend less time wit’ their feet on th’ ground look great in them, but ah gotta be able ta run an’ jump without my feet getting’ caught up, ya know?”

He flicked to another design, closer to the front. “But this kind thing ah can work with. Ah like the leather jacket and the tight pants, but ah ain’ ‘bout ta start wearing a domino mask fer no one. Ah ain’ never had a secret identity, an’ folks’ll start talking if ah start tryin’ ta hide now.”

“Hmmm… that’s a good point, Jay. Thank you.” Samuel said, making some of his own notes. “Is that the only design you like, or have you found others?”

Jay flicked back through the pages. “Mostly jus’ that one. The others have some stuff that ah like. Them glasses, fer example. An’ tots and gloves in this one. But after that it’s gettin’ too far away from th’ real world an’ inta Statesman territory!” Jay grinned.

Samuel nodded and closed his own folder. “Very well, I think I can assemble a creative design team from your input, that’s probably all we need you for today. If you can make yourself available for another concept meeting, as these designs are just for the Urban Defender Crimson Archer action figure, we still have the Armoured Assault and Night Hunter action figure designs to talk through at a later date.”

Inwardly Jay groaned. He’d always loved action figures as a kid, but this seemed a little embarrassing. He was sure he’d get some friendly jibes from his team mates and friends when they eventually saw them in the toy stores.

Jay nodded, stood up and turned to leave.

“Just one thing, cus,” Nate called from behind him. “You will shave, won’t you?”

The door shut behind Jay with a thump, and he was sure he could hear his cousin’s muted laugh from inside.

[u]END.[u]

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Formerly @Crimson Archer, now @CA
The Militia - Protecting Paragon City through roleplaying since June 2006!

((I want to see the damned new look!

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