[open]

[hernes_son]

Date & Time: Prior to the hallucinogens, late at night
Location: The training hall
Characters: Robin and… anyone, really
Summary: Robin Hood does what he does best
Warnings: None at the moment

Robin was used to wandering the wilds, his mind and heart filled with the sounds of living, growing things; his new abode was too silent to give him peace. Memories, unbidden, unwanted, assailed him until in frustration he shouldered his new bow and set off to find somewhere to shoot.

A moment's pause and a consultation with the strange metal box gave him some idea of direction. He found the training facility eventually, only having had to retrace his steps half a dozen times. It was so much easier in the forest, he thought irritatedly. There, guidance was to be had for any with the eyes and mind to perceive it. Here, everything was so... dead, so unreal, as in an unpleasant dream.

A noxious thought, and one Robin dismissed with a shake of his head. He was pleased to find the archery range and not a little nonplussed to find the targets moving about, seemingly at random. After a moment he grinned. A challenge indeed.

He nocked an arrow, sighted along it. This... this was familiar: his world narrowing to a pinpoint, every distraction fading until he heard only the steady beat of his heart, the soft rush of his breath. His thumb pressed against his jaw, the rasp of fletching upon his cheek soothing, settling his restless mind. The bowstring pulled at his fingers greedily.

Robin sighed, loosing the tension in his shoulders, calculating speed and distance to his target as a nearly tangible thing; and then released. The arrow flew true, burying itself dead center. The Hooded Man grinned fiercely and drew again.

Comments

[bloodupontherisers]

The quiet thud of arrow striking target was what drew him, though it was more curiousity about what caused the noise than anything else. After all, he knew little of archery; just that it was sticks and strings and feathers and you could split an arrow in two using only another arrow if you were good enough. So it was curiousity that led him to peer inside the room he had almost passed, to see Robin with his bow drawn and an arrow already embedded in the target.

Will had nothing better to do, really, which meant that he hardly needed to think about it before he entered the room. The door shut behind him with a faint click as he headed over to the back wall. He unslung his rifle -even if the city was supposedly safe, he hadn't forgot they had been conscripted to fight a war, and training said to keep your weapon on you in a war zone- and propped it against the wall, before he leaned casually against the wall himself.

"Nice shot."

[hernes_son]

Robin vouchsafed the new arrival a quick nod, his attention still on the targets. "Thanks." He pulled an arrow, stripped the fletching from one side with his teeth, seemed to aim at one target but centered the arrow deeply in another far to the left.

Leaning his bow against the inside of his foot and the crook of his elbow, Robin looked at the target with deep satisfaction before turning to the other man and holding out his hand, intending to grasp him by the forearm in greeting. "Robin of Loxley."

[bloodupontherisers]

Now that? That made him whistle low, impressed, and unable to figure out how Robin did it.

"Will Metzger. Pleased to meet you." His brow furrows ever so slightly, distrupting the easy nature of his grin, because he is fairly certain he's heard the name before... "Don't suppose we've met, but I swear your name is familiar. You've been here a while?" All this said, of course, whilst reaching for Robin's hand to shake, having wholly misread the intent behind the offered hand.

[hernes_son]

Bemused but gratified by the handshake, Robin smiled. "I knew another Will once. Well met, friend."

And then the rest of what Will said sank in, and a crimson flush began to creep over Robin's face. If what Agent Small claimed is accurate... oh.

"I..." Robin rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "Nay, I have not been here long, but... you may have... I am sometimes called... Robin Hood." The last part is muttered as Robin turns completely scarlet, though his gaze is steady.

[bloodupontherisers]

He'd been about to make a joke, something about knowing another Will or three also, but it went and died on his lips as Robin continued to speak. He was fairly certain that those were just stories, and not actually about real people. But even if that was the case... well, it seemed more sensible for a made-up person to be here than an alien or people who looked human but weren't even from Earth. "Well, that'd do it then."

...

Oh Hell, he needs to know.

"Is it true you can split an arrow with another one? Kathy thinks it's just somethin' they make up to sound good in stories but I think it's possible. I mean, I've seen guys empty entire clips into a target an' only leave one hole so it's gotta be possible with arrows. Least, if you got good aim, I reckon."

[hernes_son]

A better man than Robin would have found that invitation impossible to resist. Flashing a grin, Robin brought the bow up and loosed an arrow bang into the gold, split it with the second, and then, with a shrug, split that one with a third.

He lowered the bow with a laugh. "The other Will would tell you not to encourage me. Tell me of yourself instead."

[bloodupontherisers]

He will happily do so the second he picks his jaw up off the ground, so to speak.

Well.

After that rather excited WHOOP he lets out a few seconds later. "HA! I knew it could be done! I knew it! Kathy ain't gonna believe this!" He even does a quick fistpump before clapping his hands together, grinning from ear to ear. And yes, while it does occur to him that no one is going to believe any of this... well, he's not going to dwell on that. Not when he's actually seen that he's right.

After a moment, it registers that he's been asked about himself. A flush spreads up the back of his neck, reddening his ears, and WIll clears his throat. "Uhm. Not much to tell. I'm a platoon sergeant in the army, so I guess it's kinda obvious why they went an' dragged me here. Got a whole herd a sisters; the Kathy I was mentionin' is the oldest of 'em. An' I'm a little annoyed bein' here because I was just fightin' a war when I got kidnapped." While he speaks, he's rummaging through his pockets, pulling out cigarette and lighter. By the word 'kidnapped', he's got a cigarette lit and in his mouth, so he punctuates the sentence with a quick puff of smoke from his nose.

[checksum]

Osprey had been keeping an increasingly irregular schedule since the Roman battle - as his trust of the Initiative waned, his security habits were coming back into play, the conscious and semi-conscious choices that had let him keep the identity of Epsilon Reeve, freelance security analyst, separate from Osprey, Firewall stealth scout and assassin, amidst the million watching eyes of the infosphere back home. The fact that he needed half the sleep most people did here helped with that, which is why he was at the firing range, firing his rifle at targets as far away as the range can handle, his scope disabled to give it some sort of challenge.

The sound of someone over on the archery targets motivates him to stow the rifle, stock and barrel collapsing into an easy-to-transport package as he makes his way towards the butts. His steps are quiet, but audible - calculated to let the archer know someone was there without disrupting his concentration. For the moment, he simply watches.

[hernes_son]

Robin acknowledged the man with a glance and a nod before burying arrow after arrow in rapid succession, every shot centered, or nearly. After a moment spent contemplating the targets, Robin lowered his bow and rolled his shoulders, turning to the other man. "Robin of Loxley. Do you shoot?"

[checksum]

"Not with a bow, although I'd like to learn," Osprey says. To demonstrate, he unslings his rifle, neurachem-enhanced reflexes and skill earned through years of practice letting him place a shot that blows the head off of a humanoid target almost before the weapon's snugged up against his shoulder.

He returns the rifle to his back just as quickly, his demonstration complete. "Call me Osprey. Any chance you'd be willing to train me on the bow?"

[hernes_son]

He'd truly thought, after living and dying and returning to life, that nothing could surprise him anymore, and in a single fluid motion and an explosion of sound this man - Osprey - dispelled that idea with a vengeance.

After scraping his jaw from the floor, Robin gave a short but hearty laugh. "Aye, if you'll return the favor, though I will have the better of the bargain. What is that?"

[checksum]

Osprey smiles at that. "I wouldn't be so sure. If you're as capable with that bow as the stories associated with your name suggest, I'm coming out well ahead in the expertise section."

He takes his rifle back out again, more slowly this time - he's gotten the showing off out of his system - extends it to its full size, and cradles it in his arms so Robin can see. "This is a gun - a weapon designed to throw small projectiles at high speed without the need of manual strength from the user. This one in particular is a high-caliber semiautomatic rifle, designed for accuracy at range."

He places the rifle on the table, then takes his pistol from its holster. "This is a gun as well - this particular one is a silenced, noise-suppressed pistol. The design here is more about concealability and ease of use in a more contained environment. Where the rifle's accurate out to a kilometer or more in the right conditions, with this your target should be within 20 meters or so if you want to have any reasonable chance of success in a combat situation."

[hernes_son]

Oh, the stories. At some point Robin was really going to have to find out which tales had survived. "Well - don't believe all you hear, friend," was all he said with a rueful smile.

He was intrigued by the guns, examining them minutely without touching them (that explosion still rang in his ears). "A small projectile did such damage? How small?"

[theguideless]

The thok, thwopp of arrows hitting a mark was not unfamiliar to Martin. In fact, it gave him pause, shuffling his last step to a stop just before rounding the corner into the room's view. He was certain he hadn't seen or heard any archers before...

Ivan, he thought. Impulse. He knew no other archer than him, that cocky cousin of his. It was a ridiculous thought, of course – No one else is here but me. He knew. But it didn't stop his heart from fluttering with a second of hope and anticipation.

The next arrow's sound strike seemed to sober him, alter his surprise to a mounting concern. He'd expected to find the room empty, late in the hour as it had become (early for him). Martin hesitated, his fingers curling on the corner of the wall. He could just go away, maybe. Maybe wait. Or...

Or try, he thought, feeling guilty. Try to...get along. Or just train. Maybe.

He stuck close to that wall as he slunk into the room, dragging his fingers along the rough surface as though it would vanish if he moved away too far. Sidestepping then, he needed to scour the vast room only a little before he found the man at practice. Very much not Ivan, of course, and that was...foolishly disappointing, he knew.

What he didn't know was just who that man was. Martin deemed it best to be silent; perhaps he'd learn a little just by watching. At least then, without speaking up, making a fuss...at least then he could get away if he had to.

[hernes_son]

Perhaps it was a disturbance of the air, or maybe just the sensation of eyes boring a hole in his back, but Robin hadn't survived the Sheriff's men without developing an awareness of the presence of others. Although, he thought sourly as he nocked an arrow and waited, in the end he hadn't survived them, had he?

It wasn't a lack of awareness that had killed him, however; just a lack of arrows.

Enough. He'd come here to rid himself of such thoughts, not to dwell on them.

The lurking presence made no sound, neither greeting nor attack. Robin huffed out an impatient breath; the feeling of being watched was disturbing, to say the least. "You can see better if you come closer," he said loudly.

[theguideless]

Martin startled soundlessly, his shoulders lifting and back pressing against the wall. He remained frozen well after the remark echoed away, almost hoping it wasn't really him being addressed. Silly, of course.

"I, uh––" He winced, knowing he ought to speak up. Doing so only made him feel more ridiculously on-the-spot, ears burning up. "S-sorry. For bothering, uh..."

Still pressed against the wall, he fidgeted, chewing on the inside of his lip. Would it be better or worse to do as suggested? It was hard to tell with people. People outside of home.

[hernes_son]

Robin lowered the bow without firing, searching the darkness for a glimpse of the speaker. Whoever it was sounded nervous - no threat to him, then, and not deserving of Robin's ire. "You're not bothering me," he lied, forcing a note of calm into his voice. "My name is Robin. Who might you be?"

[theguideless]

Assurances were never reassuring right away for him, dubious as he was to anyone finding him anything other than a nuisance. Martin lingered in those shadows for as long as he could bear hiding, until the feeling of guilt drew him forward at least a little. Five, six reluctant steps away from the wall, closer and into form and focus in the dim room.

He found he didn't like being closer any better than further away.

"Martin," he replied, grimacing at the echo. His voice tapered into a mumble. "Martin Darkov."

[hernes_son]

It was just a boy, about the same age as Robin's foster brother when he'd last seen him. Robin's annoyance fled like mist before the wind. "Well met, Martin Darkov," he said gently.

Robin hid a frown as he watched the boy move toward him. The apprehensive way he held himself, the reluctance in every step, the wary glances around the room as he approached...

A familiar face, round and open and ruddy, overlaid itself on Martin's for a moment. Ah, Much, did anyone protect you after I was gone? Robin thought, and for the sake of his lost brother, held out his bow in a friendly gesture. "Do you shoot, Martin?"

[noble_nate]

[Archery buddies ftw]

Nathaniel's surprised to see that there's someone at the archery range when he shows up for his morning training; there weren't many people in the Hold who knew how to use bows, apparently.

He watches for awhile, getting the measure of the other man. Finally, he speaks up. "You're very skilled."

[hernes_son]

Robin smiled. "I try to be." He looked the other man over, noting the clearly defined musculature of a fellow archer. He shouldered his bow and reached for the the man's forearm, intending to clasp it in greeting. "Robin of Loxley. And you?"

[noble_nate]

Nathaniel clasps the arm, recognizing the old soldier's greeting.

"Nathaniel Howe. Don't see many archers around here."

[hernes_son]

Robin chuckled. "Until now, I've seen none. Will you shoot with me, Nathaniel?"

[noble_nate]

Nathaniel nodded. "Gladly." As he unslung his bow he nodded his head towards the oddly moving targets.

"Not bad, eh? A kid named Leo fixed this up for me. They're set up to move randomly... I thought it'd be better to do that rather than have them take a fixed course." He smiled at Robin. "A good hunter learns to memorize movement, which takes away the challenge while practicing."

[hernes_son]

Robin chuckled. "True enough, my friend, whether one hunts one's dinner or one's freedom." This Nathaniel Howe must be skilled indeed if he had arranged these challenges. Robin leaned on his bow, interested to see what Nathaniel could do.