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Monday March 5th

 

In the worst slums of Freedom City

 

Night time, decorated by a sprinkling of atmospheric rain. A fuzzy moon shone in the night sky. Here and there, betwixt the cloud cover, stars twinkled. It was a cold night, but the air was still. The drizzling rain fell down straight, rather than driving into your face. Still, one would have to wrap up warm or seek cover to see the morning. 

 

Even the homeless of Freedom of City knew that. 

 

The newest version of the Archer had got wind of a new drug that was been tested on the vagrants of Freedom City. Something that burned you up - sometimes literally. Increased strength and raised body temperature. Might keep you warm on dark nights, they said. 

 

And free. If you came to the right places, like here. 

 

A gaggle of homeless had gathered around a drum-fire and were asking a heavy set thug in a leather jacket about the drug. The thug was pointing at his companion, a tall, spindly woman, bald headed, bad skin, who was looking very much like she was on some kind of horse tranquiliser - barely standing up. 

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ARCHER II

 

Another freaking super drug. Ever since that whoe affair with Cortex and his drugs, it had felt like a new drug that would give people powers or kill them pops out every other week, and people are just desperate enough that it keeps working.

 

Sitting on a rooftop with his Sky-Bike parked besides him, Connor surveils the scene below. The big thug seems like the seller. The woman is probably on the drug and is gonna burn up any moment. If he shouts or comes running for them, they'll run, and then he'll have to chase them.

 

He hates having to chase pushers.

 

Instead, he selects two arrows, sticking them to certain tips and takes aim, then let's the two arrows armed with rapidly expanding and hardening foam fly towards the thug. 

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Posted (edited)

GM

 

With a TWANG of the bowstring!

 

With a THWIP! of a flying arrow!

 

And finally a SQUELSH! of a blob of foam!

 

The thug was encased in hardening foam. His clothes were ruined, and his eyes expressed more surprise than fear. Slowly, he started to topple backwards, frozen in place. 

 

With a THUD! he hit the ground, still helpless. 

 

As for the homeless, they scattered! some even dropped their brown papers bags, sending the cheap liquor splattering with the TINKLE! of shattered glass. 

 

As for the pale bald woman, she barely reacted, looking quite alive, but with all the reactions of a hypnotised zombie. 

Edited by Supercape
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ARCHER II

 

Everyone but the woman gets out of there quick. Good.

 

Stepping back to his sky-bike, Archer jumps on it and quickly steers it down towards the ground, landing heavily in front of the man. Clad in his red and white costume, he stares the two for a moment. He doesn't like the look of the woman. She's probably on that damn drug, and about to jump him any moment, but much as he want to be pragmatic, he can't bring himself to attack her just like that.

 

Walking over to the thug, Archer looks down at him encased in the foam. "Selling in my neighborhood? Not the best idea." He reaches for a sharp arrow, pulling it out and putting it on his bowstring, pulling it back and taking aim at the thug's face. "Word is that there's a new super drug on the street. Start talking."

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GM

 

The tall pale man seemed to barely register Archers presence. A slightly dazed turn of the eyes, a slight flicker of acknowledgement in the face, and a soft grunt that might, for all its volume, simply been an unusually heavy sigh. It did at least indicated the albino was still breathing. 

 

The Thug was breathing, for sure, but bound tight. His face squirmed, fighting a battle between defiance and prudence. 

 

Faced with the Archer next to him, prudence won. 

 

"Super drug? It ain't super..." he said. "Sure, it gives you a massive boost of energy for a few seconds, maybe minutes. Then you self-combust. I mean, you really self combust. At least with drugs like Zoom you stand a chance, right? Just a little heart attack. With this synthetic drug; that's what the call it, by the way, the synthetic... with the synthetic you literally burn up. I heard a few people got clever and dived in an bath of ice or the ocean. But only a few. Usually, you go out with a real good bang, you dig?"

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ARCHER II

 

A death sentence, then. Archer doesn't even try to hide the disgust on his face.

 

"Why would anyone even want something like that?" 

 

How are they selling it? It doesn't make any sense. Why would people want something that kills them?

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GM

 

The thug laughed. "Why would anyone want anything like that? they wouldn't! Its not sold as that. Marketing, cape... its all about Marketing! Synthetic, the marvel drug! Feel strong, feel powerful, feel all the pain wash away. Well, I guess it does that, eventually. The streets are full of people wanting some kind of escape, some kind of oblivion... why, look around!"

 

The man swept his eyes across the desolate night time skyline of arguably the most desperate part of the city. 

 

"Guinea pigs! Synthetic isn't perfected yet. Look at this zombie... he look normal to you?"

 

The man's eyes darted to the albino still half asleep. The albino clearly wasnt a zombie; he was quite alive. But skin so thin and translucent you could almost see the pulsing arteries beneath. He certainly wasn't a zombie, but he certainly wasn't normal, either."

 

"Thats where Synthetic comes from. His blood. Ha! Good name, huh? Synthetic, although thejokes on you. Its actually some freak's blood. I reckon Freak Blood didn't sell well. Synthetic sounded a lot better. See? It's all about Marketing!"

 

He gave another hopeless wriggle. 

 

"I told you everything I know. Now cut me some slack and let me go!"

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  • 3 weeks later...

ARCHER II

 

"Just him? He's your source? Where'd you find him?"

 

It takes everything that Connor has to not just kick this guy's ass right here and now. It won't help if he does. He'll get nothing. 

 

He looks at the albino. No, he doesn't look normal.

 

"Hey. You, pale guy. What's your deal?" 

 

It's worth an attempt, but Connor makes sure not to get closer. Not just yet.

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GM

 

The bound thug was in no position to bargain. Begging was more his style right now. Lying on the floor encased in a snare arrow with a menacing superhero kind of made negotiation a rather lopsided affair. 

 

"This freak's blood is the source of synthetic. And before you ask, I have no idea who or what he is. Not even a hundred percent sure its a he. Didn't dare look. Seems a bit short of brains though..."

 

"Ugghhh...." mumbled the albino. 

 

"He got dropped off in a truck a week ago. By some boffin. Maybe the freak is some kind of mutant, or has been infected with something. I don't know. AllI know is the boffin paid me to sell synthetic. Paid me, that's right. Get paid by the boffin, get paid by the druggies. No fool is going to turn down a deal that good!"

 

He smiled at his stupid cunning. 

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ARCHER II

 

Connor frowns again. This all stinks to high heaven. 

 

And this pusher is pissing him off. 

 

"So you drain his blood and drag him along? Gotta be a limit to that. What do you do when your blood bank runs out?" 

 

He has to remind himself that he needs information before anything else.

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GM

 

The Thug laughed. "Thats the beauty of it! This Freak never runs dry. You just ply him... I think its a him, anyway, never dared look... with enough protein and iron, keep him fed and watered, and he's keeps churning the blood out! He's like a machine! If you know any vampires, this mutie is the meal ticket of a lifetime!"

 

The albino man started trembling. The cold night air? Or something else?

 

"Look man, I told you all I know. Now cut me loose, man. Have a heart. I got a wife and three, no four kids to feed. I took the gig, got paid, and now you stopped Synthetic hitting the streets. At least from this meatbag. You see any other synthetic, it won't be from me, man, I swear. I'm done with this biz. Its a bit too much on the freaky side of life if you ask me!"

 

The albino's trembling became stronger, more coarse. Drool spilled from his mouth...

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  • 4 weeks later...

ARCHER II

 

Connor ignores the man's pleading. Kids or no kids. They'll be better off without someone like this man taking care of them. The city government probably won't be much help, but this way, they won't be mixed up with drugs again.

 

The way that the albino has started to tremble is concerning, though...

 

"What's he doing?" 

 

Instinctively, he reaches for another arrow. A steel mesh snare, something that should hopefully be able to hold him, in case he acts up.

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GM

 

"I don't know. Get me out of here!" screamed the thug. 

 

But, alas, it was too late. 

 

The albino contorted - an impossible contortion, for nobody could bend their spine like that. Bent in half, face looking up at the moon. He screamed, a shrill, awful pitch from distorted vocal cords. His dirty clothes ripped, revealing swollen, pulsating muscles, oozing a yellow-white serum from the skin. 

 

And then, the strange creature ran at Archer, eyes blazing! 

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  • 1 month later...

ARCHER II

 

"Ah, hell." 

 

Connor is ready for something happening, but not that. The freak becomes even freakier, breaking his entire body into some kind of monstrous shape and coming straight for him. The thug's got no idea what's going on, of course. He's probably just been used by the real bad guys, which means he's not important right now.

 

He's let the steel mesh arrow he had selected fly, then fire another and another, hoping to layer them on top of the monster, while beginning to move to the side, away from the thug. Hopefully it can hold that freak, but otherwise he'll have to go for something actually dangerous.

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GM

 

The creature was disorientated. At first, it didn't react to the twang of the bowstring. The metal mesh opened up...

 

And impossibly, at the last second, the thing moved. Fast, low, like an electric shock. So quick that the oozing serum sprayed from its body, so quick that its skin split. White muscle fibre, red arteries underneath. Flesh, but flesh that had been drained of colour. And strong. 

 

One - two - it was there, right next to the Archer. Letting loose two clawed hands that threatened to strangle or gouge the Archer, like a hawk or an eagle. There was no doubt how fast the thing was, and it had a strength that was beyond human. But it's brain seemed deficient, as blurred as its movements. This was no skilled fighter; its movements were furious, primitive, dangerous, but lacking any nuance or experience. 

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ARCHER II

 

It is fast. Too damn fast. Moving out of the way of the arrow like it is just hanging in the air, the metal mesh missing.

 

Connor knows that he should go for the most painful option, try to stop the damn thing before it gets in again, but he can't help but feel sorry for the damn thing. It didn't ask to become whatever it has become, to be used as a glorified drug mule.

 

Stepping back out of the way of the wild slashes, he tries something else. Strobe lights. Overload it, send it into shock. Better than filling it with arrow, at least. No time to take aim, he lets the arrows fly wildly, dragging blinking lights behind them.

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GM

 

the Strobe lights whizzd passed the Albino, their lights flickering on the waxy skin. 

 

And the ... thing... paused, trembling. A hypnotic trance? A Catatonic State?

 

Maybe. Maybe not. The tremulous flesh started to peel, burn. 

 

And then the thing... EXPLODED!

 

Huge chunks of fleshy globules fountained into the air. Amongst them, one could vaguely see things that were probably human organs. But not human as we know them. 

 

A more immediate concern for the Archer was the spray of semi-solid goo that flew his way...

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  • 3 weeks later...

ARCHER II

 

Ah crap.

 

Connor is already starting to move. He can guess what is coming. No arrow is gonna stop something like that.

 

He turns, backs away, but he's not fast enough to get entirely out of the way as the damn thing explodes, the goo flying over him. 

 

Cursing, he rolls away, doing his best to start scraping whatever got on him off. He has no idea what that crap can do, he is not gonna risk it burning through him or worse.

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GM

 

The flayed flesh did not burn. It did not even tingle. But it did smell foul; like slightly singed offal. The tendrils of odour crawled up the archer's nostrils and played a hellish tune. 

 

The snared drug dealer was not so lucky. Unable to move, he had taken a face full of spleen and guts, and was retching. Unable to contain himself he managed to vomit into his own mouth and then start gagging....

 

And then convulsing...

 

And possibly worse!

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ARCHER II

 

Connor stares at himself for a moment, and then looks at the thug. The albino is gone. He'd say it was dead, killed by the explosion, but he's seen weirder. He can't be sure if its safe or not, but the man is choking on the albino's remains. For maybe half a second, he considers it. One less drug dealer on the street wouldn't be bad, but, the man might have more information... and he has a family. The thug might be a piece of shit, but he has kids.

 

"Dammit," Connor curses, as he runs towards the man. Get the gunk away, get him breathing again. Make sure he survives.

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GM

 

It was a messy business, and no mistake. TV shows and films showed sanitised heroic fantasies of first aid and resucitation. The reality was a whole lot more filthy. Violent coughing, spasms, vomit, unconsciousness, lungs fighting to get enough oxygen to the brain. 

 

But, even if it was a filthy business, it was a successful one. After an age of fitful coughing and wracking body, after scooping out vomit from the airway and hefty blows to the back, the Archer had saved a life. 

 

And maintained a source of information. 

 

"OK...OK... you saved my life...I get it..." wheezed the drug dealer, eyes bloodshot. "I owe you. Even if you were the one who messed everything up in the first place. I learned my lesson. Dont deal in human drugs... I mean drugs that come from a human. right?"

 

He swept his gaze across the fleshy remains of the albino. 

 

"If it was a human..."

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  • 3 weeks later...

ARCHER II

 

Archer stares down at the thug as he talks. He is sitting on the ground next to him, leaning one arm on his knee. He is breathing heavily from the effort of trying to save him.

 

"Shut up. You were dealing drugs that'd kill anyone using it. And you didn't think anything was wrong with that until now? What do you think would happen if someone gave your kids something like this?"

 

He groans and shakes his head.

 

"I need names and locations. Now."

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GM

 

"Alaska..." said the tremulous thug. "North Alaska. Theres a plane flies from the airport there, they supply the..."

 

the thug shuddered and looked at the carnage of flesh around them. 

 

"The merchandise. Augustine airport, some frozen hell. Pack a thermos, if I was you..."

 

He tried to pull himself together, and failed. 

 

"The Plane was... what... called Whiteshadow. Cant remember the serial number. Z778-something something. Look, they didn't let me take a photo, right? the pilot was some thug with a broken nose and a scar on his chin. Looked heavy, if you know what I mean. But he always delivered the goods."

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  • 5 weeks later...

ARCHER II

 

Once again, Archer stares down at the thug. He barely hides the look of disgust on his face, as he turns around and he reaches for his commlink and calls the old man.

 

"I'm sending you geocoordinates. There's a drug seller all nice and bound for the cops here, if you want to tip them of. He's surrounded by the remains of a new biological drug mule. They load 'em up, they dispense the drugs. This one went crazy and exploded."

 

That should be enough info, at least. Shooting a line arrow up to the rooftop, he leaves the thug behind, still bound. Archer gives him one final look from the skycycle as he sets off.

 

"The drug's coming from Alaska, a place called Augustine Airport. You up for helping me figure out how to get there?"

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GM
 

And so, one plane ride later...

 

The plane ride had been straightforward - small private plane, reasonable weather, good headwind. But the landing was interesting. 

 

They had to land on a reserve strip, an icy, short, and very unpalatable landing only allowed at all because of Archer's diplomatic weight. And only managed because of the pilots skill. 

 

Outside the plane, Archer could see the reason for the chaos. The main strip was a crash site. A broken military plane, still benching smoke, with a fire engine and police surrounding it, trying to see what the hell had happened, and if there were any survivors...

 

The flashing lights of an ambulance indicated there was at least some hope...

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