2014.06.11 - Entry: the Purple Pimp

Wednesday afternoon, 11th of June. The Ides are all but 4 days away, the sun burns down mercilessly on the tar-sealed roofs of hells kitchen. Some people try to endure the heat by keeping the windows open; others put their heads into the refrigerators while a third group flees their tiny flats to hide in the parks. Perching atop one of the almost fluid roofs is a figure clad in green, the feet in the thin leather boots touching the stone border of it while she gazed down to the narrow streets in which even the criminals were too lazy to move, waiting for customers or contacts that were as lazy as them. She was wanted herself, for quintuple murder - she did commit that - and killing an FBI agent - which she did not. But right now, no one seemed to be on her heels, and possibly the agents in charge of her case - which had become quite cool in the last months - were too lazy to get out of their office too. Lifting the head, Robyn glared into the direction of the sun, her destroyed eye almost having the same color as it for a moment before the blonde turned the head around and made sure the hood was all on her head, protecting at least some from the rays.

It seems that rooftops are a natural habitat for archers, must be the clear lines of sight. Hawkeye is normal found on them as well. This hot afternoon is no exception. He is wearing his brighter purple uniform as opposed to his dark black and purple one likely due to the heat. He is moving from rooftop to rooftop but he pauses as he makes out a figure on the next roof along his path, "Wow getting more traffic up here every day." He looks at the other figure, "From the color scheme I would guess you know the Green guy."

With a turn of the head the woman spins, the healthy eye as well as the golden wreck of one fix on the guy in violet, the lips pressing against each other to form a thin, flat line. "Knowing someone is kinda’ easy. You must be a friend of the Purple Pimp and his horses from your looks." With the sharp response Robyn steps back a half step, the feet now a bit wider positioned than her shoulders, almost ideal to duck or jump, the back of hers facing the street. "So mind telling me who you mean with Green Guy?"

Clint Barton grins, "Fair point but well considering you are on the rooftops with a bow and quiver and well wearing a green hood that looks pretty close..." He lets that thought trail off. "It lead me to wonder if you might not know the second best archer in the work." He gives a smirking grin at that like he is having a joke with Ollie even if the other is not here rather than actually claiming superiority.

"The second best? That would be me from all I know. For the only better one I know about is a crazy guy and sheriff. Or you mean on this condemned planet? Guess that's me again for all I know; only bested by a guy with a mad hat who made a little yellow pigeon quite heartbroken." Robyn retoured with an almost evil grin, counting an own insider against Clint, but one that he likely wouldn't understand. In Myst she had shot a bull eye - and only the sheriff managed one too, splitting her arrow in two. But why she claimed to be the second best was much easier to explain - never trust someone else tales till you saw.

Her retort causes him to grin, "Yup has to be an archer, we are all wise asses." He starts to moves closer to the edge of his rooftop, "So leaving aside who you know for now, who are you?" He asks her then he shares his one identity, "I am Hawkeye, well at least one of them." to continue the trend of insider humor he references the non-present Kate Bishop. He then remembers something and chuckles, "You must be the one Thor met."

"Hey, I met Hawkeye, and that is not you. You lack her assets and style." Robyn responds with a shake of the head, lifting the right hand almost to the height of her shoulder, open and bent to the back so it would be only a split movement to get to the quiver without being an open threat. "I do not know which Thor you mean, but if you mean mister Thundergodandlightning as in the Bohemian Rhapsody, I don't know that one. So either you are a bigmouth, or you might want to tell me the truth."

Clint Barton says, "that is the other Hawkeye." He clarifies, "She is awesome in her own right though." He notices the hand movement, "Easy there no need to get all arrow-y up here." He then says, "He might not have been himself at the time but he met you in a park and then when he saw me asked if we were related." that is not precisely true Thor asked if she was Clint's daughter. He then says, "How ‘bout this, if you want the truth call a shot." He says with absolute confidence."

"Like a target? Hit the nock of this arrow without taking a single step. If not, you owe me 50 bucks." Robyn dared, pulling out a wooden shaft with goose feathers, marked with a black cresting and adorned with a modern hunting tip, despite the archaic rest of the arrow. Not taking up her bow yet, she peered down the street, searching for a good area before she changed the grip on the shaft. Holding it just behind the arrowhead now, she launched it down with a swing of the arm, sinking it right into the stuffed drain, making the target only accessible from a tiny angle right atop. "My call."

Clint Barton looks at the set up she chooses for the target, "No one step huh?" He grins, "Alright that is doable." He then gets his bow off of his back and then pulls as arrow from his quiver, "You know just to be fair I used to make trick shots for a living." He did back in his carny days but those were a while back. "So what do I get if I make it, you said you get a fifty if I don't?" He doesn’t shoot yet waiting for an answer, and well maybe just maybe using the time to get a read on the wind for the shot, not that he would ever admit that part not even to himself.

"Make your call." Robyn taunted back, her dead eye gleaming as sun fell upon it. An eye that had last seen almost two years ago. "If you want to bail, just say so. Because if you won't shoot, I can get my arrow back from the corner it ended in and the next three days worth of fastfood." A girl on the run needs to eat something, doesn't she?

Clint Barton says, "Well you still haven't told me your name yet, that is my prize." He then gets the arrow in place and is ready to fire then he lowers the bow for a moment, "You said without taking a single step, right?" he grins and then crouches down and leaps into the air, he did work with the acrobats during his circus time and the height he gets on the jump makes the angle of his shot a lot nicer, still not an easy shot but a far more make-able one. At the apex of his jump he loses the arrow and it starts its own arching path to his target. Then of course Clint starts to fall, in the blink of an eye a second arrow flies out this one with a trick tip that expands into a grappling hook which catches the edge of the building Robyn is standing on.

There is a thud as the purple archer slams against the building thankfully his armored costume protects him from the worst of the impact and he begins climbing up. "I didn't take a single step." he shouts up to her."

Glaring at the cheating tom, Robyn followed the arrow with the eye, before she pulled free her dagger to jump from the building, using the knife to slow her fall by letting its back run along the drain of the house, a cloud of sparks emitting from it as she passed the violet clad man to end on the ground, catching her fall in the knees and with her free hand on the floor. "Let's see if you hit." She called up to Clint, eying the sewer she had turned into a target.

Once he climbs down to the point where it is safe to, he lets go of the cable and drops to the pavement. "I did." He has no doubts in his mind then he walks over with her and they both see that he was correct. He then looks back over to her, "How about this, since I maybe fudged the rules a tad, after you tell me your name I'll take you to lunch?"

Robyn picked up both arrows, wriggling free the sharp arrowhead from the bags of litter it had found itself into. It took some time but at least she could salvage the tip and the feathers this way. Tossing Clint his arrow, she eyed her ruined one, tucking it into the quiver "You want a name? Robyn Locksley, like in the Gest."

Clint Barton catches his arrow and puts it into his quiver and smiles, "Like Robin Hood?" he smiles, "Well I can't argue with that inspiration." he then pauses in mid thought, "Wait Robyn Locksley I remember that name from somewhere....' his voice trails off as he tries to place it. He was never ht best with keeping up with reports.

With a sigh Robyn turns, pulling free an arrow the same fluid motion which brought forth the wooden longbow, the yew wood with the carvings bending as she nocked on the arrow, giving it only enough pull back to have a fast shot "No like the actual Robyn Locksley. You might considder either letting me tell my side or run."

The bow was still up, the arrow aiming at... Clint’s best part instead of the neck. "I know better... So where should I start? With my Dad being a greedy dick and me having to steal money to get the meds for my ma? With him booting us and her dying in a monastery that gave us shelter? Me getting through several youth homes and schools? Chris King crashing me into the side of the road, doing stuff I wish to forget but cant for it was the last the left eye saw? Or rather with the farce of a process that followed and some strangeness? Or you prefer to ignore that part and pretend you know all for a jury found me guilty of car theft and reckless driving?"

Clint Barton says, "Start at the beginning." he then says, "Wherever you think that is." He then says, "Listen I don't think you are the psycho killer they say you are you would have shot me at least three different times now if you were, or cut the cable and let gravity do the work as I climbed down." He can see where she is aiming, "and if you must point it at me can you aim for the heart."

"The heart is likely armored and less painful. And Chris King did deserve what I did to him, just as the sheriff and his buds. It doesn't make me a saint, but not the devil they say. But I wasn't the one who killed the agent - or is a damned Katana my Style?" Robyn answered, the aim not changing a bit, the quad-bladed tip staying aimed on the poor Clint's groin.

Clint Barton sighs, "Alright so you got a bum rap I can appreciate that, when I first started I was a felon too." he then says, "Still it doesn't sound like you have made the best choices either." he then says, "So what brings you to Hells Kitchen, if it is to kill someone else I will have to try to stop you at least."

"Just waiting for someone to try to deliver 'meat' to someone who calls himself a gourmet. And it's not pork or beef for sure." Robyn answered, releasing some of the pressure on the bow, but not putting the arrow away. "I think you wouldn't want to stop me first and foremost if you see what the guy delivers."

Hawkeye nods, "You are most likely right; In fact I might even want to help stop this guy if what you say is true." He then says, "Though I somehow have trouble seeing you as a team player at the moment."

A slight laughs comes from Robyn's throat "You should ask Captain underoos-over-catsuit America if I can be a team player." she taunted as she slowly removed the arrow from the string, twirling in around the fingers "And I bet that should count something. Ask him about the drug den."

Clint Barton nods, "Well if Cap vouches for you that’s good enough for me." He then nods, "I will ask him." He says because well it is not like she couldn’t make up that story.

"Do as you might, but I guess today no delivery comes. It might spoil in the heat. You spoke about lunch - how about you get some burgers and we meet on the roof?" Robyn eventually answered "You can call the star spangled one while you are at it."

Clint Barton nods and heads off to get the burgers and he will meet her up on the roof with them shorts. He gets fries too; they would not be from a fast food place but take out from a diner.