it's just another day

[undiagnosed]

Who: sterling archer (or randy randleman, rando calrissiano, Just Rando) and you!
When: throughout feb
Where: greene's, honeybees and a random street
What: Area Man Copes With Situation Poorly
Warnings: alcoholism, TBA



a. sterling archer, world's most dangerous... retail worker

[what was he going to do, join the SRPD and hope for a talent scout to pick him up for the FBI? yeah, no, that's hilarious. archer takes a good few months to actually accept he needs an income and-- even commit to lowering himself to one that isn't espionage. the odd jobs he takes around the place help fund his alcoholism and other frivolous spending but they were impermeant, which was the point. he's not going to be here long enough to need a job, he's going to find a way out or the others at the agency will come and get him, ray and pam. or even just him!

archer considers starting a PI firm - make the archer agency a reality, but then he'd have to go and have that conversation with the others and... ugh, no. too much effort.

he ends up in honeybees, practically walking into the sporting goods store and demanding a job, then being... really surprised when they just let him have it. he doesn't even mention his spy career! oh well. he knows about guns. he knows a lot about a lot of different kinds of weapons, actually, so he spends as much time as possible in the back and not interacting with the creepy santa rositans that mill in and out the store on a daily basis.

he's most likely to be caught upfront, rare as it is, unless you're one of his unfortunate coworkers, taking a colt commander to pieces to clean and reload, placing each part out methodically, and working with a careful hand anyone that doesn't know him well enough might be surprised he's capable of. if anyone approaches him they get a vague glare and:] No. On lunch.

[there's no food, but there's an open bottle of whiskey sitting next to him.]

b. greene with envy

[archer has been standing next to his shopping cart in greene's canned food aisle, staring at an off-brand can of spam-like he can see through the thin metal for a solid five minutes now.

he hates buying his own food. his own clothes. working in a place that isn't a spy agency. he'd been doing more of the former at home after aleistar had forced archer to kill him, but he's not getting any better at it. the cart's full of mostly alcohol and a mish-mash of vegetables and some expensive steak cuts, things that would be hard to make a proper meal out of. there's a large rottweiler with an obnoxious "service dog" vest on it standing at his feet, sniffing the air occasionally.

not that anyone's judging. or cares. sometimes you just gotta throw what you feel like buying into the trolley and then see what you can do with it, you know?

he tosses the can into the cart with a heavy sigh, watching with a dead, stony expression as the metal edge hits the neck of a bottle of scotch and shatters it. the amber liquid pours out all over his haul and drips through the bars and onto the linoleum floor.

no matter who saw this, archer is not shy about turning on his heel and walking away. god, he's so fucking tired. his dog follows after tilting his head, uncomprehending of the pungent smell that just filled the aisle.

not today, satan.]

c. a skipping record

[he sees the doppelgangers again. he keeps seeing them around, ones that look like ray (who archer, despite all his efforts, can't find anymore, and it leaves a terrible pit in his stomach he doesn't really understand), ones that look like lana, ones that look like his mother. archer can't even tell it's actually a double of them or he's just seeing what he wants to. archer's hallucinations haven't really been troubling him, but seeing these things around? they fizz out and get replaced with familiar threats, then fizz again and he's left not knowing what he's even looking at until one of them almost stabs him again.

though... honestly? he doesn't really want to see his mother right now. he wants to see aj but isn't sure what he'd do if he actually did see her here. he wants--

archer doesn't know what he wants. that's... relatively new.

he can be found standing where the doppelganger he almost managed to catch disappeared into nothing, holding his hand out where the static rip had been.

anyone that gets close, he pulls his gun on them immediately, reflexes clearly well-honed despite his alcoholic demeanor.]

Who did you see? [he asks, eyes narrowed.]

wildcard

[you know what to do! please pm this journal or hit me up at jabbers if you want a starter!]

Comments

@ragunzel

[undiagnosed]

[it's not all that hard to get guns from work when he's like, the direct kind of person they're marketed towards! archer gets an employee discount, but he still steals a couple of the boxes of bullets. just to feel alive, you know?

one day when rapunzel comes home, he's sitting at the kitchen table and pulling a hunting rifle apart to clean and inspect the quality of the make, frowning at some part of the firing mechanism. archer looks up when he hears company and makes a face that's... somewhere between irritation at being interrupted and some barely restrained happiness at seeing her back home safe. things have been a little weird since she was kidnapped and operated on without her consent, to put it lightly.]

Hey. [he says carefully, tilting his head towards a small handgun by the rifle pieces.] You wanna learn how to shoot people?

[prodigalhairess]

[Weird indeed, because Rapunzel, for the most part, acts like absolutely nothing is wrong. She was listless and a bit withdrawn in the first couple of days after she was brought home, but since then, she's... seemingly fine. She still cooks, she still draws, she still does everything she was doing before she was taken in by those mysterious, horrible people that stole her voice.

Sometimes, though, her smile seems a little bit too strained. A little bit like she's forcing herself to go through the motions of being okay. But she's good at hiding it, because the last thing Rapunzel would ever want to do is worry Cass or Archer. They went through enough stress as it was, during her disappearance.

So when she enters the kitchen that day, a bag in her arms filled with what seem to be vegetables for dinner that night, there's a curious smile on her face as she sees him working - a smile that is immediately replaced by a look of shock. She opens her mouth to speak, but like so many times before, there's only a strange static that muffles her words, so she quickly sets the bag down so she can pull out the notepad she's been using. Flipping to a clean page, she quickly scribbles out an answer:]

I don't want to kill people! Just be able to protect others!

[undiagnosed]

[ah, chronic depression. what adult doesn't know her icy touch at least once? or maybe archer and his associates all need therapy. who doesn't!

archer moves to grab the bag - because she'll just spill it all like a moron, his past reasoning had been, but it's obvious it's just to help her. he didn't have a problem with letting woodhouse do most of the lifting and carrying groceries around, but that was different. woodhouse was his his valet... rapunzel's just a kidnapped ten-year-old.

it takes him a moment to turn back and read the note, an eyebrow slowly climbing as he parses it.]

Can't have one without the other, genius. Why are you so against it, anyway? You think people get back up after your cave their skulls in with my goddamn cast iron pan I just seasoned? [he sighs, shrugging a shoulder.] Whatever, you don't have to.

[prodigalhairess]

[The terrible thing is that Rapunzel doesn't realize that what she's feeling is depression. She's been through so much, but a part of her still believes that if she just thinks hard enough that she's okay, then she just... will be.

Or maybe she doesn't really believe that. The months where Cass was under Zhan Tiri's thumb were proof that her attempts to avoid all her complicated feelings were pretty terrible. But it's just... she doesn't want to keep feeling like this.]

They do! I've seen it!

[Just ask Eugene! He's fine and he took like three pan hits to the head in the span of five minutes when they first met!

The first message had been hastily scribbled in protest, but this time, Rapunzel is more careful as she writes, and almost seems... a little unsure?]

I'll do it. If there are going to be more things like this happening, like the weird deer and the people in snowmen and the guys who did this to me and Levi and the others, I want to be able to do something.

[She pauses to let him read the message, before writing again.]

I want to be there for Cass, and for you. Because you've been there for me. I just don't want to kill if I don't have to.

a skipping record

[ourworldnow]

[Louis was determined to notice as little as possible about this city. Sure, he saw people. People that shouldn't be there. His best friends, his long dead parents, even his asshole teachers that had left him and said friends to die. Trying to drive them nuts was apparently the price to pay for not living in his different kind of hell that was home and, right or wrong, Louis was kinda okay paying that. It just took all his years of practicing focusing just on himself to almost deal with it.

So he doesn't even have to stumble or think when there's a gun pulled on him. He refuses to acknowledge his own life, never mind someone else's. His hands go straight up in the air.]

I have never seen anything once. In my entire life.

[undiagnosed]

[his eyes widen slightly when he realises he's let himself get strung out enough to pull a gun on a kid, and he drops it immediately. doesn't put it away, though. archer's still not certain is louis is even real or not.]

That's a dumb thing to say at gun point, [he grouses with a huff.] seriously. Did you see anyone just now?

[...]

Other than me.

[ourworldnow]

Is there a smart thing to say? Just for future life and death reference.

[His hands half lower, still floating awkwardly around his midsection just in case that gun pops right back up.

He may be purposefully trying to ignore that last question, not give it any of his brain power and all the thoughts that will follow from it. Or maybe he is just super interested in not getting shot. Even he's not sure the excuse for not following up, here.]

[undiagnosed]

Usually it's the answer to the question you're asked.

[it's too bad louis wants to ignore the question, because archer is invested in getting it answered. he wouldn't shoot louis, honestly, not unless he attacked first and that's extremely unlikely. he can already tell the skinny little guy is unarmed and prrrrobably won't tackle him to the ground?]

There was someone there, right? [he asks, trying to sound confident and not like he's on the edge of losing his damn mind.]

a!!

[grice]

[ —no? just like that? falco, a boy of twelve (technically thirteen now in santa rosita, but it wasn’t like that’d carry back over to home if time worked that way) stares blankly at the metaphorical window shut right on his face. he looks to the left, the right, counts on his nose to find any hint of lunch and all he’s getting is the pungent smell of an open bottle of alcohol.

he’s not going to argue with the man immediately, but he does, after a moment longer of quiet staring (that kids usually do when they’re just about to plead with their eyes), sit himself down with his back against the service counter. he can wait until lunch is over. he has all day to wait. ]

a is for A BOY

[undiagnosed]

[archer is very good at ignoring people when he wants to-- the fact he has a task at hand only helps that. his expression twists when falco tries to give him the puppy eyes and he goes back to what he was doing for another ten minutes. it doesn't usually take him this long, honestly. archer's just being slow so they pay him for doing nothing.

he pulls the hammer a few times to make sure the spring works, then pockets the gun. that's his now. they don't have proper cctv yet, so they can go fuck themselves.

...right, the kid is still there. he can just about see the top of falco's head through the glass of the counter.]

I'm not giving you a gun, idiot. You're like... five.

a childe

[grice]

[ five...................

at least falco doesn’t have the mouth to talk back with. if it were gabi she’d retort for him: seven years off, idiot. he hardly, if just never, finds himself arguing with adults. to his dismay or not, it’s out of respect. the blond peers up from where he sits but doesn’t comment on his age. he knows he’s young, but, ]

I just wanted to shoot when no one’s around.

[ a surprising move, even for him; he’s a pacifist despite knowing how to use most of them. ]

[undiagnosed]

Seriously? The recoil would break your arms. [suppose he could give this kid a pellet gun, or something. archer sighs at the fact he has to do the job he's being paid for, downs the rest of his whiskey and haphazardly tosses the bottle into the nearby bin as he slides out the seat he's been calcifying in since his shift started.

archer takes a large air rifle off the wall, placing it on the counter.] I guess this is the sort of thing people get their kids...

[he takes something from under the display and shoves it at falco.]

Fifty dollars. Ten per refill. Take it or leave it.

b

[righthandstand]

[Archer's food cart already had Okuyasu's attention. That wasn't a grocery run. That was a "pick whatever food you see" contest, and Archer was failing it. The home cook in Okuyasu winced at the display.

The crime is not ignored. He walks down the isle, purposefully to cross paths with the older man, and makes a face.]

You reek.

[undiagnosed]

[he really should be better at this at his age, but alas. archer is, as usual, hyper-competent with spying but useless at everything else, though never through his own admission. abandoned as it was, that trolley was a masterpiece to him.]

Nope.

[not dealing with some weirdo teenager. archer puts his hand on a nearby shelf around a glass container of peanut butter and knocks it off onto the floor.

loudly:] My goodness! What are you going around breaking these well-stocked jars for?! You hooligan!

[righthandstand]

[The other shoppers just then notice this mess on the floor, thanks Archer. They whisper to each other, one of them calling over a worker, who silently gets to wiping up the spill.]

Oh, sure, like I can break 'em from the tomato isle. I can't even buy this stuff.

You got a cold or something? 'Cause it's hard to believe you can't smell yourself.

[undiagnosed]

It's not me, genius. What the hell is your problem?

[he showered this morning! ...he thinks. blackout kind of all blurs into one after a while. whoof. he might need to slow down before he, like, dies.]

What do you want? Is this a teenager thing? If you're punking me then I'll shoot you in your face!

a!

[13thcommander]

Hello, Archer.

[Erwin is not the least bit surprised that Archer knows how to handle a gun. The guns here are far more advanced than the ones Erwin knows, much like everything else, but it's a technological advance that he doesn't have much interest in. He'd rather get up close and personal when he's dealing with a problem, and prefers blades to bullets.]

[Which is why he's here.]

When you're done with lunch [he eyes the open bottle with a sense of resignation rather than judgment], I could use some assistance.

another boy...

[undiagnosed]

Uh huh.

[well... erwin's gonna have a decent amount of time to check out the new guns (mostly shitty out of date models, to archer) displayed at the store as well as their obnoxious gaudy hunting displays. archer could down the whiskey like water at this point, but he decides to draw out another twenty minutes, then disappears into the staff only door for another ten.

finally he comes back out and leans palms down on the counter, aggressively ignoring the inherent humiliation that comes with being in this position.]

What?

excuse you, ARCHER, Erwin is A MAN

[13thcommander]

[Well, this is going about as well as Erwin expected. While Archer is busy dealing with his bruised ego and enjoying his liquid lunch, Erwin ends up in a long talk with some of the robbie employees about hunting rifles. He actually learns a fair amount, which he didn't anticipate doing today, and is actually considering a light gun that he could still use with only one arm when Archer deigns to grace them with his presence. Erwin politely excuses himself from the robbie to get down to today's real business.]

I'm looking for knives. The bigger and more durable, the better.

[Erwin pulls a small sketch of what he has in mind.]

Something like this.

@miss pamela poovey

[undiagnosed]

[days have been blurring together for a while now; archer's either crawling around the town trying to "gather" "intel" like a rat, passed out fully clothed in the empty tub at home or zoned out half-drunk staring at the ceiling for three days straight and mentally stuck in antarctica before he remembers he's a tangible presence and gets up to stagger to work to half-ass it and get paid a ludicrous amount of money. thanks, 1960s values!

when some shuffling happens - archer barely notices it, through a considerable effort to ignore the creepy bullshit - and multiple townspeople ask about cassandra instead of rapunzel, he considers the merits of being stuck in a shitty wife swap program.

then he thinks about how he'd much rather just be stuck with pam.

then he drops his head onto his kitchen counter so hard he thinks he might've given himself a mild concussion.

a few minutes later after this, not that she'd know, pam gets a text on the brick-like wrist watches:] Are you still with Meatstick von Pecthrust?

[the context makes sense in archer's head. also, he's not jealous. shut up. then un-shut up and answer.]

[sploosh]

[Pam doesn't get many messages. At least not yet. Most are drunk texts from Archer, so this one isn't a shock.]

Same fam so far. Why? Are you not with blonde wifey?

[undiagnosed]

[good thing archer has lots of friends and is almost never bored and achingly lonely!]

No, her lesbian BFF moved in suddenly
At least she doesn't look like she's 12

[there's a pause that could be anything from him dropping the device to falling asleep for a moment. this might be weirdly hard for him to ask.]

You wanna hang out? I don't have any shifts today
I'd call out if I did anyway
Don't feel like working

a

[feudalladyshandmaid]

That's a strange thing to eat, then.

[Cassandra was no stranger to Honeybees. At this point, she had been in the store several times, at least once to scout out the location in case it was of a potential threat. But.... no. It's just another store, full of more than she could ever find at a town market. That made it interesting. Dangerous, too.

But the knives were good. Speaking of. She's got one right now!]

Planning on making it easier to swallow?

[She's joking. Mostly. Please don't try to swallow a gun, Archer.]

cw mention of past suicidal ideation

[undiagnosed]

Phrasing? [he asks the void. unwilling and unable to really consider the irony of her statement in light of his consistent history of suicidal self-destructive behaviour. archer's far too entertained by the dick joke, anyway.] Liquid lunch, obviously.

[why eat when you can just drink? and drink. and drink. and-- you get the idea. it's a wonder how archer manages to keep his muscle mass.]

You gonna get a better knife or stick with that bitch blade?

[feudalladyshandmaid]

[It's really a godawful shame that Cassandra not only isn't familiar with Archer's past of self-destructive escapades, but she isn't actually aware enough of the culture surrounding guns. Her own phrasing sailed straight over her head.

Fortunately, the next part didn't.]

Bi- Hey.

[Glances down at her knife, encased in a sheath of plastic as it was. She thought it looked... well, it's not the same as a blade fresh from the forge, but,]

What, do you have anything better back there?