Bowyer
When people think of world-class archers, they usually name Hawkeye or Green Arrow. Bowyer was never an Avenger or a part of the Justice League, but I’m confident he could hold his own. He has a natural ability with bows. Whether using a recurve, compound, longbow, composite, takedown, or various crossbows. He can just hit his mark. That’s how we found him, hitting his mark.
A good ol’ fashioned dime.
The Bizarre was jam-packed with all manner of entertainment; people hung from hooks pierced through various parts of their bodies, others breathed fire, and there were sword swallowers, and animal acts, I even saw multiple tents with signs announcing live sex shows. Forge wasn’t kidding when he said anything goes.
“Come one, come all. Watch in amazement as I put an arrow through the coin 50 yards away.” The man stood on a wooden box reminiscent of a carnival barker from years long past. “What’s that? Easy, you say! Surely not with a bow made out of PVC. That’s right, Poly Vinyl Chloride. Plastic tubing, the likes of which would fit in right under a sink.” Stepping down from the box, Bowyer makes his way toward a table covered with various bows he reaches under it to pull out two pieces of PVC and a string. He puts a piece of smaller PVC tube inside a tube that while larger in diameter is shorter in length. He then bends the longer tube attaching the cordage to each end creating a very makeshift bow. “Come now if you want to see it step up and show me what you’ve got. If I make it I keep it. If I don’t you get these.” He holds up a large handful of Dollar Debs' Dollars. The sight perks up a good number of drunkards. They stumble up put their bet on the table and step back.
The three of us watched from the back. I didn’t doubt he’d hit the target, the show was too good, too rehearsed. He’d clearly done this before. “Now I will take this arrow, made from a piece of PVC, as I should add, and send it aloft. It shall meet its mark, and we shall...”
“Just get on with it, jackass!” The interruption caused by a rather large and highly intoxicated leather-clad man.
“As you wish.” With a flourish for the dramatic, Bowyer took aim. He held the bowstring as the anticipation grew.
“C’mon, do it already!”
He released the string, and the arrow pierced the air. All was silent until the arrow impaled the coin with a "Thunk". Most of the crowd cheered. Others, clearly angry about losing, began to grumble. As Bowyer turned to take his stage bow, the man who had shouted stepped up and grabbed him by the collar. “You ripped us off.” His speech slurred, and spittle flew through the air. Before the oaf knew what hit him, Bowyer had twisted out of his grip, wrenched the big man’s arm behind his back, and jabbed an arrow into the nape of his neck. “Now, sir. I tolerated your rude outbursts, but I shall not tolerate being called a cheat.” He pressed the arrow until blood trickled from his captive’s neck.
Just then a group of people pushed their way through the crowd. A middle-aged man in a poorly fitting dusty suit led a group of five masked enforcers with patches on their shoulders and backs identifying them as Security. Both Forge and Smith stepped back. I followed suit. Forge looked down at me, “Well, there goes the neighborhood.”
Bowyer saw the group approaching and immediately let go of the drunk causing him to drop to the ground with a heavy "Thump!" The drunk shook his head and looked up. I swear I saw the color drain from his face. “It was him, man. I didn’t do nuthin’!” The man in the suit lifted his hand and the drunk fell silent. The group approached the two and words were exchanged quietly. Bowyer nodded in agreement. The drunk tried arguing until the guards took out their nightsticks. While this was happening it seemed like business as usual in The Bizarre.
The man in the suit turned towards a guard, a big burly blonde whose arms looked like they were made from steel wire. She in turn hit a radio mic on her shoulder. Within seconds a horn went off, and everyone looked around. Shopkeepers closed their stalls. People started walking en masse toward the back area of The Bizarre. Smith turned towards me, “Well, Falcon, looks like you get to see the man in action.” We joined the crowd.
The rules were simple. One of the people in The Ring had to die. No weapons were provided and no weapons were allowed. This was a test of sheer strength and fighting ability, something everyone alive these days had.
The Ring itself was a boxing ring completely enclosed in a chain link fence. Razor wire and barbed wire had been woven through the chain link. Bits of cloth and what looked like dried flesh clung to the points.
“This is some Hollywood movie-type shit.”
Forge shrugged, “Yeah the people that run this place really liked those post-apocalyptic movies,” then in a deep grumbly voice he declared, “‘Two men enter, one man leaves.’”
“Don’t forget that professional wrestling show.” Smith chuckled.
“Oh yeah, all the barbed wire-wrapped baseball bats and folding chairs.” We watched as Bowyer and the drunk were led to The Ring. The gate opened on rusty hinges. Bowyer walked in like he owned the place. The drunk had to be forced in. The gate slammed shut and padlocks were clicked in place.
“C’mon, man. It was his fault!” The drunkard pointed at Bowyer while pleading with the gate guard. He got no reply.
The man with the ill-fitting suit cleared his throat and The Bizarre went eerily silent. “The rules are clear. While in The Bizarre there is to be no violence, unless... it’s paid for.” The crowd chuckled. “These two had not paid.” He pointed towards the men in The Ring. “Now we will extract the price.” The crowd let out a cheer. “One of these men must die.”
The drunk continued declaring his innocence, “C’mon! It was him! It won’t happen again!”
“Just a few minutes ago he was ready to knock Bowyer’s head off. Now he’s a groveling baby.” I said to no one in particular.
Forge answered, “That man, Bowyer, he’s Champion of The Ring. Been in there what, 14 times.”
“15.” Smith chimed in. “It’s kinda his thing. If he isn’t fleecing people with his fancy bow work he’s killing people in The Ring.”
Forge added, “He knew what was gonna happen the moment that guy touched him.”
The suit wasted no time. He simply nodded. Bowyer was across the ring in an instant. He took the big man down to the mat and immediately began slamming elbows into his face. The crowd was going wild. Forge leaned down in a whisper, “He’s gonna give the guy a chance to get up then it’s over.” Sure enough, Bowyer stepped back bowing to the roaring crowd. Blood poured from the drunk's face. He knew he was done for you could see as he decided to not go down without a fight. He did what lots of big men do and he charged, arms out, hoping to wrap around Bowyer. Instead, he was met with a swift kick to the head. He went board straight and then collapsed. The crowd was ecstatic. The man in the suit entered the ring and checked for a pulse. “We have a winner.” Bowyer bowed again with a flourish and left the ring. People were patting him on the shoulders as he left.
We made our way through the crowd. Bowyer saw Smith first and walked towards her. “Another job well done.” She said with a nod.
“Thanks. It wasn’t that hard. Big guys are easy to take down.” He said with a smile as he looked at Forge. Forge just shook his head. “Anyway, what’s up? You’re never here this time, Forge.”
“I wanted to introduce you to a friend of mine.”
