691/Celebrate Good Times

Celebrate Good Times
Date of Scene:	30 May 2017
Location:	Vancouver area, Canada
Synopsis:	Tigra follows up on a lead that brings her face to face with Ares.
Cast of Characters:	Green Arrow, Ares, Tigra

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Green Arrow has posed:
It's as sunny a day in Starling as the city gets--which is to say that it's only a BIT overcast.

Here in Plesa Park, the greenest patch in this area of the city center, a summer celebration--a neighborhood picnic and barbecue--is in full swing.

Balloons are shaped into animals. Faces are painted like cartoons. There's even pony rides! And what picnic in the park would be complete without a small carnival-like midway?

While there are water guns to spray at cutout clown mouths, the biggest attraction seems to be the archery stand. 'Be the Green Arrow!' read the signs, with a number of various monstrous silhouettes to be shot at.

Flying over everything are banners that read 'PROUDLY SPONSORED BY QUEENS CONSOLIDATED' in omnipresent branding.

Oliver Queen, the city's wealthiest son, walks around with half-a-dozen individuals in a corporate-casual entourage, taking photos with attendees and signing autographs.

Ares has posed:
    The day after an overnight rush job is always the toughest on a guy who prides himself on the magic hour gigs he's able to take care of. This one was a wild one, a wrecked office floor on a skyscraper needed new frame and support. John Aaron's team flew out and got there in time for the late hour rush and was able to get most of the work done. Going to still be stuck here in Canada for another few days, but the pay's good at least.
    Thing is, after a tough night hurrying on the job, it leaves the day for a guy to wind down. So a walk was decided on, just a stroll through the city streets and to the park to hopefully wind down and get unwired enough to crash and get some sleep before the evening's job. Still, beautiful city.
    As luck would have it, John Aaron was moving amongst those displays and games of chance, watching people as much as anything. A bit of funnel cake is held in one hand and occasionally he takes a bite of it while he wanders. First he pauses by the water guns, and frowns as he looks at the prizes. Something needles at his thoughts and he produces his cellphone, swiping it open and then speaking into the receiver.
    "Alexander. You still enjoy the Pokey Mans, correct?"
    A beat, "Are you certain?"
    Another pause, then he grimaces, "Very well." He breaks connection and pockets the phone and walks on, scowling for some reason. His footsteps carry him towards the Green Arrow's booth.

Tigra has posed:
Parks are good. Softer ground for bare feet, feet which sometimes get sore when on hard pavement and sidewalks too long. Could wear shoes, something more cushioned, but no. What if claws were suddenly needed? Would look silly stopping to kick shoes off first. Bare feet it is.

Parks also have lots of people around, especially when there's a festival of some kind taking place. Lots of people means a more concentrated place to see if Tigra can spot her quarry, the big man she was hired to track down. Judging by the photo, which she glances at before tucking it back into a thin pocket of the shorts she wears, the feline going around as a private detective scans the crowd to see if anyone matches.

But why would she be tailing John Aaron? The reasons may soon be known. At this particular moment, she's looking in the direction of something else that interests her: a nearby food stand full of yummy smells. She's also getting more than the occasional glance, considering she's doing nothing to hide her appearance. No effort to be stealthy here. The path to reach the food at least brings her nearer to the archery setup.

Green Arrow has posed:
After several meet-and-greet handshakes-turned-photo opportunities, Oliver Queen also is led near the archery booth.

At his side is a reporter, Victoria Much. "Mister Queen," she asks, "do you think it's wise to celebrate a costumed outlaw--especially one who's fought so frequently against the police?"

With a roguish grin and a chuckle, Queen nods a few times. "Yes, yes, I can see where you're going with this. I suppose it might not win me any friends in SCPD. I'm sorry for that. But," he adds, looking around and gesturing with an upturned palm, "the people of the city seem to rally behind him. Why not celebrate those values he seems to represent and SHARE with the rest of us?"

He steps up to the front of the line and smiles at the teenager who finishes up her set. "Looks like you've won...what's she won, John?" Queen asks of the attendant.

"Lady's choice. My Little Pony or Simpsons plush dolls," the man in the booth says, taking the bow back from the girl.

"Simpsons!" the teenager says with a clap of her hands. She's given her toy and heads off with her parents.

"Who's next?" Queen asks. "What's your name, sir? Looking to be the Green Arrow for a day?"

Ares has posed:
    At first he had been hovering near the edge of the gathering, funnel cake in hand. John Aaron frowned and looked after the reporter, then his attention turned to The Green Arrow competition as Oliver Queen looked to him. For a moment the tall bearded man looks a mite bit incredulous as he cocks an eyebrow, but then he steps forwards.
    A few of the lookie-loos slip out of the way as he advances and he stops there near the booth, setting his snack down and then in turn eyeing the bow that is at the ready. He murmurs to the tycoon, "It has been some time since I have taken up the bow." There's a certain formality to his words, steadily given with a certain gravity to each syllable.
    Yet he does accept the weapon and then nocks an arrow. "What are the stakes of this wager?" He asks as he turns brown eyes upon the blonde man.

Tigra has posed:
The bow and arrow thing definitely appears to be a centerpiece of this place, drawing more of Tigra's attention as she hands over a few Canadian dollars for a hot dog to snack on off to one side. As she watches random people step up to test their skill, some making fools of themselves, some not, she stops in the middle of a bite.

The photo is pulled out again as a relative giant of a man takes up the bow. "Gotta be him," she murmurs to herself, angling her head, then her position to allow herself a better look just as long as he turns the right way..yes. Recognition. "Definitely him," she affirms. "The one from the auction."

Now that she's got her mark, options expand. Approach him now? Might not be smart. He does have a weapon in his hand, after all. Wouldn't do to see if arrows made her essentially a paper tiger. No. Wait for now. Can always follow him one way or another if it gets to that. Her tail flicks a few times behind her, a lazy sway interrupted by a sharper whiplike lash, just happening to avoid a child's grabby hands before it curls closer to her.

Green Arrow has posed:
"Wager?" Queen asks, taken aback slightly. He laughs warmly and points a finger-gun at the man. "Well, I'm pretty sure John's been handing out especially large plush toys--right, John?"

The attendant nods. "Three bullseyes gets you a five-foot-tall Shrek."

Oliver Queen thinks for a moment. "I have the feeling you're not the type to be swayed by cartoon ogres. But...tell you what," he adds, "you get three bullseyes and I'll donate $5,000 to charity. Specifically, a local foundation, Starling's Forgotten, that helps homeless citizens."

John the attendant places four more arrows on the table that marks the barrier between archer and range.

Meanwhile, the child near Tigra is fixated upon her tail, and he giggles happily, babbling, in an attempt to grasp the 'playful' tail moving about in front of him.

Ares has posed:
    "Hnh." John looks askance towards the aforementioned Shrek of some size, then he looks back towards the attendant. A nod is given, solemn for some reason before Ares turns towards Queen. "A worthy cause, and if I fail to do so then I shall make the donation to those without homes."
    There's a moment as the tall man turns away to peer at the target, his brow furrowing as he grimaces slightly, as if the target dared offend him that it had not rushed forward and impaled itself on his arrows already. But eventually he gets past that terrible insult and tilts his head to the side, once, sharply, until the cartilage crackles.
    The bow comes up and he holds it clean, arm forward and considerable musculature standing out along the length of his forearm. He shifts the grip slightly, the thumb lowering a touch. His eyes narrow as he draws the string back, the arrow resting upon the crook of a finger.
    Someone close enough might recognize the precision of the movement, and Oliver can perceive the stance as being almost perfect in its execution, even the breathing is held at the precise moment to maximize steady aim. Then there's the whisper of the arrow firing and the /thwok!/ of it striking the target.

Tigra has posed:
Tigra makes a show of rolling her eyes as the tail is allowed closer again. "/Fine,/ but if you pull it too hard or rub it the wrong way, we are going to have /words./" It's a kid. He doesn't know any better except to want to pet it. So what if it might feel good in the process? This area is more English-speaking than other parts of Canada. It isn't Montreal. He understands her. Probably.

Meanwhile, the first arrow strikes. She's not in position to see the quality of the hit, so she'll have to rely on any reactions from onlookers in order to know. That's another thing. Innocent bystanders. If this led to a fight, it wouldn't do to have it here in the middle of the park. Property damage is one thing. People damage is another. Listening closely enough to the conversation between John and Ollie informs her of the charitable wager. Well, he /does/ have money to throw around, so that fits what the guy told her.

Green Arrow has posed:
Everyone applauds as all five of the man's arrows hit the bullseye.

Queen's among the applauding bystanders. "Looks like some homeless Starling families will have some serious help, thanks to your shooting, Mister...?" He trails off, waiting for a moment to hear the man's name. But only a moment.

"Tell you what. If I can do just as good, I'll donate another $5,000. If I can't, I'll donate another $10,000 on top of the $5,000 you won for them. One good deed deserves another, right?" he says, grinning.

John the attendant whistles as he hands Queen the bow.

"Victoria," Oliver says to the reporter next to him, "mind holding my jacket for a moment while I give this a try? After all, I was a HUGE fan of Robin Hood when I was young..."

For a split-second, Queen's form is perfect. But then he seems to foul it all up--posture's wrong, arrow's off-line, forearm's in the way. Five quick arrows later, Queen's managed to nick the edges of the target.

There's polite applause and laughter as he raises a hand and smiles. "Guess that's $15,000 going to the foundation!" he calls.

Ares has posed:
    "Aaron, John Aaron." He answers calmly in a low rumbling baritone.
    After his own arrows were given flight, Ares steps back and then offers the bow in turn towards the attendant or Oliver Queen himself. He says nothing for the moment, just looking between the two and then his attention falls upon the reporter. For a moment he waves off the camera as if it was an annoyance... which it is, but of course the reporters don't stop shooting him until their attention is drawn back to Ollie.
    The tall man folds his arms over his chest, keeping his counsel to himself as the other archer takes up stance on the firing line. For a time John Aaron watches, lets his gaze follow the flight, but then at the first miss his brow first lifts, then furrows. A low exhaled 'hnh' comes from him as he watches each shot in turn. Then once it's finished he offers his hand to the billionaire. If it's accepted it'll be a firm shake and then a few words given only for the other archer's ears.
    "A fine wager, perhaps another time we shoot for true." But he makes no debacle of it, instead he steps back and gives a nod to the camera and applauds when the situation calls for it.

Tigra has posed:
Tigra's no archer, but Oliver Queen seems to know what he's doing with the bow. Then, the shots falter. This, she sees because she's left the child behind with a mother and father fretting over him. Something about her probably having fleas. She doesn't. That's a very sensitive subject, and after the first couple times...ahem. Change of routine. Better shampoo.

"Ping," she utters under her breath as the name is spoken, eliminating whatever doubt may have been left. Right size, right face, right name. If he looks like a John Aaron, walks like a John Aaron, and calls himself a John Aaron, then he probably /is/ a John Aaron.

There's also the matter of the cameras and reporters. A fight would be documented. She wants to get some answers from him, as much to satisfy her own curiosity as to fill in the next blank part of the job she was hired for, but..how to handle this? "That was some fine shooting, handsome," she openly flirts as she comes closer, licking her fingers clean of anything left from the hot dog. "You looked like a natural, unlike that amateur over there." A thumb is jerked toward Ollie. "But the needy win in the end so it's all good, right?"

Green Arrow has posed:
As his hand is shaken, Queen smiles and shakes his head slightly, saying in a quiet voice, "I don't know what you mean, Mister Aaron." His eyes, however, suggest otherwise.

An older woman steps up to try her hand at the target while John the attendant retrieves the spent arrows. Queen hands her his bow. "I'm sure it's not defective, ma'am. Don't let my poor shooting throw you off your game." He smiles and pats her shoulder.

The woman grins and, when the attendant provides her with arrows, squints before firing a decent grouping of shots near the target's center, but just out of bullseye territory.

Meanwhile, as Tigra approaches, Oliver turns his attention to her. "That's all that should matter," he replies loudly, grinning for the cameras. "Happy to do it, too."

Ares has posed:
    "I will take the Shrek doll." John Aaron says this with such stern solemnity that it might take a moment of reflection for the attendant to realize exactly what was said. Yet at the questioning look given him he then adds, as if it clarified everything, "For my son."
    But then he gives a nod to Oliver Queen, as well as a small parting wave towards the reporters, the crowd. And then there's a Tigra speaking to him and his attention shifts entirely to her as he's stepping away from the booth, pausing there at the edge of it and awaiting his prize to be given to him.
    Looking down his eyes narrow as he looks upon the feline being. For a moment he tilts his head to the side, head drawing back a touch as his gaze falls along the lines of her form. Yet assuredly what is noted primarily is the fur, the eyes, the hint of fang. This world has give rise to any number of strange individuals so her existence is not unbelievable, yet it still causes a moment of being taken aback.
    "He is a talented individual." Those brown eyes meet her green and there's a slight curl to his lip as if something amused him as he adds. "Like many individuals appearances can be deceiving."

Tigra has posed:
When the camera predictably includes the fuzzy woman in the shot - after all, those who watch the news will surely want to see /her/ as well - she flashes the lens a winning and fangy grin along with giving a thumbs-up. From there, a nod toward Ollie, but John has a bit more of her attention. The tiger's share, one might say.

The size of the Shrek doll draws a mildly appreciative look as he's given the big toy while considering her. Voice kept toward the quieter side as she replies, she says, "I know a thing or two about putting on a show for people or there being more to things than it looks like. My name is Tigra, John Aaron, and I want to be honest with you when I say someone asked me to find you."

A hand goes up slowly, as if to slow him from making a hasty reaction. "I just wanted to ask you a couple questions about something. I'm not here for trouble, but I promised a certain someone I'd try to get to the bottom of a concern of his. I'm starting to wonder if he's just sore, but at least he paid for the flight and a couple nights. I'd like to enjoy them. So, what do you say?"

Green Arrow has posed:
As the archery participants continue to cycle through, Oliver and his entourage begin to move to another area--the snack stands.

"Who wants a funnel cake?" he asks, looking back and forth among his companions. Victoria Much grins. "I think we can take a quick break for a pretzel or orangeade, right, Tim?" she asks of her cameraman, who agrees.

"Alright, then," Queen says. "Follow me." He begins off toward the vendor carts, stopping along the way to pose for a photo with a large family having fun.

Ares has posed:
    Now with the huge green form of a life-size Shrek doll standing beside him, his arm around it almost affectionately, it lends a certain counterpoint to the stern visage of the Incognito Olympian. Yet even as he leaves the competition behind him, the adulation of the crowd, and the charismatic barker in the form of Oliver Queen, he seems barely amused. It's almost as if a smile was daring to appear at the corner of his mouth but was suppressed with a certain dour aplomb.
    Yet he walks on now, clearly expecting Tigra to walk with him, for really it is she who has business with him, but he measures his pace so that they maintain parity. "Much would depend on your answer as to who employs you." There's a pause as he steps through the crowd, extending his free arm to the side as if to create a path for her as well, causing it to part before their movements. "But I admit I am intrigued, so ask of me what you will, Ms. Tigra."