<div class="floatleft">(http://fast1.onesite.com/capcom-unity.com/user/kramez/ac705c2072cbddc420d1a1733e4abe59.jpg?v=188100)</div><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: impact;">Kid Arrow</span></span><br/><em>Telescopic Vision, Olympic Archer</em><br/><strong>STR:</strong>1<strong>SPE:</strong>4<strong>INT:</strong>2<br/><strong>DUR:</strong>1<strong>AGL:</strong>4<strong>PER:</strong>4<br/><br/><strong>Location:</strong><em>Situation Room;  Hall of Order</em><br/><br/>He was walking, lost in his thoughts, without a singular object to arrest his inquisitive nature.  The architecture, while remarkable, was sterile; the halls, long and winding, were empty and quiet.<em>This is impersonal, isn't it?</em>he thought.<em>Cold and efficient.</em>And very different from what he was accustomed to.<br/><br/>Atom Tower was not unlike a zoo.  The amazing and extremely unlikely occurred there.  It wouldn't do the storied standing monolith credit to simply describe it as an intergalactic, interdimensional embassy.  Though it was located in the center of downtown Los Angeles, it served as the penultimate human outpost in the vast frontier of the unknown.  It was one of the first lines of defense against terrestrial, extraterrestrial, astral, subterranian and aquatic threats.  It was seen as a site of authority in the sciences, as its output in inventions revolutionized the present technological era and its reverse engineering of alien wares was second to none.  History was made there.  Friendships were forged there.  Family lived there.  And Michael missed his family.  He strained his ears to hear the cacophony of his father's jovial laughter.  He imagined that he could hear it past the steel hum of pressure squeezing the orbiting satellite and the whirling whooshing noise of scrubbers recycling oxygen.  It made Michael smile.<br/><br/>Though he resented his father for his paltry genetic lot, Michael was made conscious of precisely how difficult it must have been for Mr. Atom to have created such an interesting place for a family to grow.  The atmosphere at Atom Tower was almost celebratory in its pursuit of justice.  Here, aboard the satellite, he felt that the pursuit of justice was an arduous process that inevitably took its toll on the pursuers.  The satellite was somber and Spartan, like a warrior's funeral.  It was no place for a child.  Especially a child whose best friend growing up was a sentient mathematical formula that couldn't quite exist on planet earth without moving a couple decimal places in the fabric of reality.<br/><br/>Decorations, remembrances, awards, photographs and ribbons lined the corridors leading directly into the situation room, its effect appallingly morbid.  Group photos were lined by bygone years, smiling domino-masked faces beaming confidently.  Here and there, between '93 and '99, he spotted his godfather, the Golden Lion.  Arrow frowned, tapped his face with the pad of his index and said, beneath his breath,  "... I still can't believe you're gone."  But he could believe it.  The Golden Lion lived valiantly.  It was only just that he would die valiantly, too.  Before the images began spilling their secrets, an incoming call alert sounded within his helm.  The number and its registered owner streamed across his heads-up display.<br/><br/>"Answer," he said.  In a more subdued voice,  "Hey, what's up?"  It was that mischievous git Sam Lassiter, eternal enemy of the secret superhero identity and former roommate.  Though Michael and Sam weren't very alike (and let's face it, Michael was pretty different from nearly every other young man his age), there was very little Michael disliked about him.  If Sam learned how to take a hint and committed to doing his share of the dishes, he would've been perfect.<br/><br/>"Hey, Mi-keeey!  Big party tonight.  Brickhead's throwin' it.  You comin'?"<br/><br/>"I wish I could, but I've got a huge exam on Monday.  Besides, I don't think Derek likes me very much."<br/><br/>"You gotta go, Mike!  If you don't, I won't know anyone there!"<br/><br/>"...  Look, I'll try to move a few things around, but no promises, all right?  I gotta go."<br/><br/>"Fine-- but don't dick out on me!  You owe me."<br/><br/>Michael did owe Sam.  He hadn't been a good friend.  In fact, Michael had a hard time imagining a friend being any worse than he had been in the last couple of months.  But he wasn't going to go.  His shift was up.  Imagining Sam waiting for his call saddened Michael, because Sam could be startlingly pathetic despite his intelligence.  Michael stepped into the situation room, approached the steel tabernacle, collapsed into his designated chair and, without greeting Thunderclap, said:   "How do you deal with the stress, T.C.?  I'm striking out everywhere.  Lying to my friends is emotionally exhausting."