Golden Gate Park during the day is a vibrant, active place with games and picnics as well as tourist from all over the world. The beautiful Japanese Tea Gardens are a place of quiet respite from the hustle of the city. Between the Steinhart Aquarium and the de Young Museum people ate lunch and listened to the various musicians performing on the stage. One day classical, the next Jazz. Children ran and shrieked at the ducks, laughing when they broke into flight. Couples stroll hand in hand or groups pedal along the bike lanes avoiding the occasional pile of 'road apples' left be the SFPD mounted patrol. It is one of the safest parks in the world they say.
Archer stood atop the de Young and gazed across the park, his elvish eyes turning the late night black of an overcast sky into a moon-lit dusk. Three men sat at the outdoor tables before the stage talking in loud voices, obviously drunk. One rose and staggered toward the western end of the aquarium and the patch of bushes there, probably intent on relieving himself. He fumbled with his pants and stood still, his feet spread slightly as even at that distance Archer caught the splash of urine on the leaves.
"Hey!" the man yelped, leaping into the bushes.
His two friends rose at his shout and sauntered toward their buddy one calling out.
"Watcha got, Joe?"
The bushes shook and there was a crashing as if something were running blindly through the thicket. A small figured burst from the brush and slammed into the larger of the two men approaching the scene. Automatically he grabbed whoever it was and held on.
"Gotcha!" he barked in triumph then howled in pain as the smaller figure kicked him in the shins.
The pisser, fly still open, lumbered out of the bushes and grabbed the small figure by the scruff of the neck
"Gimme my wallet!" he bellowed.
Archer watched, still relaxed. One of the street people had taken the chance on snatching the man's wallet while he was 'busy'. As long as it didn't get out of hand, the bowman was content to let things work themselves out.
The pisser started pawing the homeless man, searching for his property in the heavy folds of ragged, dirty clothing; his buddy shifted his hold on the smaller man to a hammer lock. The next words froze Archer.
"Don't touch me!"
The voice was a child's voice. Vaulting off the edge of the roof, Archer dropped to the earth with a soft thud and began walking across the amphitheater, weaving his way through the benches. The pisser ripped open the coat the child was wearing and continued his search.
"I said 'DON'T TOUCH ME!" The note of hysteria in the child's voice made Archer break into a run.
Though he couldn't see exactly what the pisser was doing, it was pretty evident he was working his way through the layers of clothing. Then the bowman caught a glimpse of the knife as it flashed in the hand of the man holding the child's arm. The blade arched down toward the child's body and there was a scream. Blood erupted, spurting to the beat of a heart and Archer was among them.
Grabbing the assailant from behind, the Ghost Archer hurled him backward over his shoulder as if the man had been a rag doll. The pisser followed a second later as Archer gathered up the bundle of grimy clothes. That was all he got, the grimy coat. Turning quickly Archer was on the knife wielding man, pulling his hands from the bloody mess that was his belly.
"Crap on a stick," he hissed and snarled at the man. "Be still or you will bleed out!"
Placing the palm of his hand on the horrible wound the bowman relaxed and let the power flow down his arm and out his hand. A forest green light bathed the wounded man and he passed out. After a moment, Archer removed his hand and looked over at the pisser who was being helped to his feet by the third guy.
