Prologue Part 2: Mission Success, but at What Cost?

Hiro’s body fell forward towards the console; he collided with it on the way down and slumped to the floor.

Strider smiled, the peace that flooded through his mind was partially relief upon the accomplishment of his mission, the other part was just the feeling you get when you hit a shot that you shouldn’t be able to hit. This was another one of those feelings he got from combining the Eastern kyudo style archery with Western archery. In the east apparently it was an ancient ideology. When you aim it's almost like you are first aiming at yourself, and through that you hit your target even if you miss, you will hit because you hit yourself. This philosophy seems a little far fetched but essentially by practicing the art of archery as a means of bettering yourself. Even if the arrow doesn’t hit where you were aiming at the target it doesn’t really matter, because you were really aiming at the internal not the external. It's less about the shot but more about the practice almost religiously of the shot, the build, the release, and the perfect control over your mind and body. In kyudo, archery is often more about reaching a state of mind or a state of ‘being’ than it is the “bullseye.” Though some practitioners upon reaching the desired state seem to always shoot true anyways. Either way Strider had combined the art of perfect control and release, while also controlling his mental state with the concepts and technology of the Western archeries compounds. Now he simply didn’t miss. He felt a small tinge of guilt at the self gratification he got from the perfect shot but it seemed that was one of the side effects of the combination. Strider had achieved mastery not just of the art of archery, but of something else. Or so the elders used to tell him. Strider sort of agreed that he was a master of the bow and had become quite self aware. Whether that was from accomplishing a Zin like inner peace from aiming at himself and not just the target remained to be unseen. Especially seeing as at that moment he was in the self gratifying afterglow of the results of his shot. Strider knew that shooting to gratify yourself wasn’t the kyudo way. But that is where the two sides of his mastery clashed, and honestly he didn’t mind it.

Unfortunately, it seemed that his occasionally internal battle of the practices might not matter for long. It seemed Hiro had some unforeseen aim like ‘inner Zin' as well. As his body fell it somehow hit what was apparently the self destruct button…..

Strider shook his head dismissing the thought, this was not some sort of inner unconscious Zin that Hiro had managed from the other side. But rather just dumb luck, a odd stroke of fate. Strider quickly descended from the shafts he had to see if he could do something about the stroke of fate that Hiro’s body had sent his way.

Strider had never really been good with technology, he had access to the Interwebs like everyone else but he never really made himself online or had a need to go online. He thought about searching to find out if there was some “How to Turn off a Self Destruct button guide.” Annoying, just the thought of going online had activated the Interwebs and options were flying across the interface his brain had conjured up. He ignored them as none of them seemed remotely helpful especially considering the age of the building and the technology in the building. Strider did know one thing, throughout all the modern times, to even the older eras, even to this new one that emerged. The age old practice of turning it off and back on again seemed to ring true. So Strider tried pulling the plug to no avail. There seemed to be some kind of fail-safe or the self destruct was powered by something besides the console. The timer continued to tick, Strider connected intentionally to the Interwebs this time, reaching out to one of his “ Squire '' ranked underlings. Though they were hardly his underlings, seeing as Strider was really the only ranger left who still cared or was qualified to carry the name. He connected with one whose name was Gin. Gin had no real interest in being a ranger. But had been saved by Strider and brought into the organization almost as a means of employment to help Gin get out of his pinch. And at the very least he had sort of stuck around for a bit as an Interwebs specialist. Gin went online and Strider informed him of his situation, and his accepted fate. And sent him information about his mission and other miscellaneous things. Finally, he sent over what was essentially his autobiography and even his will and instructed Gin to lock it in one of the many Interweb archives and really bury it deep. This would make finding and accessing it difficult, but it would also make the deletion of it near impossible. Strider didn’t really need to be remembered nor did he really want to be. But a small part of him that seemed to be growing ever so suddenly wished that the practice of archery which had helped guide him throughout his life would continue. Strider personally loved archery on every level possible. And he had even mastered it perhaps even perfected it in every level possible. Well that wasn’t quite true. He felt he could have been better at studying and devoting himself to the old ways of kyudo, especially on the more spiritual side of things. But as far as self reflection, recreationally, and even in warfare. Strider had perfected archery. The timer continued to click. When a glint in the corner of the room caught Strider’s eye, it was a lockbox or safe of sorts. It seemed to be made out of some type of fusion or collaboration of Tungsten and Chromium or so he guessed. He had the Interwebs analyze it and they likened it to be the strongest metal in the world. It was essentially a small unbreakable safe. Strider smiled to himself again, he had always loved his collapsible compound. It was one of the last models of bow developed. Everything could fold into itself and was all stored in the riser. The cam system when doing this would reel in the strings once the tension was relieved and when returning to its full form it would be ready to transfer its energy into the arrow in no time. Strider put his bow now just the size of the light weight riser into the safe. He followed that with his arrows, as well. Then Strider did something uncharacteristic of himself. He slashed his hand across the thumb pad up into the thumb a little ways. It was a little deeper than he intended but his arrows were superbly sharp. He lathered the arrows with his blood. They glowed white emblazoned with the word Strider. Next to this he put his personal journal on the cover and many of the pages were blood stains. Not just from his fresh flesh wound, but from its years of use in archery practice and also of course the war. The journal was old school and few others used paper anymore, but Strider liked it because he could put down the tangibles of his life and of his archery journey onto a tangible object.  It would have been faster on the Interwebs sure and some of this journey was in his autobiography, but it just wasn't the same. Finally, he put his ranger insignia in the box. It was a green circle with a pin in the middle the pin had a yami bow at full draw etched into it. Strider knew that he would be the last person to bear the weight of that pin.  He secured the box and sat down to meditate his last few moments away. Strider felt content; he didn't feel like he was ready to leave this earth yet. But he had completed his last mission even though this was the first mission it seemed that even though he succeeded it felt like he failed... A part of him took solace in the fact that at least his bow and some of his legacy would survive. He thanked the Creator for his life and for allowing him the joys of archery. Some might find that silly but to Strider his whole life in some way had always been linked to the bow and arrow. He liked to think that he went down the straight and true path in life much like the arrows he unleashed from his bow throughout his life. Strider sent one last message out to his old friend in America. He asked him to honor his agreement to support the Aragonians and also to keep archery alive. He told him archery would do more for the world, then either of them would ever know.

The last thought that ran through Strider's head was " I hope someone can rediscover my passion.”

And then the ticking stopped and the beating of Strider's heart stopped along with it.