codename_duchess: (Remember the Rock-Eater?)
[CW: mention of cancer]

For those of you who don’t know me, hi. Sterling Archer, ISIS top agent, world’s most dangerous spy. And if you don’t believe that ask Bond, since I beat the shit out of him. I’ve recovered nuclear material, assassinated enemy agents, fought arms dealers, space pirates, killer cyborgs, the Yakuza, North Korean terrorists, and the KGB. I’ve been poisoned, declared legally dead, beaten breast cancer, and been shot twenty-two times – all before I got on the Barge. Long story short, I am a huge badass.

My adventures on the Barge are pretty awesome too but I don’t need to tell you that. Chris, Rogue, and Morgana can do that for me – right, guys?

Anyway, chalk up another tally in the badass column: I, Sterling Archer, have beaten the Barge. [Check out his brand-spanking new shower stall and redwood Japanese soaking bath!] Check it out, dickwads, I graduated! And it only took me a couple months. …Several months. Less than a year. So I’m going to go home to keep kicking bad guys’ asses and also check in on Lana. Because she’s pregnant and that’s kind of a big deal.

…The point is, I’m badass.

Rogue, you promised me a goddamn cake.
codename_duchess: (High-functioning alcoholism)
Why're you guys all so freaked about this?

Seriously. This was MirrorBarge. As in mirror of the Barge. It's just us but worse, idiots. We know the MirrorBarge, we've been there, and except for some of you getting insomnia nothing bad carried over. It's like a fucking flood, you guys.

We got through it. We'll do it again. Especially if we can rack up some flamethrowers or something to make it more even.
codename_duchess: (It's tinnitus)
[Video]
[Archer is on the deck, ready for action in his slightly darker black turtleneck, and he looks really freaking annoyed.] I need a warden to let Kazak and me into the CES. [He turns the communicator to show the "Kazak" in question, a placid-looking St. Bernard approximately two-thirds Archer's size. The dog barks in greeting, jowls wobbling.] Anyone who's close will be good. And why the hell is that thing locked anyway? Are you guys super-worried about letting inmates out for a diabolical game of fetch? Or bringing their pets in to take a piss somewhere that isn't their carpet?

[CES spam]
[Archer is in a boggy swath of land bordered by cypress trees somewhere inspired by Louisiana, throwing a stick approximately the size and width of his own arm. Kazak bounds after it, wandering through the grass to pick it up and bring it back except for those times when he finds something more interesting to retrieve. A frog, perhaps, or a turtle sunning itself.

At one point an alligator lazily surfaces in the muddy water and Archer jumps and calls the dog back with approximately the same desperation as a mother pleading for her child to press their way out of a burning building.
] KAZAK, NO! COME BACK RIGHT NOW! GET AWAY FROM THAT GODDAMN GATOR!

[Once the dog is safely returned he tosses the stick far in the opposite direction, toward the door.]
codename_duchess: (WTF my penis)
[Archer makes his cards pretty simple, and keeps them to the point. Everyone on board gets a red paper heart decorated with a handwritten "Happy Valentine's Day, idiot. -Archer" There are a couple of people who deserve more specific messages, though, so he adds a few postscripts.

Messages for Rogue, Catra, Morgana, Steph )

[The Sterling Archer who switches on the feed does not look like he normally does. Instead of a turtleneck or suit he's wearing a red leather chest harness as if it's entirely normal everyday attire, and instead of wearing his usual shit-eating smirk or irritated glare he looks… pensive. Calm. Oddly normal.

There's still a bottle of Scotch in his hand, though, because old habits die hard.
]

Ah realize it's a couple days late, but… never got around to it earlier. Thanks for the party, never had one of those before. Mother always thought mah birthday wasn't as big a deal as her goddamn dog's. Sure was a helluva lot better than the other ones, no one even took mah car.

So, uh… we doin' anythin' for the single people here this V-Day?

[OOC: Archer now has Steph's empathy, Catra's dress sense, and Rogue's accent.]
codename_duchess: (Remember the Rock-Eater?)
He's making a list, he's checking it twice )

SNOWBALL FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!

[The feed captures the CES, snowy, hilly, and covered in pine forests. The place is a regular winter wonderland: in fact it's Gstaad, Switzerland, a ski resort with the chateau and lift stripped away. A series of snowballs, thrown rapid-fire against the trunk of a pine tree, explode into icy powder as Archer laughs.] Yes! Still pitching like the world's manliest top!

So I've been waiting to say this since I was, like, three. I AM DECLARING WAR ON THE CITIZENS OF THIS DIMENSION.

Okay, here's what we're doing. SNOWBALL WAR IN THE CES, BITCHES. Grab your friends, grab your warden, and grab a handful of snow and try to kick some ass. Bring it home like it's Pizza Hut, guys, or the fight's coming to the halls. The winners get everlasting glory and valor! The losers get mocked into oblivion!

And, seriously. Like half you assholes don't want to see me lose.

Which I won't. Because, uh, duh.

[There's a slight pause in which that line of thought ends, giving the feed an uninterrupted and rather pretty alpine winter image. Then it blurs as he takes off running somewhere, catching his voice as he darts off:]

SCOTT'S ON MY TEAM!
codename_duchess: (That is classic mother)
[This time, Barge, you do not get treated to the sight of Archer's face. This is because his recent coma just saw his initiation into another grand Barge tradition: being drawn on while passed out.]

Okay so that's not the first time I've spent a holiday passed out, but it still kind of sucks. At least I missed the community koombayah where everyone goes around saying what they're thankful for. Spoiler alert, nothing.

Are there still leftovers? Is the Wild Turkey gone?

If not, and if anyone needs me, I'll be in the spa and then Rogue's bathroom. With the door locked and the radio on. And the hot water running. For several hours.

Jesus, you guys are like a bunch of frat kids.
codename_duchess: (Remember the Rock-Eater?)
Okay okay, my turn! Hold on a second, I have to get the formula right. [A cough to clear his throat, a deep breath, a beat, and scene:]

Introduction in the form of a question or request.

Segue into the difficulty of living here. Complaint about corruption and incompetence. Singling out of specific people for both categories. Query whether it's always this fucked up.

Curious ponderment about the Admiral. Invitation to share theories about the weird shit happening right now because it's so freaking different than the other weird shit that happens.

Thinly veiled threat meant to prove badassery to other inmates.

Witty quip with a double meaning, aaaaand hang up. [And scene.]

Did I miss anything?
codename_duchess: (YES IDIOT I DO)
[The communicator clicks on and catches the sounds of violent coughing and desperate gasps for breath, which swiftly turns into equally loud and violent shouting.] Ha ha, guys, great joke! Let Archer inhale water then dump his semiconscious body in this new place called the Middle of Nowhere while we wait for him to call for an extraction, because that’s really freaking funny! You know what else would’ve been hilarious? TAKING ME TO A GODDAMN HOSPITAL!

Seriously, I’ve got water in my ears. Do you know how annoying that is? It’s like having a piece of coral stuck in your scuba flipper, which I wouldn’t know anything about because you three took all the gear. Dammit, Lana! I did not skipper a submersible down to the bottom of the freaking ocean to be abandoned like a redheaded stepchild!

Oh hey, speaking of, is this one of Mother’s training exercises? Because great timing, this is classic her. Sure, her only child could use some help getting seawater out of his lungs, but let’s toss him out in a survival scenario instead, that’ll accomplish WAY more!

[There is a beat wherein the speaker appears to reconsider, and when he continues his voice is bewildered instead of angry.]

Where the hell am I, anyway? Helloooo, idiots?

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Sterling M. Archer

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