Hawkeye
He shot through the void at over 20 times the speed of sound. In the vacuum of infinite space, his smooth metallic carcass didn't make a sound; even with the dual plasma drive engines in his rear section flaring with enough intensity to rival a small star. He had left the great, yellow and orange orb the residents of this system called 'Saturn' behind him mere hours ago and just minutes ago had shot across 'Mars's' orbit. Now he was trying to decelerate as he swept into orbit around 'Earth's' natural satellite, planning how he was going to use the moon's orbit to slingshot him towards the blue, green and white planet.
Hawkeye was always searching for ways he could take advantage of his environment. It wasn't that he was lazy, quite the opposite. It was just how he worked: stealthily, skillfully, thriving in the confusion of battle. As long as he used his custom-made longbow and the appropriate arrows, it was almost impossible for him to miss his targets.
Hawkeye completed his brief arc into orbit and powered forward again, cruising towards the planet ahead of him. Minutes passed and he was almost in the junk field surrounding the planet. His external transition 'shell' powered through the pieces of abandoned satellites as he tilted his thrusters downward, expertly slipping through the atmosphere with the precision of a medic with a scalpel. His external skin rapidly started glowing red, then gold and then blue as he gathered heat. As his skin approached melting temperature, he broke through the final atmospheric layer and plunged down to a body of water. Seconds before impact, his transition skin crumbled away and he emerged for the fist time in almost a year as a 17-foot, silver, purple and black robot and holding his broad, 13-foot longbow in front of him like a wing, slid beneath the waves as parts of his shell plummeted haphazardly into the river.