Disclaimer: I do not own Stretch Armstrong and the Flex Fighters. It's a TV Show created and owned by Netflix and Hasbro.
FYI, this one-shot was inspired by a line from one episode. Stretch Monster needs more love!
Rook - no, Stretch Monster – looks upon Charter City from the high building he's glancing down upon it on. For a place that his influence has completely taken over, it's quite serene at night. Then the bright lights and music filter into his scaly ears. He blinks to shut it away, disgruntled.
Another breath pangs out. It's time to test out his new abilities. He momentarily studies his left hand, working his eyes up along the elbow to the scaly claws there. Satiated with his perception of the appendage, he grips it and holds it out. Should he do it? No…yes. No more worrying.
Time to act.
The limb stretches out, a couple of seconds before it's a hundred feet across from him in the air – and gripping onto the exterior of a business conglomerate. The wind picks at it. He feels the bristles but needs to push through. Another gulp and with all common sense thrown off the window, he propels off.
Stretch Monster feels his body weight pull himself down. His hand can't possibly hold him up for much longer, so he stretches out his other appendage. It misses, spectacularly, and his body is sent plummeting straight into a billboard.
THWACK!
He massages his jaw, discomfort abounding over it. Ironically enough, the billboard is an ad for Rook and his company. Stretch Monster darkens his brows while growling at it.
"As if I didn't need another reminder of my 'cover," he bemuses. A frog comes up from his throat and he huffs. "Time to get this right."
Without hesitation, he jumps again and elongates his arms quickly. This time he's lucky; they catch onto the edges of dual towers with pale windows. He feels the momentum flowing through them and uses it to spring himself upwards. THWIP! Ricocheting while his arms snap to a fluctuating normal, he shoots higher and farther.
For a moment, he sees the city up in the air. It's beautiful at this height, with no worries and weight to bother about.
But then his monstrous form blinks, realizing that even he has to obey physics. And with that, Stretch Monster plummets down. The air smashing into his face, he reaches out again and again. No. No!
Nothing is working.
Then, at last, he catches a spire and swings – into another billboard. He feels like a pancake after the experience. Anger vents out and his claws emerge; he wants to smash it so badly. God, why can't he do it right?
Enough. The voice doesn't seem to be his. It's not – it's Rook's.
Of course, it's his voice.
You need to focus. Anger isn't helping.
How can he-
But…maybe he's right. Anger is only having him a fingernail close to tearing up billboards – of himself.
So he stops. He stops and breaths, and finds a reasonable idea. Stretch Monster sees exactly what he wants down below him.
"This had better work. It needs to work."
All the built-in fury pushed him off the buildings. He chugs, he screams effort into his arms, and he prays that maybe, just maybe –
They grab them.
Handholds.
A toothy smile gets onto his face. The scaly mongrel swings up again, comes down and repeats the motion. Several tries pass; he's halfway across the city. No more billboard smacks, no more failed attempts.
No more missing handholds.
A/N: Thanks for reading!