Okay, so this is the first story I've written in a while and my first published Young Justice story, so this is mostly me flexing my muscles; even if it isn't that good. Still, I'll let you decide for yourselves so please read, review and enjoy. MC. Xx
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine and never will be, much to my regret. All credit goes to DC Comics and Warner Brothers Studios.
Masterpiece
High above the Cave, a sharp pair of eyes peered out from behind an equally pointed domino mask. The ledge was a part of the mountain's natural geology, far removed from the cold steel thrust upon the cavern by its inhabitants; Nature's carving spared merely by the impracticalities of building reinforcements so close to the apex. A perch, if you will; of the kind that is only appreciated by bats, birds, and trapeze artists.
Below, a sparring session is in process. Whilst no substitute for the heat of battle, it provides a certain thrill for both the participants and the observer. He watches the no holds barred match play out, his attention drawn to the smaller details that make short shrift of exquisite and verge upon the divine. Their work is an art form, with each brush stroke more intense than the last, and no-one could deny him the pleasure of watching it take place.
The swing of Batgirl's perfectly sculpted hips as she lands a well-executed roundhouse sends a shiver right to his groin; her well-endowed body follows shortly behind with equal grace and relentlessness. The whirl of Robin's defence is equally captivating, giving a glimpse of rippling torso when the red and black palette almost merges in the attempt to get out of his partner's range. Robin's disappearance catches Batgirl off-guard, her mouth forming a perfect 'O' as the counterattack catches her square in the back. Balancing comfortably on the edge of his perch, he leans in to watch her disgruntled form rise to fight again and is pleasantly reminded of the additional high he will gain from correcting her mistakes later. Those lips would give him a verbal fight, if nothing else.
A little farther across the room, Zatanna's lips are doing something else entirely. These are luscious lips which you would need to hold a mirror to in order to make sense of them; verbal proof that their career could achieve more than brute force thought was feasible. The memory of their touch lingers with painful yet desirable warmth, sweat beading on his tight Lycra encased body. Her magic is quickly undermining her adversary, reducing his impact to the point where he is doing no more than carving a figure of eight into the Cave's floor. Wally's strategy had to be admired though, even with Zatanna wreaking havoc with his velocity in a frankly humiliating farce of mystic energy versus physics. The speedster was labouring on the point of retirement, favouring a 'normal' life, yet he was still trying his damnedest and having immense fun doing so. It is inspiring to watch, particularly as the vibrations ripple to this altitude in waves of tingling delight.
He had been trained by the best to observe everything, to treat every pencil marking as millions of layers of graphite and understand exactly what it means. Just as his mentor preferred the shadows, he thrives in high open spaces. Rested upon his vantage point, he could hone both his natural and tutored skills; watching, relaxing, enjoying. Closing his eyes, he could feel a slight tremor in the mountain; Connor had just punched through a wall. A slight scratching sensation towards the back of his mind; M'gann was crying. Another heated argument. You didn't have to be a Metahuman to observe these things and, with Kaldur in on long-term leave in Atlantis, he'd be the one dealing with fallout. Welcome to Volcano Day, he smirked to himself; now with 100% more problems on top of my own! The next few days would be tense, to say the least.
But those thoughts weren't for up here; this crows-nest was for perspective and clearing his cluttered, over-active mind. He removes his mask and rubs his tired eyes, intent on returning to the art gallery unfolding below and regaining some of the warmth he had felt before M'gann and Connor had invaded his privacy. He re-adjusts himself to gain some comfort against the rocky interior of the mountain and began to consider tactics for his own operations in Bludhaven when his defensive training kicked in; silence had fallen below, snapping him out of his reverie. He crouches in anticipation of attack, calculating every possible counter and sketching out the details for the finished piece. Before he could move, a single archer's arrow arced into the rock an inch above his head. A nanosecond before he was ready to fight back, he recognised the tip and then the voice that followed; Artemis.
'Hey Nightwing! Stop skulking and let's go! Don't make me shoot you down!'
Peering downwards he finds, not only his fighters, but his entire team looking back up at him. Standing among the many new recruits and looking less than impressed, Artemis still has her bow raised and poised for attack; Batgirl is standing at just the right angle, hands on her hips; Zatanna with her arms folded, top hat fashionably askew; Connor and M'gann are refusing to make eye contact with anyone; and Robin seems uncertain of what will happen next. Wally is simply grinning unabashedly next to Artemis. Resigning himself to the fact that he has been caught, our casual observer readjusts his mask and makes to leave his sanctuary, feinting a fall whilst he plans the briefing with the wind rushing through his hair.
As he somersaulted from his perch, Richard Grayson decided that if his life was an art form, then this team would be his masterpiece. After abseiling the last twenty feet, he turns to smile at the expectant faces.
'Let's go.'
END.
Reviews are much appreciated. MC. :) xx