A Fighting Chance-

(Disclaimer: I own none of these characters)

After Diana extends the offer to Bruce to train with her following their first mission together, their initial sparring session finds the Amazon Princess and Gotham's mysterious guardian learning a little something more about what each of them brings to the unending endeavor to end Earth's evil iniquities.

The clanking of armaments and the stretching of leather made up the melodious mass of the final movement in Diana's orchestration of preparation. In a calm haste, she fastened her bootstraps, and turned toward the open space in the embassy's training area. Her breathing was steady and controlled as she surveyed everything within the bounds of her enhanced eyesight's reach.

"I'm ready," She called.

Silently, The shade of the man slipped into the room, forcibly maintaining a semblance of his trademark aura of stealth. He seemed out of his element here, in the focused light and marble veneer that made up this area of the embassy. Still, any slight to his arcane ambiance wasn't on display as he slid through the pillars.

"Gotham has finally allowed you a night off, eh Bruce? I was beginning to think you were having reservations about training with me." She goaded him, as he came to a halt across from her.

His expression never registered this playful jab, and his posture remained as steely as ever. He kept a measure of distance between them, undoubtedly beginning to formulate a strategy before they even discuss terms of engagement.

Undeterred, she continued, "No, no, of course The Dark Knight is more than up to the challenge. At least I hope he is."

Finally, his resolve gave the slightest sign that it was wavering, as a smirk broke the corner of his lip. Hiding a minor chuckle under her breath while walking purposefully, she began to close the distance between them. As he took her lead and began to move alongside her, she directed them toward the wall adorned with as choice an array of weaponry as could be conceived of.

Raising an eyebrow in his direction, she asked "What is your preference?"

Finally speaking, he queried "Is this guest's choice, or my final request?"

His erratic implementation of dry humor never ceased to keep her both intrigued or entertained. Cheekily, she retorted "Well, I guess that depends on you."

Narrowing his eyes, while subtly trying to fight his way through his smirk, he reached out and pulled down a bo staff as he gave her a commencing nod. She returned it with an understated and knowing show of amusement as she took down his weapon's match, and started to drift away and take a position across from him. His body mechanics followed hers in linear fashion, as he made a few abrupt and sharp shifts with his steps and primed himself with a few pantomimed strikes.

She noted his ability to deceive as he quickly changed positioning. She made a few sweeping motions with her legs as she took her own steps to loosen herself before any real contact was made. A tightly controlled spin of her weapon around herself illustrated her forceful yet precise command of the implement.

After bringing the staff to rest across her shoulders, she stared into him as she warmly and almost menacingly asked him "Shall we?"

In an instant, they began encircling each other. The will to engage ran electric through both of them, charging their movements in a way that seems to be physically daring the other to make the first strike. Suddenly, she lunges forward, coming down with her staff. A loud crack emanates from the impact of his own bow meeting hers in a passing defensive maneuver that sent him diagonally across from her and out of striking distance. Undeterred, she pursued him, leaping into position for another attack. The point of her weapon finds only the floor as he rolls out of the way evasively to his left. Both returned to the upright position and began to circle each other from a perilous distance. His agility and awareness impressed her, with an apt measure of innate abilities to challenge her own in this proof of pugilistic prowess.

As they both shifted, her eyes locked with his as the corner of her lip ascended and she cooed out to him across the distance between them "I didn't think cat and mouse was your style…"

In a gruff but even tone, he snapped back "Not anymore..." as he leapt up in an attempt to make an overhead strike mid-round off, only to be blocked and land nimbally on her opposite side.

Taking hold of her divinely reinforced reflexes, she decided to try and push the bounds of this maximal mortal's vigor. Turning to meet him as he precariously found his footing nearest her, she swung her staff around him in an effort to ensnare him and siffen off any chance he had at impetus or evasion. He estimated her trajectory as she closed in on him, placing the anchor-point of her maneuver nearest his left leg. Reacting with every minutiae of rapidity he could muster, he hooked the end of his bow into the joint of her knee just in time to upend her grasp.

Under the concoction of centrifugal force and gravity, they found themselves interlocked and in free fall. Swiftly, he made a turn to take a mounted position once they had landed. His hold was broken as soon as her back made contact with the mat below, as she twisted into bridge position and cast him off with a roll of her elbow into his collarbone. He managed to bend and tuck so that he found himself upright once again, as she sprang up and spun around to take stock of the situation.

There stood the Batman, staff in hand and on the advance. Quickly, she rushed at him. He reacted as she'd hoped, taking a low guard and dropping his aim at her legs. As they both rushed to close the gap separating them, she seized the moment his posture provided and rolled herself acrobatically down his back as she tumbled away from him to find her bo there behind him.

Stationing her footing and reestablishing her guard, she fired another barb his way "You're quite the dance partner Bruce"

Remaining poised to make a move, he retorted "You set the tempo Princess" as if wholly unaffected by having just had to fight off an Amazon.

Advancing again, she aligns a forward thrust with her weapon as she instigates him further " Well, I hope your feet are as quick as your wits!"

Almost prophetically, Bruce parried and leapt up just in time to bring the bulk of his weight down onto the center of the staff, breaking it clean in two. Fighting through this turn of events, Diana took a half-step to see what use Bruce would make of the void separating them. As he raised his bow to center mass, she seized the moment and her belligerent, rolling him overhead with a foot planted into his midsection. As she turned her hips into him, she established a pinning position atop The Dark Knight. Having gone toe-to-toe with Bruce, Diana had in her estimation successfully gleaned that the only way to stop Batman from fighting was to stop him completely.

Her muscular legs on either side of him, she moved to place her right heel upon his left wrist while her left knee found a home in his sternum. With a bo staff pressed flush to his collarbone, his eyes swept quickly over the predicament he found himself in. Finally, he stared up at her, as she commanded his sight. He hissed an exasperated release of wind as she leaned in dangerously close, the cascading mass of her black curls taunting the exposed flesh on his face. Her form weighed down upon him as she felt a few of his muscles defiantly contract against her, and the smell of battle emanating off of their beings now filled their lungs.

Warmly, she breathed out "Do you yield?" in such immediate proximity to his cowled face that he felt the stubble on his cheek move at the passing of her words.

Never breaking eye contact with her, he coolly exhaled "Not quite" as she felt the point of something find the rear of her neck.

A stunned yet fleeting blink signed that she had registered the error in her major coup, as the batarang bearing down upon her was surreptitiously positioned using the arm she'd left him unobstructed. Tensions mounted as grips tightened, and in unintended synchronicity, the edges of her face mirrored his in a lively leer. Neither of them seemed to know exactly how to proceed, so they remained interlocked and in-state for moments that passed like millennia. Finally, her hold on him loosed, and his free arm cast off his pointy projectile. She stood up, and reached out to offer him a hand up.

The second he moved an appendage, she took hold of his gauntlet and pulled him vertical, as he offered a monotonous "Thank you" and closed his cape around himself.

She still had a semblance of intrigue and amusement about her, and a subtle smile and upturned eyebrow she was sporting reflected in the lenses of his mask. She mirthfully exclaimed "You know when to seize an opportunity, I'll give you that" at the final turn of events. Her tone barely hid the notes of tenacity contained in her voice, and the statement almost seemed like a provocation. She couldn't wait to engage him again, and the thought of a second round was making her excitement almost palatable.

Rapidly transitioning, she queried "Preparation, surprise, deception, opportunity… Is this the equation that has preserved you in your mission?"

Aloofly exuberant, he retorted " ...So far."

"Hmm, I'll have to be mindful of that going forward, and recall not to provide with any such advantage" she slyly exclaimed.

Not missing a beat, he roguishly responded "Well then, I'll have to be more inventive"

In what seemed like an unbroken shift, she exhausted any partition between them. The bold cerulean of her irises was once again present in his mask's reflective facades.

Longingly, she implored "Is that a challenge?" through a hopeful smile.

Her breathing beat upon his chest, silent taunts danced upon her face, and bayed him to answer her. Recoiling in measured steps, his posture took on a regressive defiance, and his devilish expression seemed to confirm her request.

"I believe the choice is yours this time, Princess."

She backpedaled, but never let her sight off him, as she returned to the wall-mounted armory. In one uninterrupted sequence of motion, she pulled down two wooden dueling implements, stylistically fashioned in the manner of a Greek Xiphos. Wordlessly, she sailed the barken blade in his direction. His unbroken vision upon her, he reflexively snared the weapon from the air into his grip, and in a flash took a guarded position where he stood.

In full stride, she assaulted his guard with a three-pointed attack. The fibers of the swords screamed out with every strike, as he maintained just enough fluidity for his weapon to keep him from being struck. For a microsecond, she seemed to disappear. As he scrambled to get a visual, her forceful form materialized as a burst of muted primary colors and a whip of dusky locks. She turned away, moving diagonally to be distant enough to be out of range of a peripheral attack.

Swiftly shifting, she took a broad swipe at him, which he met with a counter-measured slash. She wanted him to respond like this, to draw his guard up. She turned fiercely, but her moves gave just enough away: she was lining up a deep cut into his solar plexus. Reading this, he spun himself low and wide, and swung his blade to take her legs out. Seeing that her body language had betrayed her, she ascended into a round off and sprung clear over Bruce's assessed attack.

Her sleek and strong silhouette slipped soundlessly amid the air. She touched down, in what was for her, relaxed time. It was when her feet settled back onto earth that her ears were filled with what seemed like a violent rush of wind. As her mind deciphered its origin, she reactively turned toward it. No tempest had entered her armory, rather her acute hearing had picked up the onset of Bruce in forward thrust. As swiftly as his offensive incursion had been detected, her counter had been set in motion.

Internally, she found this boldness beguiling. And his stealth and precision was staggering, even to her. Still, she would not be denied her victory so easily. She glanced her blade off his, trying to throw his balance ever so slightly into disarray. Barely a moment of contact had occurred, and Bruce's posture shifted suddenly as he drew his strike skyward, continuing his swipe undeterred. She gracefully shifted her feet for support and denied Bruce his apex.

Finding his target absent, Bruce turned on his heels, but was met almost immediately by the awesome Amazon's fearsome frame. Having to think quickly and act decisively, he instinctively deployed a line to the ceiling and repelled away to regroup. She pursued him with ferocity, determined not to allow him an escape. Her presence was thick in the air, and Bruce could almost feel her thundering toward him from behind.

Her speed was incredible in open terrain, but they were fighting in close quarters. There was only so much momentum at her disposal, if she was stopping short of running through everything in her path. Having seen her starting point, Bruce began calculating her course to his position. Hoping his estimation of where they would meet was correct, he seized what may be his only opportunity. Activating the mechanism in his cowl that detaches his cape, he sends his piece of gloomy garb drifting into her assumed direction. The air displaced behind him, and her steps instantly found an abrupt root. His assessment, he believed, had proven correct.

Torn from her chase by this devious drive, Diana's warrior instincts unconsciously establish themselves in her volition's vanguard. Millenia of muscle memories manifest in her movements, as she twists against the oncoming obstacle. His cape clung to her core's curvature, but she acrobatically avoided it causing her any impediment. He turned to take advantage of his apprehended aggressor, and conclude this contest.

Plunging from a poised position, she rolled straight into his path and pounced up as he was almost fully facing her direction. His arm was extending, and his intention to strike as he spun was set up. However, his route found its foil, as Bruce was now promptly paused at the point of a sword. Again, they both found themselves motionless in a moment of strained cessation.

Beaming up at him from a low guard, she dug her heels into the ground and prodded the point percussively against his armor. His stance relaxed, and his arm dropped as his own sword hung there by his side. Her weapon took a resting position, but her vision stayed fixed upon him. As she stood up, she wordlessly uncoiled his cape and handed it back to him.

Unwavering in expression, he took to the task of affixing his wrap back upon himself. Her hands fluidly found his as they had inaudibly ascended his anatomy. She locked his cape back into place, and took a few steps back finally resting her hands on her hips.

"Innovative attack Bruce, but your hesitation cost you." She purred.

"Something to remember for the future." He replied.

"Is that a threat or an invitation?" She eagerly inquired as she leaned in and ran her hand over his shoulder one last time to straighten out his cape.

Before he could answer, a small signal sounded from his utility belt. No doubt the unceasing epidemic of constant corruption plaguing Gotham was once again demanding he return. He reached down and removed the device, studying it quickly before silencing it.

"Looks like it's a promise" he finally replied, as he started gliding back toward an adjoining window.

"Saved by the bell" she teased, as she turned away to return the sparring blades back to their scabbards.

Pausing for a moment, he turned his head back to her and said "See you soon, Princess." as leaped out into the night.

She registered his exiting utterance, and turned back toward the window. Something familiar was dancing along the draft that the opening allowed in. Following the fragrance, she discovered a small cluster of Amaranth flowers there on the ledge. She raised the blooms to her nose and breathed in its soft sweetness, smiling to herself.

Peering out into the darkness, she exhaled a departing desire, as if the pitch was a proxy to him...

"Looking forward to it…"