1950 - Training Grounds
The training grounds stretched out under the dimming light of dusk. It was a large, open space surrounded by tall trees—perfect for a private training session. The air was filled with the smell of sweat and focus. Mark Fletcher and Loe Halloway walked slowly across the field, tired but determined.
Ahead of them, Michael Wilson—bare-chested and gleaming with perspiration—was in the middle of a workout, his fitted t-shirt clinging to his muscular frame. Every movement showcased the raw power of his physique, from the rippling abs to the solid muscles in his arms. He moved with fluid precision, finishing a set of push-ups as he noticed his two friends approaching.
Mark, hands on his hips, exhaled deeply, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Michael... how many times have we done this? We've fought you what, a hundred times now? And we still can't beat you in a 2v1..." he said with a hint of frustration.
Michael grinned, the kind of grin that both encouraged and taunted at the same time. "Come on," he said, rolling his shoulders back and standing tall. "Maybe this time it'll be different."
Loe let out a laugh, but there was a sharp edge to it. "Dude, you're a damn monster. We're just regular vigilantes..." he said, eyeing Michael's build with a mix of admiration and disbelief.
Michael shook his head, his piercing gaze shifting between the two. "Regular vigilantes? Loe, you're known as 'The Angel,' one of the most skilled fighters on the streets. And you," he turned to Mark, "you're Nightwing, a symbol of justice in the city. Don't sell yourselves short."
Loe crossed his arms, a smirk on his face but still wary. "I don't care about the names. Doesn't change the fact that you mop the floor with us every time."
Mark chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he exchanged a glance with Loe. "Yeah, even with the Boost Serum, we still can't seem to land a solid hit on you. It's like you're always five steps ahead."
Loe, his arms crossed. "Yeah...He's not wrong, man. You've got this superhuman reaction time. We're enhanced, sure, but you're on a whole other level."
Michael grinned, cracking his knuckles. "You guys give yourselves too little credit. You've improved a lot. Trust me, I can feel the difference. But if you want to get better, you have to push past your limits." He flexed his arms, showing off his lean but powerful build. "And besides, you know I've had my fair share of enhancements, too."
Mark shifted his stance, eyes narrowing as he sized up Michael. "That's true, but you always seem to hold back. Every time we fight, it's like you're only using a fraction of your strength."
Michael tilted his head, still grinning. "Maybe I am. Or maybe I'm waiting for you two to unlock your full potential."
Michael, lost in thought, mused, (Well, The truth why I am strong was I have the system on my side. And also I'm not heartless okay.... I even told the Spiderman system to turn off my Spider-Sense for this fight. I want to see how much stronger I've become... and how far they've come too.)
His thoughts were interrupted when Mark snapped him back to the present, determination flaring in his eyes. "Alright, I guess let's do this one more time! And This time, we're beating you!"
Michael smirked, the challenge igniting something in him. "That's what I like to hear."
Loe, standing beside Mark, sighed and shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Guess it's time to get beat up again, huh?"
Michael shifted his gaze between the two of them, his grin widening as he sized them up. (They've grown) he thought. But that wouldn't change the outcome. Not yet.
Without another word, Loe and Mark lunged toward him in perfect sync, their movements smooth and determined, ready for one more round.
As Mark lunged forward, his eyes locked onto Michael's movements, determined to close the gap between them. He attempted to grapple Michael, going low to grab his legs and throw him off balance. But in a blur of motion, Michael effortlessly sidestepped, pivoting on his heel and delivering a sharp kick to Mark's face. The impact was controlled, but enough to send Mark stumbling backward.
"Come on, Mark. You're faster than that.." Michael said, his tone teasing but with a hint of encouragement.
Before Mark could recover, Loe was already behind Michael, moving quicker than before. He'd improved—his footwork was silent, and his movements more precise. Loe swung his fist towards Michael's ribs, hoping to land a surprise strike, but Michael, sensing the attack, turned just in time.
Michael, without turning his head, sensed Loe's presence. (Since when did he get behind me?) Michael mused, impressed. (They really have improved.) But even with Loe's stealth and speed, the gap in power was still too large.
Michael spun, using his elbow to block Loe's punch. In the same motion, he swung his arm back, landing a solid backfist on Loe's jaw. Loe's head jerked back from the impact, but he held his ground, gritting his teeth to stay on his feet.
"Nice try, Loe," Michael said, a grin spreading across his face. "You're getting sneakier."
Loe wiped the sweat from his brow and smirked. "I figured I'd give you something to think about."
Without warning, Mark leapt forward again, this time from the side. His speed had improved, but Michael's reflexes were still a step ahead. Mark threw a series of quick jabs, aiming for Michael's torso, but each punch was expertly blocked or deflected. Michael moved fluidly, his arms a blur as he redirected Mark's strikes.
Michael chuckled, his voice steady despite the flurry of attacks. "You've both gotten better, I'll give you that. But you're still not fighting instinctively enough. You're thinking too much."
Mark gritted his teeth, regaining his footing. "Thinking is what keeps us alive."
"True," Michael replied, "but instinct is what makes you win."
Mark narrowed his eyes and feinted to the left, trying to catch Michael off guard, but Michael didn't fall for it. He pivoted and swept Mark's legs from under him with a swift kick, sending him crashing to the ground.
Loe, seeing an opening, rushed in again, this time with a more calculated approach. He threw a low kick aimed at Michael's knee, hoping to destabilize him. Michael blocked the kick effortlessly, but Loe followed up with a spinning elbow aimed at Michael's temple. It was fast and well-executed, and for a split second, Michael had to actually focus.
Michael tilted his head just in time, the elbow grazing past his cheek. "Hoh, that was close." Michael thought, his heart racing slightly from the thrill. But then, without hesitation, Michael retaliated, grabbing Loe's arm mid-spin and pulling him forward. Using Loe's momentum against him, Michael flipped him over his shoulder and slammed him onto the ground with a thud.
"Nice teamwork," Michael acknowledged, his tone still calm. "But you're thinking too much again. You're predicting my moves, but you're not trusting your instincts."
Mark grimaced, his breath ragged. "Easier said than done!"
Michael's grin widened. "Then stop thinking. Act."
Loe groaned, winded from the impact but not defeated.
Mark, not wanting to waste any time, quickly got back on his feet. He saw Loe's fall but didn't hesitate. He sprinted towards Michael with renewed determination, throwing a roundhouse kick aimed at Michael's ribs. Michael blocked the kick with his forearm, but Mark was already moving. He spun with the momentum, trying to follow up with a backhand strike. Michael caught his wrist mid-air and twisted, forcing Mark to the ground in one smooth motion.
Mark grunted as his back hit the dirt, but even as he lay there, he couldn't help but chuckle. "Damn, man... You're too strong."
Michael released Mark's wrist and stepped back, his breathing steady. "I told you guys, you're not ordinary anymore. You've both got real potential. But it's not just about strength—it's about instinct. You've got to trust your bodies more."
Loe, still lying on the ground, propped himself up on his elbows. "Yeah, well, it's hard to trust our bodies when you're throwing us around like ragdolls."
Michael laughed, extending a hand to Loe. "You'll get there. It's only a matter of time."
Loe took Michael's hand and got to his feet, rubbing his jaw where he'd been hit. "Yeah, well, maybe one day we'll return the favor."
Mark stood up, dusting himself off. "I wouldn't count on it anytime soon, though."
Michael clapped a hand on both of their shoulders. "I'll be waiting for that day. Until then, keep pushing your limits." He looked between them, a hint of pride in his eyes. "You're closer than you think."
The sparring session ended, and while Michael had once again emerged victorious, both Mark and Loe knew they had improved. The gap between them was still large, but it wasn't as insurmountable as it once seemed. They weren't just getting stronger—they were learning, evolving. And that was something even Michael couldn't take lightly.
As they walked off the training ground, Mark nudged Loe. "Next time, we'll catch him off guard. Just you wait."
Loe smirked. "You mean you catch him off guard. I'll just watch from the sidelines."
Michael overheard and chuckled. "Don't worry, Loe, you be in it too"
Loe just said "Shit"