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Dick limbered up, rotating his arms and legs, cracking his joints like he hadn’t done since his acrobat days. Bruce had trained him so hard that his calisthenics tended to be running along rooftops, swinging from one building to another. But for this, Dick thought he’d like a little warm-up.


Diana faced him across the arena floor, her costume seeming to glow in the bright sunlight. She gripped a stave carefully, moving it minutely to test its weight. Dick’s own was stabbed into the ground, waiting for him to loosen.


“You know I don’t stand a chance against you, right?” Dick asked.


“It’s more a test of fighting spirit,” Diana replied. “Besides, we’re Amazons. When don’t we love a good fight?”


Dick picked up his stave, giving it an easy twirl, looping its spin around his body with a precise judgment of its heft. Diana quirked an eyebrow, impressed, and Dick gripped it across his shoulders, a relaxed but ready bo-staff stance.


“Now?” Diana asked.


“Well, I’m not immortal.”


Diana smiled, offered a quick, imperial salute, then lunged. Dick blocked, not with the full force of his muscular physique, but with an almost playful motion of his own stave. They were both too good not to want to gauge the other before truly engaging. Dick snapped his stave at her; she deflected it and struck; he parried that as well. Motionlessness. They regarded the strumming of each other’s muscles, the coolness of one another’s skin. Despite swinging their staves so hard that the crack of one upon the other had been heard to the highest tier of the amphitheater, neither had broken a sweat.


“Bold,” Diana said. “I can see why Donna likes you. Most would be a little put off by going into battle with me.”


“Oh, I am. But once you’ve seen Bruce without his morning coffee…”

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