Chapter 4,, Shadows in motion

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The Tower's training room wasn't quiet.

It never really was. Machines hummed... distant weights clanked... a faint beat from Kory's playlist floated down the hall like a heartbeat echoing through steel and glass.

But now, it was silent in all the ways that mattered.

Marceline stood at the center mat, shadows gently curling around her ankles. Her stance was relaxed... but in the way, a predator lies still before pouncing. Calm. Coiled.

Across from her stood Damian Wayne.

Eyes sharp. Arms crossed. Impatient.

"I don't understand what we're waiting for," he muttered, voice like a blade being sheathed. "You're the one who said you weren't easily intimidated."

She barely blinked. "And you're the one who keeps trying to impress me."

From the corner of the room, Dick's chuckle echoed as he leaned against a wall, arms folded casually over his Nightwing emblem.

"This is going great..." he said. "No murder in the first five minutes. Proud of you both."

Damian stepped forward, sliding into a ready stance.

"Let's make it interesting," he said, never breaking eye contact. "No powers. No shadows. Just skill."

Mars raised an eyebrow. "Afraid of the dark already?"

He didn't respond.

Didn't need to.

She smirked faintly, stepped forward... and moved.

The first few strikes were testing. His were precise, sharp with years of League training. Hers were fluid... adapted from dance and acrobatics and something wholly her own. They met in the middle, like clashing storms... his fists and feet against her dodges, deflections, and counter-moves that flowed like water around a blade.

Damian lunged... fast. Too fast.

Marceline dropped low, hands sweeping the ground, and launched herself into a backflip, twisting midair as if she weighed nothing. Her boots hit the mat behind him with a muted thud.

He spun to face her, expression flickering... just slightly... with surprise.

Dick let out a low whistle. "Just like the first time you landed that flip on the roof, huh?"

The moment shattered.

Her breath caught. Just for a second.

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Memory: One Year Ago

"Okay, Mars, take a breath..." Dick called, hands on his hips as he stood beside her on the roof. "You've done this in your head a hundred times."

"That doesn't mean it'll work in real life," she replied, her tone even but her shoulders tight.

The city stretched out below them... lights, cars, and motion. Up here, everything felt far away. Detached. Safer.

She was still learning what safe meant.

"Flips aren't just for show," Dick said. "They teach control. Trust. Precision."

"I already have control," she muttered.

"Then prove it."

She stepped back, jaw tight. The wind tugged at her coat. Her pale skin gleamed under the moonlight... like freshly fallen snow. Her hair was tied back, messy and dark. Her eyes were unreadable.

Then... she ran.

One step. Two. A leap.

The world spun.

For a moment, there was no gravity. No pain. No shadows. Just her body turning in space and the air against her skin.

She landed with a stumble... but upright. Still standing.

Dick clapped. "Told you."

She exhaled slowly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "It was clumsy."

"It was yours..." he said, smiling. "You owned it."

And for the first time in a long time, she let herself smile... small, quiet... but real.

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Present

The memory faded as Damian came at her again, and this time, she welcomed it.

Their strikes moved faster now... each testing the other. Mars ducked beneath a high kick and slid into a sweep. Damian just barely dodged. He retaliated with a flurry of jabs that she blocked with her forearms, sliding back before countering with a spin and swift kick that nearly connected.

No words were exchanged.

None needed.

But something changed. The rhythm wasn't just sparring anymore... it was challenge, tension, the undercurrent of something unsaid. Damian's strikes became sharper. Hers more graceful. Like a duel and a dance at once.

He went for a roundhouse, and she flipped over him... clean, perfect, effortless.

When she landed, he turned, eyes narrowing. "You've done that move before."

Mars didn't answer immediately. She rose slowly, letting her hair fall over her shoulder as she adjusted her stance.

"It's muscle memory..." she said coolly. "And maybe something else."

Damian's gaze lingered. "Who trained you?"

"Dick... among others."

"He taught you flips?"

A pause. A flicker of something in her eyes.

"No..." she said softly. "He taught me how not to fall."

The silence returned... thicker now.

Dick watched from the sidelines, arms still folded but quieter now, like the moment had turned to glass, and he didn't want to breathe too hard and break it.

Damian lowered his arms slightly. "You're not what I expected."

"Good," she replied. "You're not the first to underestimate me."

"I don't underestimate... I calculate."

"And I don't play by the numbers."

Her shadows stirred faintly... barely a whisper on the ground... just enough to remind him they were there.

It's not a threat. Not yet.

But a presence.

Damian exhaled through his nose. "Tch. This team will be... interesting."

Mars smirked faintly. "You have no idea."

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Hii, i hope you all like it so far. Next chapters will slowly become longer.

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