Sorry for not updating this since November.

xXx

Dick struggled against his sling, trying to get it to fit even in the slightest. He had discovered, to his surprise, that the one he used to wear a few years ago was far too small, and had to be given to a younger performer. He hadn't used it in too long, and now he had to use the stiff, confusing one they had managed to dig out of an old steam trunk before the train pulled out to head to the next city.

"It was mine when I was your age," his father had explained.

That didn't make it any easier to adjust the stupid contraption.

As he toiled to get the ancient thing to do something in his favor, someone tapped on the doorframe to his room. He looked up and saw his mother standing in the doorway, smiling at him and swaying slightly with the movements of the train.

He yanked the strap one last time, glaring at his arm, and flexed his hand. "Hi, Mom."

She leaned lightly against the wall. "Someone's grumpy."

"Why wouldn't I be? I just guaranteed that I won't be performing for at least two weeks." He sat down with a huff.

She sat down next to him, setting her crutches against the window, and took his good hand in her own. "Do you know that I love you?"

He nodded sullenly, staring at the scenery speeding by outside.

She pulled his head onto her shoulder and placed hers gently on top. "What's making you so upset about this time?" she probed.

He shrugged his good shoulder. "I dunno. I guess it's just that I could've avoided getting hurt so easily. If I'd just grabbed the bar right--"

"Stop talking like that," his mother chastised. "You'll only waste your breath."

"Yeah, I know." Dick stared at a cloud that looked like Abraham Lincoln. The longer he thought about it, the easier it was to convince himself that it was an accurate depiction of the deceased president and not just his imagination.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Mary finally asked, "What do you say we make our special popcorn and read? We haven't done that in a while."

Dick drew in a deep breath and sighed. "Sure, why not?"

Mary left the car to get the radio as Dick grabbed their books from his bag. His mother was working on Gone with the Wind, and Dick was reading Robin Hood for what must have been the hundredth time. They listened to a classics station playing quietly in the background as they settled down next to each other with their books and popcorn.

Dick loved these quiet times he spent with his mother. Spending a few hours in comfortable silence, simply enjoying the popcorn and each other's company, all while killing the time spent traveling between cities, had a soothing effect on him that was unmatchable.

Here he marked upon the fingers of his left hand with the forefinger of his right hand those things which he wished for. "Firstly, I would have a sweet brown pie of tender larks; mark ye, not dry cooked, but with a good sop of gravy to moisten it withal. Next, I would have a pretty pullet, fairly boiled, with tender pigeons' eggs, cunningly sliced, garnishing the platter around. With these I would have a long, slim loaf of wheaten bread that hath been baked upon the hearth; it should be warm from the fire, with glossy brown crust, the color of the hair of mine own Maid Marian, and this same crust should be as crisp and brittle as the thin white ice that lies across the furrows in the early winter's morning. These will do for the more solid things; but with these I must have three potties, fat and round, one full of Malmsey, one of Canary, and one brimming full of mine own dear lusty sack."

Dick enjoyed how Robin Hood talked to himself.

About halfway through Moondance, the music was suddenly cut off. An important-sounding voice announced, "Breaking news! Metropolis's Superman is now fighting off an alien invasion! The invasion was well on its way to taking over the city when the Man of Steel stopped them in their tracks."

As the report continued, Mary reached to change the station, but Dick stopped her. "I wanna listen!" he exclaimed.

With a sigh of resignation, she went back to reading, and Dick listened with fascination to the report. Imagine being a superhero. Flying over everything... hardly a care in the world...

Almost as if reading his mind, his mother said, "Imagine how dangerous that would be. Fighting aliens, being shot at all the time."

Dick grew quiet at that. That isn't to say he didn't pursue the thought, but he certainly didn't try to continue the conversation.

And the more he thought about it, the more clearly he knew what he should do.

xXx

As they set up in Coast City, Dick went to Jack Hudson, also known as Ching Wen, Master of Martial Arts! (as his promotional poster proclaimed).

He perched on the boxcar Jack was unloading and watched the man take out his show materials. After a while of sitting there quietly, he finally piped up. "So, do you know any good martial arts, or are they all a load of hooey?"

Jack didn't look up. When he spoke, he did so with a slight Irish accent, which would alarm anyone who didn't know him. "Was wondering when you'd talk, young man."

Jack was as Chinese-looking as they come, but that was the only trait that made him seem remotely Asian. He did martial arts and a fake Chinese accent for shows, but any other time, he tried to steer clear of anything that enforced Asian stereotypes.

"You didn't answer my question," Dick told him.

Jack laughed and set down the box he was carrying. "All right, I'll humor you. The stuff I do for the performances is a 'load of hooey,' as you put it. But I do know real stuff, too. I don't think I need to ask why you're asking, but just to be sure: Why're you asking?"

Dick hopped down from his vantage point. "Can you teach?"

"Can I teach? Well, that's a bit vague. I suppose anyone can teach, if they tried hard enough." He lifted another crate. "It depends on what I'm teaching and who I'm teaching it to."

"Me. I want you to teach me to fight."

He paused in unloading and looked the acrobat square in the eye. "What does your mother say, Dick?"

Dick ducked his head quickly, blushing slightly.

"That's what I thought." Jack stepped closer to his aspiring trainee. "You know we've had this conversation before."

"Yeah, and every time, you've turned me down because of what my mom'll say."

"Have you seen your mother angry? That woman could give a mother grizzly a run for her money." He was determined to stay resolute-- until he looked into Dick's pleading eyes. "Oh, stop doin' the puppy eyes. I'm a trained martial artist. I can karate chop your face in."

Dick didn't relent.

Jack sighed, pushing his hair out of his face. "Ah, you stubborn little-- You know what? What the heck. Fine. Fine, I'll teach you."

Dick did a backflip out of excitement. "Thanks, Jack!"

"Don't thank me yet. Your mother will have our heads if she finds out," Jack cautioned.

Dick brushed him off. "She doesn't have to find out."

Jack guffawed at that. "Who are you kidding? She's a mother. Mothers always find out."

"Can we start now?"

"Eager, are we?"

"Don't turn into Yoda on me, sensei." Dick bowed mockingly.

"Now, that is low." Jack sighed. "You are one persistent little pest, aren't you?"

"I've been told so," Dick said, grinning as he took a ready stance.

"All right, first, wipe that smug grin off your face, before I do it for you."

With much effort, Dick complied.

"All right, now move your hands. They're too low. They should be protecting your face."

Dick did as he was told.

"Okay, have one foot slightly behind the other-- there you go-- about shoulder width apart-- too far, boyo-- and keep your head down-- atta boy-- now stay on your toes-- not like that-- so you're ready to move."

That was the one constant in all the people Dick trained with: Be ready to move.

For the next six months, he studied under combatants of every sort in every city they traveled through.

"Yeah, that's it, Dickie! Where'd you pick that one up?"

"I actually learned it from a fencing instructor when I asked him what he would do if he had to fight without his foil."

He learned all he could in the short time he had in each city, finding the best fighters there and studying under them until he had to leave for the next town.

"How'd you ever manage to get a lesson with a professional MMA fighter?"

"I guess he liked me."

He had to do a lot of sneaking out, but he managed it well enough. He always got back before anyone worried.

"Y'know, you were cutting it kind of close tonight. Almost missed the performance."

"But I didn't."

And occasionally, he found something interesting to take his time.

"What's got you so excited this time?"

"Oh, just a little holdup."

Even working with as many people as Dick did, he still sparred with Jack regularly to update his friend on what he learned and where he was in his quest for combative knowlege.

"Smart of you to incorporate acrobatics into your style."

"Why wouldn't I? They're what I'm best at. Honestly, it's a shame I didn't do it from day one."

Before he knew it, his thirteenth birthday had passed, and he had grown incredibly in both fighting and acrobatic skill.

"You're getting good. Don't forget about the mud. Terrain is always important."

"Thanks. It would be embarrassing for me to be bad after all this time."

And the whole time, his father watched from a distance as his son became an elegant and precisely trained weapon.

"Hard to believe your mother hasn't found out by now."

"Yeah, but I'm not complaining."

He watched Dick and Jack sparring, and he knew that his son had found something that he loved. He couldn't take that away, even if it meant keeping this from his wife.

"Watch your left here!"

"Watch YOUR left!"

It eventually came to the point where Dick was doing more teaching than Jack.

"How on Earth--"

"Let me show you. When you did that, it left me open to--"

"OW!"

"Do that."

Dick came to realize that while he still had more to learn, he was as far along as he needed to be. In order to do what he had been planning, essentially, since that day he stopped the purse-snatcher, he just needed one more thing.

"Rosa!" He addressed the woman in charge of advertising, as well as most of the names, costumes, and theatrics of Haly's Circus.

The young brunette barely glanced up from the sketch papers on her desk. "Dick, what are you doing in my tent?"

"I'm not in your tent!" He grinned. "Technically."

She made a couple of lines on one of the sheets. "What do you want? Zitka needs a completely new costume in the next day, and I still need it designed."

He stepped forwad. "A name."

She looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "What?"

"I want a cool name."

Her eyes narrowed. "Wait a day, and I might be able to help you."

"But I want one--"

"Go away, or I'll start calling you Bothersome!"

"Fine." He crossed his arms and left, heading for the animal tents. But his trip was cut short by the sound of voices coming from the main tent.

"Thank you, Mr. Haly, for letting us join. You have no idea what it means to us." The voice was smooth, young, unfamiliar.

"Of course. Now I suppose I'll have to introduce you to--"

Dick invited himself in. "Introduce who?"

"This is the new troupe," Haly explained with a sweep of his arm toward the group.

The apparent leader of the troupe, a graceful dark-skinned teen with rather light hair, stepped forward. His voice was the one Dick had heard earlier. "I am Anthony. Haly has been gracious enough to allow us to join in your show, at least for the time being." He turned to the group behind him, dressed as he was in casual attire. "Introduce yourselves."

A redheaded girl spoke up first. "I'm Angel!" she said with quite some enthusiasm.

The ginger standing next to her shoved his hands in his pockets and gave a crooked grin that told Dick that they would get along amazingly. "My friends call me Red."

A girl with her long blonde hair in a ponytail introduced herself as Diana. The third and final redhead, the tallest in the group, was Apollo, apparently, and the dark-haired brooding bunch of biceps of the group was Cole.

Dick regarded them with some interest as he shook Anthony's hand. "I'm Dick. And I think you guys can actually help me out with my act."

"How is that?" Red tilted his head inquisitively.

Dick grinned. "Can any of you do acrobatics?"