Stephanie Brown Day: Robin Training | Body Swap | Different Predecessor | Funeral
“You’re gonna fall!” Bruce called from below the wire.
“I’m not gonna fall.” Steph grinned, holding the staff out behind her, shoulders back and steady.
There was a net out underneath her as she laid her feet out, one in front of the other.
“Keep your weight central,” he reminded, following her steps from below, one in front of the other, “if you start tilting you won’t be able to keep yourself upright.”
“I know that B, you’ve proved that a million times.” She half teased, stilling herself as she teetered slightly.
“I fell once, and I was injured.”
It was three times. She counted, she had pictures of each time, thank god they were only training.
Being up on the wire was her favourite part of training. It let her separate herself from her surroundings, keep focusing on the line. Surprisingly, for it being so high up, it never scared her. She’d been terrified of heights when she was little, but Robin had fixed that, heights felt comforting in a way now.
She knew Bruce would catch her, well not directly, but still, he set up the net. And the wire. Hm.
“I’m pretty sure tightrope walking isn’t something in all vigilante tool boxes,” she hummed as she reached the end of the wire, pressing her palms to the wall, letting herself stand for a moment, “why do we do it?”
“The lot of you follow Dick’s old training routine, at least vaguely, it’s spill over from that, it makes you harder to knock down.”
“Does it?” Stepping back out onto the line she twisted herself, conforming to the wall again as she straightened out.
“Being able to keep your Center of gravity still makes it harder to lose your balance, keeping your footing in a fight is important— ”
“So you don’t get knocked on your ass?” She completed, shifting to the one foot.
Settling in silence, she crossed the rope again, back straight, shoulder back, one foot in front of the other.
She could imagine the fall from here, clattering down, maybe the net would break? Be like the Grayson. Morbid thought.
Wind in her face would feel good though, a few moments of peace, maybe.
God what would death feel like? She wouldn’t be the first Robin if she did, wouldn’t be revolutionary. She didn’t like the idea of being normal, maybe she could strap fireworks to herself and die that way. Maybe she could take a jack hammer to her skull—
She looked down from the wire, Bruce’s head was cocked to the side, arms crossed.
“Feet on the floor, wanna try sparring.” She was certain he was distracting her, certain of it.
Groaning, she tossed the staff, letting her body drop into the net, feeling as the rope cradled her. Climbing out she followed Bruce, one foot in front of the other.
