<div class="floatleft">(https://attitude.co.uk/media/images/2014/06/10390168_668531766545400_39977923594089430_n.jpg)</div><strong>NAME:</strong>Roy Harper<br/><strong>WEARING:</strong>He wore these things and took some of them off: red hoodie jacket, black sleeveless compression shirt, black workout sweatpants, and blue cap.<br/><strong>DAY:</strong>Saturday, August 22, 2020<br/><strong>TIME:</strong>0900 - 1000<br/><strong>LOCATION:</strong>Apartment in Portland, Oregon to Secret Sanctuary Gymnasium<br/><strong>CONTENT:</strong>Training and wishing for a Training Simulator<br/><strong>TAGGING:</strong>Open<br/><hr/><br/><br/>A lone ceiling fan gently whispered overhead. The bedroom was dark except for bright, red digital numerals on a clock face that read 0857. The black blankets of a queen-sized bed shifted as a human shape stirred beneath them. The young man turned over onto his back and exhaled through his nostrils a deep sigh. For five minutes he laid there, not wanting to get up; not wanting to do any of the hygienic things that were required with getting up. His eyes cracked open and they rolled over to glance at the 0-9-0-2 on his clock. If the nine were flipped, then that was too early. He had slept long enough.<br/><br/>With a lazy growl and grumble, Roy sluggishly sat up in his bed. He hung his head and closed his eyes once more. “Lights,” he muttered.<br/><br/>The ceiling lamp flicked on and slowly, Roy opened his eyes, his pupils shrinking amidst a backdrop of sky-blue.<em>Fuck my life…</em>he thought. His mornings always started with a foul mood for several reasons but two primarily: 1) he wasn’t a morning person; and 2) he hadn’t had his pick-me-up. The red-head swung his legs over the side of the bed as he then rose to his feet. His mouth opened wide as an audible yawn escape it. His left hand reached down to tug at the black, boxer briefs that clung to him like a second skin. His shoulders were broad and back a muscular expanse of milk-white flesh, but on his right side, he was missing something. Like an incomplete sculpture, his right arm was missing. He had two Navajo band tattoos around his biceps, and strangely, that was where his right arm had been amputated by Prometheus. He had learned to go about his life normally with a missing arm. He used it as a strength for he inspired those who were not born whole or who had suffered a handicap similarly.<br/><br/>Roy showered, brushed his teeth, and got dressed with little difficulty. He stood before his espresso machine in an unzipped red hoodie jacket. Underneath was a black, sleeveless compression shirt, and at his hips he wore loose black cotton sweatpants. He had just finished preparing his espresso machine and turned toward the opposite counter of his kitchenette to mix a protein shake. He liked to use standard vanilla for he tended to add other nutrients like almond butter and banana. After he finished blending it, he poured the smooth mixture into a shaky cup and then turned toward his espresso machine to eye the small shot of molten bitter black heart attack. He picked it up, its beige, foamy head quivering beneath his nose as he gave it a deep and pleasant smell.<br/><br/>“Mmm…” he hummed contently, and then turned and poured it off into his shake. “<em>Dunk!</em>”<br/><br/>Setting the empty glass down, he sealed up his shaky cup and started shaking vigorously to mix it all in. Afterwards, he popped it open and started chugging the shake down. Once he finished it, he placed the empty cup in the sink and turned toward his duffel bag on the floor. It was time to go to work.<br/><br/><strong>Secret Sanctuary, Gymnasium</strong><br/><br/>The teleporter was a handy device. Roy crouched before his duffel bag and removed a few things from it. The first was a Bluetooth speaker and the second, a blue cap that he fitted over his red blades. He shed his hoodie, folded it, and tucked it into the bag. Afterwards, Roy stood to begin warming and limbering up with some yoga and regular stretches.<br/><br/>It had only taken time for the Justice League to find him again. Once they had learned that he had finished recovering from his past addictions, they wanted to check on him.<em>They</em>not being Oliver. That would have been a bad reunion, especially after Roy had broken into his precious headquarters. He didn’t really<em>break in</em>, but he most certainly reminded Oliver that he needed to update his access control list. With the help of J’onn, Dinah was able to find him in Portland, Oregon. The reunion was a tearful one and when she told him about the formation of a new group of young heroes, Roy didn’t hesitate to say<em>sign me up.</em>It was about time he got back into the groove and this time, he was going to take his duties a little more seriously.<br/><br/><div align="center">Lights Out – Breaking Benjamin (https://youtu.be/BOGGobG2iiE)</div><br/>The training weapon racks were staggered to his left and right, creating an aisle down to a 25 meter padded target at the end. Roy started in a quick jog before he hopped to increase his momentum and then sprang off his left foot. His right leg swung behind him. His head and shoulders swung toward the floor as the strength in his swinging leg carried him into an aerial flip. He landed on his right foot, his left arriving next to it and his knees bent. Roy sprang backwards, arching his torso. His one hand planted on the ground, his arm absorbing the weight before he pushed off of it into a one-handed back-handspring. He executed three before he came out of it, twisting his body toward the weapon’s rack. He snatched a training sword that resembled a parang and swung it in the direction of the target. The blade left his hand, swiftly traveling down the lane to strike the red bulls eye before clattering to the floor.<br/><br/>Roy twisted his shoulders and leapt into the air. His body whirled in a b twist as he landed across the aisle to the other weapons rack, where he grabbed a kali stick. Roy swung the stick in shadow training. Crossing each strike that struck his imaginative opponent. He then thrust and pulled back. Simulating his opponent being pushed back into a stagger, Roy’ shoulders swung down as he executed another aerial as the heel of his right foot would have slammed upon his opponent’s head.<br/><br/>Stopping, he raised his hand which still clutched the kali stick to his cap as he pressed his thumb up against the bill to allow some heat to escape. He glanced at the target. The sword struck as expected, but then he glanced around at all the training equipment. Shouldn’t the Secret Sanctuary have been just as advanced as the Watchtower? “Where's the simulation room?” he wondered.<br/><br/>Roy sighed, returning the stick to the rack as he walked back down the aisle to start again.