Each droplet of sweat that hit the gravel of the roof beneath their feet, each shallow and heavy breath, each pump of the heart - Matt could hear all of it. Each pulse, every soft rustle of loose clothing, every time a billy club sliced through the delicate air and made contact with flesh... Every sound was his, each blessing him with a sight of its own. The makeshift black and white became solid for a second, then faded, and then it returned.
Matt lifted his leather clad gloved fist and the digit careened through the air, slamming hard into the face of one of the men. The much larger male crumpled easily and Matt stood over them a pillar of Justice breathing as heavily as they had been a moment before. All around him, almost a perfect circle lay the crumpled frames and various weapons. Chin tilted downward, Matt surveyed what lay at his feet as if it were some sort of morbid offering before lifting an extended billy club. With a press of the pad of his thumb, the club wound itself back together.
His body ached like it normally did after a fight. His own racing heart pumped adrenaline and he almost missed the flapping of soft garments by the wind.
Ever so slightly Matt tilted his head, listening to the call of the wind. Amidst the screams from below and far away from where he stood, he pinpointed the delicate ruffle. It came and went so quickly it was almost as if it didn't exist in the first place. Unsure if whatever stood behind him was hostile, Matt pivoted slowly on the balls of his feet and braced himself for another attack.
Lifting his chin, Matt set his crimson shielded eyes on whatever it was standing there. The sounds around him provided a good enough silhouette, a figure a touch shorter than himself. How strange that this figure had been able to sneak up on him like that. It was unsettling.
"Come to finish the job?" Matt inquired, curious. His tone held accusation though the curiosity almost out-weighed it.