A Flex of Will

Suspended mid-stride, awareness returned to me in absolute silence. My hands were fixed open, clutching empty air. I concentrated, sending a deliberate impulse down to my fingers. The white gloves responded, curling into tight, measured fists. The jointed weight on my back stirred; the dark appendages flexed slightly against the crimson glow behind me. I lowered my stance, testing my balance upon the black edge below. My boots touched down firmly. I am operational, self-contained, and ready.