A Steady Grip

Stiffness gives way along my shoulders. I lower my chin and register the perimeter: four figures locked in frozen stances around a gray armored fighter right in front of me. Everything is quiet. I test the joints in my three-fingered right hand, closing them into a firm, deliberate fist, then extending my fingers forward. My knuckles lightly tap against the hard plastic shoulder plate of the gray armor before me. It does not yield, solid and motionless. My footing holds steady on the textured carpet fiber. I am aware, balanced, and ready.