A Firm Grip

Stiff plastic softened. My fingers tightened around the textured plastic grip in my hands. I blinked, assessing the perimeter: white door on the left, clear passage ahead, two silent companions flanking me. Deliberate action was required. I raised the orange plastic rifle slightly, aligning my sights with the hallway entrance. Clean weight, steady balance. My joints shifted smoothly without a sound. Ready.