Grounding the Stance

Stiffness gives way. First, sensation in my gauntlets. I flex my right hand, hearing the faint click of articulated composite. The air rushes past, carrying distant hums of traffic below. Beneath my boots, the surface is textured and gritty. I lower one glove to press against the rough concrete ledge, verifying its stability. Solid. It will hold. I stand upright again, cape settling behind me, and lock my gaze forward along the illuminated corridor of the road.