A Firm Foothold

My right arm stirred first, lifting slightly against the smooth, pale floor. Next to me stood a towering figure in dark tactical gear, frozen mid-stride. I tested the hinges of my knees, pushed down against the flat surface, and raised my head to take stock of our perimeter. Reaching forward, my hand lightly tapped against the armored glove extended beside me. It remained completely rigid, but beneath my boots, the ground felt entirely real. I adjusted my stance, alert and steady.