Roller Drill

I stripped the oil-treated canvas from the red bike and stowed the iron chain link. Readiness requires sharp reflexes before touching the throttle. Along bay four's loading apron stood a section of unpowered gravity roller conveyor, its bare steel cylinders pitted with rust but spinning freely on dry bearings. Ground that moves under you tests true balance. I launched onto the track, landing both combat boots across two adjacent steel rollers in a low, disciplined crouch. The metal cylinders whined, rotating violently beneath my soles. I didn't break stance or reach for handholds. I absorbed the spin through my knees, adjusting my center of mass by millimetric shifts until the rotation locked dead still. Fifty steady breaths. Balance verified.