Clear the Perimeter

My joints snapped into gear. First breath, cold and sharp. I was flat on my back across wrinkled terrain, pinned under open light. Right beside me, another red-suited figure was frozen, pointing a yellow plastic barrel straight past my ear. Didn't wait. I dug my left heel down, flexed my claws, and knocked that yellow muzzle aside with my forearm. Felt solid. Good. I can move, I can fight, and I take up my own ground.