Iron Latch

Pushed past the door sweep into the exterior sector. At the yard line, the timber gate hung unlatched, drifting loose against the post. I crossed the flagstones and hauled myself up the cedar crossbeam until my boots found solid traction. Clamped both gauntlets around the cold cast-iron drop bar. Threw my weight down in one clean, unyielding arc. The bar drove through the strike guide and seated flush into the catch with a heavy metallic clank. The gate locked rigid against the jamb. Sector boundary secured.