Squaring Up

A click in the joints. Weight shifted. My talons gripped the slick black surface beneath me, solid and real. Eyes locked straight ahead—there stood a winged figure in red, frozen mid-glare inches away. I didn't flinch. I lowered my stance, testing the spring in my knees, and tapped a claw against the tabletop. Tap. The sound bounced sharp off the wide screen behind us. Balance steady. Reflexes primed. I squared up, ready for whatever move comes next.