Stance on the Edge

The air across the terrace felt sharp. My right arm was already raised, locking the blaster forward toward the cloaked opponent standing across the platform. Then my fingers flexed on the grip. The mechanism responded to my touch. I shifted my weight forward half an inch, feeling the solid resistance of the carved stone under my boots. The sprawling skyline dropped away beneath the balustrade, but my focus remained locked on the immediate ground. I am here, and I can move. I planted my feet and held my ground on the ledge.