Recovering after losing all voluntary motor control

I dove low, and I let go of the gun, swearing under my breath. Had to drop the dead weight, while he closed in. Letting it drop to the ground. Drop my forcefield to cut back on air resistance-

-Glance over my shoulder-

-Fly over the crack, full speed, because he was closing in.

Do nothing! The thought was mine, a violent exclamation

A last-second gamble, only because I had no hand to play. I felt him get close enough that his power swept over me. Everything that wasn't automatic was stolen from me. My ability to reach for my power, my ability to move my body, my ability to think. I couldn't put a single coherent word together in my mind's eye.

I was all disorganized thoughts and dull terror as momentum carried me through the air, heels over head, wind catching at my coat, whipping at my face and hood.

I followed the instruction to myself, staying limp, not trying to move or use my power.

The Nemean Titan stopped at the edge of the crack. I hurtled in a loose arc over the hole between realities, to the far side, where shattered concrete and rubble awaited me. Harder than a landing on hard ground.

I passed out of his range. My senses were slow to return to me. My sense of my own power was among them.

Wait, I thought, glad I could articulate at least a single syllable.

Wait.

Fly.

I took the last possible moment to pick up with flight, and found my grasp of it wobbly. A half-moment of uncoordinated flying that moved me laterally. Then upward flying, breaking my momentum. The air pushed hard against me as I hit the ground, gilded kneepads, boot-toes, and gloves scraping against icy road as I landed on the far side of the crack.

He loomed on the far side, head bent, while I panted for breath, because I hadn't been able to breathe while doing that.

- Infared 19.2