Rusty at flight

The lullaby continued, faint and distant. It wasn't enough to obscure any scuffle I made. I didn't want to make noise, and whatever the movies showed, it was hard to crawl around while wearing boots and be sure to not make any sound.

I didn't like flying. I wasn't confident in it like I had been. Two years had passed in the hospital, and my sense of flight had been as disturbed as the movement of my arm or my attempts at vocalization. It was supposed to be back, but it was a muscle I hadn't exercised.

I wanted to fly, but it was tainted.

I raised myself off the ground, still hunched over, staying low enough that the counters would block me from sight, and used flight as much as light pushes on the sides of the cabinet to propel myself away from the advancing gunman.

***

As I set my boot down on the floor, ready to move, Crystalclear volunteered his help. An explosion at the ceiling, a few feet behind the guy to my left.

He spun around, looking, and I took advantage, leaping over the counter, reaching for the gun he held aloft. I seized it and his hands, and pulled both to the ground, where the counters kept us out of sight of the other two.

They started to approach at a run, each around one end of the counter, so they'd catch me on both sides, and Crystalclear offered another blast between me and them. It took out the light fixture above, and cast the corner of the room into shadow, illuminated by periodic sparks.

It gave me a moment's pause to think. I ignored the man I'd brought to the ground, as I held his hands and the gun. I didn't even need my strength- only leverage and my body weight.

- Daybreak 1.5