I gripped the handles tightly in my fist as the gauntlet formed around my arms. Immediately that familiar sensation filled my gut, like having a leather glove on your hand again after years of exposed skin, it felt right, familiar and safe, all with a foreboding sense of danger. It was still a good feeling, and it could only mean one thing.
I heard them rattling off behind me as I stood there, but I wasn't listening. It was my time now, and I didn't bother with their prattle. The gauntlet was on now, it was mine again, I could feel it's weight being screwed into my shoulders like it had never left me. I didn't bother to discard my cigar, I just glared at it all. So how long was I in this hole? Why did they bother to bring me out? I had to admit that while it felt good, I wasn't about to thank them. I'm sure they still hoped I would go out there and get myself killed.
The arms of others surrounded me busily, placing each piece of armor onto my nearly naked body. The shackles that were o