Cancelling out momentum

Someone ducked underneath the hand, skidding on the ground. A cape, dressed in an all-covering orange bodysuit, who ran fast enough that they clipped the edge of the doorframe in their crazed run.


I raised my forcefield as I saw them fix their attention on me. I could fly backward without worrying too much about bumping into anything, so I kept the majority of my focus on them.


I saw them glance to one side. They aimed to go around me.


Half right. They leaped, power activating, to throw themselves at the wall. They collided in a shower of orange and amber light and sparks, and rebounded, no longer human. A swirling mass of energy.


The impact when he hit the Wretch was violent, the impact carrying through the air to scatter papers, money we hadn't grabbed, and the washed and dried silverware that had been laid at the edge of the kitchen's counter.


He recovered, momentum lost, clearly startled that what he'd planned hadn't worked.

***

They acted again. Again, a sharp, high-speed lunge, not aimed at me or at the others, but at a wall. Again, the impact, sparks and light. Post-impact, as they rebounded off, they'd become a large, whirling death ball formed of hard energy.


A stray arm of the Wretch blocked the way, deflecting them. They landed hard, sliding on the floor and bumping into a table. They wasted no time in using their power again, holding to the pattern, but glancing off of the ceiling instead. Blocking it meant flying back to get myself thoroughly in the way put me perilously close to the Heartbroken.


They were an air hockey puck. Not well suited for the direct strike, always bouncing off of something sufficiently hard and flat.

- Blinding 11.7