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Renegade Harmony Drifter
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For a moment, I consider subtlety. Maybe trying to be more tactical, to think this over before I launch myself in. I leapt in the first time and got slapped into a wall for it, right?
That idea is quickly discarded.
I can’t even feel the power of Masks inside me, or the pains I’ve got or the exhaustion, underneath the torrential river of power flowing through. It’s pure yang energy, like Momo, and it spurs me to action and movement.
I’ve never really been into energy drinks but I’ve seen other people drink them and I think this is probably what it feels like if I were to drink like twenty of them.
Beyond anything else though, I feel like I kinda owe this guy a beatdown. This has been a thoroughly unpleasant experience, and it’s his turn to get kicked around. Why else did I borrow Momo’s power here? I paid a price- ahem I will be paying a price for this and the price was not being kissed and I will not be thinking about that thank you very much.
I shake my head and clear my thoughts. A momentary fantasy of a flying kick through the TV screen flashes past me, but I still don’t trust my ability to pull off something like that.
I’ll just punch him. I can FEEL the power raging through my muscles, the yang soul feeling but multiplied to the point where I feel like I’ll come apart if I don’t let it out. I KNOW how strong I am.
I tense, and run at the clockworker.
Or I try to run.
I push off like one would when going from standstill into a sprint, and a thundering crack booms out at my feet as the world BLURS forward. I’m not running. I just pushed off with all the force I had, without even thinking about it.
My feet slam into the ground, skidding on the sidewalk to a halt in front of the towering robotic form. He reels back in what I suppose is probably surprise, and I wonder why I didn’t just shred my shoes doing that. I look back, and the sidewalk next to Momo (who’s now waving delightfully at me) is cracked where I’d been standing.
Oh yes. I assumed strong, but wasn’t sure how much.
I can definitely work with this.
Turning back to look up, I see the clockworker swinging his massive arm at me for the second time in only a few minutes.
I’ve decided it’s going differently this time. So I step forward and punch, with all the force I can muster.
As I swing, I can see the reddish glow around me, the energy flowing forth. It’s the color of energy and momentum and speed, and I push it forward through me. As it travels up my arm into the swing, the color shifts.
It goes from a red into an orange, and I pour more energy in. It’s all the anger and fury and pain I’ve got, and it fuels that power.
The swing begins to connect, and I push HARDER, putting even more in. I’m done with this asshole.
The color shifts from orange into a pure gold, bright and shining.
My fist impacts the clockworker in the abdomen, right around my head height, and I push with everything I have.
The color that flares out from my fist in a wave, enforcing the punch with everything I can muster to put behind it, shifts into a bright blinding white.
There’s a thunderous boom as the behemoth is launched backward by my swing. There’s something intensely satisfying about doing unto this guy what he did to me, but a lot harder.
The clockworker misses the opening to the theatre space by a couple feet to the left. The wall doesn’t really slow him down though, so there’s just a larger opening left as he plows through that.
And then backward through the support pillars for the stage awning.
Followed by into the wall at the other end.
I assume this wall is a lot thicker, since there he stops. Or rather, that’s where a mangled pile of scrap comes to a halt, tangled electronics and metal and apparently even some random gears strewn around. I guess there’s some clockwork in there after all.
Despite all this, the TV head is somehow intact. As it begins to dissolve from the edges in the same way as the first one I beat, it’s screen switches to a red X and blinks furiously at me. I wonder if this is a threat of some kind, but I’m already turning to face the last one, who was about my size.
I’m not going to get blindsided again here.
This one looks... well I can’t really make out the body language of a TV-headed robot but I’d have to go with panicked. There’s definitely a feeling of suddenly being aware this is not working out like was planned. It feels weirdly good to think that maybe he’s scared of me.
He should be scared.
Obviously in agreement with my internal thoughts here, the clockworker’s hands extend out into razor sharp claws extending from the sleeves of his coat.
I take a deep breath. I’m feeling a lot less filled with power, but it’s still a magnitude more than I began with, and I still can’t feel Masks, though Yang Soul and Motion are powerful presences in my soul.
That’s okay, I’m not really feeling subtle.
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