"I was actually referring to your chronic inability to land worthwhile blows in spite of your clearly superior strength, but you do have a point." Tom could feel the pressure of the young man's presence growing as his rage increased, could feel the sheer power of the boy's will making itself manifest in the heightened prowess of his body, but even that amount of willpower paled in comparison to his own, to the ability to affect the world with little more than a thought. He shifted the top of his staff forward a mere three inches, and a nearby car flung itself at the teenager at barely subsonic speeds, followed immediately by a lamppost ripped from the sidewalk and oriented as a spear, a stop sign in a similar configuration, and a chunk of the sidewalk itself that was half as big as the car, each object adjusting its trajectory as needed to strike whatever location the boy happened to be occupying when they were launched.