[@Metal Tortoise]

[color=f7976a]"Alright, fair nuff. And the name's Tom. Kentucky Tom. Sucknutus Switcheroonio!"[/color]

[i]As Steer got within striking distance, the magic words spat out of Tom's mouth with such speed that they could scarcely be deciphered. From his finger, still pointing at Steer, shot a small orb of light at a speed of around forty miles per hour, headed right for the gut. Considering the distance between Steer and Tom's finger, it'd be a tough one to handle. If it struck, Steer would find himself abruptly kicking in the wrong direction, his back to Tom. Even if he didn't need a moment to orient himself and figure out what had just happened, immediately after the turnaround he'd be liable to feel Tom's right boot colliding with the back of his right knee. The blow might wind up folding the leg and cause Steer to fall. Tom would have preferred a hold or a punch, but a hold would almost certainly require taking a step, and he didn't exactly consider a rabbit punch reliable. A kidney shot might've been good if he were in comfortable uppercut range, but he wasn't. Even then, another word, this one more emphatic and drawn out, came from Tom's direction.[/i]

[color=f7976a]"Blindorial..."[/color]