Shoulder touches flank and you praise yourself for remembering your years on the battlefield. You're lucky you had the good sense to attack after the effects of your plants were diminished. Otherwise, you'd probably be lying in a pile of oafish chagrin on the ground instead of praising your successes. In this moment, you're more than just Oxy, the drug addict. You're Oxy, the warrior. You're a force to be reckoned with, a knight in shining armor, a bastion in the face of unrelenting force. Where others before you have failed, you will succeed. You will take the Blue down.

But even if you were Sir Galahad, anointed by the gods as the greatest knight that ever lived, you couldn't keep up with the speed of the electric woman. She escapes you, running off, and you can do little but turn your head to watch her go. At least she limps. You count your triumph and forget your failure. To have hit the girl at all is a feat, tiny target that she is, and you won't lose your head in a labyrinth of pity and woe at a minor misstep. In your mouth, your bag flails wildly, still held between tightly clenched teeth, as you fall back to the earth.

Upon reaching the ground, you immediately begin to trot forward, hoping the motion will give you some sort of head start. You'll need every ounce of speed you can manage to keep pace with Ampere- a necessity if you're going to win. As you move, you lay back your ears and snort in annoyance. It troubles you that turning to look back is both essential and stupid- you need the Blue's position, but you don't want to be blinded. Instead, you rely on your ears, letting them lift once more, trying to pick out the sound of the girl's heavy breathing and rustling feathers.

But how can an aircraft carrier outmaneuver a speedboat? She comes in blaring, a flurry of motion along your left side, as you turn your head slightly to find her. Even in the glaring sun you can the girl's unfurled wings and you half expect another wave of electricity to crash upon you. But this time there are no sparks- only hooves. Your sole consolation is that your motion causes her hooves to land upon your rump instead of your side. It wouldn't do to have the girl beating upon your electric burns, which still protest every movement.

Hooves beat against you, bruising your ego more than your ass, though several small welts pulse to life. They're a beacon, a reminder to stay sharp, as this is just the beginning. As for the teeth, they land solidly upon your croup but do little more than pinch. You simply laugh out loud, a thunderous sound that fills the dusky air. You hope the bitch likes the taste of mud and decay- that's all she'll find upon your coat. Of course, your laugh doesn't last long. Ampere's smaller frame crashes into yours and you struggle to keep a straight path, thankful that your extra weight gives you some resistance against her impact. Finding your footing, you take a few steps forward.

As for her words? Her shrieking liberty cry is met only by the motion of your hooves. Fighting against gravity and your mass, you throw your hind limbs into the air. Your morals are useless, you bellow, but is it in your head or out loud? Even you aren't sure, the sound of flailing bodies the only thing that matters to you right now. You hooves reach, far and high, hoping to meet skin. You're so much taller than her, it would be easy to hit her head, but you aim lower, for her left shoulder if she hasn't moved, as your burns scream in protest. Will your aim be true? Even you cannot say.

As your hooves return to earth, you're careful to let your right hind take most of the weight. Your left will need rest if the bruises are to remain small and manageable. You pivot to the right, a wide half-circle turning you back to face the sun and where you hope Ampere will be. Now is your chance. If you are to be blinded, so is she. You throw the bag, hopefully towards her face, as you urge your body to accelerate into a canter. Your head lowers, horns glinting in the orange sunset, as you try to come upon her. At the last moment, you throw your head up, attempting to scrape your horns across the junction of her wing and shoulder. All the while, your chest barrels towards her. It's not your most shining moment, but you know you must take out her wings. The acrobatic theatrics must end.

Words| 800
Post| 2/4
OOC| Minor edits to reflect change in damage amount. @[Ampere]