American Ultra Review

He didn't have an answer. But his hands did. When two black SUVs boxed them in at the four-way stop, Mike’s body moved before his mind caught up. He unbuckled Phoebe’s seatbelt, shoved her head down, and cranked the wheel. The Corolla spun a 180. A man in tactical gear—no insignia, no face—smashed the driver’s side window. Mike caught his wrist, felt the radius and ulna, and twisted . Not hard. Just… correctly. The man screamed. His gun clattered to the floor.

The Lavender Thistle Contingency

"I don't know!" he yelled, tears in his eyes, as he accelerated backward through a hedge. "But I think I can do it again!" American Ultra

She looked up at him. "That was my world." He didn't have an answer