That was not a weak strike. Owl had been paying more attention to Jarrett at that point, so the strike to her face was completely unexpected and, indeed, it sent her flying a good sixteen feet.
Straight into Jarrett.
She crashed into him and they both went toppling over, though fortunately their fall was cushioned.
...By a pile of corpses in the corpse cart.
The corpse cart which broke from their sudden forceful impact, sending them, and the bodies, spilling onto the ground.
Owl was only vaguely aware of any of that, though, because the blow had broken her nose and busted her lip and snapped her head back hard enough to hurt her neck. Her mask had also been damaged, so it hung off her face awkwardly. She lay sprawled atop Jarrett and a pile of gross, stiff, bloody corpses, blood gushing from her broken nose and staining the front of her shirt, her head fuzzy and dizzy, her vision all weird. She groaned, too dazed and disoriented to do much more than that yet.
