You run on ignition. Want becomes motion without a committee meeting, and friction doesn't drain you — it focuses you. When everyone else is still weighing options, you're already back with a result and a scraped knuckle.
The cost is what the speed runs over. Patience reads as delay, process reads as cowardice, and your bluntness lands harder than you meant it to. Some fights you won weren't worth the room they burned.
Mars is the engine, not the steering. The practice is picking wars like you pick tools — for the job, not the feeling. Aimed, your force finishes things others can't start. Unaimed, it just makes heat. You know the difference mid-swing.