The man in the gas mask raised one rubber glove, and the green around his feet rose with it.
Jun knew what was coming before it came. He'd watched that same mist smash through a block of diamond the size of a car, so he didn't wait for it. He threw up a wall between them, thick and clear, a full meter of crystal from the road to the second-floor windows.
THUD.
The fist of mist hit the wall dead center, and a crack ran up its face from top to bottom.
THUD.
The wall split down the middle and fell apart in two halves.
The fist came straight through the gap and hit Jun in the chest. It felt like being kicked by a horse. He went backward off his feet and crashed into the front of a shop, and the window behind him burst into a thousand pieces around his shoulders.
He pushed himself up out of the glass and brushed a shard off his ruined lapel.
"That suit," he said, "was tailored. Do you know how hard it is to find a tailor these days?"
