“Kill him.”
At Clements’s rather softly spoken command, the two bewildered lackeys
threw the switch on the impact cannon. The bars of the cell flew inward,
and a shock wave that could have sent a charging five-ton beast snout-overtail reduced D’s
bed to dust as it hammered a mortar-shaped depression into the floor.

D, unscathed, danced through the air.
With the slight sound of another discharge, a section of wall over six feet in
diameter collapsed. The hem of the Hunter’s coat fluttered out as a cloud of
dust suddenly rose up and struck the outer surface of his garment. Had D’s
coat not absorbed half of the force of the blow, the shock wave that rebounded in the direction of
the two lackeys would have killed them instantly. Instead, the pair sustained
internal injuries as the force slammed them against the floor and bruised
every inch of their bodies.

Having been struck both inside and outside by the shock wave, the set of
steel bars that comprised D’s holding cell began to break, shooting bolts
everywhere and collapsing outward. With nowhere to escape, Clements let
out a scream when he realized he was pinned under them. In no time at all,
the air was crushed out of his lungs, his flesh and bones cracked and popped
under the strain, and the agony was enough to cut his cries short.
“I’m going to take a little nap,” D said, having just devastated three foes
without lifting a finger.

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