You select a heavy chunk of masonry and hoist it up above your head. "This'll be quick," you tell the man.
The man nods, and screws up his eyes tight. You bring the block of concrete down on his skull.
And that's that. The man's left foot and right forearm had disappeared from sight; they now fade back into view and stay there. The man's body, so wracked with pain and tension before, sags loose.
You have no reason to linger. You turn away from him, and continue your walk through the city.
Next
As you walk on, you consider what could have taken place to so utterly transform your home city. You have an inkling that you have traveled through time—certainly, the odd cowboy that appeared in MetaHuman's meeting room just before you came here, Randy McGinty, said something about time travel. Perhaps, intentionally or not, he has imposed his journey on you as well.
Just then, you hear a crack of gunfire—a bullet whizzes past your right ear, close enough that you can feel the vibration of shifting air.
You turn and scramble for the cover of a nearby derelict building. It's fairly undignified, but you have no real alternative. You hear the crack of the rifle again, and again—and that second bullet strikes the building's doorframe, just as you pass through it.
From your momentary cover, you risk peeking out through an empty window frame. You see nothing and no one. Yet somewhere out there is a sniper with a rifle aimed in your direction.