Narrow opening

"If this comes down to a fight, you're leaving on a stretcher," I said. "I'm all out of patience."

"Can you fight?" he asked.

I hit the ground hard enough to crack it. I'd pay the neighborhood back for that. But the impact was enough to upset his footing, and as his frame of reference changed, so did the angle and flow of the phantom images. He tipped back, and there was a clearance of a few feet off the ground in front of him where the images weren't.

I dove, flying, and slid through that clearance. It was a maneuver that put me within a few feet of him. I reached out, striking with my good arm, and I felt the impact. No strength, but a smash to the nose.

A phantom's nose. He'd projected one out from his face as I'd swung.

I followed up, hitting, kicking, and then doing the same thing but with the wretch, for the extra force and the ability to tear right past them. I could see him press back, until his jackasses were right behind him. Sveta yanked on the jackasses, hauling them away, and the Crowley brother tipped backward onto his back.

- Pitch 6.8