Cuts gun

He lunged and Ryn caught him. She tossed him over her shoulder and folded him in the front of a sedan. He pushed out from the metal cavity and Ryn met him with her fists, because her claws would have killed host and asura alike. She painted him with concussive blows. Side of the neck. Ribs, ribs, thigh. He tried a kick. She broke the femur. No more kicks, she decided.
He produced a gun. She punched the weapon with a knife-hand strike of her claws. It cut the weapon into two neat halves.
Splat’s other hand produced a knife. She deflected it with her hardened palm and threw her shoulder into him. He stumbled onto the broken leg, screamed, and fell to his knee. She flattened him facedown and drove a hundred razor wires from her kanaf into the space below the bump on the back of his neck. He tried to push up, but the syringe-thin wires coiled along his spinal column. She threaded gossamer into his nervous system. His arms twitched and went limp.

Chapter 6, Page 80


“There you have it again. Careful, if you turn out to have a brain, I might end up liking you. Now, I figure the vic is scared and seeing things, but damned if we don’t have cars tossed around, and then that fucking thing.” He motioned to a handgun on the concrete.
Kessler knelt. The gun was sliced in half. It was bisected straight down its barrel, a cut so clean it looked like it had been manufactured that way. Even the bullet that had been chambered was sliced length-wise, the powder from the cartridge dusting the floor. “What could do this? It’s like someone took a diamond saw to it.”
“No. There’d be shavings, irregularities at the edges—nothing portable cuts that way. So. What do we do with the gun?”

Chapter 7, Page 85