A "vertical slice" of fiction.
Fracture
Just when it seemed that the sheer volume of the surrounding chaos had reached its peak, the air was torn apart. Her hearing distorted for several painful seconds before completely shutting down to a dull muffle. Even then it was unbearable.
After the new sound built to something she could feel deep in her stomach a thick, bright beam light lanced it way through the amphitheatre, sweeping back and forth through the crowd of combatants and bleeding large offshoots of energy in random flickers and pulses of color. It scorched and ripped apart anything it touched. Building facades took on deep gouges, glass exploded and melted as a result of the extreme temperature shifts, trees burned and collapsed on themselves, soldiers flashed away brightly or fell in messy pieces on the floor.
And suddenly it was quiet again.
Quieter than it was before. The beam had effectively dismembered or destroyed anything that could have made a sound.
Susan closed her eyes and held her weapon close to her chest. Her unit was surely dead at this point, along with many others, which meant she had to make her own decisions. She pondered whether to continue or not.