“Who cares?! Just shoot him!!”

An entire wall of a dozen thugs opened fire on Clarke all at once. Bullets bounced and ricocheted everywhere as the din of gunfire overtook everything else. Soon, the warehouse was so noisy that it became impossible to think. One by one, the thugs emptied their guns until every one of them was dry. Yet, to their horror, Clarke remained standing and unharmed.

“What’s with your gang and not being able to aim?” Clarke asked calmly. He held out his cupped hands, revealing a small pile of bullets. “These are the only ones that would have hit me. You are all pathetic.”

Clarke dropped the seventeen bullets, letting them spread harmlessly on the floor.

“My turn.”

The thugs stood terrified as Clarke strode towards them, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. They each pulled out new magazines and tried to reload as quickly as they could. For one gangster, it didn’t matter though. By the time he finally slipped a fresh magazine into his gun, Clarke was already over him. With no more than an extended hand, Clarke reached his will into the thug’s neck and severed his spine, killing him instantly. The gangster fell to the ground, relinquishing his gun to Clarke.

Clarke examined the gun as the other gang members took aim against him. He so hated guns, but the room was wide open and the rest of the gang had plenty of room to move around to avoid him. He needed the range, but there had to be another way. These thugs looked fit and could probably outrun him, so pursuing each one and crushing them wasn’t an option.

“What is this guy?” one gangster yelled to another.

“I don’t know! Just shoot him already!”

“This is pointless!” one thug yelled, dropping his gun. “I’m outta here!”

The thug turned and ran at the protest of the crowd. However, Clarke wasn’t about to allow any of them to leave. He took aim and, with the aid of his powers, found the perfect spot to shoot. He raised the gun and shot quickly. So quickly that it looked like he was simply firing recklessly, but his aim was true. The bullet screamed through the air and slammed into the thug’s neck, destroying his spinal column and killing him instantly. It was a kinder death than he deserved.

The others, however, were much more defiant and willing to stay put to finish Clarke off. Surely he couldn’t dodge all these bullets, could he? The gangsters held their ground, opening a wall of fire against Clarke, missing more times than not.

Clarke ducked around a large support beam for temporary cover. He wasn’t in any danger, not by these standards, but he hated the thought of killing them with a gun. He dropped the handgun he had taken and folded his arms in though, even as the support beam he leaned on was chipped away piece by piece. Clarke wasn’t sure exactly what to do, until he noticed the fragility of the building’s structure all around him. Suddenly, an idea popped into his head and he pressed a hand against his support beam.