The gangsters stopped firing after a moment of inactivity, unsure if Clarke was dead or not. Several of them began to spread out to investigate, but before any of them could spot the lone man, the support beam he had been hiding behind exploded. Chunks of concrete and plaster shot out in every direction, leaving a cloud of smoke behind as well. The gangsters lost sight of Clarke in the confusion, until one of them spotted him running for the next support beam for cover.

“The fuck?! Does he have bombs on him?”

“Who cares? He ain’t using them on us!”

“Lookit him! He’s runnin’ scared!”

“Don’t let him get away!”

Each thug opened fire again, but Clarke managed to make it to the next support beam. However, rather than use it for cover, he swiped at it. His attack knocked more concrete out of the support beam, causing another cloud of debris to cover his escape. The gangsters still fired into the cloud, but their shots were so far off target that Clarke didn’t even look back to block any.

One by one, Clarke ran through the support beams, circling the gangsters as each pillar around them was destroyed. However, he gave them just enough of a glance between each explosion that he maintained the gangsters’ attention, giving them a slim chance of hope. Each support beam was left with a three-foot gap in it, adding to the stress on the ceiling, but Clarke was the only one who noticed it.

As Clarke rounded the final pillar, he knocked out an entire solid chunk, sending it into the crowd of gangsters. The concrete flew fast, crashing hard into the ground and sliding across the floor with an irritating scratch. A few of the gangsters ran to the side to avoid the pillar, bunching up in the center of the room. The entire group looked on as Clarke stood defiantly by the remnants of the crumbled support beam.

“Guys? He ain’t using bombs!” one of the thugs managed to figure out.

“Then how the hell is he doin’ that?”

Clarke’s only response was to rest both his arms behind his back as the ceiling began to creak. The small gang realized too late what Clarke had done. By destroying the support beams, he wasn’t trying to run and hide. He was weakening the roof.

The thugs didn’t have enough time to run. They only had enough time to look up in horror as the entire roof started to fall towards them at frightening speed. The remainders of the support beams snapped and cracked under the abrupt shift in weight. They fell across the room in thunderous crashes, making the gang’s ears ring. They were stunned and couldn’t focus on what to do, but it didn’t matter. Seconds later, several tons of steel came crashing down on their heads as half the building collapsed. The sheets of metal on top of the roof fluttered like a picnic blanket being spread in a field, spreading a tidal wave of dust and a deafening crash, before coming to rest, killing everyone underneath.