Clara trained the barrel on an assortment of furniture and unloaded the full drum. By the end of it the group was left deafened, facing furniture littered with bullet holes.
“Five… four… three… two…”
On the call of one the furniture began to repair itself. Bullets popped out of the frame and stuffing, as the material healed itself. Right before their eyes everything returned to its original state.
“That—That’s fucking badass,” Julia said. “Can—(I try)?”
Disclaimer: This novel is an work in progress and readers may encounter grammatical errors and inconsistencies. Please view this a draft and not a published work.
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