The claw had penetrated at least an inch deep and while the other four hadn’t penetrated as far, they were all bleeding—a lot.
Aiming the sonics of my left arm at Art, who’d begun to get up from the floor,I fumbled with a can that hung on my utility belt, pulled it out, and sprayed, covered the wounds with foam.
Vaughn threw a bolt of lightning at Art and he convulsed, going down for good as a crack of thunder echoed in the room. Continue reading Who Are The True?: Part 6