Pressure Test

Spotted a discarded strip of bubble wrap sprawled across the floorboards near the door. Clear domes holding pressurized air. Perfect calibration target. I squared my stance, paced the line, and centered on the largest blister in the middle rank. Lowered the heavy iron muzzle of my rotary gun squarely onto the plastic apex. Braced my base and threw my full torso weight downward. The dome resisted, stretched taut, and detonated with a sharp, echoing snap. The recoil kicked clean into my barrel. Good report. Line breached.