[ She laughs nervously, flexing her fingers until they form a tight fist. ] I know I call it Shooting Arts, but it's not a gun.
Just let me try, okay? [ The gears on the wrist spin in opposite directions, the grinding not unlike the sound of a heavy drill whirring to life. She half-turns presses the knuckle-plate into the barrier and then grunts with effort as the spinning parts displace the air and push her fist forward.
Only... it's not budging. Or cracking. Or anything of the sort. ]