!!0ZviLFh59My 03/30/12(Fri)20:09 No.18517745|
File: 1333152543.jpg-(38 KB, 850x600, sample-51d58a5cc7f368dfb493cb4(...).jpg)
With wispy clouds streaming 'round your cockpit, you nervously look towards where the now-invisible Martians should be. "Now's a great time for your brilliant plan, Sean."
In the distance, your sharp eyes pick up the incredible blasts of the Floogie-hammer hammering.
"HAMMER TIME!" Sean crows with satisfaction.
"What in the-"
"Ghostrider One-Two to Home Plate, inbound bandits over Dover, bearing tree-two-tree!" Sanya announces over the radio.
"What the-" you stammer.
"She's about three-quarters of a mile closer to the coast then we are, flying perpendicular," Sean informs you smugly.
You roll the Widow inverted, prompting a snort of disgust from Sean.
You grin wickedly. Only the beginning, young Radar Gnome. Only the beginning of your torment. You let the Widow sink a little till the canopy is peeking out of the thin cloud layer, and your sharp eyes pick up the glow of Sanya's magical antenna far below, the little girl barely silhouetted as a speck against the Dover cliffs. As you watch a bright flash detonates near her, and you barely save the night vision in your eyes by blinking in time.
"How many does the floo-"
"Six, I think," Ian replies.
"Yeah, six. She needs time to reload."
"MENTLEGEN," you say grandly. "Let us bounce the gates doing ninety-eight, LET DEM GNOMES ROLL!"
"... who are you quoting?" Ian asks, completely confused.
"... Nevermind," you grump, and nose down to commence THE BOUNCE.
>Low six bounce?