Stickyfingers lowered his spyglass, "Jig's over, boys."
The remark sent a round of anxious mutterings amongst the gaggle of crewmen under his command.
One, in particular, tittered more nervously than the rest... a thin and gangly Coral Boy wearing a tattered, once-white coat.
"Ihihi... Does 'at... does it mean I should boom da fing?"
"Yeh," Stickyfingers tilted his chin up, "Boom da fing."
"Ahahiihi... yeah. Good eye, good eye..." Doc nodded eagerly.
The Coral Boy hopped up and shoved a few of the other boys aside to make space.
With almost reverent care, he popped a... 'special' round in the under-barrel of his modified hextech rifle. Pointing it at the sky, he pulled the trigger, launching the projectile with a resounding 'THMP.'
High in the air, the thing boomed with a loud, satisfying crack.
