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“Ohno, status?” you demand. There is no response from the mage, not since she tanked three surface-to-air missiles to the face and you lost telemetry from her.
“Her transponder’s down, sir!” the comms officer replies.
“Someone get me a visual!” you shout out to the bridge crew, and to the comms you add, “Renault, Maserati, do you see her?”
Renault’s drill-haired blonde larger-than-life visage on the screen snarls. “With all due respect, sir, I’ve got four problems of my own down here!” She turns her attention away from you and shouts at Maserati, “Work with me here you useless bitch! Shoot those rape-dildos down unless you like being tee-peed like little miss pink up there!”
Renault lifts her arms towards the sky and gathers energy, magic circles materializing around the oversized gauntlets of her barrier jacket. “Scatter shot!” Multiple projectiles fire out in a spread from both hands and criss-cross in the air above her, but they’re not enough to saturate the sky as the remaining four missiles begin their final descent towards the ground mages.
The other mage, Maserati, helplessly in place. She’s riding a wingless dragon and clad in enough plate armor to mistake her for a shining knight of old, but her face is frozen with fear, tears in her eyes and a quiver in her lips, unable to do anything but look at the approaching doom of the four black specks of death in the cloudless desert sky.
>quiet encouragement>UNFUCK YOURSELF, MAGE! 