Shireroth

"No, I don't think those are the coordinates I gave you!" Prodigy shouted angrily at the Deadbolt artillery team. "I would NOT deliberately aim the shot at the ONLY car in that whole parking lot!"

"Actually, sir, that sounds exactly like something you'd do," one of the soldiers reported dutifully, saluting.

Prodigy's metal fist made contact with the soldier's definitely NOT metal lower parts, causing his to double over in excruciating pain. "Actually, it DOES sound like something I'd do... but not here and not now!"

"Milord, if you'll excuse me saying so, you chose our team because we were the most accurate in the whole outpost," the sergeant mentioned.

Thinking for a second, Prodigy snapped his fingers. "I'm still pretty sure those weren't the coordinates..."

A crackly recording of Prodigy's voice told him he had, in fact, said those coordinates. The sergeant clicked the stop button and tucked the recorder in his pocket, expression unchanging.

Prodigy blinked and stared. Then he turned and walked away.