"We're in range. Who wants to take the shot?" the pilot of Fighter Two chuckled, not taking the private plane before them seriously in the slightest.
"No, no, no! I love taking out small fry like this one. It's mine, Number Two," the pilot of Fighter Four said with a laugh, his tone equally dismissive.
"That's not fair. How about this? We play rock-paper-scissors for it. Winner takes the prize," the pilot of Fighter One proposed with a smile.
"I agree," said the pilot of Fighter Three.
The four of them actually started playing rock-paper-scissors. Incredibly, the winner was the pilot of Fighter Two, the very one who had spoken first.
"Haha, sorry, guys! It looks like fate wants me to take this one down. You all can rest," the pilot of Fighter Two laughed, his mood excellent now that he had won the right to take down his prey.
