“Time to move?”
[Detecting airborne heat signatures incoming from nine o’ clock.]
“Alright, babies! They don’t seem that tough. Chimpy, can I take them - OH MY GOD! THEY’RE GOING FOR THE AUXILIARY BOOSTERS! DIE, INCOMPREHENSIBLE PIECES OF ZEGGIR SHIT!”

Two missiles erupted from the once calm and relatively unperturbed rocket pods. Two missiles hit their targets on one very unfortunate assault craft, who, in his fiery blindness, careened into his equally unfortunate comrade. Two ships spiraled down in flames to the [i]very[/i] unfortunate pedestrians in the street below. 
“X-398 assault gunships, rocket pods and gatling gun with infrared sights. Man, the Four Ponies’ toilet paper must be galactic bank bonds.”
 He gave an unseen smile from under his helmet. “But ain’t nobody’s that rich. Evasive maneuvers, Chimp.”

The last few words before temporarily cutting off his comms and a sudden lurch in altitude were “they don’t call me Acrobat for nothing.”