So there you were, flying low under the radar barely off the top of the floor tiles on your attack run to the coffee pot. Your oddly eastern European accented boss notices your approach and moves to grab the pot first, but you release two RB-04E to put him out of his missery. Unfortunately you realize that you are in fact, not, the world famous AJS-37 Viggen, but in fact just another cog in the corporate machine. As your boss turns and looks at you slinking across the floor, you think to your self:
