"And all to the good of chaps like myself." Prower-Graves remarked with a grim smile, a distant explosion throwing his face into harsh relief from the flare of light. "Another one bites the dust." he murmurred to himself, echoing the lines of that ancient rock band<em>Queen</em>. "And another one's gone- and another one's gone- another one bites the dust." he continues, as the pirate strikecraft punctuated his lyrical stylings by kindly blowing up in cadence.