Neville's mecha threw the second dagger.
Chk.
To conserve power in the chase, he did this while he was free falling quiet sharply.
This one, Neville purposely aimed at the densest cluster where three missiles flew tightly together.
Literally, three missiles in one dagger.
The dagger punched the lead missile dead center and detonated it. The shockwave punted the other two into a long, graceful corkscrew that ended in the ocean with twin geysers of foam.
Whump-fwoosh-fwoosh.
Two missiles left.
Neville smirked in satisfaction.
Everything was going according to plan.
The third dagger was already loaded and ready in Neville's mecha's hand.
But Neville didn't throw it. He waited for the remaining missiles to burn through their power, chasing him as he wove a lazy, serpentine path across the water.
When the first one finally dipped close enough, Neville's mecha flicked the dagger like tossing a coin.
