It was the glimpse he got of ScorchMan's face that shut Griffin up. Helmet scorched, teeth bared somewhere between a cringe and a snarl - the firefighter's training instantly recognized a person in duress. The veneer of cheering on a sports game was ripped away wholesale; he visibly snapped himself into Work Mode and began fiddling with the PET's controls, rifling through the remaining chips and squinting through the screen as he made it pivot around ScorchMan. He selected a couple and cleared his throat. "They're both in front of you, we should be able to line them up. Aim forward and strafe, stay on your feet and wait for my signal. Chips are coming in, now go!"
ScorchMan was off before his Operator finished speaking. The RageClaw gauntlet vanished as quickly as it had appeared, reforming into the Shotgun's long twin barrel. Bracing one arm against the other, he held the mounted gun at chest-height, pointing it out as straight as he could and bracing himself for the burning phantom light. His legs carried him sideways in mincing half-lunges, for firing a gun blind was fundamentally awkward. If Griffin's signal didn't come quick enough, he wouldn't know where to aim until the viruses gave their positions away by attacking. "Do I have the shot?" A gout of sooty red flames betrayed his agitation, flaring from his shoulder pads. His voice remained level.
"Almost! Little more left and let em have it, one more right after this!" Griffin had as much time as it took ScorchMan to take one more step and plant his feet to remember the volume. He lunged for the dial just as ScorchMan raised the Shotgun; even muted, Griffin felt the report watching his feet, stomped up to the ankles in lava, jolt back hard enough to leave rents in the molten earth a few inches in front of each boot. He chucked the second chip in and spun the volume back up, "HeatShot's up, keep it going!"
The Shotgun deconstructed itself a split-second after firing, metal shifting and clicking back into the Scorch Buster's comforting weight. ScorchMan held the gauntlet out in expectation of a new form, but none was forthcoming. Rather than forming a weapon, the HeatShot was compatible enough with his default code to be loaded directly into his internal furnace. Foreign yellowy fire licked at his chest vent; he could feel it swirling in his torso, flowing down his right arm and pooling in his buster. He hadn't moved a muscle since firing the Shotgun. Trusting in Griffin's aim, he held his arm steady, braced himself in the lava a second time and let the fireball fly. There wasn't much hope of going anywhere quick with his legs half-stuck in the ground - if anything was left to light him up, he was just going to have to take it.
-Turn Summary-
1. Feint - put Twisty between ScorchMan & Scarecrow
2.

Accuracy: A
Description: A gun whose shot penetrates an enemy to hit another one directly behind it.
Duration: Once
Element: Null
Trader Rank: E: Twisty [50 Null {A}, Spread1 targeting Scarecrow]
3.

Accuracy: A
Description: Shoots a fireball whose explosion penetrates an enemy to hit another one directly behind it.
Duration: Once
Element: Fire
Trader Rank: D: Twisty [45 Fire {A}, Spread1 targeting Scarecrow]