Kennedy grinned like the cat that ate the canary when he found the steering wheel far, far more responsive than he expected. He drew his sword and ran one soldier through as said winged anthropomorphous being merely stood with a perplexed expression on its face. Amidst the flurry of chickens and soldiers, he spied a familiar blue-winged friend and offered a wave, completely forgetful of the fact that, well, he was periwinkle. A chicken flapped wildly and jumped into his lap, adding to the impression that this was a parade float rather than an instrument of war.
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"Sail ho! Jack, she's one of ours!"