Meanwhile, Claude was giving high- 5's to the team in the locker room.
"Well fellas, we won. You know the drill."
"Oh, yes. Why did you think I ate a whole cheesteak, laced with that powdered fiber stuff just now?!" ,Michael Raffl announced. With that, the team flew out, one by one, out of an open window some 20ft off the ground, and each one of the ones willing to go through with this, perched above their targets.
Claude over a black, luxury sedan (preferably an Audi), Michael R. over 2 millenial girls, sitting on a bench, one in a Geno jersey, one in a Crosby jersey,
Jakub Vorácek over another car, this time a white recent model Camaro,
Sean Couturier over a Red Ram-looking truck from last year,
and Jordan Weal over a pile of Pens merch that pessimistic fans piled up.
Now, it was time for the "release". Claude gave his group of teammates a signal that looked like his hand waving off his ass. He counted down from three.
"One," they looked straightforward and gripped onto their pirches as tight as they could.
"Two," the flyers lifted their rumps in the air slightly.
Wastewater Flyer guano rained upon their targets. The human targets were heard as screaming Pens fans, and thunks and squirts of the poop landing on the cars.
"Wow, bull's eye!" Claude claimed, looking down on the Audi's hood, now having a green splat right smack in the middle of it.
"How'd you guys do?"
"I think my work speaks for itself.", Michael paused to hear the innocent, now pooped-on pens girls.
"Missed.", said Jakub, pointing to the pile of crap inches away from the Camaro's left headlight.
"Got 'em on the 'shield!" Sean exclaimed proudly.
"Wow. You're lucky. Mine got the sidewalk. The god. Damn. SIDEWALK!!11"
"Well done, boys, well done. As you know, the Pens just barely snuck into the playoff bracket, but we clenched it! So there will be plenty more where that came from for the next week or so!" Claude announced before flying back through that same window that led to the Flyers locker room, the others following him.