With mere seconds to go before 1:30 p.m. ET, on a mountaintop overlooking Snobby Shores, Muselk scrambled up a makeshift ramp, lowered his sniper rifle, and peered down at the launchpad below. Like everyone else, he was here to see the rocket.
An alarm sounded. Boosters rumbled. Fiery orange jets began pushing the missile skyward.
“Oh. My. God. Yaaaaaaaaow! It’s going, boys, it’s going!” Muselk shouted to his friend LachyDachy. He peered through his rifle’s scope to get a better look as the rocket disappeared into the night sky.
For a moment: silence. But then the rocket returned, first as a drifting star, and then—suddenly—as a murderous projectile, bearing down on the world below. The missile careened low across fields, buzzed buildings, and then shot upward to crack the sky itself, leaving behind a shimmery blue fracture.
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