Post by 3rdkind on Sept 21, 2015 15:15:16 GMT -5
Black screen with white letters reads " UWR RECOVERED FOOTAGE"
*Static*
A strange room is shrouded in darkness, the sound of faint static changes to a strange gargled noise, like
water circling a drain, yet with a rhythmic cadence. It stops, and is replaced with a feminine
computer voice.
"Vocal interface recalibrated to native speech patterns, muscular capabilities and exceptable audio perimeters.
Now entering Earth's descent trajectory path.
Reviving passenger from stasis."
Lights begin to flick on showing a circular control panel, the walls and ceiling form at unnatural angles.
The camera changes to a wall of pods all filled with a grey mist, lights flickers on in the center pod. Next to this pod,
a green lucha mask is placed with care on a peg by the its laces.
A glass shield retracts into the ceiling allowing a grey fog to spill onto the floor, a gloved hand reaches out
and takes the mask off the wall. It then retreats back into the fog.
The camera begins to cycle through it's channels. Images switch from one to the other. Earth, the control room,
the cold blanket of space, the now empty pod, sterile metallic corridors. As the channels are switched a voice begins to echo
through the ship. Young, but with a subtle bass, it pauses at unusual moments.
"You humans, you make so much noise, your blue ball is like a speaker pointed at the cosmos blasting, a raucous cacophany."
The camera switched back to the control room as two green gloved hands slam down onto the controls like defibralator paddles.
The circular control board springs to life with an array of 3D holographic shapes and glyphs. The glow of the controls illuminates 3rd Kind,
his alien like mask looks into the camera.
" and that is my jam! I love it!" his excited speech begins to speed up " and the platinum album that I play over and over again is.."
3rd Kind slowly turns in circles as the speakers blast recordings of cheering and chanting crowds.
" I heard a faint whisper amongst that tune, one Mr. Brandon Bishop, and he's looking for a few good men. So I'm hoping he'll make an
exception for a refugee 140 Million, AND MILLION, miles from home. I am heading straight to the UWR."
The masked pilot slides his hand through the holograms and pokes a three dimensional sphere precisely. The craft he is in shutters
the lunges forward, he grabs the edge of the board to steady himself.
" All my life, on that duthty rock daddeh, I've watched, studied, trained, warred, and fought, learning from the songs of the heroes your blue ball
sang to me."
Footage of legendary wrestlers begin to play on all the monitors, mainly enigmatic luchadores and daring highflyers.
" And I am going to give these carbon-based kids a show, because I am putting everthing on the line for a far off star,
that UWR Heavyweight Championship. On the beautiful little section of Earth they call Baltimore, at the spark in time they call The Christening, when their
time recording devices read Friday September 25th, I am stepping in that ring to prove myself to this planet, to show them I am one of the heroes, and
whatever Earthfolk Bishop puts in that Battle Roayal with me is in for one close encounter, heh.
I'm 3rd Kind, and I'm outta this world."
The room begins to shake as it fills with a flame red light, 3rd Kind settles into the chair behind him that automatically straps himeslf in.
He taps a finger to a glyph on the control panel that begins to play his theme. A smile forms beneath his mask.
*Static*
*Static*
A strange room is shrouded in darkness, the sound of faint static changes to a strange gargled noise, like
water circling a drain, yet with a rhythmic cadence. It stops, and is replaced with a feminine
computer voice.
"Vocal interface recalibrated to native speech patterns, muscular capabilities and exceptable audio perimeters.
Now entering Earth's descent trajectory path.
Reviving passenger from stasis."
Lights begin to flick on showing a circular control panel, the walls and ceiling form at unnatural angles.
The camera changes to a wall of pods all filled with a grey mist, lights flickers on in the center pod. Next to this pod,
a green lucha mask is placed with care on a peg by the its laces.
A glass shield retracts into the ceiling allowing a grey fog to spill onto the floor, a gloved hand reaches out
and takes the mask off the wall. It then retreats back into the fog.
The camera begins to cycle through it's channels. Images switch from one to the other. Earth, the control room,
the cold blanket of space, the now empty pod, sterile metallic corridors. As the channels are switched a voice begins to echo
through the ship. Young, but with a subtle bass, it pauses at unusual moments.
"You humans, you make so much noise, your blue ball is like a speaker pointed at the cosmos blasting, a raucous cacophany."
The camera switched back to the control room as two green gloved hands slam down onto the controls like defibralator paddles.
The circular control board springs to life with an array of 3D holographic shapes and glyphs. The glow of the controls illuminates 3rd Kind,
his alien like mask looks into the camera.
" and that is my jam! I love it!" his excited speech begins to speed up " and the platinum album that I play over and over again is.."
3rd Kind slowly turns in circles as the speakers blast recordings of cheering and chanting crowds.
" I heard a faint whisper amongst that tune, one Mr. Brandon Bishop, and he's looking for a few good men. So I'm hoping he'll make an
exception for a refugee 140 Million, AND MILLION, miles from home. I am heading straight to the UWR."
The masked pilot slides his hand through the holograms and pokes a three dimensional sphere precisely. The craft he is in shutters
the lunges forward, he grabs the edge of the board to steady himself.
" All my life, on that duthty rock daddeh, I've watched, studied, trained, warred, and fought, learning from the songs of the heroes your blue ball
sang to me."
Footage of legendary wrestlers begin to play on all the monitors, mainly enigmatic luchadores and daring highflyers.
" And I am going to give these carbon-based kids a show, because I am putting everthing on the line for a far off star,
that UWR Heavyweight Championship. On the beautiful little section of Earth they call Baltimore, at the spark in time they call The Christening, when their
time recording devices read Friday September 25th, I am stepping in that ring to prove myself to this planet, to show them I am one of the heroes, and
whatever Earthfolk Bishop puts in that Battle Roayal with me is in for one close encounter, heh.
I'm 3rd Kind, and I'm outta this world."
The room begins to shake as it fills with a flame red light, 3rd Kind settles into the chair behind him that automatically straps himeslf in.
He taps a finger to a glyph on the control panel that begins to play his theme. A smile forms beneath his mask.
*Static*