11-19-2020, 05:01 AM
(This post was last modified: 11-19-2020, 01:43 PM by Nika Raskov.)
The cartoon projection of Stitch smiled at Jacinda’s appearance and shamelessly stole a scene from the first movie. “Hi.”
Pond appeared then, the space around her morphed into a library. She sat casually in a wing-backed chair, dressed in a ridiculous dinner theater outfit. The image continued. "If you're seeing this message, it means I'm in trouble. I've programmed the drones to come to you under certain circumstances like...prolonged loss of contact or death. As this is clearly a recording, I have no idea what happened but…" she waggled her brows and chomped on a pipe. "I bet there's film."
Dave obligingly switched the projection to multiple views of a heavily wooded area.
A small figure clad in a lithe combat-variety suit knelt, keyed in a code and then opened a drop crate. A backpack was secured and the figure reached for something else, PIPs zoomed in on what appeared to be magazines. The explosion came from underneath the crate lid. It was expertly focused and aimed. The shockwave kicked like a mule. The figure caught herself with the barrel of her sidearm, now drawn. The weapon was held close and ready as she backed away.
The pack grew.
Articulated panels flipped outward and around. The encasement sat momentarily, panels clearly visible. A tree seemed to shoot white-hot light. The screens all flared before coming back online. The light was gone; a smooth and solid obsidian egg was all that remained.
Pond reappeared, standing this time and in normal-for-her attire. "There you have it. If you have questions, my AI, Gillian will help you. If you're in, thank you and if not…that's okay too. No hard feelings."
Pond appeared then, the space around her morphed into a library. She sat casually in a wing-backed chair, dressed in a ridiculous dinner theater outfit. The image continued. "If you're seeing this message, it means I'm in trouble. I've programmed the drones to come to you under certain circumstances like...prolonged loss of contact or death. As this is clearly a recording, I have no idea what happened but…" she waggled her brows and chomped on a pipe. "I bet there's film."
Dave obligingly switched the projection to multiple views of a heavily wooded area.
A small figure clad in a lithe combat-variety suit knelt, keyed in a code and then opened a drop crate. A backpack was secured and the figure reached for something else, PIPs zoomed in on what appeared to be magazines. The explosion came from underneath the crate lid. It was expertly focused and aimed. The shockwave kicked like a mule. The figure caught herself with the barrel of her sidearm, now drawn. The weapon was held close and ready as she backed away.
The pack grew.
Articulated panels flipped outward and around. The encasement sat momentarily, panels clearly visible. A tree seemed to shoot white-hot light. The screens all flared before coming back online. The light was gone; a smooth and solid obsidian egg was all that remained.
Pond reappeared, standing this time and in normal-for-her attire. "There you have it. If you have questions, my AI, Gillian will help you. If you're in, thank you and if not…that's okay too. No hard feelings."