What do you think?
EXT. Space. Day.
All we can see for a couple seconds is a pure black, starry sky. All is silent. Suddenly, a ship appears out of the left of the screen and roars past the camera. We track the ship's name with the camera, as it poderously moves past us. Scrawled on the side, in bunrt and scarrred paint is the title Centaur As it goes all the way past us, we see the large HLP station in the background, as the ship rockets towards it. We cut to:
INT. Docking Bay 5. Day.
We open to a large, expansive hangar. There is a large, rectangular passage in the front, and some misc. barrels are off in the shadows in the corner, some tipped over. We pan around to the left, to see a small window, dimly lit with green from the inside. We begin to zoom in. We can hear some staticy voices, as we continue to zoom in slowly.
Voice 1: Roger that, Centaur, you are cleared to land in Docking Bay 5.
A second voice comes on, and it's speaking very slowly and deeply, as if it's trying to hide something.
Voice 2: Thank you, and...have a nice day.
Voice 1: Check that, Centaur, out.
We are now right in front of the window, and can see Sandwich, SKYNETT-011, and some misc. soldiers standing off to the back, rifles at the ready. Skynett turns to face sandwich, who has his arms crossed, and is staring intently off the screen towards the passage. He puts a thumb up to his mouth and nibbles on the tip.
Sandwich: Are you sure this window won't break?
Skynett: Yes, sir. It's made of plasteel. Almost unbreakable.
Sandwhich: Almost...I never liked these new forcefields. Gimme the big old doors any day. Too much stuff to go wrong with these suckers.
Skynett chuckles and turns back to the console.
Skynett: Depressurizing docking bay....now.
A faint whooshing is heard as air is sucked out of the docking bay. Some more barrels fall over.
Skynett: He's coming in now, sir, deactivating force field.
In the reflection from the window, we can see a ship slowly approach the passage. A small electrical flutter is seen as the force field deactivates. The ship slowly begins to come in, and it fires it's thrusters. We cut to a view from semi-behind the barrels, in a worm's-eye-view. The thrust wave comes towards us, causing a few more barrels to knock over. The camera shakes a little from the impact. Suddenly, the thrusters cut, and the ship drops down on the floor with a loud bang. All that can be heard is the powering-down of the engines. Suddenly, a door opens off to the left, and we cut to a view in front of it, as soldiers began to rush out, and set up a perimeter around the ship. Weapons can be heard cocking and powering up. We cut to a view from inside the door. Sandwich slowly emerges into the light, and we follow behind him with the camera. He ducks a little to avoid the low-hanging doorframe and enters the hangar, stepping in front of the main entry hatch to the ship. We cut to a close up of his waist, and see him move his shirt around to try to conceal a large, mean-looking pistol. We cut to an over-the-sholder view, as the entry hatch whooshes, Star-Trek-like off to the side. Nothing happens for several seconds. We cut to one of the soldiers, who tenses a little, and looks to the left and right at the other soldiers. We cut back to the previous view. Slowly, a staircase unfolds itself from inside. A figure emerges at the top, totally cloaked, with a hood that's making his face invisible to see.. He looks around at the assembaly.
Cloaked Figure: Is this how you always greet your...arrivals?
Sandwich: Well, the official word is that we had some trouble awhile back...
CF: And your opinion.
Sandwich: Well, sir, I just don't like you. Something here isn't right.
The figure chuckles a bit. We cut to Sandwich's waist, as his hand moves ever so slightly towards the pistol. We cut to a close-up of the figures hood, as he gives a bob of acknoledgement. We cut back to a view of Sandwich.
CF: There will be no need for that, my dear man. Now, may we begin the tour?
Sandwich: (face flinches for a second) Yes, of course. Let us begin, then.
We cut to:
INT. General Discussion. Day.
Numerous fourmmites are moving around a cluttered area. Some are still sitting on the sofas and drinking beer. Others are off in the corner, having discussions. A pair of particularly pale, skinny people are yelling at each other over something related to Star Trek and Captain Kirk versus Captain Picard. In the center of a room is a large gathering of people in a circle. We cut to a crowd's view of the center, and we see Stryke 9 and Ulundel circling each other. In Stryke's hand is a pencil, and in Ulundel's, a fork. On Stryke's head is a XXL-Beer Cap, with two full bottles in it. They begin to shout at each other.
Ulundel: Tastes great!
Strkye: Less filling!
Ulundel: TASTES GREAT!
Stryke: LESS FILLING!
The leap at each other in a fit of life-or-death, fork-on-pencil fury. Stryke tryies to stab Ulundel in the head, but he dodges backwards, and Stryke misses. Ulundel tries to stab Strkye in the stomach with the fork, but Stryke lashes out with a kick to his stomach, doubling him over. As he is about to deliver a bone-breaking blow to Ulundel's head, we cut to Sandwich's tour group, which has just gotten near to the group.
Sandwich:...and here is General Discussions, where we..hey...(he spies what's going on)...stop that! Stryke, I caught you this time!
He turns to Cloaked Figure.
Sandwich: Sorry about this, one minute, please.
CF: (Drawn out and raspy) Actuallywhy don't you let me...handle this?
Sandwich looks at him suspiciously, but concedes.
Sandwich: Alright, fine. Go ahead and try. (He chuckles) But Strkye's no push-over.
CF: Neither...am I....
He begins to walk towards the crowd. They part immediatle, and look a the new arrival strangely. CF steps into the circle.
CF: Stop this now.
Stryke turns around from giving Ulundel a noogie, and looks at CF incriminatingly.
Stryke: Sez who!?
CF: Says me.
Stryke: Hmph, yea, right!
He leaps towards CF. CF bobs his head a little ways up in acknoledgement. We cut to his hand, as it suddenly shoots out, and grabs Stryke by the neck.
Strkye: (Gasping for breath) Why...you...little...
CF's grip tightens, and Stryke gasps even more.
CF: Now...will you stop?
Stryke: (Turning blue) Sure...anything you say...just lemme go, ya pussy!
CF chuckles a little, and drops Stryke to the ground. We cut to an over-the-head view. He immediately takes a long, grateful slug of air. He looks after CF, as he walks away, garnering awed stairs from the entire assembaly. Suddenly, Stryke laughs maniacly and stands up, and grabs an exposed knife from one of the nearby members.
Stryke: TAKE THIS!
He hurls the knife at CF, who whirls around, cloak flying, and looks right at the knife. We cut to a side-view of him, as the knife suddenly stops in mid-air, two inches from his face. He looks down, and the knife drops. We cut to a three-quarters view. He looks back up at Stryke. We cut to a view of Stryke, who takes a single step back, looking worried. We cut back to a lower view 3/4 view of CF. Suddenly, his right hand bursts out of his cape, and stops in mid-air, fingers and palm spread in Stryke's direction. We cut to an over-the-sholder view of CF. A blue haze forms around Stryke, who's looking around at his new predicament with worry. As CF's hand moves into the air, so does Stryke. CF pulls his hand off the the left a ltitle, then steams it towards the right, slamming Strkye into the nearby wall. We cut to the ground. Suddenly, Strkye's limp form falls in front of us. We are about two inches from his face. Blood drools out of his mouth. We cut to: