EXT. ROOFTOP – TEMP HQ – EARLY EVENING
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡX7LFteScc6
The rooftop is vast, reinforced with metal plating and painted with faded white Security markings. Harsh orange lights hum against the encroaching dusk. In the center of it all, parked like some enormous mechanical bird, is the military transport aircraft known as TACV-IX Umbra.
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZoIyfhbWqi
It’s more than a plane. It’s a flying tactical base—a hulking, weather-beaten fusion of military austerity and duct-taped necessity. Twin rotors roar softly on either side, idling like growling wolves. The body of the ship stretches far back, lined with external containers, antennae arrays, and high-frequency transmitters.
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡamSaiG2rfa
INT. TACV-IX UMBRA – VARIOUS LOCATIONS – CONTINUOUS
JASON (V.O.)
(dry)
“Military transport aircraft,” they said. Sounds cool, right? Makes you think big guns, sleek walls, maybe even a minibar if the higher-ups finally grew a heart.
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbqj6FmE2rO
He steps inside, expression already unimpressed.
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzsiDUlFZWk
JASON (V.O.)
But what do we actually get? A tactical flying sardine can held together by cable ties and caffeine. It’s got the soul of a vault and the charm of a cheap camper van.
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLLqD0gV3Yj
Jason walks through the corridor—metal walls, flickering overhead lights, exposed wires, faint hums of unseen systems. Some pipes creak ominously as he passes.
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHbAX8PcKuc
The interior is split across multiple compartments:
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYI5Wtfm2x6
BARRACKS-STYLE CREW QUARTERS, narrow rows of sliding doors—like hotel rooms if hotels hated you.
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡL7WaoiMx4O
OPS ROOM, filled with half-functioning monitors, flashing readouts, tired operators.
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkvFNaTaLr0
STORAGE ROOMS, where crates are strapped down with aging restraints and everything smells faintly like lubricant and overcooked rations.
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkgAPQU5VzZ
WEAPONS HOLD, lined with racks of rifles, stun lances, and a worrying number of labeled "experimental" cases.
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGvN82IllIe
BATHROOMS, offering a single stall, a mirror that judges you, and a shower head so sad-looking it probably prays for death.
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhszupcxdwa
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8wKXtFVeXz
JASON (V.O.)
There’s a bathroom. Singular. With one shower. The kind that spits out water like it’s rationed hope.
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYai095w6Gl
Jason’s boots clunk against the grated floor as he reaches the hangar segment—where several Security staff are gathered beside crates, data slates in hand. Vult, in his taller frame and steel-toned armor, waits for Jason.
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6lHnwEgrwi
VULT
“Gearman. On time. Shocking.”
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVUUDZTZzZs
JASON
“Believe me, I had better places to be.”
(then, nodding at the aircraft)
“Is it too late to fake my death and escape this thing?”
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡr3tPia6BGw
VULT
“Probably. Get in.”
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsNXf3eFd3V
The team boards together—Jason following with his duffel in hand.
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5NiMg2xPi4
INT. TACV-IX UMBRA – JASON’S ROOM – MOMENTS LATER
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡM7pofXYMCu
The sliding door hisses open to reveal... a closet. Technically. A small, rectangular room with cold metal walls painted a pale gray.
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2b6xTN8qak
Single-person bed, bolted to the wall, mattress thin enough to count as a suggestion.
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡG705acYtG8
Wide window takes up most of one wall—revealing an expansive sky just beginning to bruise purple-blue.
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCxxoIQ3MDA
Table and chair, both metallic, the kind you can’t sit at without feeling judged by them.
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiFMVoRnrr4
Broadcast system, integrated into a small wall panel, currently playing the generic “Welcome aboard Umbra” message in a robotic female voice.
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaxmLXJmyFD
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvtLXSBaz4G
BROADCAST SYSTEM (robotic)
“...On behalf of Central Security, we thank you for your service. Meals are scheduled at 0700, 1200, and 1800. Please avoid unnecessary violence inside the aircraft...”
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡG2rjl6vcVM
Jason drops his bag on the bed with a dull thud. He looks around once, unimpressed.
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5OrX0Na579
JASON
“Three days in a flying coffin. With WiFi worse than a tin can in the desert.”
(sighs)
“At least the window’s nice.”
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3sCD7KDjX3
He walks over and leans on the edge of the table, staring out at the clouds rolling beneath the lowering sun.
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡh3be7RIwJ1
Outside, the loading continues. Crates are stacked. Data cores are secured. The core itself—BIO-CONTAINER 03, glowing faintly blue through its reinforced glass—is carefully loaded in with a series of magnetic lifters.
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZW58WKS4n4
The Umbra hums with anticipation. So does the tension.
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡS9Bs4fBD2D
JASON (V.O.)
“Three days of sky. What could possibly go wrong.”
83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQkqgLGKDmV
CUT TO BLACK.
ns216.73.216.176da2
