06-30-2003, 07:02 AM
::Roll Credits::
"Where Angels Loose Their Wings"
U.M.M Headquarters- American Division
San Francisco, California
(1 hour until launch)
Wendell hated sitting there- in front of the CEO of the American Division of the U.M.M, Alexander Washington. He was an old looking white man with hair everywhere on his body except on his head, and he had cold gray eyes that basically said "I own you," (which he really did.) Across the black pine desk in the cramped white-painted office, he sat in a very uncomphortable chair with his jumpsuit uniform on, an unranked grease monkey. As if he didn't seem insignificant enough, he soon found that Alexander Washington thought he was insane for even coming into his office.
"Mr. Marshall..." he sighed closing the black file he had just read onto his desk and removing his coke bottle glasses. "Why ... are you here?"
Wendell blinked. He looked at the discarded file on the black desk, and then back to his elderly looking boss. How could he not know why he was here? Hadn't he just read that file?
"Mr. Washington," he said clearing his throat. "If you understand the information I compiled on the D-66, you know exactly why I am here sir."
Mr. Washington peered at Wendell like he'd never seen anything quite like him.
Yeah you bastard, the Negro can speak. Wendell thought to himself.
"When the D-66 goes into warp," Wendell went on. "It reconfigures reality within a ten foot area of itself. Making the necessary modifications it changes the barriers that separates dimensions and sub-dimensions from elastic to...
"Where Angels Loose Their Wings"
U.M.M Headquarters- American Division
San Francisco, California
(1 hour until launch)
Wendell hated sitting there- in front of the CEO of the American Division of the U.M.M, Alexander Washington. He was an old looking white man with hair everywhere on his body except on his head, and he had cold gray eyes that basically said "I own you," (which he really did.) Across the black pine desk in the cramped white-painted office, he sat in a very uncomphortable chair with his jumpsuit uniform on, an unranked grease monkey. As if he didn't seem insignificant enough, he soon found that Alexander Washington thought he was insane for even coming into his office.
"Mr. Marshall..." he sighed closing the black file he had just read onto his desk and removing his coke bottle glasses. "Why ... are you here?"
Wendell blinked. He looked at the discarded file on the black desk, and then back to his elderly looking boss. How could he not know why he was here? Hadn't he just read that file?
"Mr. Washington," he said clearing his throat. "If you understand the information I compiled on the D-66, you know exactly why I am here sir."
Mr. Washington peered at Wendell like he'd never seen anything quite like him.
Yeah you bastard, the Negro can speak. Wendell thought to himself.
"When the D-66 goes into warp," Wendell went on. "It reconfigures reality within a ten foot area of itself. Making the necessary modifications it changes the barriers that separates dimensions and sub-dimensions from elastic to...