Total silence.

No horizon.

Only one figure — ADAIS — Inside a small, damaged space

capsule, drifting in endless black towards a BLACK HOLE.

She is beginning to a special, powerful opera aria. Her

voice and tunes are full of pain and sorrow.

Her skin fractures like glass, light flickering underneath —

storms trying to break out.

Each exhale sends a faint tone into the void. The notes

curve, shimmer — like threads of dying stars.

She floats within her capsule — glasslike, translucent — and

far ahead, a BLACK HOLE throbs like a colossal heart,

devouring starlight.

The hum of its gravity is music: deep, mournful, terrific.

She closes her eyes.

The waves spiral from her mouth, glowing, bending spacetime

into rippling halos.

Notes escape — pure, trembling.

Then another.

Then a whole, impossible melody. Her voice begins to shake

space itself.

Each note curves the stars around.

Each phrase twists universe’s skin - the black matter.

The black hole’s edge quivers, answering back.

CUT TO:

Adais’ body, in trance, sits motionless.

From her open mouth, invisible soundwaves shimmer through

the air — resonant frequencies that shimmer against the

metallic walls.

The vibrations creep outward, through bulkheads and sealed

corridors.

Digital panels experience glitches with the resonance.

Dust dances in microgravity.

Her melodies continues — distant but growing, layered and

haunting.

The frequencies reach a sealed chamber.

Inside: a containment pod.

A CREATURE lies within — fetal, half-formed, asleep in

suspension fluid.

Its surface is translucent — veins shaped like strings

across its body.

The fluid trembles.

The frequencies arrive — visible now, waves of light and

distortion — striking the pod like breath on glass.

The creature’s limbs twitch.

Its body creates melodies back.

A harmonic pulse against Adais’ melody — like a duet across

dimensions.

CUT BACK TO:

Adais opens her eyes — the capsule around her begins to

crack under the gravity of the black hole and the strain of

the resonance she’s created.

She pushes the song harder, voice climbing, defiant against

the pull.

The space around her bends, stars stretching into ribbons.

The resonance floods through the ship.

— In a lower deck, another containment pod vibrates. A claw

smashes through the glass.

— In a hangar bay, rows of bio-pods tremble as if an

earthquake rips through the deck — creatures inside are

awakening.

— A team of three soldiers rounds a corner. Their visors fog

with heat as the corridor warps from the vibration.

A creature drops from the ceiling — a blur of bone filaments

and wet resonance. Soldiers stop in shock, not knowing what

to do.

The creature screams, a harmonic shriek that sends out a

resonance wave — throwing all three soldiers against the

wall.

— Down another corridor, a lone guard sprints in panic. He

reaches the emergency panel, yanks the large red lever —and

all lights in the prison ship turn RED.

Across the ship, the red warning beacons begin to pulsein

rhythm with her song.

The prison ship itself becomes an instrument.

Every wall. Every pipe. Every cell. Hums.

CUT BACK TO:

Adais’ capsule reaches the event horizon.

Light bends around her in impossible colors.

Her song peaks with one last scream — a transcendent

crescendo — then breaks.

Her scream vanishes into silence as the capsule disappears

within the black hole.

Total silence.

FADE OUT.

MONTAGE ENDS

The sound of static — low and crawling — merges with the hum

of dying systems. The world flickers in and out of red

light.

ADAIS hangs loosely over ESCORT OFFICER HAWKEYE’s back,

still half in trance. Her eyes flutter, lips twitching with

echoes of a dream.

Through the ship’s comms — crackling, fractured — voices

fight to hold coherence.

Static waits for a moment. Then, through the broken feed:

Hawkeye grits her teeth, boots pounding the trembling floor

as alarms bleed into the corridor’s pulse.

Her visor reflects bursts of scarlet and shadow — blood

smeared along walls, a floating limb bumping against the

ceiling’s low gravity buffer.

They pass a blown hatch — inside, a massacre: soldiers and

scientists scattered like marionettes with their strings

cut, faces turned toward the ceiling as if frozen mid-

scream. Instruments are fused into flesh; wires hum faintly,

resonating with the ship’s dying core.

Hawkeye slows, just long enough to see the horror — then

turns away.

They press forward. The air thickens. A tremor runs through

the deck. Then— a sound.

A whimper. Small. Wet. Echoing down the red corridor.

A shape moves ahead — a child-sized creature, twisted,

crawling on four limbs, the glint of metallic veins under

its translucent skin. It stares at them with black, liquid

eyes.

Hawkeye lowers Adais gently to the ground, eyes never

leaving the creature.

She taps the emitter on her wrist. The device unfolds,

rearranging with a metallic sigh — forming a compact sonic

blade. A low tone swells, then spikes into a shrill harmonic

pulse.

The creature lets out a silent screams — its body splitting

down the center in a clean, shimmering line. A fine mist

hangs in the air.

Hawkeye nods once.

They sprint.

Sparks rain from ruptured conduits. The alarms are now a

single, droning tone — like a sustained organ note.

They turn a corner—

Adais’s foot slips on a pool of blood. She crashes shoulder-

first into a shattered viewport — GLASS EXPLODES — and she

slams against the wall with a gasp. Hawkeye steadies

herself, grabs Adais by the arm.

For a moment they just breathe, the corridor trembling

around them.

Adais looks down — her hands and chest are smeared with

blood. She blinks, disoriented, the world tilting.

Hawkeye turns — and freezes.

There, sprawled across the corridor floor — KURTIC. Or

what’s left of him.

His head — barely intact — stares glassy-eyed toward the

ceiling. Below the neck, it’s just ruin. Torn muscle. Burned

skin. A resonant scar pattern etched into the metal beneath

him, like he was vaporized by sound.

Hawkeye whispers — almost a prayer.

The hum in the walls deepens, now almost melodic.

A shadow looms at the far end of the corridor.

Adais stares — something in her feels what's about to

happen.

A moment silence, dense and electric.

From the darkness — a form emerges.

Enormous. Terrifying.

The creature slowly turns.

Its face — terrible, beautiful, almost mournful.

Its eyes lock onto Adais. The creature tilts its head, as

though recognizing something ancient.

Then it opens its mouth, preparing to scream - saliva

drooling down.

SMASH CUT TO BLACK.