We open to someone standing in a relatively well sized air lock tracing reference lines on the walls, floor and doors of said air lock... while only wearing a tool belt, shorts, a helmet, a t-shirt, and sandals.

"So you might be asking yourself...

"Why the fuck is this dumbass wearing a helmet, shorts, sandals, and a t-shirt while drawing on an airlock? Isn't that an easy way to die?"

Well to answer your question quickly enough to get you to calm down some, I'm doing things and yes. If you want the longer answer, well it's kinda a long story...

So you see, I'm a pilot.

*Looks around the room and sees that one guy who's about to go "Uh actually, according to the Voltron lore, the pilots of the lions are called paladins, so that's the wrong term" and all that shit.*

"uH, aCtUalLY"

(Gesticulating aggressively) "No, you, shut or you, your anime body pillow, and your family get burnt"

"wELl, yOu seE, YoU cAn onLy dO tHat iF..."

"Yes, yes, if I know where you live" *Pulls up a document with the annoyance's name, ip address, home address, personal information, live feed of what they're currently doing, and live targeting data from an orbital weapon platform* "Here see this? Good, now shut the fuck up, I'm telling a story."

"But yeah. I'm a pilot. No fancy robo-cats for me. All I need is my equipment and the products of human ingenuity, a metric fuckton of metal, some desperation, and a whole lot of lead. And before you ask, no I didn't steal it, besides I'm on a mission."

"But anyways, if you want to know what I'm doing, I'm trying to convert this old cargo airlock into a hangar, because apparently the Populus Astrum decided 'hey let's make it so that our fighter craft are launched out of these tiny ass tubes that make maintenance a pain in the fucking ass, and then put five of these tubes on a state of the art battle station that's fucking massive.' I need space to land, reload, refuel, and repair people. At least I'm not at a risk of explosive decompression... again."

"But yeah, to make it disappointingly simple, I'm making a cargo bay on a state of the art battle station, that's been partially buried for almost as long as Queen Elizabeth's lifespan, into a hangar so that I can maintain my space F-15, which I'm going to use to support my allies and their magic robo cats while fighting a genocidal alien empire that loves the color purple."

"But I'm not flying an F-15 that's been retrofitted. I'm flying a CFX-42-13 Switch Fang, which totally wasn't a junk yard project before I got raided by the government and then got government funding and support for, no sir. Totally didn't get raided for buying parts from various different military aircraft."

"But yeah, the CFX is experimental, which makes sense considering the fact that it's wings are both forward and rear swept and that it has blades on the wings to slice through stuff and all that jazz."

"This is a bit to far forwards isn't it? I just realized that I haven't given you much context... alright Mr Author Man, rewind that tape"

A/N: Can do *Hits pause on tape deck, takes tape deck out of play, and then rewinds*

---------------

A/N:

Okay, so there's the start to a potential Voltron story, let me know if you want this continued sooner. Hope you enjoyed and have an abso-fucking-lutely wonderful rest of your day

Peace✌️,

Inva1idus3r

2/1/23