Portal 2 Blue Sky Fanfic Audiobook
AdamationsYT for Narrator
The Narrator is simply that, a narrator. They can be of any gender and any accent, so long as they sound clear and can be easily understood. The narrator should have personality, but act neutral in the events taking place, while still being professional in their tone.
Note: This is a very large role. While this is just a proof of concept to determine if the full capacity of the fanfic can be done, it is preferred that you can maintain the role throughout the 15 chapters to sustain consistency should we go forward with the full breadth of the project. If you have questions regarding this, please message me privately.
[The start of chapter 1.]
NARRATOR: Somewhere deep within the vast vaults of Aperture Laboratories, two small robots charged down a long catwalk, the echoes of their footsteps clanking off the distant walls. One- short, stocky, with one bright blue eye at the center of its spherical body- squawked briefly at the other- taller, slimmer, its jointed torso housing a single orange eye- and took the lead, raising the strange gunlike piece of tech in its jointed hands and firing down the corridor at an angled panel at the far end. A blink-and-you'd-miss-it bolt of blue energy sizzled through the air ahead of the two robots, zipping down the catwalk and across a huge section of missing floor, a gaping unjumpable chasm where the metal looked as if it had simply been ripped away by a giant hand.
[Wheatley has been hit by a meteor while in space, and is not tumbling back towards Earth. He is scared, in pain and frustrated over his circumstances.]
NARRATOR: Something was happening- he couldn't see it but he could feel it. Something- no, somethings were shifting, servos whining in the hollow docking ports in his sides, things he hadn't been aware were there, but obviously had some function because he could feel them accessing his beleaguered mainframe as they came online. Even through all the noise and the pressure and the pain he felt a stab of frustration that here, yet again, was yet another bit of him that he hadn't even known he could use-
He twitched. Ah. Sparks. Nice to have them back.
[Wheatley has been hit by a meteor while in space, and is not tumbling back towards Earth. He is scared, in pain and frustrated over his circumstances.]
NARRATOR: Wheatley tried to express that no thanks were necessary (or, indeed, warranted.) He'd breached the mesosphere, the gas and debris he'd pulled with him burning even brighter in the oxygen-starved air, and by now the acceleration had forced his optical plates completely closed, meaning that he wasn't even going to be able to see what particular part of the Earth was going to turn him into metallic polenta.
The heat and vibration were becoming unbearable. Wheatley couldn't speak any more- couldn't actually think any more- caught in the grip of G-forces that would have immediately turned any human into jellied pudding, his outer casing fast approaching a temperature of two thousand degrees Kelvin. The only semi-coherent thought left in his shell was a scrambled desire to make his feelings known very clearly to whichever scientist had originally had the bright idea of making him able to feel pain.
And over it all, Her Voice. Perfectly clear, and very, very cold.
