Narrowly balancing what seems like an ironic off-model of a spacecraft on the edge of the tower is, quite literally, an airhead of a Darkner, arms spread like the angel of scrapheaps-- at least, that's where you suspect they got the parts to build the shuttle in the first place-- as a wire descends seemingly from nowhere at their command to strap to their back. At least safety was put into some consideration, but then again, something must be when it seems nothing else quite is.

"HANG ON TIGHT... THIS MISSION IS GONNA BE OUT OF THIS WORLD!"

And they have... liftoff...?

Smoke sputters like a siren in olfactory form harbingering a sure internal failure somewhere within the craft. Had the cord not been there to hold them secure and mere inches above ground so as to prevent a potentially dangerous collision, the poor Darkner would have landed face-first into the dirt below, leaving a permanent stain on both their handmade custom-fit spacesuit and their name. The hastily scrawled face on the surface of their smooth head seems to vanish entirely as they sulkily draw themselves back up onto the roof.

"...PLEASE... PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF THE ANGEL, GET ME OUT OF THIS WORLD..."