The camera flickered to life in a cramped apartment. A yellow man wearing a dark headband kicked over a pile of laundry to pull up a chair in its place. Sitting down, he gave the lens a pensive smile.
"Hey, I'm Fox. Yeah, that's my real name. Sweet, right?" He took his headband off and let it dangle in his hand. "And this right here? This ain't any ordinary headband."
Fox whipped his wrist and the headband stretched out into a goopy paste.
"Meet Q! He's alive, and I found him on the job one day. Of course he's also the reason I lost my job but" — he jerked the glob back before it hit the floor — "he's been good to me. Eats whatever I throw at him and, oh yeah, he can pretty much turn into anything I want."
The blob morphed into a plasma cannon nearly as big as Fox himself and plopped into his arms.
"Sick, huh?" Q returned to a headband. "Now, I know what you're thinking. If I've got something like this, then what do I want from the tourney? Well in case you haven't noticed, I'm a liiiiittle strapped for cash right now." He made an awkward smile before leaning into the camera. "But also, between you and me, I wanna get back at this gang that kicked me out. Apparently I'm not 'Zeta' enough for them, whatever THAT means! So I'm gonna prove that getting rid of me was a mistake!"
His finger pointed at the camera, lingering for a few moments before his posture relaxed.
"So… yeah. This is Fox and Q, signing off."
As soon as he got up, he tripped offscreen and something metallic clattered.
"Crap!"
End tape.