User:Shandon/Transformers
Unscript
INT. DAY. A BACK ROOM OF AUTOBOT HEADQUARTERS.
Angle On:
Optimus Prime, in robot mode, sprawled alone on the floor in a corner of a dark metal space which glints of technology.
OPTIMUS (to himself): Nine million, six hundred and eighty-three Earth years. That's how old I am today. And not one of the other Autobots has made any mention of it.
(swearing)...Vector Sigma.
A door swiftly opens and a blue-gray robot with a spray cannon over the right shoulder bursts into the room.
TRAILBREAKER: Optimus! Our monetary units have been seized, halting exchanges through our interface to the humans' economic system!
OPTIMUS: ...Our bank accounts have been frozen?
Trailbreaker: That's what PERCEPTOR told me to say.
Optimus (decisively, slamming right fist into left palm): Megatron!
Trailbreaker: ...uh, no, Optimus...it's the IRS. (pauses) Why do you always blame everything on Megatron? He's not as active as you make him out to be, and not even half as competent.
Optimus Prime rises.
Optimus: Oh, my friend, I think you'll find as I have over the milennia, Megatron IS everything a great foe could offer.
With a sideways glance at Optimus by Trailbreaker, they leave the room.
INT. DAY. AUTOBOT HEADQUARTERS, COMMAND & CONTROL CENTRE
Optimus Prime and a large group of Autobots are standing in front of the supercomputer, Teletraan 1.
Optimus (addressing a burgandy, robot-mode microscope): Perceptor! Get Teletraan 1 to inform us of what is going on, immediately!
PERCEPTOR: Certainly, Prime...you could do this yourself...the situation is not unanalagous to 1930s human businessmen who refused to operate the telephone themselves, but instead preferred their female servants to engage in the dialing--
Optimus: Shut up and get on with it!
Perceptor: Oh, yes. Ah. Teletraan 1, would you be so kind as to give us a rundown of the situation?
TELETRAAN 1: I AM NOT KIND. I AM WITHOUT EMOTION.
Perceptor: That is likely. Would you please--
Teletraan 1: IT IS A CERTAINTY.
Perceptor: Yes. Indeed. If you would just--
Teletraan 1: ALL ACTIVITIES I MAY ENGAGE IN ARE OF EQUAL IMPORTANCE.
Perceptor: Surely...now if you could simply get on with--
Teletraan 1: YOU SUCK.
A long silence ensues during which the other Autobots are seen squirming uncomfortably. Optimus then steps forward.
Optimus: Teletraan 1. Tell us what is going on, now!
Teletraan 1: AT 08:30 HOURS ALL AUTOBOT BANK ACCOUNTS WERE FROZEN. OUR INVESTMENT BOND RATING DROPPED FROM AA TO C. OUR ABILITY TO SOURCE ENERGON HAS BEEN COMPROMISED. WE CAN NO LONGER EXCHANGE HUMAN MONETARY UNITS FOR ENERGON. BARTERING SUGGESTED.
Autobots: Holy shit. Oh no! We need energon!
Teletraan 1 switches the image on the screen from a chart to one outside Autobot Headquarters. A number of vehicles and armed men are seen surrounding the spacecraft smashed into the volcanoside...the Ark. Zooming in, the letters A T F are viewed on the back of a soldier.
Teletraan 1: HUMAN UNITS FROM THE FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION SUBORDINATE ORGANIZATION ALCHOHOL, TOBACCO AND FIREARMS HAVE BLOCKADED THE ARK AS OF 09:15. SUGGEST TERMINATION.
Optimus: ATF?? How is this classified as an ATF matter?
Teletran 1 (bleeps and burbles): US GOVERNMENT HAS CLASSIFIED ENERGON AS ALCOHOLIC SUBSTANCE.
Wheeljack: Oh damn. They musta gotten their hands on Laserbeak's party footage of the Decepticons all drunk and strung out that one time.
Ironhide (disgustedly): Just like a Decepticon to ruin it for the rest of us.
Optimus: I'm sure Megatron is behind this.
Trailbreaker (rolls eyes): Sure.
Optimus (ignoring him): Ironhide! Assemble an investigation team. Jazz! Get a team together to distract the humans so the investigation team can escape. Be ready to move out in fifteen thousand astroseconds.
Ironhide: Wheeljack! Bumblebee! Bluestreak! Mirage! Hoist!--
JAZZ (simultaneously): Smokescreen! Wheeljack! Mirage! Inferno! Hoist!--
Optiumus (stepping between them): Get them to draw straws. (leaves)
Optimus: ...and Trailbreaker! You can stay and guard the base.
Trailbreaker: This is 'cause of that comment about Megatron, isn't it?
Optimus: Yeah. (to the strike team) Autobots, transform and roll out!
Wheeljack: Hey, whatever happened to those Arab Autobots...
Trailbreaker: The Turbanobots?
Wheeljack: Yeah.
Trailbreaker: Wellll...when one's alternate mode is a spitting, unridable metal camel, and another's an exploding bus, you just don't feel the need to have those fellows around, do ya?
Wheeljack: So...we just...ditched 'em?
Tracks (hangs head a bit): ...yeah...
Megatron: Ah, Optimus Prime! Still wearing that 'Brokeback Mountain' cowboy mask to hide your true feelings, eh?
Optimus: Uh...
The Autobots cluster into a semi-circle, talking quietly.
Trailbreaker (breaking out of group): Hey, um, Optimus--we all agree: that was a pretty good zing.
Other Autobots: Yeah. Uh huh. That's right.
Optimus (half to himself): Vector Sigma. (to others): Uhh...Megatron...shut your mouth before I turn it into Japanese Laser Disc format.
Other Autobots: Oooh. Not bad.