Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, nor do I own Hasbro. I just wrote this script for fun.
And yes, this is script format. Pretty much my first attempt at doing this, so constructive criticism is encouraged!
THE TRANSFORMERS OF PLANET CYBERTRON
or
THE SECOND GREAT WAR
by Megamafan16
First Draft
Prod. _
_, _, 1942
FADE IN:
A bright sunny day on Capitol Hill. A press conference is gathering at the foot of the white house, with reporters eager for answers. Eventually, someone at the podium says:
ANNOUNCER: Thank you all for coming here. This press conference will now begin. And now, please direct your undivided attention to the Secretary of War, Mr. Henry Stimson.
Enter HENRY, who takes a place behind the podium, playfully tapping a microphone to see if it worked. Cameras flash as he straightens his mustache. Then, with a gesture, he quiets the crowd, and speaks.
HENRY: Good evening everyone. I have a lot to say, so let's make it quick. Rumors have been circulating through the press, through concerned letter-writers, and through word of mouth. Rumors that we...have been invaded. The rumors speak of cars and trucks that drive themselves, and transform into giant metallic men, robots, when no one is looking. They suspect this phenomenon to be due to some hostile foreign intelligence, either the Japanese, or someone not of this Earth. A kind of stealth weapon, the preface to an invasion of the United States. Now, I have been given full authority by President Roosevelt to address these rumors, and I wish it to be known that they are only partially true. These transforming robots, self-driving vehicles do in fact exist-
Cameras start flashing and chaotic dialogue is heard in the crowd. Once again, HENRY silences the crowd.
HENRY: Now hear me out – Yes, these robots exist, and they come from a distant planet called Cybertron. However, that's the only truth to these rumors; these creatures do not come as invaders, but as refugees fleeing a dying world. The United States government has given these so-called 'Autobots' asylum on our shores for as long as they require. We would not have done this if we suspected them of hostile intent. These Autobots, and their spiritual leader Optimus Prime, are friendly, not just to the citizens of the United States but to free and peaceful creatures wherever they are in the universe. They proved this in a joint exercise with our own military forces in Europe, during which they helped stop the Nazi aggressions of Adolf Hitler in their tracks, and we in turn ended their age-old conflict with the would-be galactic conqueror Megatron and his Decepticon Army. (Pulls documents out of his suit) These military records document the exercise, along with the events leading up to it. Once kept top-secret, now fully declassified and available to the public. Ladies and Gentlemen of the press, and of this fine nation, I give you...the story of the Transformers!
Camera zooms in on files as they open, FADE into opening titles.
EXT: Outer Space
An image of the planet spinning in the emptiness of space, surrounded by an expanse of stars. A giant cone-shaped spaceship, The Ark, comes into view.
HENRY: (voice) The Autobots, short for Autonomous Robotic Lifeform, came here not that long ago, last year in fact, on board a massive spaceship. The ship's name, in our language, is 'The Ark.' Fitting, as it carried what remained of their race to this little blue world in search of fuel and shelter, something Planet Cybertron sadly could no longer provide.
INT: Inside of spaceship
Camera pans over a large, open area filled with all sorts of technology. Wheels, levers, lights, and video screens cover the walls. Archaic information and alien language is flashing on the screens. At various mechanical desks, are seated large mechanical people that glisten with a metallic sheen. Their limbs and bodies are carefully-shaped metal blocks, and their joints are hinges, but otherwise they look very much human. Seated at the frontmost desks, closest to the windows that approximate The Ark's windshield, are IRONHIDE and PROWL, colored red and black-and-white respectively. Right behind them, seated in an elaborate chair, is the red-and-blue OPTIMUS PRIME, champion of freedom throughout the galaxy.
Optimus sits up from a resting position, taking his . His light-based eyes narrow in focus on the planet visible through the 'windshield'. The visor covering his mouth moves; he's speaking the Cybertronian language, which to humans sounds like the noises cars, ships, and planes make. The translation is displayed on the screen as subtitles.
OPTIMUS: (cybertronian) Ironhide, what's the atmosphere and terrain look like?
IRONHIDE: (cybertronian) Mostly organic terrain, high amounts of nitrogen and oxygen. Lots of water, comparatively little land masses.
OPTIMUS: (cybertronian) What about organic compounds we could create fuel from?
PROWL: (cybertronian) Well, I'm seeing a lot of carbon-based lifeforms, with primitive technology. (studies a small screen in front of him, which has a diagram of a car on it) It appears a lot of this tech is run off combustible carbon.
IRONHIDE: (cybertronian) Combustible carbon? That stuff's the worst sort of energy there is! A whole lot of smoke for hardly any nutrition!
OPTIMUS: (cybertronian) Beggars can't be choosers, Ironhide. The Ark doesn't have enough fuel to take us anywhere else, so it'll have to do. Find us a landing spot. And avoid detection.
Ironhide nods in acknowledgment, and pulls a few levers.
EXT: Space
The Ark's engines fire, and the giant craft moves slowly to the USA part of the globe.
EXT: Appalachian Mountains. Nighttime
The Ark descends through the clouds, landing somewhere in between two tall mountains. Then, panels on the ship begin flipping...eventually disguising the ship as another mountain.
A hatch opens, and a small box on a propeller exits: a Skyspy. Faster than any bird could ever fly, the tiny little device flies over to a nearby city and takes pictures.
INT: The Ark
Through technology unknown to man, the pictures appear on massive screens that drop from the ceiling, while all the Autobots watched them flash before their electronic eyes. They're mostly pictures of cars.
IRONHIDE: (cybertronian) Look at this junk. Not even a hint of energon-tubes! Whoever made this wouldn't know a decent engine if it hit them in the face!
OPTIMUS: (cybertronian) At least they're working engines. And if we make a few alterations to the fuel, or ourselves, what works for them can- (Suddenly stops – he noticed something shocking on one of the pictures) Ironhide, go back a few slides.
Ironhide presses a few buttons, and the images go back. At a gesture from Optimus, he stops. Optimus leans forward...and sees, behind a pickup truck, a poster depicting a burning shipyard saying 'Remember Pearl Harbor'. He slumps back in his chair, appalled and frightened. Soon, the other Autobots notice it too.
IRONHIDE: (cybertronian) Does this mean...we won't be trading with the locals?
Optimus nods.
PROWL: (cybertronian) OK, I'll tell the Skyspy to bring us some disguises to scan.
OPTIMUS: (cybertronian) Good, for we cannot come in peace anymore...this world is at war.
Camera zooms in on the painted shipyard, FADE to next scene:
EXT: Navy Shipyard, Furmantown Maryland.
Tanks and trucks, mass-produced by American industry, are rolled onto many massive docked ships bound for Europe. Soldiers salute as one leaves the harbor, and sets off. And then they go right back to work, getting Uncle Sam's weaponry ready to stand against Hitler's tyranny.
Outside, a fence with the appropriate warning signs separates the Navy from a row of typical American houses. Near the fence, a grade-school age boy named CHARLIE is sitting and chewing on a piece of gum. He's intently watching everything going on inside the shipyard. Suddenly, up walks a teenager named SPIKE WITWICKY. At first glance, he seems a typical blonde, blue-eyed boy who's father's gone overseas, but he takes his devotion to America a little farther than most. An unfortunate incident in his childhood has left him a little paranoid, and he's caught this child doing something suspicious.
SPIKE: Hey, kid. What are you doing out here?
CHARLIE: (deliberately bratty and impolite) None of your business, mister! (blows a bubble, and pops it)
SPIKE: Who gave you that bubblegum? What does he want to know about that shipyard?
CHARLIE: I said none of your business! Back off or I'll call my mom!
SPIKE: It could be Uncle Sam's business! And I don't think your mom would want you spying for Hitler!
NANCY: That's enough, Spike! Figures I'd find you here.
Spike turns around and sees Nancy Witwicky, his mom. Guiltily, he backs away from Charlie, who walks off while blowing a raspberry. Nancy gestures to the ground beside her. Spike sheepishly walks up to her, and they both start to walk home.
NANCY: That's the second time this week, young man. You can't go around and accuse everyone of being a Nazi spy. You'll lose friends that way.
SPIKE: Mom, I'm not accusing everyone.
NANCY: Sure seems like it to me.
SPIKE: Besides, who cares about friends when there's a war to be won?
NANCY: When we do win the war, and your father will make sure we do, you'll have a lot of people thinking you're a bully and an all around unlikeable person. And for another thing, did they ever tell you the story of 'The Boy Who Cried Wolf'?
SPIKE: (running out of steam – he's losing the argument and he knows it) Look, Mom, I know what you're trying to say...it's just...
NANCY: Spike, just stick to the scrap drives, help me tend the victory garden, and go to school and make friends. Nobody's asking any more of you, and you shouldn't need to give any more than that. And remember, you get to walk the dog tonight.
SPIKE: (resigned, but still a little unwilling) Yes, Mom.
EXT: Outskirts of Furmantown.
A quaint, hand-painted sign stands by a nicely-paved road. The writing on the sign says "Welcome to Furmantown! Population: 4798 and growing." Below that, in cursive, is written: "Where a good time never ends!"
Right past the sign whip seven automobiles: An ambulance, a police car, a red pickup truck, a red-and-blue semi-truck with a gray trailer, a red car, a yellow car of the same mold, and a smaller yellow car with a few black stripes.
INT: Inside of semi-truck.
There's no one inside the truck, but the steering wheel and pedals are moving as if they're being driven. The radio dials are moving themselves as well. A sound comes from the speakers:
RADIO: We could talk till the cows came home, but if you're ever in doubt as to whether you should own a Packard automobile... just ask the man who owns one.
EXT: Looking over the trucks
The semi-truck growls in the same style used by the Autobots earlier, over the radio. That's because it is the Autobots: Optimus Prime is the semi-truck, while Ironhide is the pickup truck, and all the other vehicles are Autobots too.
OPTIMUS: (cybertronian) Autobots, got that piece committed to memory?
IRONHIDE: (cybertronian) Yeah, but what for, anyway? It's all gibberish.
OPTIMUS: (cybertronian) We're used to having our speakers broadcast in our language. We'll need to train ourselves to talk in this new language, since these warlike natives would rather shoot us than teach us.
As the Autobots cease talking, the radio is audible again.
RADIO: Now back to the news. The mayor of La Rochelle, France, is set to hold a celebration in honor of a local resistance fighter who liberated many of his people from Nazi rule. Local allied troops have made offers of medals, but...
Once again, the radio is drowned out: As the Autobots enter the town, they encounter a young man on the streets selling newspapers.
PAPER BOY: (shouting) Extra! Extra! Read all about it! La Rochelle set to honor hero of resistance!
The yellow car with black stripes, an Autobot called BUMBLEBEE, edges closer to the paper boy as they approach him.
BUMBLEBEE: (cybertronian) That sounds like the thing on the radio! Somebody remember that – we'll get a head start on the written part of this language!
A mechanical claw extends out of one of Bumblebee's doors, snatching the newspaper right out of the paper boy's hand as he passes him.
OPTIMUS: (cybertronian) Good thinking, Bumblebee!
PAPER BOY: (shouting) Hey! That's a nickel, you jerk!
BUMBLEBEE: (cybertronian) I think it's angry, or something.
OPTIMUS: (cybertronian) We need to get out of here – it's drawing attention to us.
The Autobots drive off, leaving a stunned crowd to gaze at them in wonder, shrug, and move on with their lives.
INT: Furmantown Post Office.
The subtitles 'A Later Day' appear over a scene of a typical post office. Spike is in line with a series of letters. One person is in front of him, finishing signing for a boxed good he had ordered. There's also an OLD MAN behind him. As he takes it from the postal worker, a conversation is heard in the background between two men on the benches:
BYSTANDER: I'm telling you, those cars had no drivers!
SECOND BYSTANDER: (sarcastically) Yeah, and Hitler's poisoned my lemonade, too. (takes a big, dramatic slurp) You need to get your eyes checked or something.
Spike overhears them, and narrows his eyes in thought, but is interrupted: The line's open, and he moves forward.
POSTAL WORKER: Good afternoon, Spike. How's life?
SPIKE: Oh, same as always. Any mail for me?
POSTAL WORKER: Nope, and especially none from your dad.
SPIKE: Well...regardless, I've got something to send to him. (hands over the letters)
OLD MAN: Why bother? He won't have time to read them before he goes knocking down Hitler's door!
SPIKE: (a little indignant) Hey, it's moral support from home that'll get him there!
POSTAL WORKER: That's right...and that's what I'm here for. Wanna buy some more stamps so you can keep doing it?
SPIKE: Not today, but thanks anyway. (leaves)
camera focuses on letters, scene transition.
EXT: U.S. Army camp, Germany.
Inside a tent, as other soldiers walk around, is LIEUTENANT PHILLIP WITWICKY. Any minute now, he knows he'll get some orders, and he'll go marching off into battle. But until then, he's reading the letters he's gotten from friends and family.
LT. WITWICKY: Oh, Spike. Wish I could be there... I wanna be a father again, but out here, my country comes first.
He overhears some other soldiers: GREGORY and PAUL, who are sitting next to each other and eating.
GREGORY: We're never going back to the States.
LT. WITWICKY: What, are you kidding? Gregory, we can see Berlin from here!
PAUL: Yeah, but there's still a war going on in the Pacific. We'll head there as soon as we're done here.
GREGORY: And then, one of our old allies might get too uppity and decide to -
LT. WITWICKY: Gregory, Paul, enough of that negative talk already! The way you're talking, we're liable to defeat ourselves before-
Just then, the radio in Witwicky's tent picks up a signal from his commanders.
RADIO: HQ to Lieutenant Witwicky. HQ to Lieutenant Witwicky. Are you ready? Do you receive, over?
LT. WITWICKY: (grabbing the radio headset) Loud and Clear HQ. How long do I have to get moving? Over.
RADIO: The attack begins at 09:00 hours. Don't be late. Over.
The radio goes silent. Lt. Witwicky stands up, and shouts:
LT. WITWICKY: (top of his lungs) Alright troops! We're moving out at 09:00! Tighten up your bootstraps and get those helmets on! Gregory, take the field radio and scout ahead.
GREGORY: (saluting) Yes Sir!
As Gregory leaves, Lt. Witwicky notices the other soldiers all gathering around him, adjusting their gear.
LT. WITWICKY: (as soon as he notices them mostly done) At-teeeeeeennnn-TION! (starts pacing as soldiers form ranks) Alright, so once Gregory comes back, we'll be unloading our guns on the Nazis in the heart of their empire. Nobody thought we could get it done, but we did! We've liberated France, Poland, Africa, and all the other places that Hitler's grubby fingers could reach for. Did you all have discipline problems when we started here?
SOLDIERS: SIR YES SIR!
LT. WITWICKY: Did your drill sergeant call you all worthless cannon fodder?
SOLDIERS: SIR YES SIR!
LT. WITWICKY: Did they tell you you'd be the first to die?
SOLDIERS: SIR YES SIR!
LT. WITWICKY: Well we sure proved them wrong, didn't we?
SOLDIERS: SIR YES SIR!
LT. WITWICKY: RIGHT! And I sure as shoeshine don't plan on stopping there! So here's what we're gonna do: As soon as I give the word, we're gonna move forward. And we're gonna keep moving forward until we've won! You're only allowed to go as far back as the nearest medic, but you can go as far forward as you like! Because the only way back is forward, forward to victory! Sound good to you?
SOLDIERS: SIR YES SIR!
LT. WITWICKY: Diiiiiis-MISSED!
Soldiers return to getting ready, even more enthusiastically than before.
Gregory, who had stopped to hear the speech, also leaves similarly inspired. He runs onwards...
...and something stirs in the bushes behind him.
EXT: Fence outside Furmantown shipyard.
It's early morning. A familiar red-and-blue truck, Optimus Prime, is resting on the side of the road, right by the fence. A slight wisp of smoke wafts out of the exhaust. A few people are walking near the truck, not paying it any mind. The truck, however, is paying them a lot of mind...
OPTIMUS: (cybertronian) How peaceful they look...and yet they all know war. They can see it plainly.
Inside him, another series of car noises comes from the radio.
RATCHET: (cybertronian) Maybe you just can't see or hear the way they express their horror. Once the drones deliver their notes on the local language, maybe you will.
OPTIMUS: (cybertronian) Maybe, Ratchet. Maybe. But I still...never mind. I'll meet you back at the camp.
RATCHET: (cybertronian) Understood, Optimus. Out.
The radio goes dead...and Optimus simmers down...until suddenly, a loud BANG is heard. Off in the distance, somebody says:
RANDOM SOLDIER: Okay, who didn't tie that truck on correctly? Scared me half to death, that did!
Optimus, however, is experiencing it differently. Inside his mechanical mind, the sound is being replayed over and over, until he suddenly sees what it reminds him of:
A series of shots of ruined metallic landscapes follow. Vast cities filled with skyscrapers, consumed by waves of fire. Impossibly-advanced weapon projectiles soaring through the skies, leaving brightly-colored trails of light. Strange war machines charge forward over land and sky with blinding speed, and are just as quickly blown to smithereens. Many of the titanic cybertronians stagger away from the battles, wounded, with some watching their comrades fall apart before their very eyes.
The visions progressively get more horrifying. And in the center of the scariest ones, is the outline of a metallic face. A face with glowing red eyes betraying unimaginable hate and malice. A chilling, grating laugh is heard over the explosions and screams, filled with demented joy and satisfaction at the suffering of others.
OPTIMUS: (cybertronian, shouting) MEGATRON! (extends)
Optimus snaps back to his senses in the middle of his scream, as he notices many human faces looking at him; they had just seen an unoccupied truck blast its horn at maximum volume for no apparent reason.
Luckily, another human ran up to the truck, jumped in, and drove off before anyone could ask any questions. Thinking they had seen some strange daydream, the humans wander off, except for two: Charlie, the boy who was here earlier, who ran away to tell his mother...
...and Spike Witwicky, who watched the truck leave in a mixture of awe and suspicion.
EXT: Farther down the street.
Optimus drives away, with the other man inside him...not driving, but placing several books on the other seat. The books are the sort one finds in a kindergarten, educational books and fairytales and the like. He opens one up to the text of 'Little Red Riding Hood. With that, the man flickers like an image on a screen...and disappears, leaving a vaguely man-shaped machine in 'his' place. It reaches inside its metal torso, pulls something out, and inserts it into a slot on Optimus' radio. Then, the voice of a female schoolteacher comes out of the radio speakers:
RADIO: Okay children, today we're going to be reading 'Little Red Riding Hood.' (clears her throat) "Once upon a time there lived in a certain village a little country girl..."
EXT: Farther down the street, the other direction.
Charlie's running towards his house with his news. He looks back to see if the truck was still in sight, causing him to run into somebody's path. This man is KLAUS, a man who for reasons known only to himself, his colleagues, and his superiors, is trying to conceal the fact that he has a German accent.
KLAUS:Charlie! What's the... rush? First I hear a trucker blaring his horn, now you come around!
CHARLIE: I dunno! It looked like that truck honked its own horn! Nobody was inside! I gotta tell mom!
KLAUS: (shocked) It's own... well, you go do that.
CHARLIE: Ya got that! Oh, and by the way, I never did thank you for that gum you gave me the other day! (runs off as if nothing happened)
KLAUS: Nicht – (realizing he was starting to say 'nichts zu danken ' the german phrase for 'Don't mention it') er, you're welcome.
He makes sure that Charlie and everyone else is out of sight, and then checks a strange device in his coat pocket. Pressing a few buttons on it causes images from Charlie's point of view to appear on the device. He cycles through the images until he finds one of the truck Charlie talked about.
KLAUS: (not bothering to hide his accent this time) Ach...It is him. Mein Fuhrer will not be happy when he finds out...
INT: local appliance store.
Spike Witwicky is behind the counter of a store full of washers, steam irons, radios, vacuum cleaners, and lots of other stuff. His head is in his arms, as he's struggling to comprehend what happened yesterday. Just then, a customer walks in: an experienced trucker called BOB. He has a dented toaster in his arm, which Spike sees from just a glance, not getting a glimpse of his face.
SPIKE: Repair shop's upstairs.
BOB: Thanks, Spike. (moves towards upstairs doors.)
SPIKE: (lifting his hand out of his head) Bob? Say, don't you have a red and blue truck?
BOB: Yeah, but she's been broken down for a while now! Shame, too – was my favorite. Me and her go way back... but if it's her time, it's her time. If I wanna work the next season I may have to get her replaced.
SPIKE: (even more confused) Where is that truck now?
BOB: In a shed behind my house. Why?
SPIKE: Because a truck just like yours blasted its horn outside the shipyard, disturbed the peace.
BOB: Now who'd be crazy enough to try to spook our boys like that?...It certainly ain't me, if you're thinkin' what I think you're-
SPIKE: (interrupting) No, I'm not accusing you! In fact, I don't even know who to point the cops at! When the horn was going...the truck was unoccupied!
BOB: (in disbelief) What? Now that's spooky. Too spooky to take to the cops, sounds like, but if it's real...
SPIKE: May be a test for some new kind of Nazi weapon, or something. I don't know, really. Anyway, don't let me keep you too long.
BOB: Thanks, Spike. And I'll check my truck when I get back, just in case.
As Bob goes upstairs, Spike says to himself:
SPIKE: Dad might know. He's got access to all that army intelligence, plus he always knows what he's doing.
EXT: U.S. Army camp, Germany.
Lt. Witwicky, sitting in front of the radio with a few other soldiers, angrily addresses no-one in particular.
LT. WITWICKY: Where's Gregory's report? Without that intel, we'll have no idea what we're doing! We'll be charging blind into who knows what! (grabs the radio) Let's give it one more try: Base camp to scout, base camp to scout, are you out there? What's taking so long with that report?
EXT: hill overlooking German housing area – outskirts of Berlin
Unknown to Lt. Witwicky, Gregory is lying on the ground, radio equipment right in front of him,trying to speak. He's found a series of German tanks nestled in between some houses. He adjusts his radio again, and speaks:
GREGORY: Scout to base camp, do you read? I've found at least seven tanks and some artillery a couple miles east of base camp, do you read?
Unknown to him, the radio's dials de-adjusted themselves to a different frequency while he was talking.
GREGORY: (after receiving silence) Oh, forget about it. I'm gonna tell him in person. (Abandons radio and turns back to the camp...when a high-pitched electronic voice exclaims:
FRENZY: (german) Not if I have anything to say about it!
Surprised, Gregory turns around, and sees nothing but his radio. Just then, the radio jumps out of the backpack he was carrying it in, and the metal plates making up its exterior rearrange themselves. A series of clicks and whirrs is heard from the small device.
Gregory watches in amazement as his own radio, in a matter of two seconds, turns into a small, vaguely human-shaped machine. Red, glowing 'eyes,' one larger than the other, regard the human before them.
GREGORY: What are y- (sees the machine raise it's 'arm') Oh no-
A tube attached to the underside of the machine's 'arm' discharges some sort of projectile. A small explosion erupts off of Gregory's chest, where the projectile hit. Gregory gives off a plaintive scream, and falls to the ground dead.
This script will be published in sections. Stay tuned for the next one!
My big return to the world of fanfiction, after a long college-motivated hiatus! Hope you enjoy this little project!