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| - "This makes the fifteenth droid mutilated this week." "Perhaps.. humans are rebelling against a robotic empire." "But the only one capable of producing such acidic resin is Meltdown. Yet he's currently incarcerated." "Atleast.. it's droids and not.. humans.. that are getting this treatment." "Yes, there is a bright side of things." —Sumdac and Megatron hold a light conversation, though deep down, Megatron truly wishes it were humans and not as he suspects. "So, did you get it?" "Right here dude." "Uncut even! Suh-weet." —Though they'll rot your processor, Bumblebee still looks forward to horror flick night. "I think this obsession is getting a little out of hand Ratchet." "Yes, perhaps the heat is effecting your processor." "You two sparklings haven't been around as long as I have. You wouldn't understand unless it leaped out and bit you in the chassis." "Clarify us on this "What" so we can keep an eye out for it tomorow." "Prowl is right. What ever it is can wait till tomorow." —Prime and Prowl wear thin with Ratchet's latest obsession. "Zoinks!" —Bumblebee shows little to no enthusiasm for blown fuses. "Bj?" "You were expecting maybe singing chipmunks?" —Bj tells it like it is. With class. "Shouldn't you be on one of your dates with Surge?" "I would be Sasuke-kun, but Surge is down in bores ville Kansas playing cowgirl with her aunt and Sari." —Perhaps Kansas would have been a wiser choice. "What the frig!" —Ratchet wasn't the first one to use this slang. "Some idiot parked a decrepit emergency vehicle in the driveway." —Agent Powers "If you want to keep that arm of yours I suggest removing it. PRONTO!" —Some think it all the more wise to take Ratchet's advice. "A Stith is a bio-organic race and has two primary functions: Skulker and Hound. You're a lucky spark if you are hunted by a Skulker. Atleast you have a fighting chance with one. But if it's a Hound.. Kiss your freedom goodbye." —Sometimes truth hurts. "We're all sitting ducks here if we don't do something about the Skulker. If word gets out we exist on this planet, Hounds will come in with orders from their employers." "Employers?" "Quintessons. Nasty five faced mechanoids. And the ones responsible for starting the slave trade." —Well, least we know they are still working behind the curtains. "Righteous!" "What? Did you find the dw40?" "Even better. A potato chip.[Bj dusts it off and stuffs it in his mouth]" "And you just ate that thing?" "What? It was Bar-b-que flavored." —Bumblebee learns there is something more to his human compadre. "Tell me again why I'm the bait?" "Because big bro, if he's the big game hunter I know he is, he'll want to go for the biggest buck. And dude, you're a Prime. They don't get bigger than that." "Right. I'll keep that in mind." —Prime now knows how Bambi felt. "Dude, your all kinds of ugly." —The phrase doesn't get old, it just keeps getting recycled. "He mustn't leave the planet!" —Weren't autobots suppose to protect life? Ratchet must have got his servos crossed in the heat of battle. "My father always said Leave no man left behind." —Bj proves unaware that his father is rubbing off on him. "From where I'm standing you're breaking code 409-3 of the MIB contract!" "409-3.." "Thas right ugly! This planet is a game reserve! Nothing on it's surface can be taken down or captured, unless of course you want the Big Z getting up in your face." —Bj knows no big game hunter wants to be labeled a poacher. "Is earth really a game reserve?" "Tch, I fed him that lie so he would leave you guys in one piece dude." "If that is true, then what were the papers you gave him?" "My math homework. Never was good with numbers." —Now to explain to the teacher why said papers are missing. "So.. Powers' son declared earth a game reserve now?" "Yes sir, using the urban myth, MIB as the head of order on the planet. "The Men in Black? Hah! That myth was started eons ago to steer clear from the real name of men behind alien encounters. Sector seven are the real underground workers on the planet." "We believe he has come into contact with the N.B.E.s we've been seeking since ninety three, Simmons." "Of course, one can never forget that night fifty years ago. We were all over the field and searching every crevice we could find. We were so darned determined it would be another Roswell. But nothing ever turned up.. Till last august." "What.. course of action should we take sir?" "We let things be.. for now." —Agent Simmons, looking crazier than ever sir.
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