Hot Wheels: Battle Force 5 (2009) s01e22 Episode Script

122 - Gladiators

[WHIRRING.]
[SWALLOWING NOISILY.]
[GROANS.]
Is it kind of weird that we have all these high-tech gizmos for battling aliens but we don't have an air conditioner that works? Your feet make a nice centerpiece and all, Stanford, but they don't smell like roses.
Oh, rub the bunions, old girl, will you? The heat makes my dogs bark.
If you don't shove over, this dog is gonna do some barking of his own.
How's that sunburn treating you, bro? Uhn! Oh! Heh-heh-heh.
While you suckers are sweating it out I hid the last super-hydro reinvigorators at the back of the fridge.
Hey.
[BELCHES.]
Funny how the last one tastes even better than the first.
You juiceless swine, how could you? Guess this saving the world stuff is starting to take its toll.
STANFORD: Why can't you? - You're always.
[ALL TALKING OVER EACH OTHER.]
SAGE [OVER PA.]
: Stormshock detected.
- Portal opening in T-minus-2 minutes.
- Uhn.
SAGE: Advise caution.
Receiving unusual readings from this portal.
Hostile entity.
Battlezone could be a trap.
VERT: Fan out and look for the battlekey.
This place gives me the creeps.
Speaking of which.
The Vandals.
[GROWLING.]
[GROWLING.]
Wha--? What? Ah! Ha-ha-ha.
Vandals are caged up like they're in a zoo.
Yo, genius, we're caged up too.
[MALE VOICE CACKLING.]
TORS-10: Organics, you are now under the total control of Tors-10.
Prepare for the ultimate test.
Our quarrel is with the sub-species, not you.
- Release us.
TORS-10: Impossible.
I have specifically modified this battlezone so no test subject can escape.
Test subject? We're not your lab rats, robo-dweeb.
TORS-10: I am Tors-10 design master of this Sark vehicle testing facility.
My command: You will battle each other to determine which designs are worthy of the superior beings I represent.
Sorry, dude, but my crew doesn't fight for anybody's grins.
Fork over the battlekey and we'll be on our way.
[GRUNTS.]
Participation is not optional.
Sherman, Spinner, how about Bustering skybox boy down to field level? On it.
Huh? [GROWLS.]
TORS-10: Thermal scan indicates lack of stress.
Combined with extreme aggressiveness indicates an alpha leader.
- Course of action: Hold for further study.
- Huh? Whoa! - Uhn! - Seize or suffer the consequences.
Your initial opponents have been chosen.
The ultimate champion's reward: The battlekey.
Commence combat.
This shouldn't take long.
Aah! [YELLS.]
TORS-10: Vehicle design: Susceptible to crude tactical assault.
Why are you humans not in combat? VERT: Old red-eyes means business.
Better mix it up guys, bogus style.
Got it, Vert.
Put on a show but keep it on the down-low.
One poser beat down coming up.
SPINNER: Hold that, dirty rascal.
We nearly got him, Sherm.
SHERMAN: Let us try and destroy him again.
Now that's called "keeping it real-looking.
" Looks like fun.
My turn.
TORS-10: Vehicle damage assessment: None.
Clearly, these specimens need motivation to engage in true combat.
The neurotransmitter manipulator should stimulate the hyper-aggression within each of you.
[ALL GRUNTING.]
You've got to fight the urge, guys.
Right now, the only thing I feel like fighting is her.
Spinner, don't give in.
Keep your mind strong.
How about minding your own mind, buck-brain.
- So you wanna go? - Bring it.
Agura, Stanford, get a grip.
[GRUNTING.]
- Ah.
- Uhn! Hey, get that big hunk of junk away from me.
[GRUNTING.]
Whoa, guys, same team, remember? Tell it to the hotdog on the bike.
Watch out.
You watch and learn.
SPINNER: Whoa! zOOM: School is in session, smart guy.
[SCREAMING.]
[HORN HONKING.]
zoom, get up.
Buster, stop.
[SCREAMS THEN GRUNTS.]
Initial comeback results: promising.
Modifying manipulator beam for maximum aggressiveness.
[GRUNTING.]
[AGURA SCREAMING.]
Buster, Chopper, everybody, you're playing right into his hands.
Easy to trash us when you're sitting on your butt safe and sound fearless leader.
- Juiceless swine.
- Yeah.
- He drinks all those energy drinks.
- Yeah, yeah.
[CHUCKLES.]
Victory.
[YELLS.]
[GROWLS.]
Initial tests complete.
[GASPS.]
[GASPS.]
TORS-10: Victors advance.
Losers to the pre-destruction holding cell.
Vert, I want it noted.
Agura has major anger issues.
Look like everybody does when Tors-10 hits you with that agrobeam.
Right now, we got to get out of these fish tanks.
I hear that.
Pre-destruction holding cell doesn't sound promising.
TORS-10: New adversaries have been chosen for the victors.
Commence combat.
[GROWLING.]
[GRUNTS THEN SIGHS.]
You guys are going down.
[BOTH SCREAM.]
Bring it on.
VERT: Spinner, Sherman, Agura I know your adrenalin is pumping but it's not you, it's Tors-10.
You can back it up a notch, Vert, because I've got self-control.
Uh-huh.
Self-control, like my 3-year-old nephew in a tank.
Back off, Agura.
I'll put the little baby in his place.
I would like to see you try, muscle head.
[ALL GRUNTING.]
What do you--? Get off.
Okay, it's on.
Mismatch of the century.
Why didn't you fire? Well, maybe if you didn't drive like Grandma I would have had a shot.
I'll have you know, Grandma was an excellent driver.
Grandma was a way better driver than you.
Hah.
Pathetic.
[GRUNTING.]
Whoa! Whoa! [GROANS.]
Sherman, the only thing more annoying than you is Spinner.
- Hey.
- Ha-ha.
And the only thing more annoying than Spinner is a Vandal.
Yeah.
Wait.
AGURA: And I see two Vandals who don't know what is about to hit them.
I hear you, let's slam them.
Sending you a line.
SHERMAN: Brace yourself, big bro.
BOTH: Whoa! [GRUNTING.]
[YELLING.]
[GROWLING.]
[ROARS.]
While the human organics have overcome their inter-personal rivalries their Vandal opponents suffer from inferior group dynamics.
The Vandal alpha leader's sheer ferocity reaches aggression levels never previously recorded.
Inferior designs separated for disposal.
[YELLING.]
We got to get you out of there before Tors-10 recycles you.
Aah! TORS-10: Next experiment.
Whoa! Uhn! [TORS-10 CHUCKLES.]
Alpha fighter versus alpha fighter.
Two dominant vehicles will fight to determine the most effective war machine.
Commence warfare.
[SCREAMING.]
[GROWLS.]
Accept your fate, sub-species.
At least I'm fighting somebody I really can't stand.
[GRUNTING.]
Whoo-hoo-hoo-hoo! Huh? Whoa! Get ready to crash and bash.
[GROWLS.]
TORS-10: Analysis: Under intense pressure the human's aggression level peaked closer to that of the Vandals.
What sets him apart, however is his ability to channel that aggression into complex problem-solving.
Interesting.
Highly intriguing to the point of it being mind-boggling.
Test subjects have no further value.
Prepare for destruction.
VERT: Okay, we're the victors.
By your rules, you have to let us out of here now.
Your conclusion is incorrect.
Can you compete as successfully without the assistance of the agro ray? But there is nobody left to fight.
TORS-10: Again, incorrect.
The final test is to determine if your alpha leader can fend off his most formidable foe his own team.
[TORS-10 CACKLING.]
[ALL SCREAMING.]
Aah! Battle Force 5, listen to me.
I'm not fighting my friends.
That juiceless swine drank all our energy drinks.
VERT: No, wait.
STANFORD: I'll head him off.
Huh? [SCREAMS.]
Got to take out that ray.
But how? Nice work, Stanford.
- Uhn! - All right, come on, Stanford.
Grandma Cortez can shoot better than that.
Seriously, Stanford, I've seen better shooting at a carnival.
Oh, that's it, you juice-stealing swine.
Take this, you juice-stealing swine.
TORS-10: No! I would like to see Nana Cortez do that.
This lab rat has had enough, Dr.
No-Clue.
Your test is a big zero.
TORS-10: Test subject no longer viable.
Begin destruction.
I got a funny feeling this isn't just a random power outage.
Whoa! It's raining laser bolts with the chance of red-hot hail.
Battle Force 5, let's take this robo-clown down.
Sherman, analyze the structure of that skybox.
Scanning now.
It's looking like the strike zone lies at 12 feet in the center of the column.
Mark it, Spin.
Done and done.
zoom, we need a distraction.
I'm all over it.
Stanford, cover me.
One path to glory coming up.
Agura, you know what to do.
Like a fly on the wall.
TORS-10: Test subjects have corrupted results.
Prepare for mass-elimination.
Hold.
Hold.
Now! [SCREAMING.]
This is our chance to get that battlekey and get out of here.
Whoa! Tors-10 is something freaky.
But what? SHERMAN: It looks like a Sark.
A red Sark? What does that mean? Well, you shall never know until it's too late.
[TORS-10 CACKLING.]
Oh, no, the key.
Work it, guys.
He must have triggered some kind of self-destruct mode.
Retreat to Vandal! - I'm gonna get the key.
AGURA: But Vert-- No, get to Earth now and I'll catch up.
[GRUNTING.]
Aah! I must have a-- [SCREAMING.]
Our rides are totally trashed.
Looks like we're gonna be here for a while.
Time for another sport-drink run.
Heh-heh.
More like walk.
I got it.
And the whole zone was controlled by this red Sark thing.
More likely a minion tool serving a higher master.
zemerik? Something in my memory bank indicates this threat is well beyond the scope of zemerik's evil.

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