Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3/Transcript

Nebula: Damn it, Mantis! Why don’t you ever think?!
Drax: Oh, are we pretending to be angry again? Mantis, you asshole!
High Evolutionary: We have the peaceful creatures we all sought, ready to inhabit the new world.
Rocket: We're going to the new world?
High Evolutionary: Oh... "We"? Look at you -- as if you were cobbled together by fat-fingered children. How can you be part of a perfect species? You're simply a medley of mistakes we could learn from and apply to the creatures that truly matter. Batch 89 was never meant for the new world, P13! You could figure out the complex workings of cytoplasmic filtration systems, but you couldn't figure out that? But that brain... That, I'd like to study further.
High Evolutionary: Yes, I imagined you'd do something like this. Back in the cage, P13.
Lyla: Sky...
[Rocket screams incoherently, distraught.]
Floor: Rocket, Teefs, Floor, go now! Rocket, Teefs, Floor, go now!
High Evolutionary: P12 and P13 escaped from their cage. P12, euthanized. P13 is still outside; need assistance!
Floor: Rocket, Teefs, Floor, go now! Rocket, Teefs, Floor, go now!
High Evolutionary: WAAH! AAH! WAAAAAAAAalright, P13! You win the crying contest; now get back in the cage!
Peter: My friend...is a dumbass.
Mantis: Ehhh.
Nebula: That’s the same as your dying!
Mantis: Why do you criticize everything?!
Mantis: It was a totally different sound!
Nebula: Uh, no, it wasn’t. Ugh, dying. Ugh, dumbass. See? Its the same.
Peter: Alright, guys! Can I proceed, please? Try to save our friend? Drax, I see you!
Peter: Drax, stay here with Rocket, watch him. That's who they're coming for.
Drax: I wanna come!
Peter: No! Mantis, watch Drax. Groot... you know what to do with these.
Peter: Push down on it!
Nebula: What?!
Peter: Push it down.
Nebula: I am pushing down on it!
Peter: Push the button!
[Nebula presses a finger against the keyhole.]
Peter: It looks like you're pushing the keyhole.
Nebula: The what?
Peter: There's a button under the handle -- press that in!
Nebula: Okay...now what?
Peter: Open the fucking door!
Nebula: That is a stupid design. And your instructions were very unclear!
(Rocket suddenly spasms...and finally flatlines.)
(Everyone, especially Peter...is distraught by this.)
Peter *panicking*: nononono...
Peter *panicking*: No!
(He quickly starts performing CPR on Rocket.)
Peter *panicking*: Come on!
Gamora: quill...
Peter: NOOOOOOOO!!
Peter: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!
(In a fit of panic AND denial, he begins to remove every wire attached to Rocket despite Gamora's attempts to dissuae him from doing so.)
Gamora: quill.
Peter: No!
(Groot sadly watches on as the two nearly come to an argument.)
Gamora: quill.
Peter: I'm not gonna lose him!
Gamora: He's...GONE.
Peter *almost interrupting her*: I'm NOT...LETTING HIM...GO.
(And then...Peter attempts to save Rocket by performing CPR on him one last time.)
Peter: You killed all those people!
High Evolutionary: As i will your friends.
High Evolutionary: I'm sending you the coordinates; they will die, unless you BRING ME WHAT IS MINE!!!
Peter: ...you, stretch-faced, Robocop-looking Skeletor wannabe, PURPLE NURPLE, PIECE OF
(The frustrated H.E smashes the communicator before Star-Lord could continue insulting him.)
Peter: he hung up.
Gamora *horrified*: ...you think...?
High Evolutionary: Go! See if one of them is 89P13!
Vim: Sire, you have an irrational obsession with this animal! You must stop, for God's sake--!
High Evolutionary: THERE IS NO GOD! That's why I stepped in!
Vim: Controller, I am taking command of the Arête. Disengage all damaged sectors of the ship... and retreat--
High Evolutionary: YOU!
High Evolutionary: You thought you could escape me?! NO!
(He throws him through the ceiling, and into the top of his device, electrocuting him.)
Rocket: NRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!
High Evolutionary: You think you have some worth in and of yourself without me?! NO!
(He then hurls him into the wall of the north entrance, bending it.)
Rocket: Whoa- NGH!
High Evolutionary: YOU ARE AN ABOMINATION!! NOTHING MORE THAN A STEP ON MY PATH, YOU...
(He then throws him into the ceiling, intending on making him suffer for all that he did to ruin his twisted legacy.)
High Evolutionary: ...FREAKISH LITTLE MONSTER!
High Evolutionary: HOW DARE YOU THINK YOU ARE MORE...8! 9! P! 1! 3!
(Despite his situation...)
(...Rocket, with all his strength, manages to activate his anti-gravity boots, cancelling out his creator's so-called ''control of gravity''...and leaving him speechless.)
Rocket: The name's Rocket.
Rocket: Rocket...
(He cocks his gun.)
Rocket: ...Raccoon.
(He then shoots him in the chest, sending him sliding across the floor.)
(The High Evolutionary screams in both pain and rage, before getting up, and maniacally charging towards Rocket...)
(...only for Groot to grab him by the neck, and hurl him to Drax, who slams him into the ground face-first, disables his suit's power supply, and punches him in the face, sending him flying towards Star Lord, who shoots him in the face, sending him flying towards his machine's power link...but not before getting dropkicked in the head by Mantis, then shot on the chest by Nebula.)
(One he finally crashes into it (which shatters it), he desperately tries to regain his balance...)
High Evolutionary: -DAAAGH!
(...only for Gamora to grab him, and stab her Godslayer into his gut.)
Drax: His face came off!
Rocket: It's a mask.
High Evolutionary: lOOK...What you DID TO ME.
High Evolutionary: For WHAT...?
High Evolutionary: ALL I WANTED To do...WAS TO MAKE THiNgs...phferect...
Rocket: You didn't wanna make things perfect. You just hated things the way they are.
Drax: Kill him!
[Rocket considers it, briefly, then lowers his gun.]
Drax: Why?
Rocket: Because i'm a freakin' Guardian of the Galaxy.
Rocket: So that's it? The group's over?
Peter: No. We know the galaxy still needs its Guardians. And you...will make a better leader than i ever was...captain.
Groot: I love you guys.
Jason Quill: Peter!
Peter: Hey, grandpa.
Peter: I mean, if she needs help mowing the lawn, I'll do it, but I kinda feel like her son should help. Is he gonna sit on the porch and watch me do it? Like, he's a 45 year old man, able-bodied, and I'm mowing his lawn -- it just feels weird.
Jason: Don't get me started...
Peter: Oh, really? Now I kinda wanna know.
Category:Transcripts