AN: So I was watching The Breakfast Club, which is one of the best movies ever. And then my thoughts wandered a little, and I thought of Spock. And then I looked at Allison. And then I thought of Jim, and I looked at Bender. And I went "IDEA!" And so this little beauty was spawned. Hope you enjoy it. XD


Saturday, March 24, 2250 by the Julian calendar. Stardate 2250.452. Barack Obama High School, San Fransisco, California. Dear Mr. Pike, we accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was that we did wrong, and that what we did was wrong. But we think you're crazy to make us write an essay telling you what we think we are, and what we think we're going to be. You see us as you want to see us, in the simplest terms, with the most convenient definitions. You see us as a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess and a criminal. Correct? That's the way we saw each other at 0700 this morning. We were brainwashed…..


The parking lot is empty, quiet. Leaves lay undisturbed by the slight, chilly breeze in the air. Barack Obama High School sits like a looming and grumpy cliff against the pleasant landscape of trimmed grass and trees budding with new growth. A hovercar, sleek and gleaming gunmetal-gray under the early-morning sun, slides up to the steps. Inside, a polished girl sits in the passenger seat, arms crossed over her chest as she glares out the window at the school. Her father sits in the driver's seat, looking slightly annoyed.

"I can't believe you can't get me out of this, Daddy," she complains, gathering her purse from the floor and slinging it over her shoulder. Her father sighs, his moustache bristling.

"I'm sorry honey. I'll make it up to you, I swear. But skipping class to go shopping is something that they have to punish you for, to show that you're not favored. They really don't want to make you stay here." She huffs, brushing her long hair over her shoulder and pulling her coat a little tighter around her.

"I know, but it's absurd! It's not like I don't get it; why do I have to stay the whole Saturday? It's so ridiculous." Her father gives her an indulgent smile, patting her on the arm.

"I'm sorry. Have a good day, sweetie." She rolls her eyes and gets out, slamming the door behind her. The hovercar pulls away as she tromps up the steps and inside.

Meanwhile, another hovercar sit's a few spaces away. It is more rundown than the previous one, painted biege. In this vehicle, a weathered woman sits in the driver's space and her son, curly-haired and obviously nerdy, sits hunched in the passenger's. A little girl is buckled into the backseat- daughter and sister. Clearly disapproving, the woman turns to her son.

"Iz zhis zhe first time zhis will happen, or zhe last?" Her son slumps against the door, looking timidly annoyed.

"Zhe last, mother," he replies, his heavy Russian accent a mirror of hers.

"Zhen get in zhere and use zhis time to your advantage." He sits up slightly, looking upset.

"We are not supposed to study, we are supposed to sit zhere and do nothing." Color flaring in her face, the woman sits up straighter and points to the school.

"Well you must find a way to study, Pavel!" The little girl in the backseat pipes up in Russian, her tone condescending,

"Da!" Frowning, Pavel nods and gathers his bag out of the backseat. As he lays his hand on the door handle, he looks back at his mother, despair clear in his eyes.

"Go!" She shoos him out of the car, and he reluctantly climbs the steps to the school, shoulders hunched in misery.

Another hovercar has pulled up and waits behind the beige until it leaves, and this one scuffed and white, built for power and racing, and to some, overcompensation. A tough Southern man sits next to his son, who wears the red letterman's jacket of the school. He looks angry, and his son stares down at his lap, frustrated. In their anger, the two look remarkably similar.

"Len, I messed up too sometimes, I did stupid stuff. The difference is that you got caught, Sport." Len snorts, turning to the window.

"Yeah, mom already chewed me out, 'kay?" Jaw tightening, the man looks like he resists the urge to do something rash.

"Do you wanna miss your match? Do you wanna blow your ride, Len? No one's gonna give a scholarship to someone with a disciplinary record." Baring his teeth at the glass, Len takes a minute to center himself. He says nothing more to his father, simply opens the door and snatches a paper sack off the floor, then slams the door and jogs up the steps to the school. After a moment, his father pulls away.

A lone figure strolls across the parking lot, hands shoved deep in pockets and scarf flailing in the wind as it sweeps through, stronger now. He wears sunglasses and looks like a blond devil in his long wool coat and dirty boots. Another hovercar, this one sparkling so brightly it can only be new, is trying to pull parallel to the steps, but must slam to a stop when this stranger crosses it's path. The figure pauses, dark glasses turned toward the windshield. Then he raises one hand and flicks them the bird before continuing on, climbing the steps with anger evident in the set of his shoulders.

Two Vulcans sit in the car for a moment before the driver, with graying hair and a stern set to his mouth, resumes driving and pulls up to the curb. He shuts off the engine and turns to the young man next to him. He is dressed darkly, and there is green liner around his eyes, which picks up on the slight color of it in the rest of his skin. Eyebrows tugged down, the older man says,

"Spock. You understand your error." His son nods, turning dark eyes to his father briefly.

"Then you understand what position it puts me in. This will not happen again." Even though Vulcans are not allowed to express emotion, he manages to express disappointment to his son. Again he nods, and then climbs out of the car without uttering a word. He hauls a swollen knit bag off of the floor and slings it over his shoulder, then parts his fingers in the Vulcan salute at his father. The motion is returned, and then the older Vulcan pulls away. Spock climbs the steps and makes his way to the library.


AN: So here's the first bit. I'll upload them as I finish, or the next day. They will be un-beta-ed, so review if you find a mistake.

So obviously there's Jim as Bender, Spock as Allison, Bones as Andrew, Uhura as Claire, Chekov as Brian, and Pike as Vernon. And I know some of you are like "WTF, WHERE'S SULU?" He'll show up, don't worry. :D Also, the beginning seems remarkably like the movie. This is sort of a parallel to TBC, really. I have the script from the interwebs, and am basing most of the dialogue and actions off of it. But there will be major differences, later on! Also, fail Russian dialogue is fail. And I suck at stardates. And Barack Obama High School? Well, I couldn't think of anything. And then I was like "...Don't they name schools after presidents and famous people and junk?" So, BAM. Obama has his own school. You know, in the future.:P