heavyweaponsbot: (Broke my damn juicebox.)
[There's a lot of beeping noises. Someone trying to push buttons and accidentally mashing down the entire keypad.]

[Several times.]

[Eventually there's a grunt--]


There. Now. Leave--

[BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.]
heavyweaponsbot: (Default)
Leave your message.

[YEAH THAT'S ALL HE'S GOING TO SAY. Ironhide is not a 'bot of many words.]

22 - audio

Aug. 11th, 2012 06:18 pm
heavyweaponsbot: (Human | Urk...)
[12 hours after being placed in the stocks, they open, and an Autobot-turned-human drags himself to his feet.]

[He leaves a message, when he gets back to his room:]


Need a medic. Nothing serious. Just dislike leaking all over the place.

[Nothing else.]

[He closes the book.]

21 - Audio

May. 18th, 2012 03:13 pm
heavyweaponsbot: (Interesting.  Does it explode?)
So. Staff. If you will not tell us of the dangers here, make yourselves useful and answer me something else.

High grade energon. You have any around here?

[There's a pause, and then Ironhide clumsily seals the the rest. Kevas said he should try and... be friends.]

[Well. Here goes nothing.]



[SEALED TO: RATCHET]
You seen the lake yet?
heavyweaponsbot: (Lies betrayed and the oppressed)
[His kind do not dream. There are memories, certainly. But never dreams.]

[Not until the Elegante took that hard and fast rule away -- took him, changed him. Made him human. The change must have altered something. Ever since then, his recharge has been plagued with memories, with compounded memories and fantasies, fears and daydreams. He can't stop it. And while it's unsettling... it's something he's adapted to, more or less.]

[When the dream comes, he thinks it's going to be just the same as always. Another vague half-memory.]

[He is wrong.]


DREAM SEQUENCE - cut for length and headcanon )


[The old soldier wakes alone, staring up at the night sky beside the lake. Cold sand presses against his back, where he'd simply dropped in his tracks. Water is lapping at one of his feet, damp and uncomfortable in the joints. Slowly, hesitantly, he lifts a hand, staring at it.]

[And for the first time since his arrival, he notices the barest hint of neon paint transfer, caught in the scars and grooves of his palm.]

[... you're stronger than this.]


Hmn.

Old fool...
heavyweaponsbot: (All Spark why would you even --)
... Anyone else suddenly get a bad feeling?

As if something horrible has happened, and you have no power to set it right again?

[He has no idea where this feeling is coming from, or why it's there, but ignoring it isn't exactly helping anything.]

[It just makes him feel more and more restless.]

Need to go hit something. Badly.
heavyweaponsbot: (Save your fears)
That is it! I am finished with this nonsense! With this place!

[The snarl of rage all but shakes the journal. Ironhide's voice is sharp, harsh with anger and bitter pain. His words are crisp, but undercut by a warning growl. Finding his charges missing only a day after their arrival has pushed the old warrior to the edge. The lack of a familiar, stabilizing presence only shoved him further over it.]

[He no longer cares for their punishments. He has a mission now.]


You--! All of you under this lord's command! Tell me where you have taken them! Where do you hide the missing!

[Stone -- probably some random bit of rock he found to illustrate his point -- crunches.]

You will tell me... Or I will tear this place apart! [Another warning crunch of stone.] You have one hour.

[And with that, he ends the recording. He can be found waiting near the stables. And once the hour winds down, if he hears nothing, he will literally begin attempting to rip the very stones of the keep apart.]
heavyweaponsbot: (Let's do this thing.)
So. It is time for the tournament?

[Ironhide chuckles.]

You may as well all retire now. I will be winning this one, I think.
heavyweaponsbot: (I will give you to the count of three.)
[The video feed opens on Ironhide, looming large... and standing fully upright, in the keep's courtyard.]

[There appears to be a small tree, ripped from the woods themselves, and planted in the ground -- or propped up, it's hard to tell which. Either way, the old Autobot is watching it with an even stare.]

[And without warning, he kicks the tree, savagely, the motion accompanied by a rev of a massive engine. The tree shatters in an explosion of splinters and wood chips.]

[He draws himself up, and snorts.]


Yeah. Hip works all right. This will do.
heavyweaponsbot: (Optimus I am disappoint.)
Melee tournament, huh?

[He sounds so unimpressed... but...]

Then I will be entering this tournament.

[His voice has a tone of 'whether you like it or not', despite the fact he doesn't come out and say it.]
heavyweaponsbot: (Rise or fall)
[Ironhide was out attacking the tree when the snow started. He should have stopped, and trundled on inside. Instead, he stayed put, pounding on the tree and generally hating on the world around him.]

[... There had been much talk of that Christmas holiday, lately. And of course, what should stand out in his mind, but the Elegante. All the more reason to stay out here and pummel a hapless tree until the cold succeeded in making every last joint in his body ache.]

[His fists actually creak when he un-clenches his fingers. That's not a good sign.]

[He heads in, finally, stomping down the pathways with a more pronounced limp than usual. Yeah, it was a bad idea staying out so long. The cold, the lack of maintenance and abuse finally seem to be taking their toll on his frame.]

[A fact which becomes all the more apparent when his bad leg loses its footing completely on the rapidly icing path. There's a surprised sort of grunt out of him before all four and a half tons of giant alien robot goes crashing to the ground with a CLANG of metal.]

[The old 'bot is nothing if not durable, but even his body has to give under the impact of his own weight. When he pushes himself back up again, his leg doesn't respond. The already damaged joint is ... okay, Ironhide has no idea what's wrong with it.]

[But it hurts.]

[And now he's moodily contemplating the walk back to the barracks and wondering if he can just transform.]
heavyweaponsbot: (Drink energon - be strong like bull)
[Ironhide took one look at the little metal cuff dangling off of one big hand, and... promptly chewed on it. Hey, it was metal. He eats metal. More or less.]

[When that failed, he snarled at it, as if trying to intimidate it into submission. Again. A failure.]

[So, with nothing accomplished, the big Autobot stomped out to the tree he and Xanth rigged up as a punching bag. And that is where he can be found -- beating the tar out of the quintain.]



((ooc: Aara is flagged to be handcuffed. Anyone else is free to bother.))
heavyweaponsbot: (Save your fears)
[Oh hey Keep. It's Ironhide again. And boy does he sound unhappy.]

Tell me, lord.

[There is so much derision in that word, it should be a curse, not a title.]

Where are those who go missing? Do you send them home, to their "vanished worlds"? Or are you keeping them locked up!

[Something big and heavy impacts a wall.]

Answer me!

[... Finding Lea missing isn't sitting well with the big old bot.]
heavyweaponsbot: (Facing the fire together)
[Oh yes, by now he knew exactly how to get the pumpkins to stop talking. It would have been smart of him to do so. He would probably have been saving himself a lot of trouble by doing it.]

[But he hasn't.]

[The pumpkins are still whispering and whining. He'd smashed several of them -- Decepticon faces all, and that had felt good. By now... he's tracked on to one in particular. Only centuries of long association have allowed him to tune the words out, listening to the voice. If he shutters his optics, he can pretend he's being lectured, or being made to listen to some science babble or other.]

[His head is bowed, and one of his hands is resting lightly on the pumpkin in question.]

[He can't bring himself to break this one -- not when it has the voice he's been missing for months now. He'd never expected separation to be this difficult.]

[Ironhide can be found solemnly regarding the Ratchet-pumpkin in the early morning hours of the Keep.]
heavyweaponsbot: (Hate you so much right now)
Going into that forest. Not about to sit here wondering, asking useless questions.

Come if you want. But I am moving out now.

[True to his word, after recording that message, Ironhide preps to leave the keep, heading for the forest.]
heavyweaponsbot: (Stand alone complex)
[Things have died down. And now there's nothing going on but pounding, pouring rain.]

[While the old timer should probably have gone to refuel, he opts instead to go out in the wet. Why? He can't really say. Maybe he's disappointed he let his charges down -- after checking everywhere, it's become obvious Zuko is no longer among the Keep's guests. Maybe he feels he failed them some other way -- he should have been the one to put an end to Riku, not Xanth.]

[... He should still be on the Shore.]

[Try as he might these few weeks, he can't shake that feeling. There's something missing. And it's painful. Like he's missing a vital internal component.]

[Ironhide winds up near the lake, in the middle of the downpour, just staring out at the water. The water pings off his armor. He never thought he'd admit it, but the sound and motion of the waves is... well.]

[It's familiar.]

[And therefore, it's comforting.]
heavyweaponsbot: (Save your fears)
I want a status report! Infected, well, whatever, sound off.

Xanth, Zuko. Tell me you are unharmed.

Some illness will not affect me. I will protect anyone who requires it.

[With or without a response, the big Autobot is going zombie stomping, looking for his kids.]
heavyweaponsbot: (All Spark why would you even --)
[Granted, Ironhide is an alien robot. However, that does not mean he likes getting snow in places. Or the cold. He never has.]

[He was out stomping around the castle grounds when the snow suddenly hit. And by the time he gets inside, he's covered in white, slightly damp... and incredibly grouchy about the whole thing.]


Where is the nearest heat source? Going to rust if this all stays... like it is.

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