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: (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: (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.
heavyweaponsbot: (Drink energon - be strong like bull)
[How long has it been since the old 'bot refueled? Before the battle with the End, if he remembers right. Which was far too long ago, if how tired and cranky he's feeling is any judge.]

[After some deliberation, he flicks the journal open.]


Where does anyone refuel around here? Speak up. Make it quick.

[If he doesn't get an immediate response, he will stomp his way out of his room, and start searching the Keep for anything that looks like a cube of energon. Or something to put his systems back in order again.]
heavyweaponsbot: (Let's do this thing.)
[Today finds Ironhide prowling the temple grounds.]

[He's trying to decide whether or not to head inside -- as instructed. Does he go in and demand his cannons back? Or does he stay out here and purposefully ignore the summons in order to make a point?]

[Ironhide ends up standing in front of the temple, his arms folded, and scowling. He has sand in his joints, his chest is aching, and he feels like he's been strung along by their captors. They should have been told about what they were facing. And they weren't -- not one bit. He's extremely cranky, in other words.]

[Approach him?]
heavyweaponsbot: (OH FUCK MY LIFE)
[Sand in his joints, a gaping hole in his chest, no medic, no other Autobots, no way home... a tiny rodent following him around everywhere...

And now.

Snow.]

...

I hate this place.

[The big Autobot is standing in front of his pod, kicking his feet, and trying to shake the snow out of gaps in his armor, shuddering all the while.]
heavyweaponsbot: (Action pose go!)
-- Eugh! Filthy... wretched...! Off me!

[Well. Anyone who was wondering where the hell Ironhide went off to, look no further for your answer. There are crashing sounds as the big Autobot tears his way out of the jungle. Underbrush is trampled, trees actually punched -- despite the fact that it doesn't really help matters.]

Where is that energon...

[He does sound displeased, more so than usual. Tramping around the jungle, getting stuck, and deprived of fuel for a long while doesn't do wonders for the old 'Bot's temper. And the rain isn't helping matters.]

I hate this place.
heavyweaponsbot: (Rise or fall)
[If it's possible for a five-ton Autobot to sound tired, Ironhide does.  Not nearly as much as he would, if he'd been organic, but still.  And then, finding the ship in complete disarray?  Not so good on the nerves.]

We... have returned.  All those who lived. 

[A pause, and he cycles air through his intakes.]

The one we went in for, the female, has been secured.  I want a status report from... anyone who can give it.  On the ship, on... yourselves.

[And anyone he cares about -- YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE.]
heavyweaponsbot: (gdit C4)
... Anyone figure out yet what the captain was raving about this time?



[Locked to: Bryn, King // Unhackable]

Need to ask you something. Important.
heavyweaponsbot: (More than I can compute)
... What have you all done to get yourselves handcuffed?  Have I missed some large-scale brawl?  Why was I not informed?

Need to tell me these things.  Getting rusty just punching the bees.



((ooc: Ironhide is unable to lie 8D Enjoy!))
heavyweaponsbot: (Truth will show)
I find it difficult to maintain an ordered squad when those involved get themselves tossed in the brig.  Hmnf!  If you hear this, Zuko, you will answer to me when your punishment ends.  Or King.  Pray that he is more forgiving than I am.

[He mutters something that sounds like "damn kids".  Maybe.  Or maybe you're hearing things.]

The rest of you will report in.  Want to talk to you.

...

If you wish it to be in person, you can find me with the bees.  I have business with them.

[Meaning, he's itchy to hit something, and the bees are the best target.]

...

[Locked to Ratchet // Unhackable]
If you see this, got a female who wants to... do me a favor.  Need your advice.
heavyweaponsbot: (Hide your pain)
[There's a brief shot of Ironhide's face.  He looks, as per usual, disgruntled, while he toys with the comm.  Behind him are flashes of piles of objects, ranging from cardboard boxes of what looks like leather, to a neat row of plants in empty bottles.]

...

Need a favor.  Someone.

[That's all he says before the feed clicks off.]
heavyweaponsbot: (Give me the strength)
... If it does not stop being wet and damp in here, I am going to rust. Or be forced to watch my joints seize up. Or let my systems run so low, they become virus-ridden.

This is stupid.

[He knows he sounds sulky, but right now, he doesn't care. Stupid boat.]

Is this foolishness going to continue every time the weather changes?
heavyweaponsbot: (FLAWLESS.  VICTORY.)
Unless there is anyone with a useful proposal for my time, I will be occupied on deck six.

[Punching bees: what giant robots do in their downtime, kids. Of course, he won't come right out and say this.]

I grow tired of individuals who are too incompetent to work a simple communications device.

Hmnf!
heavyweaponsbot: (Save your fears)
... Been a while since we went below. Some information has been shared. I am willing to tell what I found, for whatever good it does.

[There is a pause, and a shifting of metal. His voice gets a little stronger, a little more annoyed.]

Speaking of that venture... I require... my optics repaired. My medic has asked for crew assistance, and recieved no word. What are you crew doing that you cannot even answer a simple request! Hmn!

If that is not enough to sway you, I have a frog. And a question. You want this frog? Send someone who can answer my question, and fix this damage.
heavyweaponsbot: (Stand alone complex)
... so this is what we recieve from our captors, hmn? A reminder of all we have been taken from?

Hmpf. Foolish. Should just leave us be.

[Ironhide is still in the bar, for all interested parties, where it's warm and he's left relatively alone. Or so he believes. He's currently hunched up in a corner, being a brooding black lump. One of the picture-type gifts from the tree is in his hand, and if anyone approaches they may get a brief look at what it is.]
heavyweaponsbot: (Hide your pain)
I tire of this ship, its crew, and its... holidays. I have no use for these toys. What is the meaning of this?

And is there nowhere I can have a proper spar? Settle for the bees again, if nothing else...

Hmnf.

[The comm clicks off. If anyone is so inclined, the weapons master can be found down in the caves, brooding, and occasionally slamming a fist or two into the walls.

As for his squeaky whale, it has been deposited safely in front of a certain medical officer's door without so much as a word on the subject.]
heavyweaponsbot: (Truth will show)
I begin to loathe this boat nearly as much as aircraft... Going to rust in all this... damp.

Need something to keep from stiffening up. Some sort of exercise... Only so many times I can drive around these decks. Unlike some, I do not enjoy poking holes in turf, or studying these yellow creatures all day.

Hmnf.

Open to... suggestion.

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heavyweaponsbot: (Default)
Ironhide

June 2014

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