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: (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: (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: (Stand alone complex)
... Need a pair of hands. And cleaning equipment.

Got... organic bits stuck in my foot.

[He's just going to be pretending not to see all that carnage on his way back. Because repression is so very healthy.]
heavyweaponsbot: (But why is the energon gone? :<)
How long have these been here?

[For reference, Ironhide is standing in front of one of the newly arrived statues, scowling up at it. There's a ping as metal impacts stone -- someone just gave one of the things a cursory flick.]

I am less than impressed.

[He's about to say something else, but then there's a sharp crack. Ironhide makes a startled sound, which only gets worse as the loud crunch of a toppling statue fills the comm.]

...

Oops.
heavyweaponsbot: (Human | So whipped)
Is this... the best punishment you can manage...? Hmn?

[Despite the obvious organic quality of his voice, which should be an indicator in and of itself, there's something else off about Ironhide's speech. He sounds hoarse - and, as if that weren't enough, he abruptly starts coughing into the comm. Several quick, harsh coughs, and an odd... high-pitched sound at the end.

Thanks, Captain.]

Something is wrong with the frame this time... intakes are... glitched. Internal heating... eugh.

Need more coverings... and recharge.
heavyweaponsbot: (Hide your pain)
[If one listens closely, they may hear a soft smack-smack of fish tails against fishy bodies, as Ironhide turns on his comm.]

I do not see how this qualifies as a punishment.  Not so bad... Once you get used to it...

This is not going to deter me from taking action against anything, Captain.  Especially not from protecting my charges from mad women and other organics... who have more disgusting tastes than mere murder.


[Of course, Ironhide is not mentioning the fact that he hasn't rested lately, thanks to the fish he's covered in bursting into song on every hour.]
heavyweaponsbot: (This waking hell I am)
[Careful observers of transmissions may have noticed an absence of a big, black presence. Especially where one Mikaela Banes was concerned. In fact, he hasn't made a peep since he and Ratchet went to investigate the restaurants.

He is, however, making amends for it now. Crashing his way down the decks and hallways, attacking nearly anything that moves, leaving a wake of destruction in his path... With a large smear of neon paint on one fist...

Said careful observers may also notice the bit of jewel--hard to distinguish amidst the scars and bits of metal he's made of--set into the semi-circular piece on his helm.

Approach?]
heavyweaponsbot: (Lose all we have found)
[An accidental transmission, this time. Silence at first. Is it recording from the site of the downed ceiling?

... Judging from the sudden gasp of air through intake cycles, no, it's not. There's no slow wakening when you're an Autobot. Everything comes back online at once. And you lie there, staring at the ceiling, trying to get your bearings.]


Where...? Oh.

[Metal creaks, and he groans, deciding against moving for the moment.]

What happened?



((ooc: So. What do you lose when you're a giant robot who wears no clothing? Or carries possessions? Either way, he's back in his room. Bracing himself for scolding.))
heavyweaponsbot: (WTF JUST HAPPENED HERE.)
... Ow! Rocks...?

[Silence - except for the familiar creaking and groaning of metal as Ironhide looks around. When he speaks, the gravely, aged voice is back. He does sound more... groggy... than usual. "Hungover", would be a better word.]

What... just happened...? Why... am I in... the bar?

[And as it all dawns on him. Crap, crap, crap.]

... I can explain everything. To all of you. Ratchet--I did... not mean to leave...
heavyweaponsbot: (Rise or fall)
[Ironhide isn't using his comm. He refuses to admit that anything happened over a public channel. Instead, he's dragging his aft away from deck 3. He moves stiffly, leaning heavily on a wall as he limps along.

One hand is constantly pressed to his chest, as if that's going to help anything. His intakes rasp, big frame shuddering occasionally.

He has one goal in mind - Get to Ratchet. Something is wrong, not just the fresh mark on his armor. He just has to get to his friend and medic.]
heavyweaponsbot: (Sideglance FTW)
If this crew is finished calling their master down on us, I will repeat a previous statement.

I have a frog. I want a question answered. Answer me.




[Locked to Leonardo - 90% Unhackable]
Asking if you are all right is foolish. I will not. I... [Awkwardly] I will only apologize. Should have kept my vocals mute.

Especially since I have no room to talk, when it comes to ignoring that creature calling himself a captain.


[Locked to Ratchet - Unhackable]
Hey. You uh... you got a minute?

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Ironhide

June 2014

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