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.]


Old fool...
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: (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: (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.
heavyweaponsbot: (We are not amused)
... Why are the birds speaking.

[Ironhide can be found sitting outside of his artichoke pod and casually throwing rocks at one of the aforementioned birds in irritation.

The bird does not shut up.]
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: (Running to fight)
--guilty as charged! One of them. You came from them, you were one of them once. You know you were. Why not just let it all out? You were a Decepticon once--

[A loud thwack interrupts - metal impacting metal. Someone dislikes what he's hearing. Nevertheless, the voice continues speaking, albeit cut off by the Autobot's snarling.]

--hat's why you can't keep them safe. You worry you can't. You're right. Optimus. Jazz. The little one. Can't keep the female safe either. She blames you, they all do--

[This time, it's cut off by an engine revving.]

--what about him, you say? Is that why it's supposed to be secret? It's not. Everyone already knows. You can't hide it. He's disappointed in you. You're going to fail him like you did everyon--

[Ironhide doesn't bother answering the voice verbally. Not at that. All there is, is a roar and the sound of a heavy fist impacting a wall. Or a bee.]

--you can't even say it. Can't even say you love hi--

[And the transmission is forcibly ended.]
heavyweaponsbot: (8D I blew up a PLANET)
Much better.

No more annoying scanners giving my processor a malfunction.  So... what are we in for this time, hm?
heavyweaponsbot: (Event | Ratchet's never looked angrier)
[The video opens on Ratchet.  Who looks exceedingly peeved.  Moreso than those familiar with him may have ever seen him.  In fact, he looks as if he'd very much like to rip his communicator in half.]

Whoever is in possession of my medic will inform me of his whereabouts.  Immediately!  Or I shall tear you apart!

Where has the captain put him!  Answer me!

[... well.  That's certainly not something Ratchet would ever say.]
heavyweaponsbot: (Human | BOTCOCK DAMMIT)
[When the comm is picked up, Ironhide starts out perfectly calm and composed.  Even so, there is an odd quality to his voice that isn't usually present.]

For the last time...

[And then he promptly bellows into the comms.]


Autobot!  I am Autobot!  Not... What is the meaning of this!  Bumblebee, Ratchet.  Respond.  Are you still... hmnf.  Is anyone else ... different?

((ooc: Thanks for the
humanizing, captain!))
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: (We are not amused)
[Locked to Mikaela - 95% Unhackable]

Hey. Need a favor of you. It means... much to me... and I do not ask lightly.

Need a frog. Gold one.



Have a question for you. At the usual price. Answer quickly, or I shall retract the offer.
heavyweaponsbot: (Ceiling Ironhide has you in his sights)
I... have captured a lobster.

[He says this with great pleasure. You should all be proud of him.]
heavyweaponsbot: (Rise or fall)
[If anyone's listening, there's a clatter over the comms, as something heavy hits the ground. There's no sounds of fighting, no shouts, cursing. Just a thunk. And silence.

Somewhere in the palm trees, exhaustion finally got the better of the old Autobot. He'd spent weeks now, with all systems engaged, first while jeweled, then searching for his missing comrade. And when Ratchet failed to be located, he's thought the worst. It's taken a toll on him.

Should anyone feel the need to investigate the sound, they'll find a huge black pile of metal, sprawled amongst the trees... out like a light and apparently quite comfortable.]
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.

heavyweaponsbot: (We are not amused)
Stupid to ask if anyone is hearing things. I want to know instead what we intend to do about it.

... Anyone remember those... tanks? Belowdecks?

[He doesn't say anything more on that subject, figuring if anyone saw them, they'll know what he's talking about. Plus, this... brings back severely unhappy memories of that venture down below.]
heavyweaponsbot: (But why is the energon gone? :<)
... why is everyone suddenly watching films? And why is it loud on board?

What happened this time?
heavyweaponsbot: (Event | Pre-War || Huh.)
[The voice on the comm isn't the same as it usually is. The grating tone is gone, it's much smoother, and lacks the formal phrasing. But he still sounds vaguely British]

What's going on... where'd the barracks go? Supposed to be getting my weapons refitted...

Hey! Someone wanna tell me what's up? This some kind of really bad prank? 'Cause if it is...

((ooc: Yeah, Ironhide's memory-regressed, along with age-regressed. As far as he knows, he's still a low-ranked soldier in the Cybertronian Armed Forces, who idolizes his leader... Megatron. Not that it really matters much, but there you go. He's maybe... the robot version of 18 or so, as opposed to his normal OHGODOLDERTHANDIRT 50-ish.))
heavyweaponsbot: (Interesting.  Does it explode?)
Why is it that organic fuel constantly appears in my presence? I have neither desire, nor capacity, to ingest this... Eugh.

Anyone want this scrap?

[Ironhide is offering up his Valentines candies to anyone who wants them. The stuffed creature--resembling a bull terrier--he picked up, and examined, but decided it was going to a special home.

Anyone who wants candy is welcome to either knock on his door, or pester him over the comms.]


heavyweaponsbot: (Default)

June 2014

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