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: (Save your fears)
...

Rodents are supposed to die when you step on them. What is the matter with these creatures!

[There are a series of loud stomps, followed by cursing. In many languages.]

Get away! Disgusting little beasts!
heavyweaponsbot: (FLAWLESS.  VICTORY.)
[Ironhide was going to speak up, to say something - check on Mikaela, bother his team, something.  But when he flips through the network, and notices another missing ID...

There's just an angry snarl before the comm goes dead.

Then he's off, storming around the ship.  He doesn't deal with loss all that well - he doesn't deal with feelings all that well.  He ends up on the Bee Deck, as usual, and just starts punching the nearest buzzing creature he can find.

Should anyone come across him, he'll still be there, whacking insects and growling to himself in Cybertronian.]
heavyweaponsbot: (This waking hell I am)
I wish to know what occurred on the upper decks. Between a certain turtle and an unknown person.

And I wish to know now. This is not a request. Speak up! Be quick about it!
heavyweaponsbot: (Running to fight)
[The communicators practically vibrate with the shout.]

WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS! SHOW YOURSELF!

ANSWER ME! I SHALL TEAR YOU APART FOR WHAT YOU DID!


Decepticons...! Who was it!



((ooc: Someone heard Mikaela was killed. He is not happy.))
heavyweaponsbot: (Human | NOT THE FUCKING TOOTHFARY)
...

[The com clicks on. And there is a long... long silence. Some shifting in the background. Unlike previous transmissions, this one lacks the distinct creaking sounds of metal. At last, a voice speaks. While familiar, it is not... the same as before.]

...

I require... [another pause] I... need... hmn.

Clothing. Covering. Now.
heavyweaponsbot: (Truth will show)
[Following this conversation, a certain weapons master has stomped out of his room, headed down the halls for a certain neon medic's.

He was just hung up on. He was just hung up on. Why? What was wrong with the medic?

The stingers from the bees were in one hand. If anything, he could make a peace offering. He was fighting with Mikaela off and on, there were too many Decepticons, and now his closest friend just hung up on him.

He reached the door, and pounded on it.]

Open up.





((ooc: Anyone can accost him on his little march down the hallway ^^))

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Ironhide

June 2014

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