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.]
heavyweaponsbot: (I dislike this plan.)
Headcount. Who all here remembers the Elegante? Speak up.

[There's a couple reasons for asking. The general headcount, and asking a few important questions that came up when he spoke to Zuko.]

Need to figure some things out.
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: (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: (OH FUCK MY LIFE)
[Ironhide has never sounded this awkward or embarrassed in his entire time aboard the ship. He doesn't even seem able to quite get coherent words out of himself.]

I... I need... to find books. Certain... books. Of... questionable content. I... do not ask this lightly, I...

Need books about... human... mating. Do not ask.


Hate my life.





((ooc: Ironhide chucked Ratchet's books out the window. See? His wife is not happy.))
heavyweaponsbot: (Lies betrayed and the oppressed)
[There's static for a few moments, before the comm actually picks up the very subdued voice.]

Ratchet... I... need you. Please.

Help.

[All of the above fall under things he would never... ever... say over open comm lines like this. Thank you very much, Captain. There's a pause, but anyone with decent hearing can hear him muttering to something--or someone.]

It will be fine... going to be okay... quiet now.  I have you... Going to be fine... not going to hurt much longer... hush.


[Aren't auditory hallucinations fun? He has not left the hall the elevator dumped him into. And he likely won't on his own--thanks to being blind from Infected Passenger Spit, badly damaged, and with absolutely no sense of direction, the old boy's stuck on Deck 12.]

Profile

heavyweaponsbot: (Default)
Ironhide

June 2014

S M T W T F S
1234567
891011121314
15161718192021
222324252627 28
2930     

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags