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: (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: (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: (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: (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: (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: (Somebody call demolitions?)
[Ironhide's voice is all but completely obscured by the sound of whistling wind. He's likely shouting over the sound of it, straining to make himself audible.]

Keep out of the dirt town! Nothing but sand and wind here!

[A pause.]

And scrap metals!

[There's only wind for a while, as Ironhide begins to scan the area more closely.]

...

And corpses.
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: (Interesting.  Does it explode?)
[By now, Ironhide's probably made his way from Hande out to Sabatier. The dust does not agree with him, but he'll save that rant for another time.]

...

Anyone else find it odd there are suddenly towns where there once was fog? Where there were creatures capable of easily slaughtering humans?

Standing in a town right now. Still populated. No sign of defenses or damage. Yet... they were in the fog.

[He grunts, which turns into more of a cough as his intake vents clear themselves of dust.]

Does not add up.
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: (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: (We are not amused)
[The com crackles. Ironhide shakes it. He hasn't bothered to go find his "living quarters". Not yet. He has a far more important job to attend to.

When the comm finally starts up, the voice on his end is deep, faintly accented, and still very angry.]

Autobots. Come in. Respond! I have lost your signals... answer me!

[When there is no immediate response, he snarls into it, then goes silent for several minutes.]

...

Where is this place?
heavyweaponsbot: (We are not amused)
What has happened this time? Who is responsible for all these deaths? Hmn?

[There's the sound of a heavy fist impacting a wall. Someone is very displeased by all this death nonsense. Someone he reasonably liked was among the dead, if the comms were any indication.]

I want an explanation.

Now.
heavyweaponsbot: (Stand alone complex)
[Anyone wandering the top deck may, in fact, come across a big, black robot, standing at rigid attention.  His optics are fixed on the place in which he spotted the red bird, the last time he was up here.  It isn't there any longer, of course, he's simply watching the spot - as if he can make it reappear by sheer force of stubborn willpower alone.

Although, he's not quite certain why.  He didn't mean to come up here.  The voices are gone, and yet he still can't get them out of his head - whispering his guilt.  And there's only one incident he can think of.  Only one a disembodied voice on this boat could know about.

The little Autobot.

His failure to save her.  Her death in his arms.

He never did find out if it was possible to enter her into the system.  And with the first mate gone now...  The weapons master rolls his shoulders, as if to physically shrug off the thought, and returns to his vigil, apparently unmoved.]
heavyweaponsbot: (But why is the energon gone? :<)
You humans have the strangest things in your belongings...

[The video cuts in briefly to show Ironhide on the luggage deck.  He's holding what appears to be a piggy bank in his hands, examining it closely.  It jingles.

In his other hand is what looks like a can of compressed air... and a bottle of Old Spice body wash.]

At least some of it is useful.

[He sets the piggy bank aside and selects the can next.  The video cuts out then, but, shortly thereafter, there is a loud POP.  Ironhide is silent.  When he speaks again, he sounds disgruntled.]

...

Who would keep air in a can!
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.]

MAKE UP YOUR MIND!  

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: (But why is the energon gone? :<)
[Considering how angry he made the medic earlier, he feels it's only right to find some way to apologize. They're supposed to be making something work, he's supposed to be trying his best not to damage whatever it is they have. And he really hasn't been.

So, he concocts a plan. It's probably not a very good one, given his track record. But hey, he's trying.

The moment he's free of fish, and other obligations, he pokes his head into the mess that is Ratchet's room.]

Come on. We have somewhere to be.
heavyweaponsbot: (Lose all we have found)
[When the comm clicks on tonight, there's a long silence, while the speaker debates whether or not he really wants to do this.]

...

Hey.  Ratchet.  You... got a minute?

Top deck.

[And without further ado, Ironhide will be waiting on the top deck.  Watching that crazy old sky up there.]

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Ironhide

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