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: (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: (OH FUCK MY LIFE)
Is there nowhere on this ship that is not freezing? Joints are rusting in this.

[Some scraping sounds over the coms - the old!bot is on the move, despite the creak and groan of a certain half-functional limb.]

Tell me there is somewhere free of this... holiday nonsense.

[He's wandering as he speaks, so feel free to run into him, if you so choose. ]



[ALSO.

If Ratchet ventures outside his door... this book is sitting outside it. He found it in the giant luggage pile.

If Mikaela pokes her head out... there's a pink sweater, about three sizes too small, in the snow outside her door.

If Blurr comes outside... there's a cube of energon. He was a little stumped on that one.

And if Gannondorf or Shockwave come out... there are a few scattered pieces of fish!corpse outside their doors.

It seems that, despite claiming to hate the afforementioned parties, someone made an attempt at peacemaking. Sort of. Which happens to coincide with Christmas.]
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 ^^))
heavyweaponsbot: (More than I can compute)
[The audio feed turns on, and for a moment, there's no sound, except for the shifting of metal. It would seem the maker of this transmission is "asleep", for lack of a better word. And then... there is the sound of tiny feet on metal.]

Ribbit!

[More metal shifting. A voice muttering something in Cybertronian. And then...]

Hmn? What...

[A pause.]

WHAT--GET! GET OFF OF ME! IMMEDIATELY!

[A loud thud!, some frantic ribbit-ing, and scraping of metal against the floor.]




((ooc: ... Yeah, C4 just keeps on making friends wherever he goes. Follows this.))
heavyweaponsbot: (This waking hell I am)
Where... where is this! What's going on! I will not tolerate this nonsense! There is a battle going on--

[Brief moment of stunned silence, and then, a roar that shakes the communications devices of all those listening]

Where... are... my cannons! Who touched them! Show yourself! Or I shall tear this place apart to find you! How dare you lay hands on me and my weapons! When I find you, I will not hesitate to--do not think I cannot destroy you without them! Answer me! Now!

Optimus' orders or no, when I find the responsible party, you will be reduced to your basic components before you can blink!

[Another pause, and then, quieter, but no less agitated]

Hmn. Oh, should... Autobots. Come in! Where are you! I have been taken from the field... What is Prime's status? Respond!

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heavyweaponsbot: (Default)
Ironhide

June 2014

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