[Audio / Open log]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[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.]

Comments

[thepartydude.livejournal.com]

Yeah but I'm pretty sure going until you fall down where you stand isn't exactly healthy.

[Mike prods some part on Ironhide's leg.]

Plus you're like, a grandpa. You're old, dude.

[heavyweaponsbot]

It is not healthy, no.

[No sense in lying to the young one. The leg panel twitches in response to the prodding.]

Several million years old. You have no idea.

[thepartydude.livejournal.com]

Then sleep, dude.

[He squints.]

Or I'll totally tell Ratchet when we find him.

[heavyweaponsbot]

[Ironhide levels him a long look, blinking his good optic, before he responds.]

If we find him.

[thepartydude.livejournal.com]

Hey, "when" is a perfectly good word.

[Mike waves a hand at his robot buddy.]

We'll find him.

[heavyweaponsbot]

[His intake vents hiss.]

I am not... so certain. He is not... usually absent this long.

[thepartydude.livejournal.com]

Yeah well maybe he's not a stubborn old Hummer and he's actually, y'know, copping some Zs?

[Mike gives Ironhide a look. Trying to reassure the robot in his own way was taking the attention off his own problems, and Mike threw himself at it with relish.]

Or maybe he's like, making a lobster army and he's gonna take over the island when no one's looking!

[heavyweaponsbot]

... Or distracted by a coconut.

[Which was what Mikaela had said. It's likely. But, he's not completely convinced. He matches Mike's look.]

A... what... army?

[thepartydude.livejournal.com]

Lobsters. Y'know.

Those things.

[He points down to the beach, where a bright purple lobster is slowly making its way to the sea. Backwards.]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[He grunts, pushing himself up on an elbow with a great complaining of joints. Frowning, he watches the lobster.]

... It looks like an insect.

[thepartydude.livejournal.com]

They're called the cockroaches of the sea. I saw it on National Geographic once.

They taste really amazing though.

[Not that a sewer-dwelling mutant turtle has ever had an opportunity to taste anything as classy as lobster.]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[Ironhide makes a face.]

You... eat the insects?

[thepartydude.livejournal.com]

Rich people eat them.

[Mike squints.]

What if it's like ... one huge prank on rich people. Making them eat bugs, and then all the cooks are laughing in the kitchen.

[heavyweaponsbot]

[He twitches an optic ridge.]

Maybe we should ask Ratchet. [A pause.] When we find him.

[thepartydude.livejournal.com]

Yeah Ratchet will know.

[A small grin.]

When we find him.

[heavyweaponsbot]

[He reaches over and gives the turtle a little shove.]

If you see him first, tackle him for me.

[thepartydude.livejournal.com]

[Mike makes a small salute.]

Roger that.

[And then he flops down next to Ironhide, staring up through the palm fronds.]

[heavyweaponsbot]

Good soldier.

[With that declaration, he casually drapes an arm across the ground, his hand behind the turtle's head. Protective gesture.]