heavyweaponsbot: (Interesting.  Does it explode?)
[It's the end of the week. Do you know where your Autobot is?

If you said digging around on Deck 12 looking for more bits of metal, you'd be right. He doesn't particularly need it, without the ammunition to replenish, but the gaping hole in his chest takes more than a little effort for this auto-repair systems. And they do need the extra material.

He's currently got a set of metal sporks in hand, and is fiddling with the lock on a steamer trunk, wondering if he can get it off.]

((ooc: For [livejournal.com profile] medicalofficer but others are welcome to run into him as well!))
heavyweaponsbot: (I know you're back there Doc.)
[The video is accidental. What one can see, at first, is the tiny golden arm of a frog. Specifically, C4. The frog peers into the camera for a second before becoming bored and hopping off.

This leaves the screen clear to show off the rest of the room. Amidst the piles and piles of random objects, including but not limited to, a lampshade, books, a small blackboard, golf clubs, little bottles with plants inside, toy boats, a shovel, stuffed whale, soil samples neatly labeled, stuffed dog... and so on and so forth. All of it is very organized.

And, of course, sprawled out in the center of the room is a pile of black metal... and a pile of neon metal, stretched out on top. Ironhide has an arm draped over his companion, whose head is resting comfortably on his chest. Neither of them appear to be awake.

The feed cuts out... but the comm is still very much on.]
heavyweaponsbot: (Sideglance FTW)
If this crew is finished calling their master down on us, I will repeat a previous statement.

I have a frog. I want a question answered. Answer me.

[Locked to Leonardo - 90% Unhackable]
Asking if you are all right is foolish. I will not. I... [Awkwardly] I will only apologize. Should have kept my vocals mute.

Especially since I have no room to talk, when it comes to ignoring that creature calling himself a captain.

[Locked to Ratchet - Unhackable]
Hey. You uh... you got a minute?
heavyweaponsbot: (Action pose go!)
... I want to speak to the one called "Jak". In person.

Where is he?


Doc, Blurr. Need to tell you something too. When you have a minute.
heavyweaponsbot: (I will not bow)
[The sound of fireworks exploding can be heard in the background, along with the usual accompaniment of shifting metal. And the occasional, short laugh. Ironhide sounds amused when he speaks, in contrary to what he's saying.]

They really think these are fireworks? Give me my cannons back... I will show them fireworks.

[He pauses, chuckling to himelf.]

Guess it could be worse...

[He's up on the upper deck, like everyone else, occupying a secluded section of the rail, and leaning heavily against a nearby wall, should anyone desire to pester him.]
heavyweaponsbot: (Human | Know what we do t'punks like you)
[Testing out the alcohol tolerance of this new body was likely not the best idea he'd ever had. Especially after that little... talk with Shockwave. Probably was best not to antagonize the Decepticons but... one of them had been such an easy mark. And Shockwave was... he had it coming. One punch from Blurr was, in Ironhide's opinion, getting off too easily.

He was sitting at one of the tables--in the bar the nervous human had mentioned, his bare feet propped up on it, and leaning back in his chair. An empty bottle was on the table beside them, and another in his hand. Clearly, he had decided not to wait for Ratchet before starting in.

Still disdaining the use of shirts, he wore only the pants Mikaela had found. A plethora of battle scars decorated his exposed skin, available for all to see. He didn't seem to care, just watched the humans wandering around, looking for a by-now-familiar face.]

((ooc: sorry for spamming x-x Harass however you want ^^; ))
heavyweaponsbot: (Now rise up)


Found what we needed.  Care of a... social gathering.  Do not ask, I do not want to discuss it.

You still worked up over that organic? 

heavyweaponsbot: (Right will win)

[Gears and joints crack over the line--someone's working the kinks out]


About time this place ceased altering my structure.  Tired of looking like Ratchet too...  So now what?  Do we continue sitting by...?  Or do we try and get answers out of these... people?

Could use a drink too.


heavyweaponsbot: (Default)

June 2014

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