video ;; action | 4TH WALL EVENT

[show_my_cannons]

[So remember how Ironhide had been lost in the wilderness earlier?]

[That's not a problem anymore. Because guess who can suddenly turn into a truck? That's right, this guy. A truck that is currently plowing through trees and bushes and whatever might be in his way. BEEP BEEP MOVE OUT OF THE WAY.]

[As soon as he gets into some clear space, be it a town, or a pathway or anything reasonably clear of tall, cumbersome trees, the truck skids to a halt.]

[And transforms.]

Hah! About time this has happened... Now.

[He rolls shoulders the size of a small family car.]

Let us get on with this. Tracking the girl should be simple. Or... hn. Simpler.

[STOMP STOMP STOMP off goes the giant robot through the town. Whichever town you might happen to be in.]

[Interrupt him? Y/N?]


((ooc: replies will come from heavyweaponsbot for icon purposes.))

Comments

[neonnerd]

[That STOMP STOMP STOMP is certainly attention grabbing. Particularly for one who has heard that stomping many times.

Although if he can hear it, it can clearly be picked up by the residents of this little town, and so it's a slightly disgruntled Ratchet that follows the sound, still in his vehicle mode, until he finds the fully transformed Autobot.]

Are you trying to draw attention to yourself?

[heavyweaponsbot]

[And Ironhide... stops.]

[He freezes in place, every single piston and panel going utterly still. That voice... He never thought he would hear that voice again. After Chicago... this place...]

[He knows that voice perfectly. The one he'd missed, almost above all others. Does he really, really dare to hope?]

[In the end, he does turn. The pause is too long, and the look on his face more implies Ratchet just cracked him across the head with a steel pole than just made a smart comment. The sight of that neon paint is --]

[He doesn't even have words for it.]

... Ratchet?

[neonnerd]

[The longer the silence goes on, the more uncomfortable Ratchet get, and the more he fears that something is terribly wrong.

Ironhide may generally be the silent sort, but he's not one to ignore a direct question, particularly not one that combination between teasing and scolding. And particularly not one from Ratchet.

He's about to speak again, to question the other further, when Ironhide finally turns to face him. His expression prompts an immediate reaction from Ratchet; he transforms, unwilling to remain in his vehicle mode when something must indeed be wrong.]

What is it? What's happened?

[heavyweaponsbot]

How long...?

[It's all he can manage to say, once he finally finds his voice. He hates how weak and small it sounds. How rough and cracked around the edges the words come out. Air cycles through his vents -- a "deep breath", in his terms.]

[Finally, he takes a few steps forward. He's always had that limp, but the weight of his thoughts right now make it all the more pronounced, all the more difficult to hide.]

... How long have you been here...?

[It's not how he would normally act. He knows that. And he knows, out of all the Autobots to arrive, Ratchet would know it instantly. Even so... he can't keep himself from reaching out. From clasping a hand heavily down on his old friend's shoulder.]

[And gripping it.]

[Tightly.]

[neonnerd]

[Given everything they've been through, Ratchet is not easily unsettled, but hearing that tone in Ironhide's voice is most definitely a reason to be unsettled. For what must have happened to cause it, and, on a more personal note, for Ironhide.

Even through his concern for the other Autobot and his growing worry about what's happened, Ratchet's optics are drawn to the limp. His focus is instantly on how Ironhide is walking, finding the weaker spots and comparing them to the last time he saw Ironhide walking.

It's only when Ironhide's hand grips his shoulder that he processes that Ironhide has finished his question. There's something Ratchet missing, quite clearly. The weight and importance behind Ironhide's words make it impossible to miss, even if the other's tight grip wasn't a very large clue.

And even if the question itself didn't make Ratchet pause to look around, and realize that he has no idea what town they're in.]

Where is 'here'?

[heavyweaponsbot]

[It only distantly registers that Ratchet's armor is the wrong color -- it's not the green and white he last saw. Which matters little, he's more used to seeing the neon yellow instead.]

[Once more, he doesn't immediately respond, his good optic flicking over the familiar frame. Every line is as it should be. Everything just as he recalls it being. Except the paint...]

No matter. I will... hn. I will try and explain. Later.

[His hand never budges, the fingers never loosening their grip. This is a presence sorely missed -- every time he'd ached in the mornings, every time a joint seized up, or a limb snapped. This constant companionship, this relied-upon friendship. He doesn't have the words for how much this means, seeing the medic again.]

[Seeing his oldest friend again.]

[His head bows a little, words hovering on the edge of speech before he throttles them back, shoulders shifting uncomfortably.]

You are not the color you last were... [Not the best thing to start talking about, but they need to start somewhere.] Where were you, last?

[neonnerd]

I rather think it is of some matter.

[He's a little disconcerted at finding himself in a place that he doesn't recognize, and he can't remember when he started driving into it.

But if Ironhide says later, he will wait. If only because Ironhide's manner is still greatly concerning. He's acting as though they have been apart for quite some time, and not as though they had spoken less than a half hour before.

Were this another Autobot, Ratchet wouldn't be quite as concerned, but this is Ironhide. He knows the other well, and this - Ironhide is not one for public displays of affection, especially not this long, without extenuating circumstances.

Still, with Ironhide's hand remaining firmly on his shoulder, Ratchet can't help but return the gesture, resting his own hand on his friend's shoulder. At the moment, it's as much to reassure himself as it is for Ironhide.]

I am the color I have been since we first arrived on Earth. [There is a note of disgruntlement in his tone, if only because he doesn't understand why Ironhide would be commenting on paint, of all things.] En route to NEST headquarters, returning from Egypt. Surely you couldn't have gotten that far ahead of me, I stopped only for a moment.

[heavyweaponsbot]

From... Egypt.

[He says it like he can't believe it. And, in a way, he can't really. Egypt seems like another lifetime ago. All of it does.]

[And now...]

[Now here lies another problem. If Ratchet can only recall Egypt, he knows nothing about what followed. About Sentinel. The betrayal. None of it. Only Ironhide knows the full extent of what happened.]

[And it's up to him, to decide if he explains.]

[His fingers dig in. He shakes his head.]

Yeah... I remember that. Long time ago now. [Another slow shake of his head.] C'mon then. Best... get someplace out of the woods.

[In case this wears off and they change back -- they won't be lost that way. And, not to mention, he can put off explaining for a while.]

[neonnerd]

[And now Ironhide is repeating him, as though unable to comprehend what he is saying. No, there is nothing about this that Ratchet likes.

He hadn't stopped for long at all, only to investigate a species of plant he hadn't seen before. Granted, it might have been a bit longer than Ratchet had realized, given his absorption in the plant, but it certainly couldn't have been long enough for Ironhide to forget where they'd been coming from.

Nothing should have caused that to happen, given the events in Egypt, barring some particularly specific injury.]

Long time ago now?

[Now who's repeating who? There's shock in his voice as he looks closely at Ironhide, as if attempting to determine what's happened merely by observation. Which - well, he is.

But still, he moves to follow Ironhide.]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[He nods, as he walks. He keeps his gaze straight ahead, but always stays within scanning distance, within touching distance, of the medic with him. He doesn't want to move any faster, any further away, than that. It's incredibly sentimental and foolish of him. But he can't bring himself to stop.]

[It's been too long.]

[A year is too long -- how strange that sounds, to someone who's been alive so long.]

Yeah.

[How does he even begin to explain this?]

This place. It does... things. Strange things. I was here... years. Before now.