Private Action -- Public Audio
[Action - Private]
[Ironhide's internal clock all but kicks him early that morning. Nothing unusual about that. He has morning training classes to handle, after all. And he's used to hauling his frame out and about around this time. He grunts, booting up his optics to glower at the ceiling and wait for his body to start aching. It doesn't. Which... is surprising. But, overall, everything seems perfectly all right.
He sits up, automatically lifting a hand to brace against the silver frame he expects to be draped on top of him.
He doesn't find anything. And Ironhide goes very still.
There's no one else in the room with him. No signs of anyone departing, or entering. He's checking his comms before he realizes it -- no messages. Nothing to indicate Jazz was called away unexpectedly. Jazz would have told him, if he were going somewhere. They always did -- ever since he'd returned, they'd left messages if something came up. Pinged coordinates. Something to tell the other they weren't alone in this Nexus.
But there's nothing. Cold fear starts to settle in his chest, sharp, painful enough to make him hunch over, his hand pressing against the scarred armor. His intakes won't work. This can't be happening. He can't be alone. They wouldn't dare deport Jazz -- they couldn't, he'd be dead if they did --
A slow, hot rage begins to build behind the fear, pushing it aside. If they had taken Jazz, he would have woken. He would have stopped them. But he'd heard nothing. Sensed nothing.
Shockwave.
One massive black hand closes around his communicator.]
[Audio - Public]
[Ironhide's voice is tight with barely controlled rage. Those who know him well enough may be able to detect the anxiety backing the anger - it's all but washed away by the venom in the weapons master's words.]
Where. Is. Shockwave.
[He doesn't bother waiting for a response. It's like a dam has burst. And Ironhide bellows into his communicator.]
I will have words with that... Transtech waste of spare parts!
Answer me!
Answer me!
[Ironhide's internal clock all but kicks him early that morning. Nothing unusual about that. He has morning training classes to handle, after all. And he's used to hauling his frame out and about around this time. He grunts, booting up his optics to glower at the ceiling and wait for his body to start aching. It doesn't. Which... is surprising. But, overall, everything seems perfectly all right.
He sits up, automatically lifting a hand to brace against the silver frame he expects to be draped on top of him.
He doesn't find anything. And Ironhide goes very still.
There's no one else in the room with him. No signs of anyone departing, or entering. He's checking his comms before he realizes it -- no messages. Nothing to indicate Jazz was called away unexpectedly. Jazz would have told him, if he were going somewhere. They always did -- ever since he'd returned, they'd left messages if something came up. Pinged coordinates. Something to tell the other they weren't alone in this Nexus.
But there's nothing. Cold fear starts to settle in his chest, sharp, painful enough to make him hunch over, his hand pressing against the scarred armor. His intakes won't work. This can't be happening. He can't be alone. They wouldn't dare deport Jazz -- they couldn't, he'd be dead if they did --
A slow, hot rage begins to build behind the fear, pushing it aside. If they had taken Jazz, he would have woken. He would have stopped them. But he'd heard nothing. Sensed nothing.
Shockwave.
One massive black hand closes around his communicator.]
[Audio - Public]
[Ironhide's voice is tight with barely controlled rage. Those who know him well enough may be able to detect the anxiety backing the anger - it's all but washed away by the venom in the weapons master's words.]
Where. Is. Shockwave.
[He doesn't bother waiting for a response. It's like a dam has burst. And Ironhide bellows into his communicator.]
I will have words with that... Transtech waste of spare parts!
Answer me!
Answer me!