|| 28 [Audio + Closed Commentlog~]

[kingofthisworld]

Since I'm sure the players in this little farce are just anxious to know how the next scene will unfold, I believe it is time for Act Two to begin.

[A pause, as he laughs softly.]

Ironhide, you're next.

[There is an edit to this post sometime later.]

[Text]

- Jak
- Ironhide
- Phoenix
- Razer

Comments

[heavyweaponsbot]

[He charges, then, in a rush similar to how he grabbed Ganondorf in the first place. His gait is a little more off than usual--missing wiring in a leg, and the ever-broken hip.]

[destinedtorule.livejournal.com]

[Ganondorf smirked, pulling his hand back and the cackling magic growing as Ironhide charges him. When he's close enough, Ganondorf's arm moved swiftly and the magic tearing through the air toward it's target.]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[It... rather feels like being shot again, in that spot. His body jerks, the pain coursing through his chest, and he feels his spark shudder in response. Yet... he didn't drop when the missile struck. Even if he's moving on instinct, on momentum, he keeps charging.]

[destinedtorule.livejournal.com]

[Ganondorf braces himself for the charge, digging his feet into the ground and grappling with Ironhide. He's gripping the plates on Ironhide's arms and attempting to tear them off.]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[His intakes shudder, rasping. His spark--something's off, something's wrong. It's making this brawl more difficult, he's sluggish.

But with Ganondorf's hands occupied, he tries to twist sideways, aiming another kick at his legs.]

[destinedtorule.livejournal.com]

[His knee gives and he nearly loses his balance. But he throws his weight against Ironhide, in hopes of pinning the autobot to the ground.]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[His engine revs, and he leans forward, ready to headbutt the organic away again--

And his frame shudders violently, pain stabbing him in the chest. He can't shut it out. His traction slips. He tries to pull away, to put distance between them so he can run a diagnostic.]

[destinedtorule.livejournal.com]

[He releases one of Ironhide's arms, to grab his leg and pull him down to the ground.]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[He refuses to fall without as much of a fight as his faltering frame will allow. He swings a fist toward the big, glowing gash in Ganondorf's chest as he drops.]

[destinedtorule.livejournal.com]

[He shudders at the strike to the hole in his chest. It didn't hurt necessarily. But that didn't mean he had no feeling there. And being struck didn't help. He pants, searching his pockets for the shiv he so carefully crafted.

With the blade in hand, he aims a stomp at the hole in Ironhide's chest.]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[He tries to hit it again. Off of him--has to get him off. But the pain is still there, matching the pulse of his spark.

Wiring sparks, and fluid spurts--not enough to worry him. He concentrates on bypassing the pain long enough to hit his enemy.]

[destinedtorule.livejournal.com]

[Ganondorf gets to his feet, and kicks at Ironhide's exposed wiring.]

Time to give it up, Ironhide. Surrender and keep what little dignity your pitiful race has.

[heavyweaponsbot]

[He snarls in answer, glowering. He struggles, doing his best to try and rise.]

I... did not submit to the Decepticons... I will not submit to you.

[destinedtorule.livejournal.com]

[Ganondorf doesn't know what a Decepticon is, but perhaps you should have, Ironhide.]

Naughty, naughty, Ironhide. Lay down and take your punishment like a good little lamb.

[Another kick at the hole in Ironhide's chest.]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[He's never surrendered before--not unless ordered to stand down. His vocals cut into static for a moment, as another spasm of pain shakes his frame. The kick doesn't help. He hits the ground.]

I... refuse.

[His hands grasp at the ground, fighting to rise again.]

[destinedtorule.livejournal.com]

[He kneels next to Ironhide, his eyes scanning the plates to see where the best place to put it. When he decides, he takes the shiv and begins carving into the metal.]

Your kind have a sigil, do they not?

[heavyweaponsbot]

[He shifts his weight, lashing out with a fist as best he can, when he feels the point on his armor. He does not answer the question, in favor of another, more pained, snarl.]

[destinedtorule.livejournal.com]

[Ganondorf stopped his work long enough to bat Ironhide's fist away. The more he struggled, the harder and deeper Ganondorf stabbed the shiv into his armor as he continued to carve a very particular symbol (http://i100.photobucket.com/albums/m33/ZeldaGamer21/GerudoSymbol.jpg) into the autobot's armor.]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[His armor is thick, heavy-duty metal plates covered in long welded seams that pass for scars on the Autobot. Getting deep would be difficult. And he continues to thrash, to try and fight back. He refuses to lie down and take this, shoving at the organic now, in addition to struggling to rise against the stabbing pain in his chest.]

[destinedtorule.livejournal.com]

[He's realizing this, which is why he is stabbing into each slice he makes multiple times. Careful, Ironhide, Ganondorf will start to stab indiscriminately while he's trying to fend Ironhide off and it might stab into the gap in his chest.

Ironhide pushes Ganondorf away but the Gerudo manages to scramble back and resume his work]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[He doesn't seem to be paying attention to where his enemy is stabbing, only that it's still going on while he struggles, growling. After a moment longer, however, the purpose appears to dawn on him. He stops. Optics shutter.

Then he starts shaking, a static-ridden sound escaping his vocal processor.

He's laughing. Sort of.]

[destinedtorule.livejournal.com]

[Ganondorf pays no mind to the laughter. Ironhide has stopped struggling and Ganondorf seizes the opportunity to finish his carving. When he's satisfied, he steps back to admire it.]

Enjoy your new sigil, Ironhide. I think it quite lovely.

[He tosses the shiv in the dirt and turns to leave, as he takes his communicator and puts a strike through Ironhide's name on his list.]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[He watches him leave, still laughing.]

... Enjoy it while it lasts. Organic fool.

[And now he'll busy himself dragging his aft into a standing position.]