Wreck and Rule!

Let me guess; you're another one of those people who think I'm "the Autobot who went too far." Well let me tell you an important fact about that day on Pova. Get the frag over it. I paid my "debts" ten times over with those twenty years in G-9. I paid my "debts" the day I rid the universe of Squadron X. I paid my "debts" on that final Wrecker mission with Springer. If I pay any more "debt," people will start owing me instead. The past is the past and that's the fragging end of that. It's time to look to the future, and mine looks to be what it's always been. I don't have to be an official Wrecker to wreck and rule. That glitch Prowl's political speech can't take the Wrecker out of me. If you've got a problem with that, get out of my way or I'll get you out of my way. ((Closed RP blog for New Crystal City))

[harpoonhand-blog]

((It's finals week. I'll be gone for the next two weeks or so, but I'll be back to replying the weekend after next~))

[harpoonhand-blog]

19 38

19. I'm sure you can already guess the obvious stuff. Even though he doesn't try to think about it, he often dwells over G-9 and Pova. Most of his nights are spent restlessly, constantly bolting awake, scanning for potential threats. But that's probably something you guessed at.

There's a certain time of night, usually after he's already been sleeping for an hour or two and reawakens, where his thoughts drift away from his anger and, even though he would never admit it aloud, guilt. He's usually drowsy enough at that point that those concerns seem distant. He usually thinks about the things he's buried so deep he forgot they even existed. Oddly enough, those are NOT his Wrecker days, so he's almost constantly dwelling on that in some form or other.

He goes back to his mining days. He was no garden of roses back then either, but he really knew how to let loose after a long day. If you walk in on him that time of night, you might catch him laughing at the memory of a comrade's drunken bar dance. Or he might just have the smallest ghost of a smile on his faceplates. And very rarely he might be doing other things if he's remembering one of his... conquests.

38. He's not afraid to admit he's a type A personality. He know he pushes really hard to get the job done, or else he wouldn't be called "the Autobot that went too far." Even now that he's kicked out of the Wreckers, he's relatively antsy to keep busy. "Keep busy" mostly consists of keeping away from most Autobots and slagging any 'Cons he comes across. He's proud of how he's willing to push himself to reach a goal, daring to go places no one else would, but he also struggles with what that very same personality trait has brought him to.

[arrogant-young-bot-deactivated2]

“Why are you calling me Princess Jr.? My name’s Hot Rod. And what’s wrong with hugging?” He asks, then perks up when Impactor starts telling him things. ”A Wrecker? That sounds badass! What does that mean? I’ve never heard about it. Oh, and what is your name?”

[harpoonhand-blog]

Impactor paused and quirked an optic ridge. Just how clueless could you get? Did this mech know a single thing at all? These were the stupidest questions he had ever heard. <<Oh, I'm sorry. I got your name wrong, Bubble Boy,>> he sneered back.

To be that clueless the only explanation was that he'd lived in a bubble all of his life. The war had left a dent on all of them. What right did Hot Rod have to go swaggering around that anyone could be that... innocent? And infuriating. That too. <<Impactor, and don't forget it. Because if you keep it up much longer I'll be the one to permanently shut off those vocalizers of yours.>>

[rpmissionboard]

The Excessively Detailed Headcanon Meme!

What does their bedroom look like?

Do they have any daily rituals?

Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often?

What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy?

Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.)

Eating habits and sample daily menu

Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time

Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging

Makeup?

Neuroses? Do they recognize them as such?

Intellectual pursuits?

Favorite book genre?

Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general?

Physical abnormalities? (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.)

Biggest and smallest short term goal?

Biggest and smallest long term goal?

Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress

Favorite beverage?

What do they think about before falling asleep at night?

Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them?

Turn-ons? Turn-offs?

Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?

How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life?

Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all?

How do they see themselves 5 years from today?

Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t workout?

What is their biggest regret?

Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy?

Reaction to sudden extrapersonal disaster (eg The house is on fire! What do they do?)

Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies)

Most prized possession?

Thoughts on material possessions in general?

Concept of home and family?

Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to ‘TMI’?)

What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time?

What makes them feel guilty?

Are they more analytical or more emotional in their decision-making?

Would they consider themselves a Type A or Type B personality?

What recharges them when they’re feeling drained?

Would you say that they have a superiority-complex? Inferiority-complex? Neither?

How misanthropic are they?

Hobbies?

How far did they get in formal education? What are their views on formal education vs self-education?

Religion?

Superstitions or views on the occult?

Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds?

If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal?

How do they express love?

If this person were to get into a fist fight, what is their fighting style like?

Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not?

[arrogant-young-bot-deactivated2]

Rodimus tilts his head, not at all discouraged by the harsh words. “Well some mechs over here have all kinds of different mods too, but it’s usually exchangable so people, you know, don’t walk around stabbing others accidentaly. Or while hugging and stuff.” He furrows his optic ridges. “So are you spec ops? Why did you talk to me first if you wanna be left alone? Did you fight a lot of Decepticons? Do you have some awesome war stories? Kup has a lot of those!”

[harpoonhand-blog]

<<Hugging? What the frag is wrong with you, Princess Jr.?>> he asked. What kind of mechs were the Autobots accepting into their ranks these days? A bunch of peace-hugging rookie motormouths apparently.

<<If I remember correctly, you're the one who tracked MY comm. And I'm a Wrecker. Of course I've beat up 'Cons. You may not be one, but I'm more than willing to add you to that list if you keep asking questions that are none of your business!>>

[harpoonhand-blog]

arrogant-young-bot started following you

Impactor scowled at the new signal that popped up. This one was… vaguely familiar. Not quite the person he was thinking of, but close enough that it bothered him. He didn’t like that person one little bit. «I don’t know who you are, but you remind me of someone I don’t like. Call me as judgmental as you want, but stay the frag away from me. I don’t need to deal with more like him.»

[arrogant-young-bot-deactivated2]

Hot Rod just smiles; he’s encountered this kind of hostility before, and he sure as hell isn’t going to back off. It wouldn’t be him if he did. “Who are you talking about? My counterpart? Aw man, I’ve heard he can be kind of weird. Don’t worry, apparently I’m not much like him. Apart from, you know, colors and stuff.”  He smiles a bit wider. “And who are you? Are you some kinda… Spec ops mech? Is that harpoon there all the time, or do you have a normal hand too? I’ve never seen you around here, so you must be from a different universe. But seriously, that harpoon is so cool. Are you a good fighter?”

[harpoonhand-blog]

Impactor's faceplates froze, the words buzzing in his helm like static. How did he talk that much... that fast? "Argh," he muttered, rubbing at his helm. It was already beginning to get a helmache. He'd dealt with his share of eager young recruits when he was the Wrecker's leader, but that hadn't made him like them any more than he had before.

<<Shut up, Princess Jr,>> he demanded. <<And of course the harpoon's slagging there all the time. This is war. You got to be prepared for a fight at any time. Now leave me alone or I'll personally introduce you to it.>>

[harpoonhand-blog]

chronosmith started following you

“Whirl…” Impactor said, nodding in greeting. His optics narrowed and he watched the other Wrecker cautiously. He wasn’t sure where he stood with him anymore. It’d been much too long since they’d last gone on a mission together. However, if word on the street was true, Whirl was almost as much “the autobot who went too far” as he was, and that intrigued him.

“It’s a been a long time,” he remarked. “Been up to anything interesting since you left the Wreckers?”

[chronosmitharchive]

“First of all,” Whirl begins, “I didn’t leave the Wreckers. I was kicked out of the Wreckers. You might notice that there’s a fundamental difference between those two things, Impactor.”

Whirl and Impactor definitely have a shaky history, but for the moment, Whirl is calm enough (and bored enough) to at least attempt a conversation. “I kind of sort of accidentally ended up trapped on a ship untold thousands of light-years from Cybertron. So, no, nothing interesting. Half of the crew is apparently crazy, the other half is pathetic, and they’re dropping like flies. What about you?”

[harpoonhand-blog]

Impactor's interest crumpled as quickly as it quipped. It was difficult to find anyone who didn't attempt to remind him of the incident. Like slag he wanted to be around someone who could only see that. High and mighty lot of Autobots. "You know I know there's a difference," he growled back.

"Doesn't surprise me their pathetic. Most Autobots are these days. Too wrapped up in their damn rules to get the job done. I've mostly been avoidin' the idiots that've taken control." He was already beginning to tune the other Wrecker out, now that he knew the mech was just another pet of the system.

[harpoonhand-blog]

readyforsomefootball started following you

Impactor considered the newcomer idly. No, he’d never met this mech before. Best to be cautious until he knew more about him and his goals. “What do you want?” he demanded.

[readyforsomefootball-blog]

Eject’s response would have normally been much more spirited, especially in the face of such a brusque demand, but the cassette replies in an uncharacteristically weary tone. “I don’t want nothin’, mech. I’m just followin’ your frequency. I’m a communications officer. It’s what I do.” 

He vents deeply, and then adds, almost as an afterthought, “I’m Eject.”

[harpoonhand-blog]

Impactor rolled his optics. No threat. Communications officer his aft. What was the point of trying to talk things out? Where did that ever get anyone? Other than turn them into a mech like Prowl. He grimaced at the thought. <<I'm none of your business,>> he snapped back.

[harpoonhand-blog]

hotheaded-leader started following you

Impactor growled and narrowed his optics at Rodimus. This irritating mech seemed to have a habit of showing up where he wasn’t wanted as he was quickly finding out. “Haven’t you got something better to do than follow me around and threaten me?” he spat at him.

“Frankly, it’s pissing me off. Shouldn’t you be herding that little band of misfits or something? No wonder they’re a lost cause, with their leader going off whenever the frag he wants.”

[hotheaded-leader]

Oh, great. Just great. It hasn’t been that long since Impactor disappeared (Rodimus was rather happy about it, though he would never say this to Springer), and there he goes, re-appearing out of nowhere. He rubs a hand over his face - this is not gonna be fun in the slightest.

“What the frag is your problem? I tend to track comm channels by default, if the mech in question is from this universe. Contrary to what you apparently think about me, I do my job.” He sneers, crossing his arms over his chest. “And don’t you even start talking about my crew. They are great.”

[harpoonhand-blog]

«Well, Rodimus. You better learn a new default, which includes not tracking my comm,» he barked back. If there was one person he never needed a call from, it was this prissy, stuck-up Princess. «I’ll believe you do your job when your crew isn’t running amock like an uncontrollable batch of morphobots. And we both know that’ll never happen.»

[hotheaded-leader]

“Newsflash, mr. High and Mighty: I am the highest ranking officer left in this universe and you will have to put up with me tracking your comm, if you like it or not.” Rodimus huffed. “I don’t like you, you don’t like me - cool, nobody is forcing you to talk to me. But guess what - I’m keeping an eye on you. Like on everybody else around, because that’s what I’m supposed to be doing. Now grow up and frag, deal with it, because I’ve got stuff more important than arguing with some old news burnout idiot.”

[harpoonhand-blog]

<<And no one's forcing you to track my comm,>> Impactor growled, shaking his helm and muttering angrily under his breath. <<I don't care if you're the queen of princesses. If I get near you, I'll personally erase my comm link from your memory files,>> he warned, cutting off the comm soon afterwards. And he meant every word of it.

[notthefriendliesttank-blog]

Guzzle remained silent, drinking his high grade and listening to Impactor. Not making a noise as the giant mech sat beside him, the smaller Wrecker made a grunt. “I thought you took it.”

Glancing to the nearby wall, Guzzle wondered if they were actually going to do something. Something being bashing some ‘Cons, traveling space was interesting but he would much rather be killing something. Impactor was fun to be around, but he did talk a lot. And this really annoy thing of picking up the smaller ‘bot by his cannon whenever he got angry. Next time Impactor tired that, he was getting a face of full bullets.

[harpoonhand-blog]

"There's more than one way of paying," Impactor remarked, shifting in his seat and briefly showing the mech the impressive dent he'd achieved while trying to take the illegal high grade. His opponent hadn't managed to get in many other solid blows besides that though; what else was he expecting when he decided to take on him? To win? Impactor laughed aloud at the thought.

Impactor took another sip of his high grade, rumbling in satisfaction. Good stuff, and a relief after all the insanity recently. And there was one thing that would make this more fun.... "How do you feel about a little target practice, Guzzle?" he asked.

[whitewingedknight]

Laughing was definitely good.  Though Wing couldn’t help but think that underneath that was some bitter hurt.  ”And where, exactly, have you gotten?” He can’t argue much beyond that because, well, his convictions got him dead. 

A startled blink and then a grin. “Oh?  Are you so certain about that? I can certainly hold my own in a fight. Ask Drift.” 

[harpoonhand-blog]

Impactor set his jaw stubbornly and scowled deeply, trying to pretend that question hadn’t shaken his confidence in the least. What did the Snowflake know about him or his life? He had no right to lecture him about his choices and his path. NONE of them did, and yet they continued to yap at him until his audios bled.

“I don’t need anyone to confirm what I can see with my own optics, Snowflake. But if you’re looking for a fight, I’m not afraid of a little tussle.” As for the other question, he ignored it. That was none of his business.

[whitewingedknight]

“I’m merely asking. Surely there’s no harm in trying to get to know you, is there?” Is there?  

He brightens. “I would love to spar, thank you! It would be a nice break from…” he makes a helpless gesture. This. His life. Bleh. 

[harpoonhand-blog]

The smallest of smiles tugged at Impactor's faceplates at the prospect of a fight. If there was one thing in life that made sense, it was the feeling of punching someone into submission. Pain was the only certainty in life, and you either gave it or received it. And he really preferred to avoid being a part of that second group.

"Well, you wanted it," he remarked. He mover forward quickly, aiming a punch at the mech's faceplates. Why give him the chance to prepare? If he wasn't ready the moment he said yes, he didn't deserve to win.

[harpoonhand-blog]

Impactor set the small shuttle to autopilot soon after leaving the planet’s atmosphere. They’d be out here for a while, no reason he had to be in the driver’s seat the whole way. Anyways, he had bigger plans in mind after their little stop for supplies. He bypassed Guzzle on his way to the back of the shuttle, giving him a small nod of acknowledgement as he passed.

He returned not long after holding two small containers of energon. “Catch,” he drawled lazily, tossing the sealed container to the tank.

Afterwards, he opened his own, his servo shaking slightly from excitement. “20 years, Guzzle. 20 years since they put me in G-9 and 20 years since I’ve had the real stuff,” he remarked. He had almost forgotten the taste of high-grade, and here he was getting the chance to have it again after all this time. He planned to make the most of it.

“Went through the Pit and back to get the hard stuff, but it’ll be worth it.” And by that he meant the slightly-less-than-legal variety. But who cared? There were no prison guards lurking over his shoulder anymore and it was just a drink.

[notthefriendliesttank-blog]

Guzzle was in the back of the ship, cleaning his favourite gun ‘The Judge’, best gun in the damn universe. Watching Impactor, the tank nodded back before going back to clean his gun.

Once Impactor had returned, the tank caught the cube staring down at it. The older Wrecker liked drinking and talking, Guzzle just wanted to bash some Decepticons. Destroy some stuff. Wrecker stuff, not talking. But getting on Impactors side wouldn’t go down well.

Grunting the short mech drank from his cube, it was strong stuff. 

[harpoonhand-blog]

Impactor sniffed at the drink once, the grin on his faceplates growing. It would feel great to just chase away all thought and restraint for a while with a good, hard drink. That was a luxury he hadn't been afforded in much too long. Unable to hold back any longer, Impactor took a deep swig of the energon.

He hid the wince that followed. Strong stuff, almost enough to numb his taste receptors, but he knew the buzz that followed would be worth it. Sometimes the most unpleasant experiences brought about the best results, as he'd learned the hard way.

He sprawled out beside the tank, his tense frame already beginning to relax after the first swig. "Worth what I paid for it," he announced.

[harpoonhand-blog]

Offline

((Alright, got caught up on follows, so now I got to go hop onto my Rad account and get those done. So, yes. Impactor's offline again~))

[harpoonhand-blog]

darkknightinwhite started following you

Impactor rolled his optics when another new and strange signal appeared on his HUD. Where were all these people coming from and what did they want with him? All he wanted was to be left alone. «I’m just comming you to tell you not to comm me, alright? Now that we’ve got that settled…»

Sometimes you just had to lay down the law early, get it out of the way so everyone knew how everything stood.

[darkknightinwhite-blog]

Drift raises a brow ridge at the ‘greeting’. “Well, aren’t you the ray of sunshine. You always like that, or is this a special occasion?”

Yeah, Drift’s not known to be the best at following rules, as his past attests.

[harpoonhand-blog]

Impactor smiled a little and chuckled to himself. Well, this one had a little fire, now didn’t he? It was amusing, but he’d better learn better quickly, or he’d have to find a way to teach him that lesson. «You’re right, you’re right. I was being awful polite, wasn’t I? I’m sorry. I usually reserve my venom for the real threats.»

[darkknightinwhite-blog]

Drift smirks slightly. “Do you really.” It’s certainly nothing less than he expected from Impactor.

[harpoonhand-blog]

<<I do,>> he replied, rolling his optics. Primus, this person really was thrilling conversation, weren't they? Asking questions he'd already answered and all that. Now that they'd settled that.... Impactor cut off the comm line without a second thought. He'd gotten the point across. No need to continue talking with that oh-so-thrilling conversationalist.

[harpoonhand-blog]

ex-lieutenant started following you

Impactor vented sharply. Another signal. Really? Really. This one was also unfamiliar, as were a fair number of them. He was about to the point that he no longer cared who was on the other end of the line simply left him the frag alone. 

<<I don't care who you are. I didn't fly all the way away from Cybertron to have new signals pop up every fragging nanoclick. Stay out of my space or you'll regret it,>> he snapped.

[harpoonhand-blog]

compassionatemedicalofficer started following you

Impactor roared in frustration and smashed his hand into the console of his shuttle, causing one of the warning lights to blink on. He stoically ignored it and tried to ignore the new signal that had popped up on his HUD. Maybe if he ignored them, they'd stop showing up. Not there, not there, not there. Damn it, he wasn't going to take this sudden rush of... socialness sitting down. He was a Wrecker, damn it. If there wasn't a path, he smashed it into existence.

<<NO!>> he commed the newcomer. Hopefully that got the point across.

[harpoonhand-blog]

whatswhispering started following you

Another signal? Damn it, this was getting ridiculous. Impactor scowled and growled impatiently under his breath. He wasn't known for being a social butterfly, and all these newcomers weren't helping improve his temperament. For this one, he settled for a simple greeting that perfectly explained his mood. <<Frag off,>> he growled over the comm line.