- Motto: "Say hello to the junkyard!"
- Weapon: Compressed Air Rifle
Fortress Tenebrous – Personal Quarters
“I am growing weary of this, Stormbird.”
There were no words in which Stormbird could use to pacify Igunanus' rising irritation. It was much better to withstand the terror trooper's verbal tirades—permit them the freedom to run their course, to dissipate at a time of their own choosing. Of course, Iguanus never raged, as it were, during these situations but after a while his bitter dialogue built up enough to wear down the listener as if a massive weight, too much to bear, crashed down upon him.
Stormbird was almost immune to Iguanus' incessant griping. Almost. On occasion he nearly gave way and considered throwing reasons and excuses out there to get Iguanus to calm down, to recompose himself. However, that was a terrible mistake, one Stormbird had quickly learned from long ago.
Reasoning, far more often than not, was met with a fresh tirade, more powerful and consistent than the one that proceeded it. Hardly the result he was hoping for.
“An elite such as myself?” Iguanus turned and pointed at himself. “Cooped up here while there still are Autobots to crush? Unthinkable! Absurd! Idiots! They're idiots, Stormbird, all of them!”
Stormbird's mouth plate might have hidden some of his emotions but being the stoic mechanoid that he was, emotion rarely achieved a prominent position on his features. And amongst his tone, as well.
“It is only a matter of time before we are deployed in the field again,” he replied.
Iguanus narrowed his optics at him and Stormbird mentally reprimanded himself for responding. How foolish. Now he was going to hear all about it, all over again. He prepared his audio receptors for the looming assault.
It never came.
Iguanus smiled. “Perhaps you are right. That may very well be the case.”
Again Stormbird braced himself for a verbal torrent to gush from the terror trooper's oral cavity. Half a breem passed by. It did not occur. Incredible.
He suspected an outside factor helped banish his comrade's irritation, because he didn't exactly say a whole lot or offer any persuasive words that altered Iguanus' mood in the slightest. He wasn't bothered by this; more relieved the remedy found them.
Smile still on display, Iguanus tapped his comm-link with a clawed digit. “I've just received word from Bomb-Burst. It appears he has returned from Melanossus.”
Whether or not Bomb-Burst wanted anything to do with Iguanus was another matter entirely. In a sense, they were friends, trading war stories, the recent happenings, even jesting with each other, but the predator did not like being disturbed all that often, solitude a quality he valued above most other things. Like almost every other damn thing.
He was a bit of a killjoy, Iguanus thought, despite the friendship that had developed between the two. Still, peace and quiet was what he desired after battle—after everything—and he would have just that. Iguanus decided that a short visit later might prove to be successful. Maybe.