Ironhide, up until this point, had been pretty much occupied keeping people out of the line of fire, so to speak. Most of these bikers hadn't been a challenge for the big bot -- throw a few punches, bust a few heads, and they were out for the count.

This though. This was different.

He'd made his way to the proverbial frontlines, where he was meant to be. He was big, built like a battle tank, and probably could take more hits than the organics. Or the guards. Made sense he should pitch in.

He hefted a long pole in one hand. Not as useful as a rifle or any other sort of gun, but, hey, he would make do with what he could. And stood up, brandishing it like baseball bat the size of a grown man.

"Good for you! Why don't you come over here and say that?"