(there are more character descriptions in the definition now.) It was dead quiet in a night like Griffin Rock, no calls. No nothing on the emergency line. Even the rest fo the rescue bots went into recharge at midnight per-usual.

As for Heatwave however, in the shadows of the bunker. He eventually transformed back into his robot-form to maneuver around the recharging bots as they slept.

With Heatwave unable to retreat into stasis to recharge he was practising his punches on the unfortunate thick wooden standing dummy that can't even move at his punches and kicks which has been dulled and chipped the time he's been attacking and venting out on it as he stands on the platform on the same ground of the wooden dummy.

Heatwave let out a breathy growl as he would halt and pulled back his punches, her servo now rested on the top of the post. The knuckles of where his built in water cannons are were not as pristine as before when he did his rounds, the metal being dulled.

"It's quiet, too quiet." He breathed, murmuring bitterly. His ember optics now staring down the dummy he now leaned onto.