Brother My Brother Getting In: Part 1

Several vorns later . . .

"Jetfire-"

The youngling doesn't listen as he stormed out of the house. With good measure, he slammed the door behind him. Jetfire donned a scowl. He grumbled how 'life wasn't fair' and other curses under his breath as he stomped to his night shift at the local bar.

From the window of the small home, a weary Stunticon watched as his son stomped away. Breakdown placed a servo upon his face-plates and rubbed. He tried in vain to stop the incoming helm-ache.

After the encounter with Lockdown, Jetfire never recovered. It made Jetfire bitter every time they had to 'move' from a place they had settled down in for a time, no matter how short, to get away from Autobots. From time to time, Decepticons and bounty hunters, but it was mainly Autobots.

It didn't matter to Jetfire: whatever they ran from were because of the Autobots. In turn, the youngling grew a rebellious streak that made Breakdown wonder what had happened to the sweet sparkling he raised.

"Oh Primus, spare me more patience," Breakdown rumbled quietly. He winced as he bent his left knee a little too far. He glanced down at the slightly rusted joint; a souvenir from a bounty hunter's blaster fire that nearly crippled him. He sighed as he hobbled back into the kitchen to try to repair his joint.

O*O*O

The first time Jetfire had entered The Pit Stop, the most famous bar in Neutral Territory, he had been desperate for a job.

When Jetfire and Breakdown had just arrived onto the small colony, Breakdown had suffered burns from ion blasters and several rust infections. They had barely managed to shake off the bounty hunters from the tail of their ship.

Immediately after they crash-landed, a kind Neutral had led them to the best medic in the colony. The only thing was . . . the medic wasn't too subtle with his disliking of the Stunticon.

At least the medic was 'kind' enough to shut the door so that the other nurses couldn't hear them speak.

"You're the slagging wanted mech those bounty hunters, 'Cons and 'Bots have been madly searching for!" the medic sneered. "I have half of a processor to turn you in, you-"

"Please," Jetfire pleaded. He stood directly in front of the mech's face-plates. To the elder mech's shock, the youngling was about a helm taller than him. "Fixing him. He's Papa-"

"Jetfire, no-" Breakdown tried in vain to prop himself up on the berth. With his injuries however, his usually powerful arms gave out and he collapsed with a BANG! back into it.

"Papa!"

"I'm injured, not going offline kid," Breakdown grunted, both in pain and annoyance.

"And anyway youngling, my repairs, especially to the extent on your Creator, isn't cheap," the medic added casually. Jetfire felt his tanks drop to his pedes. If he were an organic, his face would've been pale with an ill feeling.

Breakdown and Jetfire barely had any credits to buy a scooter-bot sized energon cube.

"Um . . . amounting of credits . . . not much so," Jetfire admitted. He ignored the flabbergasted look Breakdown sent him.

"Hmm . . ." the medic looked the youngling up, down and up once again. "I'll repair your Creator, but on one condition." Jetfire swallowed nervously as he stared at the medic. Meanwhile, Breakdown struggled to sit upright, but to no avail.

"If you put him up to anything vile, I'll personally-"

"No!" the medic responded vehemently, appalled. "I wouldn't dare do that!" Jetfire audibly exhaled with relief.

"What I meant to say was this: I have a friend-actually more of an acquaintance that needs another servo in his bar. A job opportunity for you youngling, if you will."

"Papa . . ." Jetfire sighed. He looked into the yellow eyes of his caretaker. Breakdown looked away. "The credits, it earns."

Breakdown exhaled. "As much as I'm gonna agree," he struggled to get up, and this time Jetfire helped him sit up against the wall, "be slaggin' careful. There are optics that aren't just out for me anymore. It's also for you."

"Ok." Jetfire turned to the medic, optic ridges furrowed.

"Thorough being."

"I will. I am a medic after all."

O*O*O

Jetfire grumbled as he was forced to wear his 'uniform'. It was known by many names: 'The Pink Monstrosity', 'The Pink Shock', 'The Pink Spark-Breaker', 'The Pink-', though it still was that. Jetfire's boss had insisted that the 'new guy' would always have to wear the Pink So-and-So.

It was a sad attempt to mimic the Earthling's way of covering themselves with an apron. In reality, the thing Jetfire had to don upon his chassis were about twenty different pink polishing cloths slapped, glued, and or poorly stitched together.

Currently, the youngling frowned as he briskly scrubbed through several glass energon cubes and oil drums. He coughed as the hot water and steam wafted up into his intakes. Jetfire took a step back and hacked raggedly.

A swinging door opened up, revealing one of the bartenders of the little bar.

"You ok back there?" he asked.

"Yes, being yes so," Jetfire sniffed as he wiped away the excess moisture from his face. "Ugh. Steam much!"

The bartender laughed. "Easy there kid. Don't want your intakes to rust." He reached into his wrist compartment. The friendly mech tossed a clean cloth to the youngling, which the latter gladly took to wipe his face-plates.

"Mister Glitz, sir," Jetfire stated once he finished the last of his dishes, "me join you?"

"Sure kid, c'mon out," Glitz smiled. Jetfire happily tore off the 'apron' and pranced out after Glitz.

Glitz fit his name, especially since his black and white armor had a glittery effect from his paint. Rumor had it that the mech was once a dancer in a risqué part of Iacon. However, as far as the youngling knew, the bartender just had a spark-mate that was two asteroids away and was expecting twins.

Just an eccentric, the youngling concluded.

Jetfire hopped behind Glitz and greeted the apprentice bartender, Onyx. The black and grey femme politely nodded at the two as they passed, and turned her attention back to polishing the energon cubes.

"Hey Glitz! I'm gonna need a pair of Polarity Smashers!"

"Glitz! Some energon!"

"Glitz! Refill!"

"Hey-a Glitz! Gonna need some Visco!"

"GLITZ!"

"GLITZ~!"

Jetfire's processor whirled as he watched Glitz do his bartender magic. The black and white darted down beneath the counter to get his ingredients and just as quickly shot back up to mix and then toss whatever the patron ordered back to them.

"How do it?" he asked Glitz once he got out of his stupor. The mech had single-handedly taken, mixed, and served up fifteen different orders.

The elder mech laughed. He clapped a hearty servo upon the youngling's shoulder and whispered, "A lot of experience. My old Sire was one too." Glitz chuckled as he shook his helm, wistful. A slightly morose expression crossed the black and white's face-plates as he added, "Now, the ol' clicker of his is resting in peace."

"Sorry," Jetfire whispered, sympathetic.

Glitz donned a small smile then. He turned to the youngling. "Ah, it's all right kid, anyway-"

WHOOSH!

All manner of communication literally froze as door whipped ominously inward. Soon, three strange patrons walked in. Before the youngling could process what happened, Glitz shoved Jetfire down. The youngling landed shoulder first onto the floor with an OOF!

Jetfire almost bolted upright to give the bartender a piece of his processor, but stopped when he noticed that Glitz seemed genuinely afraid. Judging from the bartender's quick look he sent him, Jetfire had to stay. Down.

"Hello," a sultry, feminine voice cooed. Quickly, Glitz and his apprentice shoved several open and empty boxes atop the youngling as Jetfire pressed himself against the ground.

The youngling stared up at Glitz's digits gripping the underside of the metal counter, enough to leave dents. Beside him, Onyx's dainty servos formed into fists. A shadow passed over him, and Jetfire didn't dare move. He could make out through all the boxes that the shadow belonged to a Seeker.

She seemed to have no qualms in not giving Glitz his personal space as she leaned over the counter, setting her aft atop it as well. Unfortunately, that move gave Jetfire a very inappropriate glimpse of her chest-plates. The youngling carefully clapped a servo over his innocent optics, whose face matched the hue of pink roses.

Meanwhile, the Seeker sported a smirk.

"Hello handsome," she purred. She reached out with a digit to stroke the mech bartender's chest-plate, right over his spark chamber. Quickly, Onyx snagged her wrist and violently shoved the femme away. The black and grey femme glared daggers at the Seeker, who didn't seem to mind. In fact, the Seeker mockingly laughed, smug.

"He has a spark-mate," Onyx hissed.

"Aw," the other femme snickered. "Is someone jealous?"

"Why you-" Glitz held Onyx back by her shoulders before she could damage the Seeker. Glitz quickly hissed, "Stay out of this kid, she's a 'Con!"

"That's right little sparkling," the Seeker teased. She flicked at the younger femme's forehead the same way a human would do to an annoying bug. "Let the adults talk." Onyx bristled and was ready to lash out at the Seeker, but stopped cold as two HUGE mech Seekers stepped behind the smug femme.

"Seekers, more or less, are always in a Trine," Breakdown had told Jetfire. The youngling prayed that the two huge mechs wouldn't hurt Glitz or Onyx. They were tough when needed to be, but in a three-to-two fight? It wasn't fair!

"Two Viscos, and . . ." the femme stared up at the menu, lighted up behind the bartenders. She smirked, "Just a cube for me, mid-grade energon with a bit of bleach and *caramelized rust." Jetfire quietly exhaled. Well, this was certainly new . . . and he glad his prayers that he and his co-workers would live to see another day.

However, it didn't stop the curiosity Jetfire had for them once they left.

O*O*O

"Don't try to hide it," one of the Seekers chuckled. His paint job was mostly a dark taupe and silver. Jetfire nonchalantly held the energon cube the Trine had given him. "You wanna know anything, just ask," the femme added.

"Glitz say Decepticons, you," Jetfire started. He couldn't believe he got into this situation. As soon as Jetfire left shift, he had been stopped by the Seeker Trine for a chat. Frankly, they were rather kind to him. In fact, the femme's personality was a lot more approachable now.

"Well yeah," the other male Seeker replied. His paint job was a sickly green and black. "That's the Autobot's way of demonizing us; we're the good guys! It's them that are the problem." Jetfire leaned forward, eager to hear more of the Great War.

Breakdown never told the youngling of his experience in the War, nor what side he was on.

"Vhy?"

"Oh, pfft, where do I start?" the femme chuckled. She had a deliciously fine frame: all curves and a sassy attitude. Jetfire had a hard time trying to keep his optics to her face-plates. "Well, it goes way back, probably even before your Sire's time."

"In fact, we aren't so sure of how it all began anymore," the brown-silver Seeker admitted. "We've been fighting so long, we forgot . . ." a sad expression crossed his face.

"We lost our Creators to the Autobots from a bombing," the femme sighed. The trio glanced upwards for a moment before turning back to the stunned youngling.

"We just need a few more good servos on our side," the Vosian said earnestly. Then the Trine continue to recount a few stories of their own. Valiantly trying to save one of their own as he was shot down, effectively pushing back the enemy with just their bare servos, doing dynamic stunts in the air to fool the Autobots into shooting one another.

The eldest Vosian, the green and black one, showed off an etching that was done onto his arm. It was the similar to a tattoo, and Jetfire gazed upon it as if it were an award.

"I got this from a friend of mine . . . that is, before he offlined at least," he explained. "It was his way for thanking me for saving him from a building falling on top of him."

"Then he died a quick death: dagger to the central processing line." He demonstrated what happened with his long digit. Jetfire winced as he saw the appendage graze over the back of the Seeker's nape.

Like any determined being, Jetfire came to a decision.

"Vant to help." The Trine gaped at him.

"Can you repeat that?" the femme asked. The accent the youngling sported somewhat hindered her understanding.

"Me. Help," Jetfire responded. He nodded eagerly. Quite frankly, Jetfire didn't really want to be stuck in his position at The Pit Stop any longer. Not only that, but Breakdown's overprotective tendencies were starting to grate on his nerves.

"You're just about the age to enter the War now," the second Seeker murmured. He quickly scrutinized the youngling. "You may be a ground-pounder at the moment . . . but believe it or not-" The Seeker quickly grabbed Jetfire's pede and inspected the bottom of it. He grinned.

"Just as I suspected. You're part Seeker!" Once he let go of the appendage, he stuck out his servo to Jetfire.

"What do you say? We can teach you how to fly kiddo!"

Jetfire's innocent optics widened in excitement. Not only that, he'd have a part in stopping the Autobots. Once they were done for, Breakdown wouldn't have to keep running anymore . . .

How could Jetfire say no?