Chapter Text
B-127 was being followed.
Whoever was following him, they were doing a pretty bad job of being stealthy. B had spotted the other bot shortly after he'd snuck out of Iacon, glimpsing a flicker of red paint that stood out against the blue and green glow of the night sky.
He pretended not to see them, and at first they kept their distance, but now those flashes of red were getting closer.
B gave a small huff of annoyance and sped up slightly, his wheels kicking up dust as he zoomed across the surface in alt-mode. If he got attacked by a Decepticon the moment he snuck out to stretch his wheels, Optimus and Elita would never let him hear the end of it.
It wasn't like he wanted to get away from his friends or anything; it was just that they'd been cooped up in Iacon for so long while they planned their next move. And there had been so many meetings, in crowded rooms filled with arguing bots – meetings where B couldn't get a word in. It was no wonder he felt restless.
All he wanted was a bit of time on the surface, to drive until the jittery energy went away. It had actually been really easy to sneak past the Transformers guarding the entrance to Iacon – he should probably mention that to Elita.
Alright, he thought, let's give this guy the slip.
B accelerated, shooting across the flat expanse of stone before him. The bot following him did the same, giving up on all pretense of stealth and rapidly closing the distance.
Holy Primus, they're fast! B couldn't help but be impressed.
This bot may be faster than him, but were they as adaptable? He was going to find out.
Spotting something in the distance, B immediately banked so hard he drifted, his wheels burning and throwing out sparks. He turned towards a distant river of energon, aiming for the jagged rock formation that formed a steep ramp.
He also got a full look at his pursuer as they shot past him, not anticipating the turn. The bot was only slightly bigger than him, and their alt-mode looked almost identical to his, though painted bright red.
Oddly enough, they looked familiar.
“You're not a 'Con,” B muttered to himself. “So why are you chasing me?”
More importantly, now that he knew the bot chasing him wasn't a Decepticon, he started to have fun.
The red bot had caught back up with him, pulling up alongside him.
“Nice night for a drive,” B called out, unable to help himself.
“Sure is,” the red bot replied with equal casualness. “Now pull over, I need to talk to you!”
“Not a chance,” laughed B, accelerating towards the ramp. “Did Elita send you after me?”
“No, I... you know we're heading straight for a river, right?”
“There's still time to bail out,” B teased.
The red bot took the bait. “Oh, you are on!”
B laughed and sped up, and the two speedsters hit the ramp a few seconds later. They both launched into the air, soaring across the glowing blue river, screaming and cheering at the same time.
Just before hitting the ground, B switched to his base-mode and rolled, breaking his fall, then immediately switched back to alt-mode to conserve his momentum. He didn't see how the red bot landed, but he heard him start to catch up again.
The land on this side of the river was more jagged, with steep rock pillars and ravines. B didn't quite have the maneuverability that Elita did, but luckily, his processor was faster than his wheels.
“Alright, that was fun and all,” the other bot called out to him, “but if you don't stop, I'm gonna have to make you!”
“Sure,” laughed B. “If you can catch me!”
The red bot swerved immediately, trying to crash into him.
B transformed one arm out, grabbing hold of one of the rock pillars and swinging himself sharply to the left without braking.
The force behind the hairpin turn was so intense, he felt a few wires in his shoulder snap. He wasn't worried about that, though – he'd injured himself so many times in the past cycle that Ratchet started teaching him how to repair himself.
When B veered sharply off course, the red bot missed him by a long shot, rocketing off away from him. B lost sight of him among the jagged rocks.
Painfully pulling his arm back in, B raced off, spotting the entrance to a ravine. He could see overhanging rocks that he could hide under; that would give him a safe place to repair his arm, as well as to hide from the other guy. He could still hear the red bot revving nearby, but he couldn't see him.
B zoomed into the ravine, looking ahead for a good hiding spot. That was when he heard a noise along the ridge line above him. The other bot was up there, keeping pace. B smiled, knowing the only way down into the ravine was to backtrack to-
WHAM
The red bot had launched himself off the cliff, landing directly on B and knocking him out of alt-mode. The two bots went tumbling, rolling for quite a distance before finally stopping, sprawled out on the stone.
After a long moment, B slowly sat up with a groan, his hand going instantly to his busted shoulder. Primus, that hurt. At least nothing else was broken, as far as he could tell.
Before he could get a good look at the red bot, he was roughly tackled, and said bot ended up on top of him, pinning him to the ground.
“Caught you!” he exclaimed, his optics bright with excitement, seemly oblivious to the trickle of energon running down his face. “Do you have any idea how long I've been trying to get ahold of you?”
“Who are you?” B stammered, ready to throw down his battle mask in an instant.
“My name's Cliffjumper,” said the bot. “I'm your brother!”
B stared at him. “WHAT?!”
Cliffjumper stood, pulled B up with him, then proceeded to lift him off the ground, crushing him in a tight hug.
“I recognized you the first time I saw you, a cycle ago,” said Cliffjumper, setting B back down. “Well, I recognized your name, then when I got a good look at you during Optimus Prime's first speech, that's when I knew. I mean, look at us!”
Now that the excitement of the chase had worn off and they were both holding still, B could finally get a good look at Cliffjumper. Sure enough, it was like looking in a mirror. The red bot was a bit taller and more sturdily-built than him, and he had horns on his helm rather than antennae, but there was no denying it – they looked too similar to be anything other than brothers.
B found himself laughing. “I... I don't believe it...”
“I've been trying to talk to you for the last cycle,” said Cliffjumper. “But you're always with Optimus Prime, and he's always so busy... Plus, his guards won't let anyone get too close to him.”
“Yeah, that's Elita's work,” said B, as he took out the small med kit he always kept with him. “She's real protective.”
“Oh, I've met Elita,” muttered Cliffjumper. He paused, holding still while B put a patch on the cut on his forehead. “Hm? Oh, thanks! Yeah, I tried to come talk to you a few weeks ago... well, I sort of ran towards you, and she tackled me. Probably should have thought that one through first, but that's never been my strong suit.”
“The first time I met her, she kneed me in the face,” laughed B. He sat down against the wall of the ravine and pulled a small soldering iron out of his med kit.
“Honestly, I thought she would have recognized me,” said Cliffjumper, a hint of smugness in his tone. “I am famous, after all.”
B stared at him for a moment, then his optics widened. “That's where I know you from! You raced in the Iacon 5000!”
“Yes!” Cliffjumper exclaimed, pointing at B with both hands. “I was the youngest racer in last cycle's top 100.”
B laughed. “Wow, I probably would have recognized you sooner if I'd ever been to an Iacon 5000. That's so awesome!”
Cliffjumper's smile dropped. “You've never been to one?”
B shook his head, then winced as he went to work on the snapped wires in his shoulder. “No, whenever they happened, I was always working a job that didn't get the shift off. Then I got sent to sublevel 50, and... well... Yeah, sorry I never got to see you race.”
Cliffjumper sat down next to him, wiping the dried energon off his face as he leaned against the wall.
“Well, I'll tell you this, B-127. The race we just had was more fun than any Iacon 5000,” said Cliffjumper.
B felt a rush of affection for his newfound brother, and for once, he was at a loss for words. Instead, he leaned against Cliffjumper, shoulder to shoulder, and let his EM field do the talking.
“Aw, right back at ya, little bro,” said Cliffjumper.
“You can call me B,” he said, after resetting his voice box.
“And you can call me Cliff.”
B smiled at him, then cringed as he soldered another snapped wire.
What a crazy night! He just had the best race of his life, and he gained a new best friend/brother!
“Wait,” said B, “you said you recognized my name first, then when you saw me, that's what made you realize we're brothers? I mean, I know we look the same, but how did you know my name? Because I never knew I had a brother! If I ran into you, I probably would have thought it was just a coincidence that we looked the same. How did you know?”
“Because of this,” said Cliff, pulling out a small data pad. “The first memory I have after coming online is just me, standing alone in a medbay, holding this data pad.”
“A medbay?” B muttered, frowning.
Transformers weren't born in medbays; they were supposed to come online for the first time in a forging factory, surrounded by other newborn bots whose sparks had been harvested from the same hot spot.
Distant as it was, B could still recall that first memory: opening his optics for the first time, sitting up and looking at the hundred or so other bots waking up around him, feeling his hand reach for the empty, aching slot in his chassis...
His free hand drifted up now, remembering that hollow, incomplete feeling. An echo of Sentinel's voice drifted through his processor, bragging about how he'd plucked the cogs from their newborn chests.
Cliff was nodding, his optics focused on the data pad. “Yeah, I lost those first few hours. They said something was wrong with my memory banks, but they were able to fix it. Although, I apparently swiped this right after coming online.”
He handed the data pad to B; it was Cliff's forging certificate.
“Wait, you actually got one of these?” asked B in surprise.
“Well, I clearly stole it,” admitted Cliff. “But does it really count as stealing if you can't remember doing it?”
“Uh...”
“Besides, Sentinel was going to destroy it anyways,” said Cliff. “He destroyed the rest of them. Go ahead, see what it says.”
B looked at the data pad. It listed Cliffjumper's designation as C-141, as well as the date he was forged.
“Wait, we were born on the same day?”
Cliff nodded.
“But you got to keep your T-cog...”
Again, he nodded. “I don't know why, but it has to be the reason I can't remember the first few hours of my life. Anyways, keep reading.”
B nodded. There were a few notes about Cliff's frame type and paint color – he started as yellow, too – then he got to the note at the bottom of the certificate, written by one of the blacksmiths who monitored the developing protoforms.
Note: C-141's spark was harvested as part of a trine. The other two sparks were implanted in the following protoform designations: B-127 and B-134.
B felt his optics widen. “Holy Primus...”
“I know, right?!” exclaimed Cliffjumper, grabbing B by the uninjured shoulder. “That's why I've been trying so hard to get to you! We're trine-mates!”
B was laughing, and his hand was shaking so much that it took him three tries to repair the last snapped wire. As soon as it was repaired, however, he threw his arms around Cliff, holding him tight.
“I can't believe it,” he stammered. “I have a brother! Wait, I have two brothers! Ha! Holy Primus, this is awesome!”
For as long as he could remember, he'd been painfully lonely. Of course, he'd spent most of his life isolated in sublevel 50, but even after that, after he'd gained new friends in Orion Pax and D-16 and everyone else, there was still something missing.
Now, as Cliff squeezed the spark out of him, he finally realized what it was: he missed the brothers that he didn't even know he had.
“So... what about B-134?” asked B, sitting back. “Do you know where he is?”
Cliff shook his head. “Like I said, a lot of data about our generation was destroyed. Plus, I don't even know if he still goes by B-134. He might have changed his name, like me. Hell, I'm glad you never changed your name.”
“When we get back to Iacon, I'll ask Prowl,” said B. “He's really smart, so maybe he can help us!”
“Sounds like a plan,” said Cliff, standing and offering B a hand, which he happily took.
After B stored his tools and med kit away, they started walking back up the length of the ravine, both of them talking as fast as they physically could. There was just so much to catch up on! Plus, it felt good to talk with someone who could keep up with his racing processor, who seemed to understand what he was trying to say, even when he tripped over his words.
Talking with Cliff made him feel like he'd been speaking a second language his whole life, and now he'd finally met someone like him, who could speak in the rapid shorthand in which B normally thought. He'd finally found someone who spoke his language, who could understand him perfectly. He had finally found his brother.
They kept walking, but just before they made it out of the canyon, a strange noise echoed through the air. There was a low, distant boom, as something large entered the atmosphere.
B-127 froze, his frame rigid and his optics wide. He recognized that noise.
“Hide,” he whispered to Cliff. Then he near-instantaneously transformed into his alt-mode, using his small frame to fit under the narrow gap in the overhanging rock ledge. Under the safety of the rocks, he switched back to base-mode.
Cliffjumper didn't hide, however. He stayed in place, looking up at the sky, trying to see what had made that noise and scared his brother.
He would have remained standing there, had B not reached out, grabbed Cliff by the ankle, and dragged him under the rocks. Cliff got the memo and switched to alt-mode, then backed up to hide in the small space next to B, transforming back to base-mode.
They crouched motionless, on hands and knees under the rocks, waiting in silence. Above them, a faint rumbling sound steadily grew louder.
Slowly, Cliff reached his hand out to B. Unsure what his brother wanted, B cautiously lifted his hand as well. Cliff reached forward and grabbed it, pressing their palms together, digits intertwined.
What is happening?
B jumped. Cliffjumper had just asked him a question with his hand, not his mouth, yet it was as clear as if he'd spoken it.
Cliff saw his confusion. It's called chirolinguistics. Hand speak. Send the words to the nerve circuits in your servo and digits, instead of your voice box.
B gave it a few attempts, and after a minute, he felt something connect.
Does... work...?
Cliff nodded. A little choppy, but we can practice later. What are we hiding from?
Quint... Quintessons.
Cliff's optics widened, fear flashing across his face.
Stay quiet, B instructed. They... above us...
A moment later, a large shadow overtook the ravine, and B spotted the red laser grid as the ship scanned for lifeforms. Despite being concealed beneath the rocks, he couldn't help but cower, flashing back to the last time those red lights were inches from his face.
Cliff threw an arm over his shoulders, giving him a reassuring squeeze – B knew he was radiating fear, but despite only knowing Cliffjumper for a short time, he wasn't embarrassed to be afraid in front of him.
The Quintesson ship moved on, continuing to scan for victims. The brothers waited until they could no longer hear it, before leaving their hiding place.
As soon as they were out of their hiding spot, B checked the sky. It was darker now, the aurora fading on the horizon as it approached midnight. No sign of any ships.
“We need to get back to Iacon,” whispered B, not daring to speak too loud. “We have to tell Optimus.”
Cliffjumper nodded, then gave B a friendly knock on the helm. “Race you back?”
B couldn't help but smile. “Oh, it's on. Let's roll out.”