Chapter Text
“Hey Jazz!” Bumblebee greeted cheerfully as he entered The Beat for his shift.
Jazz looked up from where he was measuring potions and reset his visor to confirm that he was not, in fact, seeing double. Bumblebee had been followed in by a mech with an identical frame type, but in red.
“Hey, Bee. Who’ve ya got with ya?”
Bee pulled the other mech forward with a bright smile. “This is my brother Cliffjumper. Cliff, this is Jazz, the Keeper of Iacon. He’s the one I keep telling you about in my messages.”
The red minibot gave a more reserved smile. “Hello Keeper. My brother has, in fact, told me a lot about you. Thank you for keeping him safe.”
“Ya can jus’ call me Jazz.” The visored mech insisted. “And ya ain’t gotta thank me fo’ tha’. He’s my friend.”
Cliffjumper gave him a meaningful look. “Considering my family’s… disposition, I think I do.”
“Agree t’ disagree.” Jazz said breezily, absently wondering just how many of his patrons would freak out if they knew there were two spark-eaters in Iacon. “Ya want some time off, Bee, to spend with ya brother?”
“You don’t need to do that for me.” Cliffjumper said hastily. “I’m only in town for a few cycles anyway, and Neutral Ground is the safest place to be.”
“Safest?” Bee asked with concern. “Are you in some sort of trouble?”
“I already told you I wasn’t,” the red minibot said, optics skittering away.
Bumblebee gave an exasperated huff. “And I don’t believe you.”
“Do ya need protection?” Jazz intoned seriously. “Sanctuary?”
He didn’t miss how Cliffjumper’s optics darted to Bee for a klik before he huffed (in a very similar way to his brother) and gave a wan smile. “No, Keeper, but thank you for the offer.”
Jazz shrugged. “Offer’s open, if ya need it. And please, really, just Jazz is fine.”
Cliffjumper’s smile was less strained this time.
Bee got Cliffjumper set up at the end of the bar with a mineral potion before starting to prepare for the work shift. Of course it was when both Bee and Jazz’s backs were turned that Sparky decided to inspect the newcomer; appearing from one of the hanging lights and dropping down on top of the red mech’s drink. The imp zapped a small spark at the surprised mech and chittered. Cliffjumper reared back in his seat, arm raised.
“Ah! Cliff, wait, that's just Sparky!” Bee yelled.
Cliffjumper froze and then slowly lowered his servo, which Jazz just realized had transformed out to sport the wickedly hooked claws of his other form. His servo twitched, claws transforming away.
The red minibot glanced at Jazz. “Sorry about that. He just startled me.” He looked back at the kremzeek now bouncing in front of him with an unamused snort, though his words came out mild. “You’re a little aft aren’t you?”
In response, Sparky stuck out the facsimile of a glossa and buzzed impudently at him.
Jazz sighed, walked over, picked his little imp up and cradled the kremzeek in his arms. “Wha’ ‘ave I said ‘bout bein’ rude, huh?”
The critter ‘blinked’ up at him and started to purr innocently.
The Polyhexian chuckled, “Save the cute act fo’ First Aid. Ya know ‘e carries extra batteries jus’ fo’ ya.” Despite saying that, Jazz offered the imp one of his favored treats from his own subspace once he settled the critter into his nest behind the bar.
:Hey Jazz…: Bee’s voice came over the comm hesitantly.
Jazz looked over, but Bumblebee wasn’t looking back at him and Jazz took the hint. He grabbed a rag and started wiping the bar, pretending that he wasn’t having a conversation.
:Wha’s wrong?:
:I’m worried. Cliff has always been really good at controlling his shift, he doesn’t just shift like that even when he gets startled. Something’s got him on edge and he won’t tell me what’s going on.:
Jazz glanced at the red minibot who was slowly swirling his drink, looking contemplative. :Don’t press ‘im too much. He might jus’ need time. It’ll be a’ight.:
Bee let out an audible sigh and then gave Jazz a smile and a nod.
After a few more breems Hot Spot showed up for his bouncer shift. He greeted everybot happily and enthusiastically welcomed Cliffjumper to Iacon. The red minibot responded awkwardly, but pleasantly, seemingly unsure of the large friendly bot. Jazz flipped the Closed sign to Open.
First Aid and Nightbeat showed up right after opening along with a couple of summer fae and a metal elemental. The fox beastformer immediately lured Sparky over with batteries to snuggle him. More customers began to trickle in until The Beat was half full. A bit later after the dark-cycle started Red Alert and Inferno showed up as well. All the while Cliffjumper sat at the bar near his brother, slowly relaxing as the atmosphere of The Beat worked its subtle magic.
Jazz was working on a mixer when he felt a… shift in the magics around him. He paused, straightening up and opticking the door apprehensively. Now, Jazz had gotten pretty good at reading the energies that entered his Neutral Ground. It was part of the unspoken contract that any other-worlder agreed to when entering Neutral Ground: a small bit of energy or magic in exchange for protected neutrality.
Having an intimate connection to the Grounds as its Keeper meant he could now tell the difference between certain energies. He could feel the solid grounded presence of the beastformers when they were around (nearly constantly), knew what the ephemeral sparkling magic of the witches sounded like when they were coming to visit, tasted the different flavors of fae glamor as it permeated the air. Elementals, minor demons, vampires… they were all slightly different, and Jazz could fairly accurately pick them out when they approached now.
But this… this was different. Like nothing he’d ever felt before.
This presence felt oppressive like… like heat from standing too close to a smelter.
The door of the Beat opened.
The mech that entered was large (bigger even than the largest of the Pride members), vibrant blue with yellow and red accents. There was something off about his frame that Jazz couldn’t put his digit on, but he greeted the new customer pleasantly, “Evenin’. Sit where ya like, I’ll be with ya in a breem.”
The mech had a blandly pleasant look on his face until his optics lit upon the bar. His mouth stretched into an unsettling smile. “Ah, Good Keeper, there is no need.” He said in a cultured, lightly accented voice. “I come to speak with one of your patrons.”
At the sound, Cliffjumper’s frame jerked as if he’d been shocked, jolting up from a slight, comfortable slouch to ramrod straight. All of his plating clamped down tightly. Fortunately no bot noticed all ten of his digits sprouting claws for a klik. All the room’s attention was on the new imposing mech who had just walked in.
Said imposing mech, no doubt noticed all of the optics on him and with a smug EMF shook out his plating; some sort of glamor (like a fae’s) falling off him, feather-like, in a flashy display. The “oddness” of his frame finally resolved itself as his real frame became visible. Royal blue plating with gold and actual ruby gemstone accents sparkled in the light. Taloned pedes and clawed servos shone sharply. Large jointed wings were folded neatly on his back. The mech smiled again, sharp denta visible.
Was that… a predacon?!
The term predacon, of course, encompassed several types of ancient “monster” with a connection to some sort of magic. Some bots used it interchangeably with “dragon”, though that wasn’t really accurate. This mech, for example, seemed to exhibit feathers and a crest- almost like a cryo-falcon.
A really, really big cryo-falcon.
Jazz did his best not to stare, unlike most of his customers. He’d never seen any sort of predacon before, but that was no excuse to be rude. It didn’t seem that the mech would have even noticed anyway, because his optics were firmly fixed on the red minibot at the bar, who had not turned around even once during the mech’s entrance and display, now that Jazz thought about it.
And now the Polyhexian was getting a bad feeling…
The mech gracefully swaggered to the bar and leaned his elbow on it next to Cliffjumper.
Everybot in the room had stilled and fallen nearly silent, so the mech’s next words rang out in the stillness, “Hello, Cliffjumper.”
The sigh the red minibot let out was part exasperation, part annoyance and part defeat. “Dezarus.”
The predacon rumbled gently. If Jazz hadn’t known any better he would have said it sounded like a purr.
“It has taken me far too long to find you, my dear.”
Cliffjumper frowned and said waspishly. “Not long enough. I would’ve thought you’d know to leave me alone by now.”
The so-named Dezarus chuckled and settled his helm on his servo to continue to gaze at the side of the minibot’s helm, since Cliffjumper seemed determined to not look at the predacon beside him. “How could I when you proved to be so very capable and,” his voice dropped, “surprisingly dangerous.”
Cliffjumper sipped his drink mulishly. “That was luck and we both know it.”
“Was is? I think we are remembering things a bit differently. Personally, I trust my memory more, after all, to me these past years have been nothing more than a nice long recharge.”
“And maybe you’re confusing a recharge flux for reality.”
“Oh I did have fluxes of you, my dear, shall I describe them to you?”
Cliffjumper finally turned his helm to glare at the bigger mech. “Don’t you have better things to do, like terrorize your underlings?” He snapped.
Too late Cliffjumper realized how close Dezarus had leaned. Their faceplates were practically olfactory to olfactory. Dezarus grinned wolfishly, pleased to finally have the minibot’s optics on him.
“Cliff?” Bee’s voice was tentative, but it worked to dispel the standoff. “Who is this?”
A grimace crossed Cliffjumper’s faceplates.
Dezarus’ optics flicked over to the yellow minibot and darkened dangerously. “And who are you to ask?”
Bumblebee’s confusion turned into a glare. “I’m his brother.”
“Brother…” Calculating optics turned back to Cliffjumper, who now looked stricken. “So he’s like you, then, is he?”
The red minibot let out a strangled whisper. “Dezarus, don’t. Please…”
The mech smirked and opened his mouth to speak again and Jazz decided enough was enough.
“Stop.” The Keeper snapped, runes on his arms flashing gold.
Dezarus’ mouth shut with a surprised clack. He straightened up and turned, shocked, towards the Polyhexian.
“If ya’re going to threaten my customers, ya can get out.” Jazz growled.
Dezarus cycled his optics and then plastered an ingratiating smile on his dermas. “Forgive me, Keeper, I only jest. I meant no harm.”
Jazz crossed his arms over his chestplates. “Sure didn’t look like a joke t’ me.”
Dezarus seemed to stop and take stock of the room. Most of the patrons were frozen in their seats, watching warily. First Aid was holding onto a visibly agitated Sparky, attempting to keep him from interfering. Cliffjumper himself was now hunched over his drink while Bumblebee had a steadying servo on his shoulder glowering at the mech that was five times his size.
“I see…” The predacon said.
The silence stretched uncomfortably. Jazz was about to demand the predacon leave when the door to The Beat opened again.
“Mentor!” First Aid’s voice was full of relief.
Ratchet, who’d just entered, flashed a small, calming smile at his apprentice, then turned his attention to the large mech in the room.
The predacon’s optical ridges shot up.
“Ratchet.” Dezarus greeted, pleasantly flat.
“Dezarus” the medic acknowledged in kind.
Um… okay, what?
“I’m surprised to see you still among the functioning.” The predacon said, facing the medic fully. His wings shifted a fraction wider as if he had aborted a motion to make himself look even bigger.
“I could say the same for you.” Ratchet returned cooly. “Are you still making trouble?”
“Perhaps just a bit more than I meant to this time.”
Ratchet stared, unimpressed.
Dezarus grumbled, “I was just about to take my leave anyway.” He looked back at the bots around the bar. “My apologies Good Keeper. Cliffjumper. I shall return on the morrow to make my intentions clear.”
Dezarus’ wings swept out and around his frame for a klik and the glamor was restored to cover his form, he then carefully stepped around Ratchet and made his exit from The Beat.
There were three kliks of silence after his departure and then the room erupted into a flurry of excited chatter.
Under the noise of speculation and gossip, Ratchet walked over to stand beside Cliffjumper. The minibot looked up at him warily. Ratchet crossed his arms.
“So, how do you know that aft?”