EDITED 7/1/2026 For the past two years, I've been contemplating doing this, but I've decided to totally rewrite the final scene, just to leave things more open for future story ideas. I've keep the original preserved at the end but disregard it as non-canon to the overall story.
EPILOGUE
The Fool’s Errand, somewhere in space
“What do you mean the deal’s off?!”
Bug Bite slammed his fists down on his recharge slab, not carrying if anyone else on the ship heard it. On the other end of the communicator, Death’s Head sounded impassive and entirely dismissive of the white and black Mercenary’s anger.
“Simple. Someone paid me to not care, and it was a lot more than what you were offering. That’s how business works, no?”
“How much did they pay you?” Bug Bite demanded. “Whatever it was, I’ll double it! Triple it, even!”
“Sorry, mate, but I’m no longer interested in doing business with you. Got plenty more clients still waiting on me. Hope you eventually get whatever it is you’re after.”
“Don’t you dare hang up on me, you piston-munching—”
Sure enough, Death’s Head did exactly that and Bug Bite let out a roar of rage, pounding his recharge slab hard enough to leave a dent in it. A moment later, he heard a knock at the door to his habitation suite.
“Bug Bite?” He recognized the voice to be that of Mudflap, a former Autobot and Decepticon who now no longer stood with either faction. “Is everything all right in there?”
Bug Bite took a moment to cool himself down before opening the door, revealing the blue bot standing on the other side. He then dragged Mudflap inside and shut the door behind him.
“What I’m about to tell you, Mudflap,” Bug Bite said in a low, conspiratorial tone, “is to never leave the four walls of this room. Understood?”
Mudflap stared at him blankly. “What?”
“You’re going to do something for me that Doubledealer’s not going to like, but is going to be beneficial for everyone involved. He won’t even have to know about it, and once it’s done we can all carry on with our merry lives.”
Mudflap shifted uneasily. “I dunno if I like the sound of this—”
“Oh, I wasn’t asking.”
Bug Bite brought out a pronged device and pointed it at Mudflap’s head. Before the other mech could react, Bug Bite fired a cerebro-shell that planted itself directly into Mudflap’s forehead. The blue mech’s green eyes flashed for a moment before turning a shade of violet that matched Bug Bite’s own.
“Don’t worry,” Bug Bite said with a wicked grin. “This will all pass like a dream when all is said and done.”
E.D.C. Headquarters
He wasn’t sure why he was doing this. He didn’t really care that much.
“Is this going to take a while or…?”
It wasn’t that big of a deal. If anything, it was probably the biggest waste of time he could ever spend.
The human at the desk made a disgusting popping sound with her mouth as she lazily chewed on her piece of gum. “Be patient.”
Gears shifted on his feet awkwardly. The rooms at the Earth Defense Command’s headquarters were naturally designed to accommodate large machines such as himself, but he still felt strange looming over the human desk worker as he waited for her to finish her work.
“Look, if it’s too much trouble then I don’t wanna bother you too much. Primus knows I would hate it if—”
“Alright, found him.” The woman adjusted her half-moon lensed glasses, jangling the beads that looped around her ears. “There is a Peter Benjamin Parker living in New York according to the most recent census.”
“Okay.” Gears waited for her to provide more information. When she didn’t, he asked, “Is there anything about him being, like, a vigilante or something like that?”
The woman raised her eyes at him. “Why would a vigilante—especially one trying to keep a secret identity—divulge their status as such to a census worker?”
“Well, I don’t know how you humans do things. I just wasn’t sure….” He stopped himself before sighing. “Never mind. Does it say anything about him having a family or anything…?”
“Just that he lives alone in an apartment somewhere in New York. That’s all I can give you, pal. Sorry if it wasn’t what you were looking for.”
“No, no. That’s fine. It was probably a waste of time anyway. Thanks for your help, I guess.”
With that, Gears turned and converted back to his truck mode, driving out of the room and down the access tunnel designed for him and his fellow Autobots.
He should have known it would have been a waste of time. Even if Peter Parker—or Spider-Man or whatever he called himself—did exist in his universe, he might’ve been nothing like the ones he had encountered or seen back in Mojoworld. It wasn’t like the other Gears he encountered was exactly like him.
Still… maybe it was worth making a trip to New York. Just to see what it was like. It seemed like the Autobots’ stay on Earth was going to be a long-term one; he might as well make the most of it.
Besides, it would probably spare the others from his constant grumblings. Maybe they deserved a break from it.
* * *
No more than twenty-five minutes had passed since Gears’ departure when Agent William Fowler stormed into the room. His eyes immediately went to the desk worker at the computer.
“Why was that Autobot asking for information on a Peter Parker?”
The woman shrugged, still chewing on her gum. “Beats me. I don’t ask questions, especially when it’s all public record.”
Fowler narrowed his eyes as he looked down the access tunnel. He had just finished reading the report the Autobots had submitted regarding their trouble with what they called a “Timemaze” and a “Mojoworld” and other such nonsense. While most of it had gone over his head, as most of their endeavors did, one thing had stood out to him. Well, multiple things actually.
Mentions of a Spider-Man. Mentions of a Spider-Girl. Mentions of mutants and a team called the X-Men. A woman by the name of Madame Web.
After all of the things he had been through with the Autobots, he did not think it would have come to this. Yes, their histories had overlapped on more than one occasion, but that was usually due to something on their part. Something regarding their planet and technology.
This was different. This was closer to home.
He knew he was going to hate the words he was going to say, but he had to say them regardless.
“Patch me through to New York,” he muttered. “I need to make a call.”
‘NUFF SAID!
ORIGINAL NON-CANON ENDING
Earth
To the average passerby, the sight of the two men standing in the Harlem cemetery may have caused them to do a double take. One was dressed in the attire of your common mechanic, with blue overalls and a red shirt underneath. The other was a much younger man with an unbuttoned tropical shirt and blue-tinted shades. Neither attire was necessarily appropriate for the harsh New York winter. One would not be remiss to wonder how two visually incongruent men had anything in common, but it would have been far too impolite to ask them and intrude on their grieving.
Gears, on the other hand, could not care less about what anyone else in the graveyard was thinking as he and Swerve stood in front of the three tombstones in their holomatter avatars. Their gazes were focused on the one in the middle, which had the name Peter Benjamin Parker inscribed across it. The years written beneath it indicated that the young man had died some time before the Autobots had awakened on Earth.
Swerve put a hand on the shoulder of Gears’ avatar. “Sorry, bud. Didn’t think it would turn out like that.”
“It’s fine,” Gears muttered. “Probably shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up anyway. It never turns out well.”
Catching movement in the corner of his avatar’s visual receptor, Gears turned to see an older human man with a distinct white mustache walking up to where they were standing, hands in his pockets as he looked down at the three tombstones.
“Such a shame,” the old man said solemnly. “Taken from us too soon.”
Gears shifted awkwardly, unsure on how respond. Eventually, he managed to say, “Did you know him?”
“Not personally, but he would always visit the coffee shop that I work at. Often saw him with this really sweet girl. They were great together and I always loved seeing them.”
Gears made a sound that approximated that of a human clearing their throat. “Do you… do you know how he died?”
“He died doing what he did best: protecting us from all kinds of evil-doers. He did everything he could, but in the end he was just one man, and there’s only so much one man can do.”
Gears exchanged a glance with Swerve. “Are these, er, ‘evil-doers’ still around? Sorry, we’re new in town,” he hastily added. “We’re just, ah, visiting friends who were close to… him.”
The old man nodded understandingly. “Well, like they say, evil is never truly vanquished. There will always be people wanting to do bad things to good people. But there’ll also always be good people ready to stop them, no matter what.”
“Right….” Gears looked back down at the grave, taking in the old man’s words. “Sorry, but I can’t help but find that to still be a depressive cycle to constantly go through.”
“Maybe so. But it can only bring you down if you let it.” The old man then gave the pair a friendly smile. “’Nuff said.”
With that, he walked away, disappearing into the night. Gears looked back up at Swerve, who was staring at him with a peculiar expression.
“Humans,” Gears grunted. “Always so cryptic.”
“Bro,” Swerve said, “who the hell were you talking to?”
“What?” Gears gestured at the spot where the old man had been. “That… that human—that old guy that was there. The one with the mustache. Didn’t you see him?”
“Buddy, I didn’t see anyone. It’s just been the two of us.”
Gears turned back to the empty spot, his processor whirring as he struggled to understand what was going on. He then sighed heavily as he put his face in his hands.
“Let’s just go,” he mumbled. “It’s been a long day.”
“I hear ya.” Swerve patted him on the back. “Hey, at least now you’ve gotten a taste of what me and the others went through during the Knight Quest!”
Gears rolled his eyes. “Thanks. I hate it.”
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