CHAPTER NINE: YOUR SHOW'S BEEN CANCELED
Mojoworld
“Okay, someone help me out here,” Sari said. “What’s this about a reboot?”
Mojo spared her a casual glance as he moved around on his carapace, pressing buttons and switches that Sari had no idea what they did or were for. “For countless eons I have entertained the masses of my dimension by projecting events from across the multiverse to their eager eyes,” he began. “At first, we simply observed what happened in each reality, never intervening or making our presence known. But eventually my audiences grew bored and craved more entertainment, which the observed realities were unable to provide as they had all resolved their events—or “plotlines,” as I like to call them. So, I decided to take matters into my own hands.
“First, I started to meddle with the events of each reality. Throw in a new character, kill off an old one, bring two otherwise unrelated individuals together, that sort of thing. Again, I never made my presence known and it was harmless entertainment. But when that wasn’t enough to satiate them, I decided to start my own show. I began selecting individuals from the most popular realities and pitting them against each other. The people ate it up! My ratings were the highest of all in the Mojoverse!”
Sari was tempted to ask what a “Mojoverse” even was but decided it wasn’t that important. “But let me guess: ratings dipped and now you have to reboot the whole show.”
“Precisely!” Mojo said. “Now they’re saying that the whole thing’s become convoluted and hard to follow. That it’s cheaply produced slop and… what was the term they used?”
“Nostalgia-baiting,” Major Domo supplied.
“Nostalgia-baiting!” Mojo waved his arms theatrically. “As if these brain-dead morons even know what that word means! All they do is stare at their screens with their eyes glazed over and their tongues hanging out of their mouth. And yet, I am subject to their will. If I fail to give the people what they want, then I will be shoved aside and replaced as so many have before me.”
“So, wait,” Sari said. “You’re not even in control of this place? I figured you were the ruler.”
“In a sense, I am,” Mojo said solemnly. “But even rulers are subject to the expectations of others. If they weren’t, revolutions would never be a thing in the first place.”
“So what does this ‘reboot’ even do?” asked Expanse. “What’s going to happen to the people that are fighting your toys out there?”
“Their lives will be overwritten, just as yours will be,” Mojo replied, grinning wickedly. “All realities across the multiverse will be merged into a singular universe, a unified continuity designed to appease all. Not only will it give the people what they want, but it will be much more cost-effective than our current model.”
“Is that all this is to you?” Sari asked incredulously. “These are people’s lives you’re messing with. They’re not just props for your garbage TV show.”
Mojo whirled on her, his red eyes narrowed in anger. “Your opinion on my production is irrelevant. If the people enjoy it, then that’s all that matters! Without entertainment, they will simply wither away and die like the pathetic globs of flesh they are. Is that what you want, human? To kill off a society that’s done nothing but consume media geared for them?”
“Sir,” Major Domo spoke up. “The Merger is ready.”
“Excellent!” Mojo shifted over to the other side of the room, his hand on a level that Sari could only assume would trigger this Reboot. “I will give you a moment to say your goodbyes to each other. Trust me, the new life that awaits you will be superior to the one you live now. All iterations of your selves will be merged into one perfect being! Doesn’t that sound glorious to you?”
“It stinks!”
Everyone turned to see a blue and red pickup truck come screeching into the room, converting into the form of a stout robot that Sari immediately recognized as Gears. Before she could speak to the Autobot, Gears walked past her and stepped up to Mojo, hands firmly planted on his hips.
“All of this stinks. This whole thing is just a bunch of senseless garbage. All you care about is throwing a bunch of things at people and expecting them to enjoy it.”
Mojo’s eye twitched as he regarded the Autobot with complete and utter bafflement. “What… what are you… how did you even get in here?”
“There is no craft to any of this,” Gears went on. “You don’t put any thought into what happens or why; you just drag a bunch of people out of their miserable lives and put them into even more miserable situations. And for what? To make a profit? A profit that won’t mean anything when your ratings plummet worse than a Rock Lord falling off a sky platform? People may gobble it up, but once they’re done, they’re done. They’re not gonna savor anything you make, because none of it is worth savoring.”
Mojo gritted his sharp teeth, clawing a hand across his face. “Shut up. Shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about. You know nothing about—about production value!”
“Oh, I know plenty. See, there’s a friend of mine—brother, technically, if you put it in human terms. His name’s Swerve and he’s pretty much your ideal audience member. He is obsessed with non-Cybertronian media, especially Earth media. He’s consumed pretty much every show, movie, play, novel, you name it, that you could possibly think of. Some more than once. Point is, he’s seen and heard a lot, and he’s told me a lot about it. And out of all of the moronic, consumable corporate slop that he’s given me an earful about… this is worse than all of them combined.”
Mojo glowered. “You haven’t even seen it yet!”
“Don’t need to. ‘Cos based on the output I’ve seen from you, I have absolutely no faith that this reboot of yours will be any better, let alone be faithful to what came before it.” Gears crossed his arms, seemingly satisfied with himself. “You have no talent, Mojo. You’re just a fraud. A talentless hack fraud.”
“ENOUGH!” Mojo roared in anger as he pulled the lever. “None of this will matter in a moment’s time! Prepare yourself for a new and better life!”
All around them, the room rumbled with a low hum, various monitors and computer screens glowing increasingly brighter.
“So much for that, I guess,” Expanse muttered.
“Hn,” Death’s Head grunted. “Never did want to live forever.”
Ironically, Gears seemed to be the less pessimistic about the situation. “Actually, guys, I think it’s gonna be okay.”
Before Sari could ask what he meant by that, the monitors suddenly stopped glowing and everything went quiet. A puzzled look crossed Mojo’s face as he pulled the lever up and down again, with nothing happening. Breathing heavily, he looked over to Major Domo, a furious question on his lips, but his aide was already ahead of him and answered with his head down, looking intently at the datapad in his hand.
“It… it’s all gone dark. No one is tuning in.” Major Domo swallowed hard, fear stricken across his face. “They’ve pulled the plug on us.”
“No.” Mojo snatched the datapad from Major Domo’s hands, his breathing becoming more rapid and infrequent with each word he spoke. “No no no. They can’t do that. We… everything was ready for the reboot. It was going to be perfect! Why didn’t they give us a chance?”
“I pretty much already told you why,” Gears said. “When you stop providing people things worth their time, then they’ll eventually move onto something—and someone—new.”
“It’s true,” Major Domo said solemnly. “We are not the first to be rejected, nor will we be the last. It is a torturous cycle that our world has endured for so long.”
“Shut up!” Mojo snapped. However, rather than make an attempt to fix things, he simply threw down the datapad in defeat and sighed. “Well, I suppose that’s that, then. No point in continuing this farce.” Turning back to Major Domo, he said, “Gather the survivors and have them returned to their home realities. Last thing we need is another incursion lawsuit like what happened during the Secret Crisis.”
“Not even going to ask what that is,” Sari muttered. “So we’re all good, now? No more trying to kill each other or destroy the universe?”
“Depends,” Death’s Head replied. “How quickly can you get in touch with your people to deliver my payment?”
* * *
“Well, I guess this is goodbye, then.”
Gears stood in front of Spider-Girl and Other-Gears as portals opened around them to take the surviving participants back to their home realities. Some of Mojo’s representatives and monitors were also taking the bodies of the deceased back to their home realities; Gears wasn’t sure how well that was going to be handled by those who knew the deceased, but after everything he had gone through he could not be bothered much to do anything about it.
“I will say, this has been a crazy ride,” said Spider-Girl. “But it’s been nice meeting you—or a version of you—after hearing my dad tell stories about you. Who knows, maybe there’s a Peter Parker in your universe that still hasn’t met you yet.”
“Maybe,” Gears said. He was surprised at himself when he realized he was starting to seriously consider investigating that possibility. He then turned to his silver-plated counterpart. “What about you, pal? Have you met any Spider-People in your reality?”
“Not personally but I’ve heard rumors of someone like this ‘Spider-Man’ active in New York,” Other-Gears said. “Might be worth checking out if N.E.S.T. approves it.”
“You have a N.E.S.T., too? Huh.”
“I’m not even going to ask why you’re talking about nests,” Spider-Girl muttered. “Just please tell me has nothing to do with the Brood.”
“The what?” both Gears asked simultaneously.
“Never mind.” The web-slinging heroine looked over to the portal where Jean Grey was waiting for her. “Well, I guess I should be knowing. Hopefully we’ll meet again in another life, Gears.”
“Yeah,” Gears said, trailing off when he noticed a peculiar absence. He then looked over to see that Expanse was standing at the same portal as Sari and Death’s Head. After giving Other-Gears a hasty farewell, he hurried over to join them while giving Expanse a confused look.
“Why are you coming with us? I thought you were from the same reality as Spider-Girl. That was the whole reason we came here! Or am I still confused on this alternate reality scrap?”
“While I have been living in that reality for the past twenty years, I am actually from yours,” Expanse explained. “I spoke with Professor Jean Grey and we both agreed it would be better for me to return home. There is much about my origins and nature that I don’t know the full details of, and the only way I’m going to find them is by going back to the source.”
“Ah. Well, I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
“And I hope to finally get paid,” Death’s Head mumbled under his breath.
“Yeah, yeah, pipe down,” Gears said. “Weeping spark, you’re worse than me….”
“So,” Sari said, “are we all set?”
The other three gave an affirmative nod before stepping through the portal. Almost in an instant, they were in an underground lair that Gears didn’t recognize… but he immediately recognized Prowl, Jazz, and Ratchet, who had all reflexively drawn and pointed their weapons at them.
“Thanks for the warm welcome,” Gears remarked.
“Wait… Sari? Gears?” Prowl relaxed his stance but kept an optic on Expanse and Death’s Head. “I hope you can help us make sense of all this.”
“We can try,” Sari said. “But it’s not going to be easy.”
Earth
It was indeed not easy, and took quite a bit of time to explain everything that had happened. By the end of it, Optimus Prime was left standing there, processing everything he had been told as around them the Protectobots worked on tending to civilians that had been left injured in the wake of Cobra’s attack.
“This is quite a lot to take in,” the Autobot leader said. “Even with Tarantulas captured and his Timemaze confiscated, we still seem to be at risk of this… cross-dimensional dilemma, if this Mojo entity is anything to go off of.”
“But we defeated Mojo,” Gears said. “He just gave up, and I don’t think he’s gonna try anything again, if he even can.”
“Even so, we now know that there are beings out there who are capable of what he is. We’ll have to bring this to the E.D.C. before we can figure out how we’re going to handle this situation going forward.”
“What about Cobra?” asked Bumblebee, who had been revived by Ratchet along with Bulkhead. “Old Snake and Arkeville are still at large.”
“Again, we will have to discuss that with the E.D.C.,” Optimus said. “In any case, I am glad that you were all able to make it out safely, and that you were able to find Professor Sumdac.” He then inclined his head towards Expanse. “I am also interested in hearing what stories this new friend of yours has to tell.”
Expanse opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by Death’s Head standing in between him and Prime. “Not until you give me the payment your organic friend promised me. Twenty million credits, all up front, yes?”
Optimus spared a glance at Sari, who was standing with her rescued father. She shimmied her feet and partially hid herself behind Bumblebee’s leg. Keeping his expression neutral, the Autobot leader looked back to Death’s Head and, at the same time, a device on the bounty hunter’s person pinged.
“How about thirty million, on the condition you never bother us again?”
Death’s Head raised an eyebrow as he brought out his device and confirmed with his own eyes that thirty million credits had been wired to his account. Masking his surprise, he put the device away and gave Optimus a curt nod.
“Pleasure doing business with you, yes?”
Without waiting for a response, a burst of light enveloped the bounty hunter’s body and he was gone in a flash, leaving Sari and the others to stare at Optimus Prime with absolute incredulity.
“How the Pit do you have so much money?” Bumblebee asked.
Optimus smiled behind his faceplate. “When you’re preoccupied with fighting a war, you can accumulate a lot of spending money over the course of a thousand years.”
* * *
“That didn’t go quite as planned, did it?”
“No. But it had the impact it needed.”
Old Snake and Baroness stood on a balcony that oversaw the city of Detroit, night having fallen on the city. Sirens could be heard wailing in the distance as authorities scoured the streets for the escapees of Blackwater Prison. While the breakout had been intended to be nothing more than a distraction, Old Snake considered the prospect of recruiting some of them into the ranks of a rebuilt Cobra. After all, one could not conquer the world without some people willing to do their bidding.
Leaning over the balcony’s railing, Baroness turned her head to look at Old Snake, the moon reflecting in her spectacles. “So, what now? I know Arkeville’s itching to build more drones to replace the ones we’ve lost.”
“We will require resources for that,” Old Snake said. “Fortunately, I still have a few contacts that I can reach out to that will provide us with what we need. One of them is only four hours away from here, in a little city called Chicago.”
Baroness arched an eyebrow. “You’re bringing in Gould? I’m not sure how much we can trust him, especially after things fell apart for us.”
“With the right bargaining chip, he will do anything we ask of him.”
“If you say so.” Baroness huffed out her breath, which could be seen as a small puff of air in the cold of winter. “This won’t be an easy process, especially with our old foes to deal with.”
“Nobody said it would be easy,” Old Snake replied. “Especially since they don’t make terrorists like they used to. But don’t worry, my dear Baroness. We will have our revenge. The world will be ours, and people will know to fear the name of….”
Raising his fist to the sky, he let out a fearful cry.
“COBRA!”
Elsewhere
Deadlock emerged from his portal and stepped onto a desolate, rocky world. All of his scanners and gadgets indicated to him that he was indeed back in his home reality, which was just swell. He had been postponing his return home for quite some time now, hanging out with Zardak’s Maladroids and then with Mojo’s people. But after everything he had been through over the past couple of hours (plus several years if one wanted to get super technical and pedantic), it was a nice breath of fresh air to return to simplicity. Maybe he could take a break from dimension hopping for a bit.
Transforming to his alternate mode, he began to drive through the rocky desert. It wasn’t long before he came across the natives of this world. Reaching a cliff edge, he detected a tribe of large stone golems roaming through the desolate land. Accompanying them was a mech in white and red armor plating; apparently he was helping them by providing water and substance and just overall being a Good Samaritan. It was sickeningly sweet and Deadlock knew he had to put a stop to it.
As he converted back to his robot mode and drew his sniper rifle however, he heard the low thrum of a ship’s engine and looked up to see a small shuttle in all-purple. The design aesthetic was all too familiar to him and he immediately felt his spark sink at the sight of it.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”
The shuttle touched down, and a few minutes later the ramp lowered to reveal exactly who he had been dreading to see. A bot in white and scrubs-green, with a purple helmet crest, stepped down from the ramp and approached Deadlock with a self-satisfied smirk.
“Well, that didn’t take too long, did it?” Ratchet said.
“Depends on who you ask,” Deadlock replied, still holding tight to his rifle. “Rodimus miss me that much already?”
“More like he’s gone off the rails and let everything go to scrap. I’d finally had enough and ditched his aft; decided to seek you out to see if you were interested in some sort of alliance.”
Deadlock tilted his head questioningly. “An alliance for what?”
“To kick Rodimus and his fan club’s tale and use the Terminus Blade for ourselves. You interested?”
Under any other circumstances, Deadlock would have told Ratchet to shove it up his self-aggrandized aft and jump into a smelting pool. But after everything he had witnessed and experienced back at Mojoworld, hearing the name of the old artifact that Rodimus had wasted so much time in searching for gave him a spark of inspiration and he allowed a grin to cross his face. He then holstered his rifle and pointed a finger-gun at Ratchet.
“You spawn of a glitch, I’m in.”
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