Transformers Regenerated: Spacewarp's Log - Entry 3

 THE STAR SEEKERS

Geez, what am I, a teacher-bot?

No, but seriously, the Star Seekers are bots I know on a personal level—somewhat. ‘Course, we’re gonna have to start from the beginning.

A long, long time ago, there were these bandits who called themselves Maraudicons, led by a bot named Cannonball. Some say they’re leftovers from the Destrons. Maybe they are. Who cares?

Anyway, eventually the Maraudicons ended up with Trannis’ little Decepticon movement and Cannonball served as one of his warlords. After Cannonball bit it at Iacon, his pal Stompdown took command (and his name) and the Maraudicons broke off from the rest. That’s when they started calling themselves Star Seekers.

Stompdown’s little name-stealing thing started a tradition of sorts. When Stompdown got himself eviscerated on Vextor IX in 8109, Mayday became the next Cannonball. When she fell into a living lava pit on Vulcanus Major in 8707, a brute called Dreadwheel took the name from her.

Dreadweel didn’t last as long as the others though. Some time later, they picked up a bunch of Eukarians led by a bot called Thundertron. My guess is that they fled from Animatron when the Predacons took over. ‘Cos see, Thundertron hates Cybertronians. HATES them.

Honestly, it’s a wonder he lasted five years before marooning Dreadwheel on Tourin.

Anyway, this is where my ol’ buddy Headshot comes in. Fifteen years before Urtusk, he had gotten himself reassigned to Tyros VII to serve under Turmoil. After Turmoil fragged up and destroyed everything, the Star Seekers came and picked up Headshot. Thundertron only let him live ‘cos he had juicy info on the ‘Cons that they could use.

Frickin’ sell out. Never liked him to begin with.

Anyway, around the time I left the ‘Cons, I began hearing things about a new Cannonball. Apparently Thundertron had bitten it and Headshot had taken the reins, allowing Cybertronians back into the mix.

Lately, I’ve been hearing rumors that the Star Seekers are working with a group called the Pack, led by some Lio Prime or whatever. At this point, I’ve just stopped caring about ‘em. Losers, the whole lot of them.

Transformers Regenerated: Spacewarp's Log - Entry 2

THE SCAVENGERS

  Who are the Scavengers?

A bunch of losers, that’s who.

Ugh, fine, I suppose I could go into a bit more detail….

Krok and I go way back, since we both served on the Kalis’ Lament under Heretech. ‘Course, he didn’t start calling himself that until after he lost his pet during the Battle of Regulus-Alpha in Cycle 9624. That was also when he lost his friend Radar and he’s been carrying his thumb ever since.

Yeah, it’s kinda creepy. But also… kinda sad, if you think about it.

Anyway, he got demoted after the Battle of Klo and was still cleaning dishes for Black Shadow when I left. From what he’s told me, it wasn’t until around 9808 that he set out on his own, along with Spinister and Thundersaur.

Spinister… is a moron. That’s about all I know of him. Krok certainly hasn’t tried to make me think otherwise.

Misfire used to be called Flyhigh until he “accidentally” killed his squadmates. He was to be sentenced to death on Styx when Krok and Spinister freed him at Thundersaur’s dying request. This was also when they met Crankcase, who had been the pilot of the ship escorting Misfire.

Crankcase is a tricky one. On the surface, he’s little more than a grump but Fulcrum has implied that he saw some scrap during the Cataclysm that made him that way. I’ll have to take his word for it.

Fulcrum, by the way, is a K-Con who was at Clemency in 8954. Evidently, he didn’t do his job right.

They used to have a sixth member called Flywheels. A Duocon with big feet. They found him floating in space shortly after rescuing Misfire. Then the D.J.D. got to him. Bummer.

Outside of those five, there’s also Nickel, another Mini-Con I picked up after the other Thunderwing dealio. She used to be with the D.J.D. but Foldspace seems to trust her. That’s good enough for me.

The ship we currently utilize is the Alchemor, a former Autobot prison ship. If it can hold over a hundred Decepticons, imagine how many Mini-Cons it could fit!

Transformers Regenerated: Spacewarp's Log - Entry 1

    Takes place between Prime Wars and Pax Cybertronia (the first few entries, at least)

 INTRODUCTION

So. You’re probably wondering who I am.

Name’s Spacewarp. Explorer and adventurer, and the best there is. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, and if they do, shoot ‘em.

You’re probably expecting some backstory. I come from a little place called Celestica Tetracornacapria and was what they used to call “astro class.” ‘Course, once the Decepticons came around, the Functionists were yesterday’s news and I was working as a tactical scout for the Big M.

Yeah, I saw some action during the war. Things only got interesting when I got assigned to Heretech’s command on the Kalis’ Lament. A fraggin’ War World! Now we were talking. Of course, I had to share space with losers like Headshot and Skullcruncher and—well, he goes by Krok now, but only since the Roadbuster affair.

Anyways, things started to go downhill after Urtusk. The D.J.D. came after us but Strika was able to get us all acquitted, letting Heretech alone take the blame. Shortly after that, Megs decommissioned the War World and we got stuck with a dinky gunship.

After that, things just weren’t the same. After the Thunderwing dealio, I turned in my resignation and set out for the cosmos. About a year or two after that, the colony Micron was invaded by the Black Block Consortia.

Why’s that relevant, you ask? ‘Cos that’s how I met my little friend Foldspace.

See, the galaxy at large has been convinced that the Consortia slaughtered the colony, but Foldspace told me that the Mini-Cons were actually abducted and were being sold off as slaves.

So… yeah, that’s kind of my thing now: freeing Mini-Cons. Fun times.

Of course, I can’t do it on my own. I may turn into a ship, but I can only fit so many. I need a bigger ship, and a crew to go with it. And I have both those things….

Unfortunately, I had to go with the lowest bidders.

Transformers Regenerated: Beyond Imagination II, Prologue

PROLOGUE

 Twenty-four years ago (1993) - Earth, the Laurentian Abyss

“What is it about this planet?”

Shockwave did not respond or react in any way to Fistfight’s inquiry, his attention focused solely on the monitor in front of him. Fistfight sighed, more than used to this kind of “silent treatment”; something which he had endured for nearly two thousand years at this point. Knowing that Shockwave was going to either ignore him or silence him, he continued with his rant regardless.

“I mean, I know this isn’t the only world you’ve got seeded with an ore, but it’s the one you’ve gone back to the most. I know the colony worlds are too close to Autobot space, and Elonia is under Solstar supervision, but I haven’t seen you visit Arduria or LV-117 nearly as often as this dirtball.”

“Arduria’s ore has already reached the final stages of its evolution,” Shockwave replied, his tone as matter-of-fact as ever. “The planet itself is barely inhabitable due to its effects. Similarly, LV-117’s ore is in a state that makes travel to the planet… unwise at the moment.”

“Okay, fine,” Fistfight harrumphed. “But what makes this world so special? It’s not a colony world or anything like that. Does Ore-13 require that much monitoring?”

“Given what it is capable of and what it can do in the hands of a single Cybertronian, yes. If any of the others learned about this—especially, Primus forbid, Starscream—and tried to use Ore-13 for their own designs, the repercussions would be… devastating, to say the least. Thus, it is prudent that this ore is watched more carefully than any of the others, and Earth’s location is remote enough to provide desirable cover from prying optics.”

Fistfight clicked his claws irritably. While Shockwave was making a number of good points, he still wasn’t fully satisfied with those answers. He could tell that there was something more about this planet that his boss was interested in. 

“What about that incident that happened nine years ago?” he then asked. “There was a huge burst of temporal energy when you showed up, and then Soundwave of all bots nearly uncovered our operations. Why was he even here in the first place?”

“Your place is not to ask questions, Fistfight, but to do what I command of you,” Shockwave said curtly. “You would be wise to keep that in mind.”

“Oh, trust me, it’s all I can ever think about,” Fistfight retorted. “But if you want me to be a good little assistant, then maybe you could shed some light on a few things so I don’t accidentally mess up something you don’t want me messing up. Just saying.”

Shockwave was silent for a moment, and Fistfight was certain it was going to remain that way. Then, the one-eyed Decepticon turned away from his monitor and regarded him with his single optic.

“Very well,” Shockwave said. “Nine years ago, upon my arrival to this planet, I encountered a starship of Cybertronian—or Cybertronian-esque—origin. When I fired on it, it inexplicably performed a quantum jump and I followed it through time and space with my experimental transwarp drive. I followed them as far back as twenty thousand stellar cycles into the past, where they crash landed here on Earth during its period of glacial maximum.”

“Twenty thousand…?” Fistfight shook his head in disbelief. “Is that the furthest anyone has traveled with a Transwarp drive? We didn’t get that kind of results during the Sigma Project….”

“Indeed. And on the subject of the Sigma Project….” Shockwave tapped in a few commands on his console and the monitor changed to indicate various hot spots of activity on a global map of Earth. “I have recently discovered that each of our subjects ended up on Earth whenever we sent them on a test jump, despite our operations being located on Sigma Seven.”

“That’s strange,” Fistfight said. “Wouldn’t they have just stayed on Sigma Seven?”

“That would be the logical deduction. However, something on this planet appears to be drawing them here, possibly through Transwarp space itself. And I believe I may have finally figured out what it is.”

Shockwave changed the screen again to show what appeared to be a rather large island near the continent that the natives of Earth referred to as Antarctica, located at the planet’s south pole.

“An island?” Fistfight asked. “That’s what’s so important?”

“Theoretically. For reasons I have yet to deduce, this island does not appear on any human-made maps, yet its existence has been recorded in more than a few pieces of human folklore. In them, it is referred to as ‘the Land Where Time Stands Still.’”

“Those fleshlings sure have a thing for the poetic,” Fistfight muttered. “So, have you investigated it yet?”

“Not physically,” Shockwave replied. “Given that this island is a new and unknown factor, it would be illogical of me to potentially risk my life exploring it, especially at this stage of the Regenesis program. However, I did send a few auxiliary drones to investigate the island. This is what they found.”

Fistfight looked at the screen as Shockwave displayed a variety of images that had been captured on the mysterious island, each one more extraordinary than the last. The denizens of the island seemed to range from all sorts of beings, from all across time; from humans to dinosaurs (which Fistfight knew were supposed to be extinct)… to Cybertronians.

“Wait.” Fistfight pointed a claw at one of the images, which displayed a Transformer of familiar design. “Is that…?”

“Yes,” Shockwave said. “The ship that I followed twenty thousand years into the past was crewed by Transformers not from Cybertron, but rather from the colony world of Eukaris. Rather than destroy them, I decided to use them as subjects for a simulation of the Great War in order to accurately predict the outcome of our centuries-spanning conflict. For countless years they have lived here on Earth and waged their own secret war, slowly killing themselves off one by one. Few of them remain… and some are perhaps better off dead or forgotten.”

Fistfight shook his head in disbelief. “Of all your schemes… you know, for someone who professes to be all about logic, some of the stuff you get up to is anything but.”

“I would not expect you to fully comprehend my designs,” Shockwave coolly responded. “Your processor, while admittedly impressive, does not contain the memory storage required to fully grasp—”

“Yeah, yeah, spare me the backhanded compliments,” Fistfight grumbled. “So what are you going to do about this? Just leave them be or save them for later? Or blow them up? ‘Cos if you blow them up, I wanna be the one to do it….”

Shockwave stared at the images, considering his options. “Perhaps it would be wise to leave them be for now,” he eventually said. “At least until I have figured out the true nature of this island and its capabilities. In the meantime, we must keep its existence secret from all, including our fellow Decepticons.”

“Right, as if they’re not already suspicious of us enough….”

Shutting off the monitor, Shockwave turned and began to walk past Fistfight. “Prepare my ship. It is time I return to New Kaon, lest Starscream and Soundwave grow wary of my absence.”

“Yeah, sure.” Fistfight gave one last glance to the offline computer as he followed his master. “That’s the last thing we want, isn’t it?”

CROSSING OVER

Part 2: Life Finds a Way

Transformers Regenerated: Beyond Imagination I, Epilogue

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.”

Transformers Regenerated: Beyond Imagination I, Chapter Nine

 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 tail 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.”

Transformers Regenerated: Beyond Imagination I, Chapter Eight

 CHAPTER EIGHT: SPIDERS AND COBRAS AND MOJOS

Twenty-five years ago

“Look,” Death’s Head said, standing before Sari and Expanse with a varied array of weapons—ranging from guns to spiked maces—drawn and pointed at them. “This doesn’t have to be difficult.”

Sari did not indulge him with a response, simply standing there with her mask raised and her arm blades deployed, ready for anything. Expanse looked between the two of them in confusion, seeming unsure on who to side with or whether he should even intervene.

“You want to get back to your time, no?” Death’s Head went on. “I can help you with that. Won’t even charge you. All you need to do is let me get my quarry here.”

“What do you even want with him?” Sari snapped back.

“To get paid,” Death’s Head said simply. “Was hired to capture him by my employer. Don’t know what they want him for, and don’t care. None of my business, yes?”

Sari narrowed her eyes behind her mask. “How much did they offer you?”

“A lot,” Death’s Head replied.

“How much is ‘a lot?’”

“More than you can afford.”

“Try me.”

Death’s Head tilted his head, humoring her. “Ten million credits.”

“Do you happen to know what that is in Earth currency? Specifically United States dollars?”

Death’s Head laughed. “Oh, you don’t even want to know. It would probably break your feeble human heart to realize how worthless your planet’s currency is in the greater scheme of things.”

Sari took a deep breath, not believing what she was about to do. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll double the offer.”

Death’s Head grunted out a laugh. Then he paused, blinked, and cocked his head again. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious. Twenty million credits. How does that sound?”

“Do you even have that kind of money?”

“My dad owns one of the most profitable businesses in the world. My world. I’m sure he can scrape together enough that’ll be worth twenty million of your credits.”

Death’s Head shook his head. “You’re bluffing.”

She was, partially. Since her father’s kidnapping and Powell’s subsequent taken over, Sumdac Systems’ profits had plummeted. She wouldn’t be surprised if it went bankrupt by the time she got back. But, she realized, she also had another card to play.

“I’m also with the Earth Defense Command. A government-sanctioned agency. I’m sure they can make up the difference if my dad’s money isn’t enough.”

Death’s Head continued to look doubtful. “I’d rather see the money upfront. But I don’t suppose you have it with you.”

Sari sighed. “No, I don’t. Look, how about this: You take both of us to my original time, and I can get you your money. Then you take him back here and put things back to normal.”

“I dunno, sounds like something that would raise one too many eyebrows at the TVA.” Death’s Head paused for a moment and then lowered his weapons. “But, I’ll admit, I can’t help but admire your gumption. Tell you what, regardless if you’re bluffing or not, how about I humor you and—”

“No.”

Both Sari and Death’s Head looked up in surprise at Expanse, who had been silent throughout their conversation. The blue and yellow bot started to back away from them, shaking his head in refusal.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m tired of being dragged away without being told where or why. I… I don’t even know who I am or where I’m from. My entire life has been spent living in the dark, listening to people talk about me but not to me. I’m… I’m sick of it.”

Sari frowned and activated her feet thrusters to fly up to Expanse’s eye level. “You don’t have to live in the dark. Look, I don’t know anything about you, but Decepticon or not you don’t deserve to live like… like that. If you just let me help you, then—”

“No.” Expanse tapped his hand against his chest; the red orb in the center of it began to glow and Sari could hear a low hum coming from it. “No, it’s time I made my own decisions.”

“Wait,” Sari said. “What are you doing? Do you even know what that does?”

“I do,” Death’s Head growled. “And you’re not getting away from me that easily.”

The mechanoid bounty hunter lunged for Expanse and Sari moved to intercept him. The light in Expanse’s chest became brighter and a burst of energy surged from his body, enveloping all three of them.

When everything had settled, only the unconscious Deadlock remained laying on the ground of the alien planet.

Present day

“What the—?” Tarantulas stared at the monitor that had shown Sari Sumdac in the year 1992 in bewilderment. “Where did they go? What just happened?!”

To Prowl, Tarantulas sounded less concerned about what had happened and more excited about what it could mean. None of this surprised Prowl, given how well he knew his former partner; all he cared now was to use the Predacon’s distraction to his advantage and figure out a means to escape.

Fortunately, neither Tarantulas or his human allies had the foresight to restrain him physically. He slowly drew up his knee so that his arm could reach the folded up throwing-star attached to his lower leg. Detaching it, he unfurled its blades and flung it at Tarantulas, striking the Predacon scientist in the back. As an enraged Tarantulas turned around, Prowl lunged from his slab and tackled the arachnid to the ground. As he pinned Tarantulas down with one arm, Prowl reached with his other to draw his second throwing star, readying himself to slice it across Tarantulas’ face.

“Go ahead,” Tarantulas cackled. “Do it! Kill me like the sick spawn of a glitch you really are!”

Prowl glared down at him, gritting his teeth. “If killing you and sparing the universe of your evil is ‘sick’… then I don’t know—”

“Tarantulas!” Running into the chamber came Old Snake, followed shortly by Baroness and Arkeville. “The Autobots have already destroyed most of our drones! They’re changing the tide of battle!”

“What?!” Suddenly forgetting their struggle, Tarantulas grabbed Prowl by the head and hurled him aside before turning back to his monitors, switching them to show what was currently happening outside. As Prowl sat up, he saw that the Viper and BAT drones that had been unleashed onto Detroit were indeed being easily handled by his fellow Autobots—thanks largely in part to the combined form of the Protectobots known as Defensor.

“Ah….” Tarantulas’ alarm was once again replaced with sinister glee. “So the Autobots have figured out combiner technology for themselves, have they? I wonder what took them so long….”

“Doesn’t matter,” Old Snake snapped. “We should evacuate now before things get out of hand. Formidable as our forces are, we are not yet at the capacity to hold off these Autobots or the E.D.C. And I don’t want to jeopardize Cobra’s rebirth before it has had a chance to begin.”

Tarantulas hissed with disinterest. “Do as you will, human. I already have what I need from you, and likewise you from me. Our alliance, while mutually beneficial, has come to an end.”

“Whatever.” Old Snake made a gesture to Baroness and Arkeville as he sharply turned on his heel. “Prepare transportation. Evacuate as many of our assets as you can.”

Arkeville frowned, looking over to the still-offline Bumblebee and Bulkhead. “But… the Cybertronians… I was going to study—”

“Another time, Doctor,” Baroness said sharply. “There’s no point in doing so now if everything’s going to come crashing down on us.”

Arkeville continued to protest under his breath as he followed Old Snake and Baroness out of the room. Getting back onto his feet, Prowl prepared to attack Tarantulas once more only for the Predacon scientist to turn around, a hand over the controls.

“Take one more step and you’ll never see either of your friends again!” Tarantulas cackled. “I won’t hesitate to destroy my own work if it means taking from you just as you’ve taken from me! Who knows, maybe I’ll even collapse all of reality in the process, in which case, it will all have been worth it!”

Prowl narrowed his visor. “You’re insane.”

“So they say.” Tarantulas sputtered out a horrendous, maniacal laugh that only further validated Prowl’s assertion.

Prowl’s mind raced for alternative options. He knew Tarantulas was just crazy enough to go through with his threat and potentially disrupt reality by destroying the Timemaze. He had no idea if it would actually have that effect, but he knew that he couldn’t take that risk. Enhancing his audio receptors’ range, he could tell that the battle outside and above was getting closer, and he could detect the spark signatures of two fellow Autobots—Jazz and Ratchet, if he was not mistaken—closing in on their current location. He didn’t know how Tarantulas was going to react when they got here, but he knew he had to get the Predacon scientist away from the Timemaze.

Time seemed to hold still for what seemed like forever as the two once-friends stood off against each other, Tarantulas’ claw centimeters away from the button that would destroy the Timemaze and Prowl’s hand firmly gripping his throwing star.

Suddenly, behind Tarantulas, all of the Timemaze’s monitors went blank. Prowl was unable to mask his surprise in time and Tarantulas turned around to see what he had reacted to. Quickly recovering himself, Prowl hurled his throwing star at the Predacon’s turned back, expertly striking the mad scientist in a sensitive exposed area. Tarantulas let out a pained cry as he fell to the ground, his systems momentarily flickering offline.

After retrieving both of his throwing stars, Prowl rushed back to the Timemaze and looked over its console, trying to figure out what had caused the screens to go blank. At that moment, he felt the chamber shake from an explosion and turned to see Jazz and Ratchet rush inside, weapons drawn.

“All right, nobody lose their cool and all will be fine and—” Jazz paused as he took in his surroundings and noticed Prowl and the unconscious Tarantulas. “Oh. Never mind, then. Hey, Prowl.”

“We can chat and catch up later,” Prowl said sternly. “Cobra and its forces are withdrawing, but we still need to rescue Sari and Gears from this… thing. Problem is it’s shutoff and I can’t figure out a way to bring it back online.”

“Too bad we didn’t bring Wheeljack or Brainstorm with us,” Ratchet muttered as he regarded the complex machine. “I’m sure they would be able to figure it out.”

As soon as the medic had said that, the monitors of the Timemaze came back on. This time, however, instead of showing different scenes or realities, the various screens all showed the same thing: the hideous visage of a green-skinned, red-eyed organic being.

“Greetings, residents of Earth-9814. Just tuning in, are we?”

Jazz stepped back in disgust. “Okay, look, I’m normally cool with organics, but what the frag is that?”

“You may call me Mojo.” The creature’s wide maw broke out into a wide, toothy grin. “And your reality is about to become my new service provider!”

Mojoworld

Expanse reactivated his optics, coming back to the present day.

He had spent the past however-many-hours cycling through his memory logs, retracing the steps he had taken to this moment. From the day he had entered Shockwave’s care, to the day he had been drafted into the Decepticons, to the day he encountered a time-traveling human and bounty hunter, which led to him ending up with the X-Men after a Transwarp jump gone wrong. After that had been twenty-five years of relative peace (save for the odd battle with Sentinels or evil mutants) until it had been shattered by a former teammate he thought he had left behind long ago.

Now, here he was, waiting to be used as some “toy” for the entertainment of denizens from some bizarre pocket dimension. Once again, he had found himself to be the object of spectacle, all against his will.

He would not have it. Not again.

He took a moment to analyze his surroundings. Mojo was busy grandstanding to a bunch of monitors, speaking to an audience he could not discern. Mojo’s aide, Major Domo, was standing obediently at his side, awaiting further orders. Guarding Expanse himself were the two mutants Spiral and Longshot, as well as Deadlock, although the latter seemed incredibly disinterested in everything going around him; in fact, it seemed more like he was waiting for an excuse to finally leave this place.

Well, maybe Expanse could help him find one.

All he needed to do was engage his built-in Transwarp drive. This was enough to get the attention of Spiral and Longshot, who immediately spun around and drew their weapons on him. Before they had a chance to act, Expanse fired a blast of energy from his visor, which was enough to knock out the two mutants. He then extended his energy claws, expecting Deadlock to attack him next. However, the mercenary simply remained where he was leaning against the wall, regarding Expanse with an amused smirk.

Meanwhile, the outburst had certainly gotten the attention of Mojo, who turned away from his monitor and looked upon the Cybertronian with an enraged look in his scarlet eyes.

“What the—? How did you—?” Mojo looked upon the unconscious forms of Spiral and Longshot before shaking his head. “Whatever. Deadlock, apprehend him already!”

“I already did,” Deadlock casually replied.

“What are you talking about? He’s still—he’s not—he hasn’t been apprehended!” Mojo waved his spindly arms as he sputtered out his words.

“You paid me to capture him the first time, which I did. If you want me to capture him again, you’re gonna have to pay me again. Double this time, for making me wait around for the first payment.”

As Mojo continued to throw out words angrily, Expanse readied himself for whatever the interdimensional being threw at him. That was when he realized that his Transwarp drive was still humming, glowing in the center of his chest. Before he could shut it off, there was a burst of energy in front of him and the room was joined by the entangled forms of Death’s Head and Sari Sumdac.

“Get… off of me!” Death’s Head growled as he swatted Sari away. The mechanical bounty hunter then got to his feet and looked around the room, taking in his surroundings. Upon realizing where he was, he let out a loud sigh. “Hn. Figures.”

“Oh, great,” Mojo said sardonically. “More show-stoppers. Where do you people even come from?”

“I believe the techno-organic is from Earth—” Major Domo started to say.

“Oh, shut up!” Mojo slapped Major Domo upside the head, causing his aide to cower in fear. “This show has already gotten out of hand as it is. Just prepare the stage for the Reboot.”

Major Domo looked at him with a mix of shock and fear. “B-but, sir, we were supposed to wait until after the tournament before even attempting the Reboot.”

“The tournament is irrelevant now. I have already found the perfect grounds for the New World.” Mojo grinned wickedly. “And I promise you, it’s going to be marvelous.”

*  *  *

To Gears, everything seemed poised to end in catastrophe.

The giant mech in black armor loomed over him and the others, red laser sword in hand while the center of its chest started to glow green. Other-Gears and the remaining Autobots got into fighting stances, as did Spider-Girl and her kin, and the massive giant formerly known as Decimus Prime. Even Eclipse, still in his gun form, started to charge up as he prepared another blast to take out the massive mechanoid. And yet, despite the bravery that was being shown by everyone around him, Gears could not help but feel pessimistic about the outcome of this fight.

He didn’t want to be the pessimist—that was Huffer’s job—but he simply could not shake the feeling that they had all met their match. It was a miracle that they had managed to survive the Sentinels; this seemed to be a far greater challenge than any of them.

Lost in his worried thoughts, Gears almost didn’t notice that time had literally slowed to a standstill until he realized that no one was moving. He looked over at the humans in the party and detected that they weren’t visibly breathing; they still read as being alive, but they simply weren’t moving. He released his hold on Eclipse and the Mini-Con simply floated there in place, not succumbing to the effects of gravity.

“What the hell is going on?” he muttered, not for the first time today.

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Gears of Cybertron.”

Gears spun around to face the source of the mysterious voice. In the middle of the arena was an older human with gray hair, sitting upon a chair that had seemingly manifested out of nowhere. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of red-lensed spectacles, and the back of her chair seemed to glow with some sort of aura, shaped in the approximate form of a spider’s web.

“My name is Madame Web,” the woman answered the question that was already on Gears’ mind. “I have been watching you—in some form or another—for quite some time.”

“I can’t tell if I should be freaked out by that or not,” Gears mumbled.

“Understandable,” Madame Web replied. “Most people are never sure on how they should react to situations like this.”

“How would you even describe this situation?” Gears asked. “I still can’t wrap my head around what’s going on.”

Madame Web seemed to deflect his question as she said, “You have always been an intriguing subject of my curiosity. Throughout the multiverse, I have observed more than one instance in which you—or an iteration of you, rather—has interacted with those born from the web.”

Before Gears’ very eyes, images of scenes from across the multiverse appeared out of thin air, each one showing him (or a bot that resembled him in some form) and someone dressed like either Spider-Man or Spider-Girl. The first one to catch his eye was one showing a rather clunky-looking version of him jumping up alongside a black-suited Spider-Man.

“As you know, the Gears of my home reality has befriended the Spider-Man who preceded the Spider-Girl you have befriended yourself.” Madame Web gestured with her hand and the scene changed to show Other-Gears standing alongside a Spider-Man with a textured red-and-blue suit. “But you are not the only version of yourself to have done so.” Again, the image shifted to show Gears in a dark red and maroon color scheme with a more sinister-looking version of Spider-Man. “Regardless of allegiance, you two seem to be destined to become allies.”

“Yeah, well, I guess I never got the memo,” Gears retorted. “’Cos I’ve never even heard of any Spider-People until today. I don’t think there even are any in my universe.”

A smile crossed Madame Web’s thin lips. “Ah, but that is because you have never sought them out. Your world is far larger than you realize, Gears of Cybertron. Which is why something must be done to stop Mojo.”

“You mean ol’ pile of flubber back there?”

“A crass description, but yes. He seeks to use your home reality as a template for his so-called ‘New World’—a universe of his creation that will overwrite all existing realities of the multiverse. You and I will cease to exist, in favor of singular versions of our respective selves forever fated to serve Mojo and his ravenous audience.”

Gears rubbed his head. “This sounds like something from one of those Earth shows Swerve tells me about. I think he called it something like ‘meta-fiction’ or something?”

“The line between fact and fiction is often blurred when the topic of multiple realities is concerned,” Madame Web said. “Regardless, time is running short. I can only keep things in this state for so long.”

“What would you have me do, then? I’m just your average Autobot. I’m not someone like, y’know, Optimus Prime or Ultra Magnus or even fraggin’ Grimlock. I’m just… I’m just Gears. I’m not special.”

“Peter Parker once thought similar to you,” Madame Web said softly. “And yet he proved to be one of the greatest heroes his world has ever known. The only one stopping you from reaching your true potential is yourself.”

Gears continued to regard the old woman with a skeptic look, unsure of how seriously to take her platitudes. “That still doesn’t answer my question, though. What exactly am I supposed to do?”

“What you do best, of course.” Madame Web grinned. “Complain.”

Gears looked at her incredulously for a moment. Then, upon realizing what she was getting at, he allowed a small smile to cross his own face.

“Now that,” he said, “I can do with no problem.”