It's Michael Bay!

For Yiyer, life was just one day after another, neither good nor bad.

He used to think that there was no difference between being a soldier and a worker; both involved eating on time, being ordered around, and doing the same work every day.

As a soldier in Gambia, he had no sense of honor, or rather, he didn't even know what honor was; it was just a job.

If there's any difference between being a soldier and being a factory worker, it's that her sister married a major in Gambia. Through this connection, she wouldn't be bullied in the army, she would eat better, her superiors and colleagues would give her a certain amount of respect, and she would get a share of any extra income.

The work I usually do is relatively easy.

But overall, he used to think that there was no difference between being a soldier and being a factory worker.

The latter is even more free.

Wages were paid daily, and with the money, you could buy alcohol, grab a radio, and dance all day with a few newly acquainted friends. If you ran out of money the next day, you could go to work; otherwise, you wouldn't.

Serving in the military can actually impose some restrictions.

Of course, that was just what I thought back then.

He doesn't think that way anymore.

Because of the war, because Gambia declared war on Comora, his brother-in-law, Major Oschatz, was appointed Commander-in-Chief of the Expeditionary Force, and he followed his brother-in-law into the neighboring country.

... To call it an invasion is not entirely accurate.

Because they had never experienced a single battle, when they entered Comora, the enemy army had already collapsed, the city was undefended, and the military camps were completely empty, just as the king had declared, that the enemy feared the power of Gambia and therefore fled at the mere sight of him.

But what exactly happened didn't matter to Yiyer. He certainly didn't want to fight, and he had already experienced more enjoyment and fun than fighting.

And I understood the privileges of being a soldier...

Carrying a gun and walking the streets of an enemy country, people will be afraid, will lower their heads, and will give way. You can openly break into the houses of the wealthy and plunder their food and wealth. As long as you brandish a gun and put on a fierce look, people will not dare to resist, and you can take whatever you want at will.

He has reaped considerable rewards these days.

There were imported foreign sweets, and gold jewelry around his neck and wrists, but his favorite items were those he had collected from China people.

That day, he and his brother-in-law broke into a China house in Sangmili. His brother-in-law had all the China arrested. As for why, Yiyer didn't care. After all the China were taken away, the empty house became an unguarded treasure trove. He grabbed a gun and ruthlessly seized the first right to loot, finding the best things inside.

DVDs, one after another, so many of them.

He prefers things like movies to food and clothing.

Because he can only occasionally enjoy imported delicacies from abroad, while foreigners seem to be able to eat them every day. They live in very tall houses, drive very nice cars, and eat very good food. He can't have what he sees in movies, so it's good to at least look at them.

He liked watching United States blockbusters because they killed many United States, and he found that very entertaining.

Those United States living in high-rises, eating the best food they could never know about in their lifetime, their deaths are a spectacular show.

But he knew it was fake, all fabricated.

In reality, United States still enjoy gourmet food, luxury cars, and fine clothes in their tall houses. The last time this country was invaded by outsiders was almost twenty years ago.

Yiyer felt very frustrated whenever he thought about it.

Why do United States live in big houses while he can only live in a small house? Why do United States live so well while people in Gambia live so poorly? He didn't know where the problem lay. This question was too profound for a black man like him, so he had another idea.

His pleasant experience as an invader a few days ago gave him an impulse.

When can we go to United States and rob a bunch of thieves?

He robbed a China man's house. China people are very rich, so everyone got something. Now, people are still secretly going to that China man's house to look for things.

I've heard that the United States is richer than China. When can we go and rob United States?

He didn't know that this was ultimately just an idea. Now, he was sitting in the monitoring room, watching the images flashing on the screen. It was another super good-looking United States blockbuster, the second one already.

The monitoring room job was relatively easy. My brother-in-law had him stay there to keep an eye on the goods in the warehouse, making sure no petty thieves took anything. Yiyer only glanced at it occasionally. How could it be considered theft if a black man took a few things?

He focused most of his energy on the film.

The scenes are spectacular, and the computer-generated special effects are incredibly lifelike.

The movie is called Transformers.

He liked the Decepticons; they killed United States with great gusto.

He had already finished watching one movie, and this was the second. The story had progressed to the part where the Decepticons surrounded and killed Optimus Prime. Yiyer held his breath, staring intently at the flashing lights and shadows on the screen, admiring the scene with great concentration.

"Damn, Optimus Prime is really fierce. But where are Bumblebee? Are they just watching?"

He muttered to himself, but the next moment, the monitoring room went dark.

Only the fading flash before the monitor suddenly shuts down.

"... shxt!"

Yiyer jumped up, ripped off his headphones, and roared, "Those damn Ngers! They must be secretly charging their tablets and radios again!!!"

He stormed out, gun in hand, pushing open the door. This was the second floor, overlooking a spacious warehouse. He yelled, "Come on! Man! What's wrong! Motherfu..."

"Boom!"

The next moment, the warehouse wall was smashed open with a bang, and an armed Humvee rushed in, raising dust and filling the air with smoke. The violent jolt startled Yiyer fell to the ground.

Then, his eyes widened.

Under the watchful eyes of more than twenty gun-wielding Gambia soldiers in the warehouse, the armed Humvee emitted a clear, metallic clang. The armor plating that made up the vehicle body disintegrated, the complex components deformed and twisted, the wheels turned, the roof unfolded, and the limbs and torso assembled. The robot, exuding an aura of gunpowder and iron-bloodedness, stood up!

"Surprise!" the Autobots roared, "Motherfxcker!"

Gunfire erupted.

The Black men screamed almost in unison, then opened fire, assault rifles firing in rapid succession, while the robot flicked its left hand, and a large, terrifying chainsaw whirred to life.

Yiyer rolled and crawled on the floor, using his hands and feet to crawl and wriggle.

--Are you kidding me! I've seen that movie!

Blood, gunfire, spurting blood, scattered human bodies, and fragments constantly splattering around him— Yiyer was almost terrified. With all his might, he fled through the fire escape.

Outside, chaos reigned, with corpses strewn everywhere. Intense flames erupted from the power distribution room and backup power station, and faint explosions could be heard. It was like a living hell.

"NO! NONONONONONO!"

The air was filled with the whistling of bullets, screams, and even explosions in the distance. Flames erupted everywhere, as if explosions were happening all around. He could even hear the Decepticons roaring.

"Father!"

--dad?

He didn't care about anything else and scrambled to his brother-in-law's command post.

He rushed up to the second floor, ignoring those who questioned him; things were in chaos there.

"Brother-in-law... no, sir! Sir!"

He pushed open the door, and his brother-in-law, Major Oschatz, was cursing loudly, slamming the phone to the ground. "Why is the phone line broken too! Damn it! What happened?!"

The major was taking out his phone when he heard the noise and looked up.

"Yiyer! What happened?! I need you to watch the security footage! Why wasn't it reported?!"

Yiyer's sweat flowed like a torrent.

He ran for his life, finally reaching this point, and breathed a sigh of relief. But an overwhelming sense of fear washed over him. He was even covered in blood, and he could still hear his companions' screams and the Decepticons' roars, the sound of bullets, and the roar of chainsaws—it was a death knell.

He even regretted coming here; he should have escaped quietly.

The officer's question echoed in my ears.

Oschatz roared, "Who is it! How many of them are there! Who attacked us! Tell me!"

His hand had already reached for his phone—this was unexpected; he had to call those people... This wasn't what was agreed upon! Why did this attack happen?!

But before contacting those people, he needed to find out who had launched the attack.

The major stared intently at Iyeyasu, and seeing the man's utterly devastated expression, he shouted, "Speak!"

"Yes... yes..."

Yiyer clutched his head and screamed, "It's... it's a FXCK Transformers! I saw it with my own eyes! An armed Humvee transformed into a terrifying robot! It killed anyone it saw! It was incredibly ferocious! Like a demon, it must be a FXCK Decepticons!"

"..."

The roaring and explosions outside continued unabated, and there was a commotion in the corridor, but even in this situation, Major Oschatz in his office still felt a sense of absurdity.

"Are you an idiot?! I warned you not to watch those damn United States movies while on duty! They're using this fxcking stuff to fool the whole world! It's a white supremacist conspiracy!"

He roared, "Before I blow your head off..."

Yiyer was nearly scared to death; his mind was on the verge of collapse. He screamed, "It's true! The United States have been deceiving the whole world! Area 51 exists! All their technology was derived from FXCK Megatron! They've been in cahoots with the Decepticons for a long time!"

He pounded his chest and stamped his feet, shouting hysterically, "I knew something was wrong! How could the United States from Motherfxcker cooperate with Optimus Prime! They clearly got along better with Megatron!"

Oschatz, enraged, drew his pistol and pointed it at his brother-in-law's head. "You..."

"That's right! That's right! I heard it!" the junior officer exclaimed, remembering something. "I heard that Decepticons calling for his father! I know who's coming to fight us!"

"--It's fxcking Michael Bay!"

"It's fxcking Michael Bay and his fxcking Decepticons son coming to kill us! No wonder there are so many explosions! That motherfxcker loves to cause explosions! Aaaaaaah!"

This guy has completely gone mad!

Oschatz hesitated whether to pull the trigger and kill the idiot, but the next moment, his eyes widened.

With a deafening roar, the walls shattered and the windows broke. A giant metal hand smashed through the wall, reached into the room, and grabbed Yiyer in its grasp.

The Black major's mind went blank. He stared at the steel hand so close to him, at every knuckle, the interlocking gears and levers inside, and the rough, cold surface.

The steel hand clenched slightly.

A series of cracking sounds rang out, and poor Yiyer's body twisted and contorted like a tomato squeezed in a hand, deformed, with red juice gushing out from all sides, his eyes still wide open.

Looking at Major Oschatz, his eyes were filled with pain and pleading.

Gravel and wood chips continued to fall as the steel hand withdrew. The junior officer's body was carelessly tossed aside. The dazed Major Oschatz witnessed all of this, witnessing a terrifying head rise from a first-floor window, its metal parts clashing, its vibrations clanging, and its purple eyes.

A terrifying, giant robot is watching him.

The major's legs were trembling.

Then, he saw the robot carefully lift up a person with its other hand and send that person through a hole on the second floor. The person was carrying an outrageously large rifle.

It's fxcking Michael Bay.

No, that's not it.

Major Oschatz took two steps back, nearly tripping over the chair. The door was suddenly pushed open, but the next moment, gunshots rang out, and the soldier who rushed in fell straight backward, his neck and above completely shattered, his convulsing body spurting out streams of blood.

The black major, who was about to take action, froze on the spot. He couldn't see how Kang De fired the gun; he only saw a phantom-like afterimage, as if the ridiculously large rifle was always pointed at him.

But it wasn't a hallucination, because the gun barrels and the room were filled with the smoke of burning gunpowder.

"Hello, bro."

Kang De pulled down his scarf, revealing his face—a China face.

Oschatz was instantly surprised, because the face looked far too young, and moreover, it seemed strangely familiar, as if he had seen it somewhere before.

He murmured, "You..."

The massive muzzle of the gun was already pointed at them.

The gun barrel, scorching hot from frequent firing, pressed directly against the man's face. The major let out a scream of agony. Kang De pulled out his satellite phone and dialed a number.

"Kirov," he said, "Translator."

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PS1: Second update! 4000 words! Time for bed, goodnight everyone!