Arrest

The entire underground parking lot was riddled with cameras, and countless hackers had infiltrated the feeds, watching the situation unfold intently from their screens.

Donnie knew he was the monkey in a show, performing for everyone to see. But he didn't care—or rather, everyone needed such a spectacle to test the mettle of the new blood.

Any high-level mutant who wanted room to move freely had to carve out a path. That freedom was built on countless bloody battles, forcing anyone who thought of touching him to first weigh whether they could afford the cost.

Many powerful mutants roamed in and out of places without a care, blatant and unbothered. Their files were logged in various departments, but no one dared to make a move on them easily.

Wolverine was probably cruising around in some beat-up car right now. Who would go looking for trouble with him? It wasn't worth it—the cost was too high. Never mind the losses; the real kicker was that the guy couldn't be killed no matter what. That was the most maddening part.

As for other Tertiary Mutants? Either they kept their identities hidden, never revealing their abilities, living low-key lives; or they joined major powers or organizations for protection; or they ended up dead, dying on the road to growth. That last group was the largest, and their fates were the worst.

Taking down a high-level mutant came at a devastating price. So a newborn Level 4 Mutant was worth far more than a pile of Tertiary Mutants. It was a difference in the very essence of life, an allure to certain organizations beyond imagination—enough to drive them crazy, enough to make them send people to test the waters.

Recruiting with words was the best outcome; killing him on the spot and dragging back his corpse was just as welcome.

The Motorcycle Transformer, amidst a crowd of panicked, stunned gazes, picked up the Rocket Launcher. People screamed and opened fire—only the weapons in their hands gave them a sense of security.

A dense barrage of gunfire echoed through the place as waves of armed personnel flooded in, joining the siege on Donnie.

"Heh heh heh, I told you the higher-ups were too cautious. A newborn mutant, even a Level 4, how strong could he be? Even Magneto when he first awakened his powers was just a fragile piece of trash—easy to take down."

Someone was bragging, claiming he was born in the wrong era. If he'd been around in World War II, second-rate trash like Magneto and Professor X would've died without a burial, and there wouldn't be this mess today.

The Motorcycle Transformer shifted into a Metal Shield, shielding Donnie tightly. The hail of bullets was all blocked outside, a constant clatter ringing out.

Seeing this, the braggart's confidence soared. He declared victory was certain—he had it in the bag.

Suddenly, a gap opened in the shield, and a Mini Gatling poked out. The barrel spun slowly, accelerating steadily, like the Death's sonata reaching out with a scythe to reap lives.

People's souls fled in terror; they instinctively tried to dodge, but not everyone could. The loudmouth who loved to boast was the first to be turned into a sieve, riddled with bullet holes, dead without a doubt.

The Gatling spun rapidly, sweeping fire, causing massive casualties. People screamed and fell, a miserable sight.

Some reacted fast, finding cover and refusing to poke their heads out, gripped by fear. They'd been cowed by his bizarre abilities and dared not show themselves. Others, fierce by nature, raised their weapons to fight back, trying to find a timing gap in the chaos to take him down.

In ordinary gunfights, many fell to counterattacks.

But Donnie was different. He was protected flawlessly, without a single gap. Only a Mini Gatling roared through the parking lot, painting it with blood.

The counterattackers soon fell, faces twisted with regret and despair, eyes wide open as they became corpses, dying in frustration. They died with their eyes open—this kind of fighting was too shameless. A proper shootout, but the enemy wasn't even on the same receiving end.

"Use heavy weapons! Where's the Rocket Launcher? Blow that turtle shell open! I don't believe that something Abomination could punch through with one hit can't be blown apart by my rocket!"

This guy knew Donnie's breakout fight well. He'd gathered detailed intel, knew some of Donnie's stats—far better than those fools who charged in blindly to hunt. He was confident, certain Donnie couldn't escape.

Boom!

A thunderous blast. The Rocket Launcher hit square on, causing a violent explosion. The immense shockwave warped the entire Metal Shield, pitting and denting it as if it had been brutally hammered, looking a bit battered.

"It didn't break? Just caved in?"

Someone was stunned, unable to believe it. This was the latest model of Rocket Launcher, with terrifying power, yet the result was the enemy barely scratched. He couldn't accept it.

Why was his defense this good now? When he fought Abomination, that metal guy was clearly fragile!

Donnie slapped the Metal Shield, channeling Spark Energy into it. The shield visibly repaired itself, though it looked a bit worn.

"Because you know nothing about me."

Another gap opened, and a Rocket Launcher poked out—the one Donnie had just grabbed. He'd been saving it, and now was the time to use it.

Boom!

Another explosion. Shrapnel tore through a large group of people, turning them into bloody messes, screaming as they collapsed to their knees. Some vehicles were caught in the blast, exploding with a roar, fuel tanks rupturing, gasoline spilling everywhere.

Donnie fired a shot. The gasoline ignited instantly, and several people were engulfed in flames, screaming as they turned into Pyros, dying in endless agony.

"Monster! We regulars can't handle him! Let the ability users come! I'm done! Who kept shouting we had it in the bag? Bag my ass!"

People were truly terrified. Some small fry scattered in panic, fleeing in all directions. A leader roared and shot a few, but it couldn't stop them.

From the start till now, everyone who shouted "we have it in the bag" had been the first to die, dying worthless deaths. The rest had been holding back their fear, fighting an enemy they couldn't understand—nothing crushed morale and willpower faster.

A series of violent explosions suddenly rang out!

Coulson's voice came over the parking lot's PA system: "Attention, everyone. You will be arrested for endangering public safety. Drop your weapons and surrender immediately."

A large force of heavily armed personnel surrounded the underground parking lot, leaving the attackers exchanging glances, uneasy and fearful.

Donnie stomped his foot. This was the perfect chance—no more waiting! Charge out!

"Who dares stop me?!"

Donnie roared. The shield retracted, and the Transformer inside lunged forward. With a series of clicks, it reassembled into a motorcycle. Donnie ran, leaped, and landed firmly on the seat, twisting the throttle wide open, speeding ahead.

"You can't escape!" A loyalist stepped forward and shouted, "We've set a net from all sides—you can't escape! We have it in the bag!"

Bang!

Donnie shot the man dead.

A skinny guy didn't get out of the way in time, ending up right in the path.

Donnie was about to gun him down when the Skinny Man, struck by a flash of inspiration, dropped to his knees with a thud.

Donnie sped past, kicking him aside as he charged toward the exit.