Someone Wants to Kill You

After getting a good, solid night's sleep in the house, Donnie began clearing it out. It went without saying that the place was completely unsecured to many people—anyone could come and go as they pleased. Who knew how many cameras had been installed?

Otherwise, how had the X-Men gotten that letter onto the table inside?

Donnie spread the AllSpark out in every direction without holding back. He did not know whether it was an illusion, but the stabbing pain in his head seemed much lighter than before.

That delighted Donnie. It meant his body was steadily recovering. Slowly, perhaps, but it was indeed recovering.

Having experienced the overwhelming power of Level 4, being constrained at the Tertiary level always felt stifling, even if his combat power as a Tertiary Mutant surpassed that of many conventional Tertiary Mutants.

Mysterious AllSpark particles slowly spread out, filling every corner inside and outside the house, uncovering numerous concealed technological devices.

These were surveillance devices planted by various organizations and agencies. Some might have belonged to the Federal Council, some to the Brotherhood, some to S.H.I.E.L.D. But exactly who they belonged to did not matter, because they had all become junk—soaked through by the AllSpark and rendered useless.

After thinking it over, Donnie dug out several watches from the house and put them all on his wrists. He then took out the phone that some unknown faction had tossed to him and found that no one had contacted him yet. He simply modified it too; after all, it could still retain its calling function after transforming back.

Donnie finally had time to systematically assess and organize his combat capabilities.

At present, the only thing he could truly put forward was Optimus Prime. Although Donnie had not relaxed his efforts to strengthen Optimus Prime, its material was ordinary, allowing only a fifty to seventy percent increase in defense over its original basis. The boost was limited. For the rest, he could only keep repairing it during battle.

Thinking about it carefully now, during that battle with Abomination, if not for that beast Hulk locking onto Abomination and turning it into a two-on-one assault, Donnie really would not have been a match for him one-on-one.

He could do nothing about Adamantium and Vibranium right now. Unless he found a major company to design and manufacture sheets of armor specifically to cover Optimus Prime in truck form, then carefully transformed it when necessary, using the advanced metals purely as armor, since he could not modify advanced metals yet.

More importantly, he had no money. Who was he supposed to ask to make armor for him?

"I should have asked Red Devil for money back then. I should've had them transfer tens of millions of dollars into my account instead of demanding this piece of Vibranium."

Donnie pulled out the Vibranium and stared at it, filled with resentment. In his hands, this piece of Vibranium could only serve as a brick. When someone was not paying attention in a fight, he could smack them with it—imposing and mighty.

"Am I really going to use it as a brick?"

Donnie looked utterly worried, feeling that such a fine thing was being wasted. Theoretically, a gram of Vibranium cost ten thousand dollars on the market. In reality, it was worth far more, because it had a price but no supply. Ordinary people could not find this metal at all; only major powers and organizations had a chance of acquiring some.

Wakanda guarded its Vibranium mines far too tightly—so tightly that many organizations did not even know Wakanda possessed a Vibranium mine.

So even this palm-sized piece could fetch an astronomical price if thrown onto the market.

But Donnie himself was drooling over it. How could he possibly be so carefree as to sell it just like that?

To turn Vibranium into a weapon, he had to find a major company, such as Stark Industries or Wayne Enterprises. Donnie desperately needed a suit of close-fitting armor to protect himself. His greatest weakness right now was himself! If a Transformer was smashed to pieces, Donnie could pull together a new one as long as he had time. But if Donnie died, who could pull him back up?

Relying solely on things like phones and watches for close protection left him with no peace of mind.

That was where the value of this Vibranium showed itself.

"Then who should I go to? Stark? Or Lord Wayne?" Donnie paced around the room with his hands behind his back, growing increasingly agitated.

Tony Stark was still busy chasing women. Who knew how long it would be before he became Iron Man? If an unknown nobody like Donnie went to him now, he would only be humiliating himself. Thinking of the things Stark had done—tricking sincere scientists as if they were fools and ultimately bringing about the Extremis virus.

Then should he go to Wayne?

"Gotham City, where the people are so simple and honest..." Donnie groaned. Just thinking of Gotham City gave him a headache. Freaks roamed everywhere there. Only Lord Wayne had the energy to dress up as a giant bat every day and struggle against that bunch of lunatics from Arkham, and he insisted on taking them alive.

Catch them, release them; release them, catch them. Fighting people was endlessly entertaining, forming the daily routine of Lord Batman's duties.

"If I went to Gotham... Lord Wayne already had some leanings toward pure-human ideology. I don't know much about him. If this Mutant went there, would he even consider me human? Not to mention that somewhat gloomy mind of his. Even if he accepted me that day, maybe the Anti-Donnie Armor would be built a few days later."

Being targeted by the likes of Joker would be an even greater headache. Who knew what that bunch of crime enthusiasts might do?

Donnie scratched his head, deeply troubled. Was it really this hard to find a major corporation to modify Vibranium for him?

Iron Man and Batman were at least reliable. If it were companies like Hammer Industries or LexCorp, he would probably be plotted against and surrounded the moment he stepped inside.

As for S.H.I.E.L.D.? Donnie shook his head even more vehemently. The waters ran too deep there. Before Hydra was purged, he should not get too close to S.H.I.E.L.D. unless absolutely necessary.

The waters of this world were all too deep, bottomless and terrifying. Donnie had always been somewhat apprehensive. He could only make some trouble while things were still relatively peaceful. The future would grow increasingly horrifying, not to mention the powerful figures from every era across the cosmos who would awaken one after another from slumber and seals.

After agonizing over it for a long time without reaching a conclusion, Donnie simply went out, got in his car, and headed to the Daily Bugle.

Donnie first needed to make some money—pay off part of the mortgage, refurbish Optimus Prime with what remained, and, if possible, find a way to get two decent motorcycles. Optimus Prime alone could not hold everything up.

The meeting went smoothly. Donnie headed straight to James's office and received a warm welcome. But when Donnie brought up payment for portrait rights, James's expression immediately changed. That skinflint was unwilling to part with even a cent. He would not yield even when facing a Level 4 Mutant. It was truly something.

In the end, James paid Donnie one hundred thousand dollars.

Donnie was speechless at that amount, but it was barely enough, so he accepted it while holding his nose. Negotiating money with that old bastard James was harder than killing him outright.

His only regret was that he had not seen Spider-Man. He had no idea what he was off doing.

Donnie drove home and sat on the couch, carefully considering his expenses. Counting the small amount of savings already at home and the one million in government compensation, it was already a considerable sum.

But paying off the loan in one lump sum would consume nearly half of it. If possible, he also wanted to buy a batch of alloy, at least something better than Optimus Prime's original material, though that would take time.

Bzzzz!

The phone rang. A text message had been sent to the phone that someone unknown had given him.

It contained only one sentence: Someone wants to kill you!