Set Up

Who are you?

Donnie sent back a message and waited quietly for a reply. This faction had sent someone into the melee just to deliver a phone for contacting him.

If there was no reason, he wouldn't believe it even if it killed him. Why deliver a phone during a chaotic battle of all times? Those people hadn't stopped to help him either, acting completely unconcerned that he might die in battle.

It looked like an attempt to conceal themselves and take advantage of the chaos to avoid exposing their identity... No, it seemed more deliberate than that. Who knew how many factions had been watching at the time? Someone had rushed out from nowhere, openly tossed Donnie a phone, and then left... If no one noticed that, every one of those factions would have to be idiots.

Soon, another message came back: Someone wants to kill you.

Donnie sneered and sent back, "Stop playing mysterious," before casually tossing the phone aside.

Plenty of people wanted to kill him. Did he really need them to tell him that?

A lot of people had their eyes on him. Some wanted to recruit him, while others wanted to kill him. He could accept either. If Donnie himself hadn't had some real skills, along with warnings from several major forces, those people wouldn't have held back and hesitated to act so easily.

"I need to improve my combat strength. Optimus Prime alone can't hold things up."

Donnie muttered to himself. His AllSpark could control vehicles. Although its conversion efficiency was questionable, controlling several Transformers at once wasn't a problem.

Before obtaining armor made from Vibranium or Adamantium, his combat power was destined to lean toward Transformers, following the path of a large-scale war army.

Without Vibranium or Adamantium armor, he could only drape himself in a pile of different Transformers to fight. Whether that would withstand a large-scale missile barrage was still questionable.

Spark Energy could strengthen Donnie's physical condition and regenerative abilities, but it couldn't make him immortal like Wolverine, who could endure even a Nuclear Bomb's radiation and heat head-on. It was insane.

Donnie's combat strength was actually quite formidable. As a tertiary-level combatant, he held an overwhelming advantage over the vast majority of Tertiary Mutants. People like Mystique would be completely crushed by him.

Donnie's AllSpark ability meant that he was destined to take the army route in the early stages. If he was fortunate enough to obtain the Mind Stone, Donnie would embark on a new path toward becoming a creator. As long as he remained alive, he would create a Transformers race.

Perhaps one day, he might even rebuild Cybertron.

But that was a distant future. Simply ensuring his own survival was already incredibly difficult. Countless bloody battles lay ahead, gods would fall, and anyone could die.

The difficulty of seizing the Mind Stone was equally astonishing. Few people could remain unmoved by such a supreme treasure capable of controlling minds.

No matter what, Donnie had to strengthen himself. Otherwise, there was no way he could survive one catastrophe after another in the future.

Donnie first drove to a scrapyard in the suburbs. After looking around, he was deeply disappointed. Not only had many of the cars been abandoned, but the quality of the ones that could still run was questionable too.

In the end, he reluctantly selected a nearly scrapped sports car. It was obvious that this sports car had once been glorious years ago, but even the best car had its day of retirement. Not to mention that rich people never lacked luxury cars; they only tirelessly pursued the newest models.

This nearly scrapped sports car cost Donnie thirty thousand dollars because the manager refused to lower the price, claiming that its original price had been over ten million dollars. Even though it was old and nearly scrapped, it still had the foundation of a luxury car.

Donnie couldn't be bothered to argue further and paid directly.

There were far too few vehicles here capable of fighting. Many would also need extensive repairs, making them not worth the effort.

Once Donnie's abilities grew stronger, this would be a good place. He could raise a huge army at any time. If quality didn't matter, there was no shortage of cannon fodder here.

But not now. His Spark Energy was limited, and the number of Transformers he could control was small. Naturally, he had to seek quality over quantity.

Donnie stopped the manager and asked where he could find top-grade motorcycles.

"Motorcycles? You could go to Harley-Davidson. Harley motorcycles are popular worldwide and have the greatest name recognition." The manager wore a wrinkled shirt and had a cigarette dangling from his mouth, looking somewhat cynical.

"I want the strongest motorcycle. The one with the highest performance."

Donnie stated his requirements directly. Only motorcycles modified by true experts were truly astonishing, and those were what he needed—not mass-produced products anyone could buy on the market.

"You must know plenty of modification experts. You take the scrapped cars from here every year, get someone to modify them, and you can definitely sell them for a good price, right?" Donnie said.

The manager looked at him, whistled, and went inside to make a phone call. When he came back out, he gave Donnie an address.

The manager wore an amused expression as he told him to go there. The modification master was there.

"He's an extraordinarily talented modification master," the manager said. "He's a famous figure in the area. Lots of racers go to him for modifications. Modifying your motorcycle would be easy for him."

Donnie nodded, found a rope, tied it to Optimus Prime and the sports car, then drove Optimus Prime toward downtown while towing the sports car behind him.

That modification master really was downtown, in an obscure little bar.

Donnie fell into thought as he drove onto the road. He wanted to find a truly powerful motorcycle and create Arcee.

A motorcycle was small enough to be strapped onto a truck. When needed, it could transform instantly, becoming another combat force.

It was worth mentioning that S.H.I.E.L.D.'s motorcycle had been devoured by Optimus Prime. Unnecessary wiring and other components had been removed, and it had completely become part of Optimus Prime.

As a result, Optimus Prime had grown somewhat larger.

Whoosh!

Boom!

A group of people suddenly rushed out from the roadside. Every one of them carried heavy weapons, and some had even brought out Vulcan cannons, firing wildly at Donnie's vehicle.

Donnie wasn't surprised in the slightest. He controlled Optimus Prime to partially transform, assembling several Gatling Guns and sweeping them across the enemies.

The rapid-fire rattling was endless.

Bullets tore through the dirt mound and slammed into human bodies, blasting bowl-sized holes through them. Blood flowed endlessly like streams, and it was clear they wouldn't survive.

"What was the point of an ambush like this?"

After killing them, Donnie drove over, intending to collect the heavy weapons they had left behind.

Boom!

Explosives had actually been buried underground. As Donnie drove over them, they detonated violently. The explosion was powerful, but the Optimus Prime Donnie had modified could withstand it completely.

His Transformers weren't afraid of explosive attacks. What they feared were attacks that could penetrate their shells, especially attacks that pierced the armor before exploding.

After confirming that it was safe, Donnie hid all the heavy weapons left by the group inside Optimus Prime and continued toward downtown New York City.

He first left the abandoned sports car at a vehicle storage lot, then headed straight for the place where the modification master was.

That bar was incredibly remote, and New York traffic was truly awful. It took Donnie more than two hours to get there.

The buildings here were rather run-down, and the walls were plastered with countless small advertisements. It seemed as if no cleaners had come through in a very long time. Few people passed by, as though this entire district had been deliberately ignored.

In land-scarce New York City, that was truly surprising and almost impossible to understand.

Even Hell's Kitchen was dozens of times livelier than this place.

Donnie observed the area cautiously, then walked to the entrance of the bar. The men guarding the door stared at him as if they were looking at livestock about to be served on a dinner table.

"You want to go in?" The doorman's gaze was strange as he looked Donnie up and down.

"Is the modification master here?" Donnie asked calmly.

"Modification master? We have all kinds of masters here!"

Several doormen burst into wild laughter, stepped aside, and gestured for Donnie to enter.

"The master you're looking for is inside, kid. Have a safe trip." One of them threatened Donnie.

Donnie felt somewhat uneasy, and doubts rose in his mind. He had the vague feeling that someone had set him up, but he still clung to a sliver of luck, comforting himself that he couldn't possibly be so unlucky as to get schemed against just for going out and asking for directions.

After walking into the bar and passing through a narrow corridor, he immediately arrived at an underground bar far larger than he had imagined!

Countless people swayed wildly beneath the dim lights to deafening music. This place seemed to possess some kind of magic that could drive people into a frenzy.

Donnie walked to the counter and called the bartender over. "Is the modification master here?"

The bartender was old, with slightly graying hair. He said, "There is indeed someone here who's good at modifying vehicles, but this isn't a place you should be. Go back quickly."

The bartender urged Donnie to leave immediately and not linger here. His tone was extremely urgent.

Donnie looked around. Just then, a drinking patron turned around, noticed that Donnie was a completely unfamiliar face, and moved closer, asking in a strange voice, "Who are you? Are you new?"

Like a bolt of lightning, Donnie saw the tattoo on the patron's neck the instant he turned around with his enhanced vision. Thinking of the strange looks he had received along the way, he understood everything.

"Ha-Ghost Clan? You're all servants of those Vampires?"

Donnie's face darkened. His instincts told him that he had stumbled into new trouble. He had plunged headfirst into Vampire territory, and this was no small problem. One careless move could bring disastrous consequences!

One bite from those things, and he would be finished!

This damned world was far too dangerous!

"I guarded against everything, and in the end, I still got set up! Don't let me find out who's plotting against me!"