Choosing Sides

Donnie ultimately didn't go through with it, leaving the old bartender to sleep soundly.

He could have killed the old bartender then and there, ending everything. It was the easiest choice, but he still didn't act, just watched silently, lost in thought.

Donnie sighed and plopped onto the sofa, tapping the table idly. The old bartender had become a crucial linchpin. Neither Donnie nor the vampires could tolerate the old bartender remaining alive in the other's hands, as it would mean their own intelligence and information had been compromised.

In other words, with the old bartender in his possession, the vampires had every reason to suspect Donnie knew about their God-Making Plan and had obtained detailed information from the old bartender. To prevent further leaks and to acquire information they didn't have, they would inevitably target both the old bartender and Donnie. Donnie couldn't stand the thought of the old bartender being captured, as it meant his own related information would be leaked, and it would confirm to the other side that he knew about the God-Making Plan and specific details they were unaware of.

But he absolutely didn't know any specific details, and the vampires wouldn't believe him anyway. Donnie's attack on the vampire stronghold and his killing of the Thompson Family's head was already a declaration to them that he knew everything.

The severe imbalance of information and the logical loop made a complete breakdown inevitable. No one could escape this situation; there was no need for negotiations, nor could any negotiations take place. The war had already begun.

"This is just too troublesome. My plan to quietly get rich is ruined." Donnie sighed repeatedly, feeling incredibly unlucky. He had originally intended to develop low-key and only participate in major events after he had fully grown, but it was clearly impossible now.

The vampires wouldn't let him go. Even if they used the excuse of killing a chicken to warn the monkeys and maintain their dignity, a bloody battle was unavoidable.

He also didn't trust the vampires, fearing that after handing over the old bartender for peace, they would immediately try to kill Donnie after interrogating him for enough information.

Neither side trusted the other, and neither would allow the old bartender to be in the other's possession.

Donnie took out the phone and sent a message to that number: "Who are you?" After waiting for a long time with no response, he put the phone back in his pocket.

"I'm still too kind. I didn't even kill such a troublesome person." Donnie felt helpless, still considering himself a kind person. He could easily kill villains and those targeting him, but he couldn't casually kill someone who was, at best, innocent.

Of course, it wasn't that he had no principles about killing. He wouldn't adopt "no killing" as his code of conduct like superheroes such as the Flash. But the old bartender's existence had already threatened Donnie's safety. He could have killed him, but at this moment, he was thinking further ahead.

This was a world of extraordinary beings, a world of superheroes.

Donnie had a vague premonition that whether he killed the old bartender or not was more like declaring his allegiance. If he killed him, he would be siding with the evil faction. If he didn't, he might not be accepted by the hero faction, but at least he wouldn't be easily antagonized.

It was as if someone was forcing him to decide, forcing him to make a choice, perhaps even expecting him to kill the old bartender and become an adversary to certain individuals.

"Who exactly is manipulating me..." Donnie's expression turned grim. He had thought about many things. After being tricked so many times, he had to grow. He delved deeper, considering many possibilities.

The old bartender's role might not just be to make him and the vampires fight to the death, but also to serve as a benchmark for judging Donnie.

Donnie turned his head to look at the old bartender, who was sleeping soundly and seemingly defenseless, his eyes flickering. He had never been a pushover. After all, the old bartender had already become a threat to him.

The old bartender slept in an undignified posture, his back to Donnie, appearing completely unconcerned, as if he had resigned himself to his fate.

"Within this, what role do you play?" Donnie sat on the sofa, staring at the old bartender for a long time. "It might not be what you say... perhaps you yourself know you're a pawn, but you're just unwilling to admit it... But who is the player? Heh heh!"

At this moment, the old bartender turned over, mumbled a few words, and started snoring.

Donnie took out the phone again. This was perhaps the only clue. He could track someone through this phone. Even if it wasn't the mastermind, it was definitely related. But how could he track it? He didn't understand hacking, didn't know any hacking experts, and didn't trust S.H.I.E.L.D. His own Transformers were merely creations of his abilities, not mature life forms, and couldn't decipher computer languages like in the movies yet.

"Professor X or Magneto... I can only look for them..." Donnie sighed. He didn't want to get close to either of them; their powers perfectly countered his. Even if they let him have one hand, they could easily beat him.

He stayed awake all night. Soon, the sky began to lighten, and a round sun peeked over the horizon, quietly observing the earth.

Donnie woke the old bartender up and asked him to help modify his motorcycle, inquiring what he needed.

"Modifying it is simple. You want to use it for combat, not just for safety and racing," the old bartender told Donnie. For this type of motorcycle, the focus should be on the energy circuits. "You can modify battle vehicles and control them to fight for you. Metal strength and energy transfer efficiency are most important."

The old bartender analyzed, his insights seeming quite profound. He reminded Donnie that while motorcycles were convenient, tanks and armored vehicles were the primary choices.

"If possible, get a few fifth-generation fighter jets and modify them, and you'll be invincible," the old bartender boasted, holding his liquor bottle. He claimed that if Donnie brought him fifth-generation fighter jets, he could further modify them and forge the strongest killing machines for Donnie.

Donnie asked if he could really modify fifth-generation fighter jets. The old bartender shamelessly admitted he was bluffing.

Bang!

Donnie dragged the bruised and battered old bartender, following the route he provided, and drove Optimus Prime to a large repair shop in the city. This place was secretly the most famous car modification base in the area, albeit with a connection to the underworld. Donnie dumped him there, intending to keep an eye on him until he modified a high-performance motorcycle.

This was Donnie's original intention, but it had become so troublesome now.

The old bartender browsed through the large repair shop, and under the surprised gazes of everyone, he nonchalantly called over the staff and asked them about various parts. Finally, he approached Donnie, revealing a row of yellow teeth: "The parts and alloy models here are quite complete, but the prices are very expensive. Just a single towing converter is very costly. I can modify a high-performance motorcycle for you, but I want five thousand dollars as compensation."

The old bartender wanted the payment to buy more alcohol, as they had nearly finished all the alcohol at Donnie's place last night.

Donnie agreed immediately. The old bartender happily went to work, procuring many motorcycles on the spot and busying himself with various parts and large machinery.

Donnie watched his surroundings vigilantly. He still couldn't let the old bartender die easily.

After modifying Arcee, he would have to find Professor X nearby as soon as possible. After all, he couldn't travel halfway across the globe to find the Brotherhood's island in the vast ocean. Donnie could only take a gamble, betting on Professor X's character.