Donnie's Victory

I am Pietro Maximoff, raised in a Gypsy family, relying on my twin sister Wanda Maximoff.

The surname Maximoff comes from that Gypsy family. They were kind and adopted us when we were infants, taking great care of us as we grew into adults.

When I was in my teens, I suddenly discovered I had speed far beyond that of ordinary people, and I could run faster and faster. At the time, I didn't even know how fast I could run. After my adoptive parents found out, they solemnly warned me not to display my speed to outsiders. I overheard them talking, and my adoptive parents mentioned words like "Mutant."

During that period, the television and newspapers were filled with news about a villain. This villain was the world's biggest terrorist, feared and cursed by people. People referred to this villain and his followers as "Mutants" and the "Brotherhood."

I later learned the villain's name; the public called him Magneto.

It wasn't until a few years ago that this villain named Magneto came to our door. It was a nightmare; we said goodbye to our peaceful lives. Without any reason, without any explanation, Magneto forcibly abducted my sister and me, and still has us.

Under him, we undergo rigorous training every day. That villain said he would maximize our potential and train us into the strongest warriors.

My speed became faster and faster, no one could catch me. I gradually realized that I was also a member of the "Mutant" group. There's nothing wrong with that; I gained power, and no one dared to bully me. Those who bullied me before, I ran thousands of miles back to beat them up one by one. I doubt they even know what happened.

I've fought with another group of Mutants. In just an instant, I could tie them up and throw them into another city. This caused the other side to spend a lot of effort finding me after each battle, asking me which city I had taken them to.

I was happy and proud, always feeling a great sense of glory, something that was impossible for me before. I was proud to be a member of the Mutants.

But I always harbored immense fear towards that villain; I was no match for him. My sister Wanda, on the other hand, always felt a sense of closeness to that villain.

Until the truth came out, or what we thought was the truth. The villain neither admitted nor denied it.

Then he sent me out to find someone named Donnie. No reason, he just told me to go.

I met the person. How should I put it, my first impression was... quite annoying...

Fists rained down on Donnie, beating him into a sorry state. His body was sent flying, hit back and forth by fists and feet from who knows where. He was like a rag doll, repeatedly pulled and tossed around in the air.

In just an instant, with his exaggerated speed, Pietro could land several punches on Donnie simultaneously from the front and back. Don't think that a speedster's punches are like ordinary people's; with acceleration, even a casual punch can deliver a force measured in tons. Ordinary fists and kicks are the best weapons for these speedsters.

When a speedster like Pietro runs, he can reach several to tens of times the speed of sound. This requires his body to be incredibly tough, otherwise, he would have exploded from breaking the sound barrier long ago.

Not to mention, he carefully avoided the debris on the ground while running, still handling it with ease.

Donnie's entire body was covered in Mini-Transformer armor. It had already been tempered by Donnie using the AllSpark, but under Quicksilver's seemingly ordinary punches and kicks, most of it was nearly destroyed.

Speedsters are terrifying to this extent!

Donnie gritted his teeth and managed to fire a few wild shots, but it was useless. His movements were like a slow-motion replay to Pietro. Donnie silently endured the attacks, his armor continuously breaking. If he didn't think of a solution soon, his armor would be blown apart, and he would have to fight Pietro with his bare flesh and blood. That would undoubtedly be a tragedy.

Pietro felt a surge of exhilaration, his anger subsiding significantly. Although he didn't know why this guy seemed to know him so well, did Erik, that old guy, tell Donnie? Then why could that old guy admit his relationship to outsiders but not to them, his sister and brother?

Pietro pondered, his imagination running wild, and some of his anger quietly dissipated. Instead, through misunderstanding, he felt a hint of smugness. It seemed he found this guy a little more tolerable, just a little bit.

His speed ability wasn't just reflected in movement; his thinking speed far exceeded normal imagination. Brain activities like learning and thinking were also manifestations of his speed ability.

The future Flash was the same. Speedsters were like cheaters in certain aspects, completely unreasonable.

"You damn cheater, you speedster who can take a thousand hits, don't let me catch you!"

Donnie hated speedsters. He even developed immense resentment towards the quiet and well-behaved Barry Allen, who was still unknown in Central City.

Barry was currently studying, researching a new case assigned by the police department, when he suddenly shivered, a strange chill running down his spine.

"Am I catching a cold?" Barry muttered inexplicably, "Dr. Wells' particle accelerator is almost ready to open. I need to prepare quickly, I absolutely cannot miss it."

Donnie was beaten badly and more importantly, desperate. If this continued, he would be beaten to death. He couldn't care about anything else and decided to fight Pietro to a mutual destruction if necessary.

Quicksilver was never a good-tempered person; he was famously arrogant. If he didn't subdue him with this opportunity, he feared he would be looked down upon by this guy for the rest of his life, never even getting a chance to speak normally.

Optimus Prime and five Transformers quietly turned their muzzles, aiming their killing intent at Donnie himself. With just this simple action, Donnie's armor was damaged again.

"Damn you, Pietro! Let you taste the flavor of my Italian cannon! If this still doesn't take you down, I admit defeat." Donnie was filled with resentment, becoming a bit frantic. He decided to go all out and perish with Pietro.

Under Donnie's control, the five Transformers gathered all their resources for output, no longer caring about defensive power. The power of countless cannons was upgraded to the extreme, directly targeting Donnie himself with large-scale bombardment!

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Optimus Prime and the others were like madmen, pouring all their weapons onto their Creator. Some were firing rocket launchers, while others assembled Gatling guns, outputting dense bullet streams, striving not to miss any blind spot around Donnie's body!

Madman! Idiot! Are you sick!

Pietro's liver and gallbladder were splitting. He cursed loudly, having never seen such a person! What the hell is this? I just hit you a few times, and you're doing this?!! What kind of deep-seated hatred is this, to go crazy and hit yourself!!!

Amidst the barrage of artillery fire, the clean asphalt road was completely shattered, dust flying everywhere, creating sand barriers tens of meters high.

"Enough, enough! Stop, I'm not fighting anymore!"

Pietro yelled. His body staggered. It wasn't easy to dodge this dense crossfire and the covering rocket fire, causing his clothes to be disheveled. One of his coat corners was even torn by a bullet. This was truly astonishing for a speedster like him; such an experience was unprecedented.

He stopped in his tracks, coincidentally stepping on a corpse, and couldn't hold back anymore. He vomited.

"It's good you surrendered. I should have beaten you into submission long ago!"

The artillery fire immediately ceased. Donnie wasn't dead yet. He laughed heartily, finally having subdued a speedster, feeling immense satisfaction.

The glasses man was scared stiff. He stared blankly at Donnie, his worldview shattered.

Donnie was currently sitting on the ground, bruised and battered, his legs cramped. His armor was missing pieces, and he was almost unrecognizable as a person. Smoke billowed around him, the ground littered with bullet casings and fragments of his armor that had fallen off. His hair and eyebrows were mostly burnt off, and the remaining bits were limp, like a refugee who had escaped a disaster, utterly pathetic.