Donnie's Victory

I was Pietro Maximoff. I grew up in a Gypsy family, relying on each other for survival with my twin sister, Wanda Maximoff.

The Maximov surname came from that Gypsy family. They were very kind; they adopted us when we were infants and carefully raised us to adulthood.

When I was in my teens, I suddenly discovered that I possessed speed far beyond ordinary people. I could run faster and faster, and back then, I did not even know how fast I could go. When my adoptive parents found out, they sternly warned me not to show my speed to outsiders. I overheard their conversation, in which they mentioned words like "Mutant."

During those days, the television and newspapers were flooded with news about a villain. That villain was the world's greatest terrorist. People feared him and cursed him. They called that villain and the group following him "Mutants" and the "Brotherhood."

I later learned the villain's name as well. The public called him Magneto.

Until a few years ago, the villain called Magneto came looking for us. It was a nightmare, and we said goodbye to our peaceful lives. Without any reason or explanation, Magneto forcibly abducted my sister and me, and we remained with him until now.

Under him, we had to undergo harsh training every day. The villain said he would draw out both our potentials to the fullest and train us into the strongest warriors.

My speed grew faster and faster. No one could catch me, and I gradually learned that I was also a member of the "Mutant" community. There was nothing bad about that. I had power, and no one dared bully me anymore. I even ran back across great distances and beat up everyone who used to bully me, one by one. They probably still had no idea what happened.

I had fought another Mutant faction. In just an instant, I could tie them up and throw them into another city, forcing the other side to rack their brains after every battle trying to find me and ask which city I had sent their people to this time.

I was happy and proud, always filled with an immense sense of glory. That was something that could never have existed in my former self. I was proud to be a Mutant.

But I had always been deeply afraid of that villain. I was no match for him. My sister Wanda was the opposite; she always felt a sense of closeness toward that villain.

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

Then he sent me out to find someone named Donnie. There was no reason. He simply told me to go.

I met him. How should I put it? My first impression was... he was pretty annoying...

Countless fists slammed into Donnie, beating him into a miserable state. His body was knocked into the air, struck back and forth by punches and kicks from nowhere. It was as though some enormous force kept tearing him around, sending him flying through the air again and again.

In just an instant, Pietro's absurd speed was enough to hit Donnie several times from both the front and the back. Do not think that a speedster's fists were as easy to take as an ordinary person's. With acceleration behind them, a casual punch could deliver force measured in tons. Ordinary fists and kicks were the best weapons for speedsters like them.

When speedsters like Pietro ran, they moved at several times, even dozens of times, the speed of sound. That required his body to be incredibly tough as well; otherwise, he would have exploded long ago while breaking the sound barrier.

Not to mention that, while running, he still had to take care to avoid the debris on the ground, yet he remained completely at ease.

The Mini-Transformer armor covering Donnie's entire body had already been tempered thousands of times by Donnie using the AllSpark. Yet under Quicksilver's seemingly ordinary punches and kicks, more than half of it was nearly scrapped.

A speedster was terrifying to this extent!

Donnie gritted his teeth and barely fired a few wild shots, but they were useless. To Pietro, his movements looked like footage slowed down countless times. Donnie silently endured the attacks as his armor continued to break apart. If he did not come up with a solution soon, once the armor was destroyed, he could only face Pietro with flesh and blood. That would absolutely be a massacre.

Pietro felt delighted, and most of his anger faded. Although he did not know why this guy seemed so familiar with him, could that old man Erik have told Donnie? Then why could that old man acknowledge their relationship to outsiders, yet refuse to tell him and his sister?

As Pietro thought, he began imagining all sorts of things on his own. His anger quietly dissipated, and amid the misunderstanding, he even felt a little secretly pleased. This guy now seemed slightly more pleasing to the eye... well, only slightly.

His speed was not merely reflected in movement. His thinking speed far surpassed ordinary imagination. Learning, thinking, and other mental activities were also manifestations of his speed.

The future Flash was the same. In some respects, speedsters were practically cheating; there was simply no reasoning with them.

"Damn cheating speedster! You speedsters deserve a thousand cuts! Don't let me get a chance to catch you!"

Donnie hated people who played with speed, and he even developed enormous resentment toward the still-obscure, well-behaved kid Barry Allen in distant Central City.

Barry was doing his homework at the time, studying a new case handed to him by the police department, when he suddenly shivered. An inexplicable chill rose from his spine.

"Am I catching a cold?" Barry muttered in confusion. "Dr. Wells's particle accelerator is almost ready to open. I need to get prepared quickly. I absolutely cannot miss it."

Donnie had been beaten badly, and he was growing desperate. If this continued, he would be beaten to death. He could not care about anything else anymore. He resolved to fight Pietro even if it meant both of them went down together.

Quicksilver had never been mild-tempered. He was famously arrogant. If Donnie did not beat him into submission now, this guy would probably look down on him for the rest of his life, leaving them without even a chance to speak normally.

Optimus Prime and the other four Transformers quietly turned their gun barrels, aiming at Donnie himself with murderous intent. With just that simple movement, another piece of Donnie's armor was destroyed.

"Pietro, you bastard, have a taste of my Italian cannon! If this still can't take you down, I'll admit defeat." Donnie's resentment soared to the heavens. He was starting to lose it, and simply went all out, determined to perish together with Pietro.

Under Donnie's control, the five Transformers gathered every resource for output, no longer caring about defense. The power of their countless weapons was raised to the limit, and they directly aimed at Donnie himself for a wide-area bombardment!

Boom! Boom! Rumble!

Optimus Prime and the others had practically gone mad, unleashing every weapon they had at their creator. Some carried Rocket Launchers and bombarded him, while others assembled piles of Gatling Gun barrels to pour out dense streams of bullets, determined not to leave a single blind spot around Donnie's body!

Madman! Idiot! Are you sick?!

Pietro was terrified out of his wits and cursed loudly. He had never seen anyone like this! What the hell was this? He had only hit Donnie a few times—was this really necessary?! How deep was this grudge? When he went crazy, he even attacked himself!!!

Amid wave after wave of artillery fire, the neat asphalt road was blown to pieces. Dust filled the air, rising into a wall of sand more than ten meters high.

"Enough, enough! Stop! I'm done fighting!"

Pietro shouted. He staggered as he moved. Avoiding that tangled web of firepower and the saturation bombardment of rockets was no simple task. His clothes were disheveled, and even a corner of his clothes had been torn open by a bullet. For a speedster like him, that was simply unbelievable. He had never experienced anything like it.

He stopped, happened to step on a corpse, and finally could not hold it in anymore. He bent over and vomited.

"Good, as long as you've submitted! I should've beaten you into submission long ago!"

The artillery fire stopped immediately. Donnie was not dead. He burst into laughter, finally having forced a speedster into submission, and his heart felt utterly satisfied.

The bespectacled man was scared stupid. He stared blankly at Donnie, his entire worldview shattered.

Donnie was sitting on the ground, his face bruised and swollen, his legs cramping. His armor was missing pieces everywhere, and he barely looked human anymore. Smoke filled the air around him. Bullet casings and fragments of armor that had fallen from his body covered the ground. More than half his hair and eyebrows had been burned away, while what remained hung limp and lifeless. He looked like a refugee fleeing disaster, miserable beyond compare.