They

Everyone was stunned. Coulson's smile remained unchanged, while Donnie looked at Optimus Prime thoughtfully.

"Optimus Prime? Is that his name?" Coulson smiled warmly, effortlessly breaking the inexplicably awkward atmosphere.

"That's the name I gave him. It represents justice and responsibility. I hope he will be the hope and conviction in my heart that never falls." Donnie said, the stabbing pain in his mind growing more intense.

The Spark in his mind glimmered faintly, but it was nowhere near as strong as when it had first awakened.

Donnie tried to mobilize parts from elsewhere on Optimus Prime, but after the Spark was transmitted over, every material it touched clearly told him that forcibly assembling a complete Optimus Prime from this pitiful amount of metal would only end in total collapse, like a building stripped of its steel framework—utterly fragile.

Donnie's Spark gave him astonishing insight and intuition when it came to building and modifying Optimus Prime, allowing him to transform Optimus Prime in the shortest possible time.

It was an unprecedented ability. Wherever the Spark Energy seeped, all metal seemed to become transparent. He could understand its every property to the fullest extent and put it to use.

But for now, it was limited to Optimus Prime. Only this little truck that had been by his side day and night could undergo transformations smoothly. As for the exact principles involved, that would require further experimentation.

After the battle with Abomination, this ability had long since caught the attention of interested parties. A newly emerged suspected Level 4 Mutant already drew countless eyes, not to mention an ability that could only be called miraculous. Its principles were difficult to decipher, and who knew how many people coveted it or were curious to learn more about it.

"It seems he has extraordinary significance to you. Would it be convenient for you to tell me about it?"

"There's nothing I can't talk about." Donnie walked over and patted Optimus Prime's metal body. Slowly, he said, "The three of us in my family relied on him to transport goods, earning delivery fees to support our household..."

Donnie told him that his family had not lived well. They had no particularly valuable skills, and life in high-cost New York had been difficult. They had been proud that they could afford the down payment on a home in New York, then scrimped and saved to buy a Changan Star Card truck to haul freight. Because its load capacity was small, it could not carry much cargo, so they could only make money by taking more trips.

Their days had not been wealthy, but they had been warm. Their family was healthy and free of illness, and their lives had been peaceful and ordinary. Each day, all they worried about was whether hauling more goods could earn them a little more money and savings, and whether they could give the little truck—the great contributor to their household—some maintenance and better gasoline.

His parents drove the little truck around every day. Whenever Donnie was not in school, he helped out too. Sometimes they even ate and slept in the truck. This old little truck, which had tirelessly endured wind and rain, was an important member of their family. Everyone cherished him.

As Donnie spoke, a faint smile appeared on his face.

"But now, there's nothing left." Donnie said, his fingernails digging deeply into his flesh until blood trickled out. He was speaking not only of this life, but of his previous one as well.

That was why his heart was filled with pain and hatred. He hated himself for being so powerless.

"I'm very sorry. Please accept my condolences. After all, you and this vehicle carry their faith, don't you?"

Coulson called someone over and handed Donnie a black suit, gesturing for him to put it on.

Donnie looked at the suit. It fit perfectly; they had prepared it specifically for him. Black represented solemnity, but it also meant a silent sorrow. Even crying had to fall silent.

Donnie pressed him for Hulk's whereabouts.

Coulson fell silent for a moment before carefully choosing his words. They had also been trying to monitor that monster's trail, but Hulk moved with astonishing speed, and they had lost him.

"I'm not going to seek him out for revenge right now. What are you hiding for? I'm no match for Hulk, and I'm not stupid."

Coulson's smile became even more pleasant as he patiently guided him. "Mr. Donnie, Hulk's information is highly classified. I do not have the authority to disclose it to outsiders. Please forgive me. Keeping secrets is instinctive for agents like us."

Donnie instantly understood Coulson's underlying meaning. Expressionless, he said they should discuss such matters later. He had no intention of joining an official organization right now, but he would give it serious consideration.

Donnie did not trust the people of S.H.I.E.L.D., at least not yet. No one could guarantee what those delusional maniacs in Hydra would do to him if he foolishly delivered himself to their doorstep—perhaps turning him into Donnie Model One, Donnie Model Two, and so on.

A rare Mutant whose life essence was Level 4! They would have to be idiots to remain indifferent.

"Mr. Donnie, many people are watching you. You're in great danger right now."

Coulson was not quite willing to give up and wanted to continue persuading him. He had the S.H.I.E.L.D. expert team's psychological assessment report and a psychological profile built specifically for Donnie. Combined with their series of interactions just now, Coulson believed he had gained a deeper understanding of Donnie. He was someone they could seriously talk to.

If this had been Dr. Banner, he would have been staring at him suspiciously already, then turning into Hulk and smashing things over and over...

Donnie gave a half-smile and pointed toward the sky. "I believe Professor X and the others would never abandon me. For all we know, he's watching every word and movement we make right now, afraid you might harm me. Don't try to fool me. His student, Dr. Jean, is still making public speeches in Congress."

"To be honest, although you saved me and I'm grateful, I'd rather trust Professor X than official organizations like yours." Donnie said.

Coulson smiled awkwardly.

Professor X's character and his protectiveness toward his own people were no secret.

Donnie made a promise. If their organization encountered trouble in the future, they could come to him. He would repay this favor.

Coulson smiled happily. His opinion of Donnie rose even higher, and combined with the psychologists' assessments, he felt even more confident.

How great was the debt for saving someone's life and cleaning up their mess? How could it ever truly be repaid? Coulson was quite pleased. They had already secured half of this Mutant, currently suspected to be Level 3 but Level 4 in essence.

Donnie smiled as well. Unable to repay it? Impossible. Anyone with even a little knowledge of this universe knew that S.H.I.E.L.D. was covered in mud from head to toe. There was no way they could climb out of that swamp.

In this universe's future, countless ferocious enemies roamed among the stars. Countless bloody battles awaited, making heroes bleed and weep beneath the vast sky. Catastrophic upheavals capable of shattering mountains and cracking earth were too numerous to count.

If Donnie could not develop his abilities, could not recover his strength, or could not reignite the Spark, then he would forever remain a fake Level 4—at most an elite foot soldier qualified to become high-grade cannon fodder.

Either he would die and vanish, or he would face countless bloody battles, rise to every challenge, and carve out a broad road through bloodshed.

Repaying this favor would not be difficult.

"What about them?" Donnie asked, his voice trembling slightly.

Everyone could clearly sense the fear in Donnie's heart. He had an inner demon; he feared facing reality, even longing for this to be nothing more than a dream from which he could awaken to find everything still happy and whole.

Coulson lowered his voice at the right moment and said softly, "I was wondering how long you could endure... Compared with this cruel world, you're more afraid of facing them. Don't worry. I already had your parents' bodies placed in coffins. Their bodies have been preserved very well."

Donnie thanked him quietly and, led personally by Coulson, headed to a nearby cemetery.

"Do you have a motorcycle?" Donnie asked.

"A motorcycle? I can give you a ride. You should know I rarely let others ride in my beloved car. I treat her like my wife."

"Then I'd rather ride a motorcycle alone... I want to ride there myself and bury them with my own hands." Donnie said softly.

"If you insist." Coulson shrugged indifferently.

Their voices gradually faded away. Optimus Prime reassembled himself into the battered little truck and sat there quietly in a daze, patiently waiting for his creator to return.