2

The streets were lined with disheveled men and women, scattered in the dirty alleys, with empty syringes and glass bottles lying beside them. Despite the city's prosperity, poverty still persisted, and as long as there were poor people, there would be slums.

Owen's family resided in such a slum, which perhaps contributed to his low self-esteem.

After Ronan dropped Owen off at the corner of the street, the boy said he could walk the rest of the way on his own. "No problem, our house is just up ahead," Owen pointed to a plain residential house on the street. Like most American homes, it had a standard wooden structure with nothing remarkable about it, except for the ivy crawling up the wall and a well-maintained small yard at the front, a rarity in slums.

"Thanks a lot for today, Ronan!" Owen expressed his gratitude.

"Actually, my name isn't Walker; it's Ronan," Ronan confessed, slightly embarrassed.

"But you just—"

"I lied to them," Ronan admitted with a sheepish smile. It was a small joke, insignificant compared to the trouble Walker Wallen had caused him, but he still felt a bit awkward about it. "Don't tell anyone!"

Owen, understanding the seriousness of the situation, nodded earnestly. "I won't tell a soul!"

Ronan smiled, not giving it much thought. He didn't realize how much a simple promise could mean to someone else.

Mitchell Kinsey was a gang member. Unlike the infamous Mafia, most gangs like his only engaged in petty crimes—extortion, small-time robbery, and protection rackets. Though they committed crimes, they lacked the scale and destructive power of organized crime syndicates.

As a minor leader in the gang, Mitchell was in a foul mood. Being held at gunpoint by an student on his own turf was humiliating, something his colleagues would surely mock him for.

Mitchell scowled as he downed his beer and slammed the glass on the bar. Just as he decided to forget the unpleasant experience and planned to find some gang girls to blow off steam, three flashy young men walked by him, tattoos covering their arms, thick silver chains dangling from their necks—they looked more like gangsters than he did.

"Hey, Percy, who are they?" Mitchell stopped the man accompanying the three teenagers.

"My cousin and his friends," Percy replied. "They want to join our gang."

"How old are they?" Mitchell asked.

"They're not that old. They're students from the nearby high school," Percy answered.

Students from the local high school? Mitchell's interest piqued. He smirked and told Percy, "Leave them to me. You can go."

"But I need to take them to the boss. You can't just—"

"It's fine, I'll tell boss," Mitchell assured him.

--

Percy cursed under his breath and walked away, while Mitchell called the three teenagers over with a wave.

"What's your name?"

"My name is Foster..."

"My name is..."

The three teenagers introduced themselves as Foster, Gray, and Reynolds. Foster, the leader, was Percy's cousin and of mixed Mexican descent.

He had a fierce reputation on the streets from a young age, and he was known for getting into fights at school. Several female classmates had even accused him of harassment, but due to lack of evidence, the accusations were dismissed.

Even Ronan Valom had heard of him.

As for the other two, they were his followers and had been involved in various nefarious activities with him over the years.

"There's a ritual before joining our gang. All new members have to endure a beating! But if you do me a favor, I can help you skip that," Mitchell said with a sly grin.

"What do you need?" Foster asked.

"There are two guys at your school who've crossed me. I want you to teach them a lesson."

Foster and his friends exchanged glances. The choice was obvious—between 'getting beaten up' and 'beating someone up,' the decision practically made itself.

"Who are they?" Foster inquired.

"One's called Walker Wallen, and the other..." Mitchell paused, retrieving the wallet he had just snatched from his pocket.

As expected, there were only a few crumpled dollars inside. What could a student possibly have? It was just for amusement, anyway.

Unfazed, Mitchell tossed the change to the bartender, then examined the student ID in the wallet. "The other one is named 'Owen Galsey'..."

...

The next morning, Foster and his crew eagerly sought out Walker Warren. However, they were met with a surprise—a bodyguard summoned by Walker left them bruised and battered. After the humiliating defeat, they realized they had picked the wrong target.

Later, as they nursed their wounds in the school infirmary, Gray, the portly white teen, suggested they drop the matter. After all, Mitchell's gang was just a small-time operation. If they didn't want to join, they could simply walk away.

But Foster wasn't one to let things slide. He had always been the one dishing out the punishment, not taking it. This loss was a hard pill to swallow.

"There's still Owen, isn't there? Let's go find him. He probably knows Walker too. We can get them both and give them the beating they deserve!"

With Foster's mind made up, the other two followed suit. After regrouping, they set out to find Owen Galsey, determined to exact their revenge.

And after stewing in his anger all morning, Foster's rage had only grown stronger...

...

Ronan only found out about Owen's accident during rehearsals.

So sudden, so surprising!

When Leslie, the instructor of the drama club, gathered everyone around and announced the news sadly, Ronan was still in shock. The club now needed a new candidate for the prince. Without any auditions or examinations, Leslie casually pointed out a new candidate, as if he were merely choosing a flavor of ice cream at a dessert shop—so indifferent.

The other students didn't object since the new candidate also had golden hair and looked like a prince from a fairy tale. Owen had been chosen for the same reason before.

...

"What happened to Owen?" Ronan asked Sander, who was standing nearby.

Due to Owen's absence, the drama club had to quickly resume rehearsals. Even Sander, who often skipped practices, was summoned by Leslie.

"He fell from the school building. Although those three jerks claim he jumped on his own, I think they pushed him! Owen is so timid; there's no way he would have jumped by himself," Sander said, familiar with Owen from their time in the drama club.

"Who are they?"

"Foster, Gray, and someone named Reynolds or something—I don't remember clearly. The police have already taken them away."

"Why did they push Owen?"

"I don't know. You'd have to ask them yourself," Sander replied, shaking his head.

"How is Owen doing now?" Ronan asked.

Sander shook his head again, still unsure. If Ronan wanted more information, he would need to ask the police. He quietly slipped out of the gym, leaving Sander behind.

In the dark alley behind the gymnasium, Smart Guy automatically transformed into a humanoid form and climbed up a surveillance camera on a nearby street corner.

Two data lines extended from his body, and with a flash of sparks, they connected to the police surveillance network. He hacked into the police station's internal database, locked onto the target, and began searching for information.

Smart Guy's two blue eyes flickered for a while, and then, as if he had found something, the four wings on his back reformed into the screen of a mobile phone. The screen displayed a video recorded in the police station's interrogation room.

The recording began with basic questions—age, name, etc. Later, when the police asked the fat man named Gray why they had harassed Owen, Gray broke down and cried bitterly:

"It's not our fault!... We just found him."

"...Foster wanted to know who the other person was, but Owen refused to tell him, so Foster peed on his head..."

"...Owen couldn't bear the humiliation and jumped off the building. It was all Foster's doing; it had nothing to do with me..."

...

...

...

The fat man in the video continued wailing. Although he had no visible injuries, he acted as if he were the victim.

If what Gray said was true, the police likely wouldn't pursue him further. After all, he was just an "accessory" and still a minor. If a doctor determined he had some "psychological trauma," he might not even have to "drop out" of school!

But Ronan wasn't concerned with Gray. He was thinking about something far more important—something that made no sense, no matter how much he pondered it.

It wasn't that he didn't understand why Owen hadn't told him; that was already in the past and not worth dwelling on. But there was something else...

——He was the one who saved Owen from those gangsters yesterday...right?

——He had superpowers, and he might become a 'superhero' in the future. He controlled the ultimate treasure of the Transformers, the 'All-Spark,' and was destined to rise to the stars and become a legend...right?

——Even now, if he wanted, he could easily take down not just those three jerks, but the entire small gang behind them...right?

But ah!

But ah!

It was as if Owen had saved him! He had become a 'protected person,' the very name Owen refused to reveal until his death?

Damn it, this is absurd!

If I hadn't been reborn into this world, if I hadn't possessed the All-Spark, maybe my life would have turned out like this! Needing protection from others, requiring others to make sacrifices!

But ah!

This old man has superpowers!

---

Why does this feel so familiar? And why does it seem like I've already experienced this sense of helplessness before...?

Ronan Valom searched through his memories, tracing every moment since his rebirth. Images flashed through his mind like a rapid montage, but... nothing!

No matter how hard he tried, there was nothing!

Then he realized that this feeling wasn't rooted in the memories of his current life. Instead, it brought him back to the night before he transmigrated...

—He had stood on a rooftop that night, with the intent to take someone's life.

Once upon a time, someone had stood before Ronan when he hesitated to take a step forward. That person died, but even in death, he seemed to have a smile on his face...

Yet Ronan, who was supposed to protect him, became the one who was protected.

That sense of powerlessness, that unwillingness to accept the situation, but all he could do was bow his head and bury it deep, like an ostrich hiding its head in the sand. Maybe that way... he could survive...

When he finally saw a chance and tried to end it all with a desperate counterattack...

—He transmigrated!

He gained miraculous powers and the ability to shatter the mundane reality. He possessed it and would always possess it, perhaps even more in the future...

It felt as though everything could change!

But... in the end, nothing had changed. What was lost could never be recovered, and what happened had become the past... an untouchable past.

Yet he still had his powers now!

An adult way of thinking had always dominated his mind. Out of doubt about human nature and fear of the weak, he carefully hid himself and the Transformers from household appliances and roadside electronics. Even when he could no longer bear it, he only dared to wrap himself in a quilt and hide under a high-voltage power tower late at night, with Smart Guy disabling all nearby surveillance cameras beforehand...

He was certain that S.H.I.E.L.D.'s files on him were nothing more than a thin piece of paper, noting only that he was discovered by agents in a certain month of a certain year and adopted by an orphanage.

Other than that, there was nothing.

His act of pretending to be perfect may not have been wrong. After all, this world was full of dangers...

But he ignored the fact that some things don't require provocation to come after you. Just like a knight, even if he loves his beloved, when the horn sounds, he must pick up his arms.

This is New York! The battleground of the Avengers, where many guests will arrive in the future—some invited, others uninvited—like Loki, the Chitauri, Hydra, the Black Knight, and Thanos…

They bring only destruction. Ronan will have to take action, whether he's willing or not. But in such a fierce battlefield, even the Transformers might not survive.

It's time to abandon his timidity. This is a period of great conflict, and every bit of power could change the course of history.

He also needs to discard his outdated thinking!

He is no longer who he was; now, he's a young man.

I'm a teenager. I should show off!

He also wants to become stronger! Strong enough to defeat those threats with a single punch!

Of course, there are still many things he needs to do before becoming stronger, such as...

—Going to see Owen, who's hospitalized because of him!

Riding his motorcycle, Ronan Valom found the hospital where Owen was receiving treatment based on the information that Smart Guy had hacked from the police station.

An ordinary-looking white woman was sitting outside the intensive care unit. If nothing unexpected happened, she should be Owen's mother. As for Owen's father, it seems he passed away shortly after Owen was born...

After several hours of treatment, Owen is now out of danger, but he remains unconscious. When he will wake up is uncertain, and only time will tell.

In other words, the possibility of him becoming a vegetative state cannot be ruled out, and long-term treatment might be necessary...

The woman appeared to be very strong and did not cry after hearing the doctor's update. After entertaining the school representatives who came to offer condolences, she called the medical insurance company where she was insured. The insurance company representative argued that this was not an accident but rather a man-made incident, and that the parents of the three children should be compensated for the medical expenses. If she was dissatisfied, she could contact the police. Angered, she yelled 'bastard' and 'bitch'...

What's the point in seeking compensation from those three sets of parents? Foster's parents, just like their son, refused to offer compensation and even hung up the phone, claiming the police investigation was not yet concluded. Gray's parents are willing to cover the medical expenses, but since their son is merely an accomplice, the compensation cannot be substantial, and they first require an out-of-court settlement to release their son...

In short, they are all despicable!

The series of setbacks seemed to drain the woman. She couldn't help but lie back on the armchair, staring blankly at the chandelier in the corridor.

Ronan stepped forward, bowed to this remarkable mother, and said, "I'm sorry!"

"Why are you saying sorry? It's none of your business," the mother replied, looking at Ronan.

"No! This matter has a lot to do with me. I was the one who sent Owen home last night. In other words, the person they are looking for is me! But Owen did not mention my name, and this is also the beginning of all this tragedy."

"I know! I saw it all in the car!" The mother's words surprised Ronan. She continued, "Don't you think a mother wouldn't be worried if a boy comes home late at night? That night, I originally planned to pick him up, but seeing that he seemed to have made a good friend, I didn't bother you. Please forgive me."

"No, it's me who should ask for forgiveness."

"Don't think like that, kid! It was his choice. My son, he's brave, isn't he?"

"Yes, that's right!" What else could Ronan say except nodding.

The mother approached and gave Ronan a big hug. She hugged him so tightly that Ronan felt water droplets dripping from his neck.

It turns out that she did not lack tears; she simply hadn't found the time to cry...

...

The sleeping Owen lay quietly on the medical bed in the intensive care unit. His once handsome face was now bruised and swollen.

If he could wake up, Ronan would really like to play a joke on him—"Hey, man! You look like a pig head now..."

But he didn't wake up after all.

"Is there any way to save him?" Ronan asked his three creations in his heart.

No one spoke. They were not human beings; they were Transformers, and even the ambulance Transformers, which focus on medical treatment, probably couldn't cure human diseases.

After a long silence, the Smart Guy responded cautiously, "We don't understand human anatomy. If we want to heal him, we must first learn this knowledge."

"Then go study!" Ronan Valom said decisively.

"But the All-Spark does not grant us the ability to learn..." the Smart Guy continued.

"Why not?"

"Because it is unnecessary. As your creations, our duty is only to protect you and obey your orders. Therefore, we only need to master various combat skills, and there is no need for further learning."

"Can it be changed?"

"Of course it can be changed! You are the great master, and the omnipotent All-Spark will obey your instructions. But..." At this point, the Smart Guy said seriously, "Are you really ready?"

"Ready for what?"

"Yes! Are you ready for us to undergo changes? Changing ourselves is not a physical alteration, but a transformation of the soul. From now on, we will learn independently and upgrade the skills we have mastered on our own. We will choose our own preferences and even... create a new self! Instead of merely following the settings given to us by the All-Spark..."

"Yes, I'm ready!" Despite the serious tone of the Smart Guy's words making Ronan feel somewhat solemn, he chose to confirm without hesitation.

He believed that the Transformers would never betray him because he was the All-Spark.

"Then..." At that moment, the voices of Optimus Prime, Arcee, and the Smart Guy seemed to echo in the All-Spark simultaneously, "We will obey your wishes, Omnipotent Master!"

Then, something seemed to happen, but nothing visibly changed...

Ronan quickly immersed his consciousness into the All-Spark. He saw that in the All-Spark, which was originally filled with blue light, countless light clusters had appeared, and among those light clusters, there were also three blue light spots flashing.

They collided with each other, chased each other, and passed through the ethereal light clusters, but they seemed to have passed through clouds without impacting those light clusters.

—Of course, there would be no impact, because they themselves were part of the light clusters. The only difference was that they had condensed, like clouds condensing into raindrops.

Ronan gently touched the light clusters. Within these light clusters were the 'initial templates' of Transformers created by the All-Spark from his memories: Ratchet, Bumblebee, Jazz, Ironhide... and of course, also included Starscream, Mighty Sky, and even—Unicron...

Once enough super energy bodies were replenished for them and matched with suitable forms, they could condense and be truly born into this world!

So, were these three points of light the already born Arcee?

Compared to the light clusters, the light spots give Ronan a more vivid and tangible feeling. If the content of the light clusters were to be altered, he could make changes, such as transforming Starscream into a female or turning him into a peace-loving character. The light spots, however, are like transparent glass spheres. Ronan can see everything about them clearly, but he can no longer alter anything inside. They have already come into existence and can now face the world on their own.

Although Ronan could make these light spots vanish with a thought, he is reluctant to do so. If the light spots disappear, it's likely that the Transformers in the external world would soon perish as well.

In comparison, the light clusters are similar to Stark's Jarvis. They can replicate another self in hardware, possessing intelligence but lacking individuality. The light spots are different. When light spots are created, Arcee and the others truly possess souls, and these light spots serve as the anchor for their souls.

Ronan had a sense that even if Arcee and the others were destroyed in the real world, they could still return to these light spots and await their next rebirth...

These light spots should be called sparks! And the All-Spark has truly become the source and destination of the Transformers at this moment...

In fact, this is the original function of the All-Spark, but why does my All-Spark seem to have become like this after my own choice?

Perhaps this superpower of mine hides a significant secret!

Ronan waved at the three light spots, which gathered around him.

One light spot bounced up and down on his clothes, another continued to chase those light clusters without pause, and the last one remained motionless, sticking to his hair.

The spark represents the essence of the Transformers. The one bouncing up and down must belong to Smart Guy, but he was unsure about the other two. After closing his eyes and sensing for a moment, he looked up in surprise. He initially thought the one chasing the light clusters was the beauty-loving Arcee, but to his astonishment, the one standing still on his hair was her. It seemed she had a special interest in him. Was she very attached to him as her master?

As for Optimus Prime... he had already dashed after those light clusters without anyone noticing. It seems he would need a lesson when he returned!

Ronan stayed at the hospital until nine in the evening. It was only after Jennifer called that he and Owen's mother said their goodbyes.

As soon as he arrived home, Jennifer rushed up to him and embraced him.

"I heard there was an incident at your school. I was terrified! If anything had happened to you, I don't know what I would have done! Thank goodness you're okay!"

After speaking, Jennifer repeatedly crossed herself.

"I'm fine," Ronan reassured his family, then joked, "Is there anything to eat? I practiced at the gym and now I'm starving."

He didn't want Jennifer and the others to know about his relationship with Owen yet. Firstly, he didn't want to worry them, and secondly, he wanted to handle things for himself and Owen.

"Your mother has been so worried that she didn't cook dinner, so I made it myself," Joe said with a shrug. "I hope you like the pie I made."

--It doesn't matter!

Ronan almost said this, but upon lifting the plate covering the dining table, he couldn't help but change his mind. "Is this chocolate pie?"

"Of course not!" Joe replied, puzzled. "It's filled with strawberry filling."

Is the strawberry filling black? This looks burnt!

"Where are Susie and the others? Have they eaten?"

"It's strange. They all said they wanted to lose weight tonight..."

--Um! Very good! I also want to lose weight...

But seeing Joe's innocent expression, Ronan silently chose to sit down and eat!

Joe is a police officer and may be informed about this case.

While enjoying the 'delicious food' made by Joe, Ronan casually asked, "Will those guys be sentenced?"

"Probably not." Joe shook his head and said, "After all, the child wasn't pushed down by them. Besides, they are all minors. The charges of assault and harassment aren't severe enough for an adult court trial. If they're only judged by the juvenile court, they'll probably just be sent to a training school in New York for a year or two. By the way, the guy named Mitchell who instigated them is on parole. He might be betrayed, but it's a pity he got the news in advance and escaped..."

Training school?

The kind of training school where you have the key to your own room, study in the morning, work in the afternoon, and go home once or twice a month?

It's better described as a juvenile detention center, but calling it a training school? That's practically like a vacation!

Even though Ronan had anticipated this outcome, he still felt a sense of resentment.

It's fine!

Before the public trial starts, he doesn't mind having a small private trial first!

"When is the court hearing?"

"Seven days later."

Seven days? It looks like we need to hurry up!

...

Walking into the bedroom, Ronan opened the old computer on his desk. This computer originally belonged to Susie, but after she went to college, she gave it to Ronan.

After being upgraded by Smart Guy, a semi-computer expert, the computer's exterior remained outdated, but its core components were significantly advanced.

——What could be more fitting for Transformers to learn from than a computer!

Arcee was still in the garage, and it seemed that Optimus Prime was not inclined towards studying. After Ronan glanced around, he focused on Smart Guy.

But before allowing Smart Guy to connect to the computer for research, Ronan issued another instruction:

——After learning about human medicine, study additional knowledge about machinery...

He wanted to create a suit of battle armor.

Smart Guy would never disobey a command. Connecting to the computer's data plugs, his eyes began to flash with blue light.

On the computer screen, numbers and images started to alternate, shatter, reorganize, and evolve... until the screen gradually went blank again...

...

Because of a recent incident, school had a temporary holiday.

However, despite the suspension of classes, the drama club's rehearsals continued unabated. After all, the official performance was only a few days away. The lead actor had been temporarily replaced, and even Leslie, who usually focused solely on making money and was generally indifferent, was now so busy that he was sweating slightly.

To address public sentiment, the school decided to donate all the proceeds from the performance to Owen, who was still in a coma. They also planned to conduct a charity fundraiser on site to support his ongoing treatment.

Although this amount was a mere drop in the bucket compared to the high cost of treatment, at least the school's intentions were in the right place.

Ronan , who initially planned to skip the drama club rehearsal, drove back to the venue upon hearing the news. He didn't want the performance to suffer due to a lack of coordination between himself and the others.

The rehearsal lasted until eight o'clock in the evening, leaving him no time for anything else. He had to go home, wait for Jennifer and the others to fall asleep, and then quietly drive to the suburbs again.

The location was a shipyard abandoned for a long time. It had once been glorious, serving as a military industrial unit that built warships for the US military during World War II.

Unfortunately, after the war, the US manufacturing industry shrank significantly. This shipyard couldn't withstand the economic downturn and closed down decades ago, remaining abandoned ever since.

Being situated in the suburbs, even the homeless avoided this area. The desolation made it an ideal place for Ronan to work on his new armor.

He spread the parts and metals he had collected across a long table and assembled his old computer on the other side.

He greeted Arcee, who raised two cables she had secretly intercepted from nearby high-voltage lines. As soon as the cables were connected, sparks flew, and the dark, abandoned factory lights flickered to life, illuminating the space as bright as day.

Ronan clapped his hands and smiled, "Let's get to work!"

...

Balancing school, rehearsals, and armor building kept Ronan extremely busy. There were many tasks, but time was scarce. He dozed off during class and was reprimanded by Milton as a result.

—Tragic student life...

Thus, time slowly passed until the day of the performance.

With an hour still to go before the official start, enthusiastic guests and audience members began arriving early. Most were the parents of the actors. Naturally, Jennifer and Joe Baker were there, along with the unwilling guest, Billy.

After exchanging greetings with Ronan backstage, they returned to the auditorium. Before leaving, Joe secretly handed him a paper bag.

"Here you go!" He gave Ronan an encouraging smile and said, "This is specially made for you!"

Then he caught up with Jennifer and the others, laughing as he walked away.

Ronan opened the bag to find a bacon sandwich inside.

—Has Joe developed a passion for cooking since he last made pie?

Although he hadn't eaten dinner yet, Ronan thanked Joe for the 'delicious food' and casually set it aside on the table.

"Aren't you going to eat it?" Sander, who had seen everything, asked when he noticed Ronan's disinterest.

"I'm not hungry!" Ronan replied casually.

"Then I'll have it!" Sander didn't wait for a response. Before Ronan could stop him, he took a big bite and said between mouthfuls, "I'm hungry too!"

"This..."

Seeing Ronan's blank expression, Sander asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing… Is it good?"

"It's tasty, but the bacon is a bit chewy..." Sander turned to another classmate who also hadn't had dinner and enthusiastically offered them a share.

Watching the two eat haphazardly, Ronan could only shrug and say, "Haha... As long as you're happy."

Problem Occurs!

Something big happened!

—— The classmate who played the prince had diarrhea!

With only three minutes left before the start of the performance, Leslie was frantically pacing behind the stage. Meanwhile, the 'Prince' had collapsed in the toilet and was now waiting for an ambulance to take him to the hospital for emergency treatment. It was evident that he was in no condition to perform.

Sander was full of doubts: "He was fine when we just ate, why did he suddenly become like this?"

Ronan rolled his eyes at him.

—— Why else? It's clearly because that guy ate the 'love sandwich' that Joe Baker made specially for his 'loved son'! By the way, is this sandwich really that potent?

"How are you feeling now?" Ronan asked him.

"Me?" Sander looked confused. He glanced around and then said, "I'm fine!"

Yes, it's very good. It tasted great, and I feel great!

Maybe I could even perform a hip-hop dance for you right now!

...

Since the name of the play is "The Prince and the Big Tree," the absence of the prince means the performance cannot proceed. Even if they could find another suitable candidate at this late hour, it's unlikely the new person would be able to memorize the lines covering six blank sheets of paper. The legendary genius with a photographic memory is a rare find in reality.

Unless...

Seeing that this performance was about to turn into a farce, Ronan stood up helplessly and said, "Let me give it a try!"

"Can you?" Leslie seemed to see a glimmer of hope.

"I can try. Of course, if you don't mind having a dark-haired prince!"

...

Leslie wouldn't mind saving the situation, like putting out a fire, and Ronan relied on the telepathy between himself and the creature to let the Smart Guy record a large number of lines in the background and then transmit them to him. Additionally, during normal rehearsals, he was already familiar with the entire process of the play, and he managed to survive the performance in the end.

The performance's effect was not bad and could even be called good. After the performance, a parent named "Joe Baker" excitedly paid for the armor worn by the prince, saying that he would take it back as a souvenir.

——Well, the man surnamed Baker is indeed Ronan's adoptive father. God knows how he saved so much private money. Jennifer's face began to darken a little, and it seemed that she was deeply aware of her relationship with... family management being not in place...

But Joe, the person involved, didn't seem to have such an awareness. After seeing Ronan, he laughed loudly and stepped forward to hug him, saying, "I didn't expect you to be the protagonist! This is not good. You should have told us in advance!"

"Haha, actually I didn't expect that..."

"How about it? The sandwich I made for you came in handy. You can do things only after you have a full stomach! Didn't you feel a hundred times more energetic during the performance and your whole body was very lively?"

—Right! It's very useful! I, the main character, was served the sandwich you made...

Finally, the family returned home happily, except... Joe.

He originally wanted to get the armor Ronan was wearing, but he found out when he got backstage.

——The armor he bought was stolen, but... he had paid in advance...

This performance was considered a charity performance. Ronan didn't even ask for the salary he deserved, and Joe was obviously too embarrassed to get his money back.

——"Who the hell, you dare to steal even the police's things!" Joe's eyes were red, and his cries of grief and indignation echoed in the community all night long...

Of course, it might be cold; after all, he has to sleep on the sofa tonight...

Ronan couldn't bear it, so when he sneaked out at night, he specially adjusted the air conditioner in the living room and turned it down a few degrees...

In an instant, the living room became even colder...

Of course, this is for Joe's good!

——"Joe! Come on! Just keep going like this, and in two years you can apply for the Guinness World Record for 'antifreeze'!"

...

The lights in the abandoned factory came on again, but the armor placed in front of Ronan was only half completed, or not even half at all. Only the basic power assistance and various internal connection lines were completed.

After all, just relying on the knowledge circulated on the Internet and the 'scrap metal' he found to build a high-tech armor like Iron Man is simply wishful thinking!

The day after tomorrow is the day when those three guys will be tried by the juvenile court. It seems that if you want to catch up, you must learn to "overtake on corners"!

——For example, let's take a simplified version first...

...

Joe had a cold, and when he kept sneezing one after another, his partner couldn't stand it anymore and asked, "Did you sleep on the sofa again last night?"

"Yes!" Joe nodded but immediately doubted: "It shouldn't be! I know the temperature every time Jennifer adjusts it. Although it is cold, it is not like catching a cold..."

Joe couldn't figure it out anyway, but at the urging of his companions, he had to put the problem aside for the time being. He picked up the equipment and was about to go out for patrol when he noticed that the police station's lights flashed and the power went out.

——Is the power supply company repairing the lines? But why didn't I receive notification in advance?

Joe turned on the flashlight on his shoulder. The moment he turned on the flashlight, he noticed that a silver figure seemed to flash across the stairs. It seemed to be a pair of armor. Although the color was a little different, it seemed, seemed, should... it's the one I threw away!

"You thief! Stop!"

Joe chased after him!

This figure was naturally Ronan. The construction of the armor reached a deadlock, so he had to lower his requirements repeatedly. The flight system was removed first. Stark had not yet invented the propulsion system on the Mark armor. If Ronan wanted it, he could only install a rocket propulsion system. Something similar was installed on the Iron Overlord driven by the villain Stan in "Iron Man 1". It is huge in size and, in one word, ugly!

The energy required is also very large. If there is so much energy, Ronan might as well directly transform it into a super energy body...

The weapon system can also be removed, and the Smart Guy can directly create an external stun gun, which is convenient and fast, and can be replaced at any time.

Then there is the intelligent system. He has Transformers, which is ready-made. Smart Guy directly transforms into a mobile phone, connects to the slot reserved for it on the armor, and fully takes over various auxiliary functions of the armor, including the sensing system. The system is no worse to use than Iron Man's Jarvis.

In addition, the life support system, water circulation system, and anti-shock system have all been abandoned. Ronan's armor can't even fly, so what's the use of these!

He had torn away all the useful and useless things, but there was still one thing that was indispensable, and that was armor.

Without armor, his armor cannot be called a battle armor but can only be called an 'exoskeleton power system'. Using something like this to break into the police station at night, unless his body can resist bullets like Luke Cage, he will definitely be in bad luck.

Fortunately, he found a ready-made...

--

After being reforged, the once shining armor gradually transformed. Ronan discovered that channeling super energy into the armor could significantly enhance its hardness. He immediately used all the remaining super energy on this armor, which once belonged to a prince.

Joe Baker was right; Ronan had indeed stolen this armor...

As for why he stole it instead of simply waiting for Joe to buy it—Ronan couldn't allow anyone to identify him by the appearance of the armor. That would cause significant trouble.

After spending an entire day, Ronan's armor was finally completed. However, compared to Stark's Mark armor, his armor had a more retro aesthetic.

If it weren't for the internal power assist and intelligent systems, this suit of armor would look like something from an ancient knight! Aside from its defensive capabilities, which were commendable, the rest was rather outdated.

But that didn't bother Ronan; upgrades could always be made later. Stark's first Mark armor was even less impressive.

Donning the full-coverage helmet that matched the armor, Ronan began issuing commands.

"Smart Guy, cut off the power to the police station. Optimus Prime, stay connected to the computer and forge an alibi. And Arcee... every knight needs a mount!"

Arcee, having transformed into a vehicle, excitedly flashed her lights. Ronan grinned and said, "Yes, that's right! Baby, transform into something more to your liking!"

"Beep!"

Electric lights flickered across Arcee's frame. The barbs AND skulls that Ronan had previously ordered to be retracted reappeared with fierce intensity. The rocket thrusters on both sides replaced the original exhaust ports, accompanied by dazzling lights, an extended rear rocker arm, and a monstrous size...

——And two newly revealed machine gun barrels at the front...

Not bad, but something was still missing.

"Change the color, Arcee!"

"Beep?"

"Pink? No, no, no—that's too girly! Let's go with red!"

The blue exterior began to fade, replaced by a deep, blood-red hue.

The new Arcee was now entirely different from before. No one would ever associate her with the blue motorcycle again!

"Then let's ride!"

The spinning tires kicked up a cloud of dust, and Arcee sped off with Ronan like a flash of red lightning.

Meanwhile, Optimus Prime, who stayed in the factory, began his task. Using the data terminal in his body, he connected to a nearby computer, designing and building a model of Ronan's room and then constructing a virtual figure of Ronan in the model. These were all fabrications, but with the Transformers' advanced data disguises, even S.H.I.E.L.D. would struggle to find any clues.

Soon, the fictional Ronan on the computer began to contact his friends via chat software.

"Hello, Sander? I want to chat for a bit..."

"Please, friend!" Sander's groaning echoed through the factory. "It's 11 o'clock at night..."

---

The strong wind roared past his ears. If it weren't for the helmet on his head, Ronan would surely have felt the sting of pebbles striking his face. Arcee unleashed her full speed at that moment.

Ronan felt a thrill building in his chest. After running countless red lights and receiving curses from passersby, they arrived at the police station in downtown New York from the suburbs in just 10 minutes.

Without slowing down, Arcee crashed straight through the police station's gate, triggering the red warning lights. Just before colliding with the glass door of the central building, she came to a screeching halt, leaving deep skid marks on the ground.

Ronan gracefully dismounted the motorcycle and grinned at the officers who had gathered around, though his helmet obscured the smile. They could only hear the synthesized electronic voice emanating from his helmet: "Everything alright, officers?"

At that moment, the lights in the police station flickered out.

——"Let today's game begin!"

Ronan dashed forward before the surrounding officers could react, landing a clean punch on one of their faces. The power assist in his armor granted him incredible strength. The officer groaned and was knocked unconscious before he could even make a sound.

Several officers behind him opened fire, but the bullets merely bounced off his armor, leaving only faint marks.

Ronan swiftly moved behind another officer, and when the rest hesitated to shoot, he knocked the man out and pushed him aside. Then he rolled away, leaving behind an oval-shaped object.

"Grenade!"

The officers screamed and scattered, diving to the ground. But after three or four seconds passed, the anticipated explosion never came.

"Sorry, that wasn't a grenade." The electronic synthesizer voice sounded again.

——Damn it, we've been tricked!

The officers looked up to locate their adversary, but as soon as they did, they saw the oddly-dressed figure pressing a button.

Immediately, a bright flash burst from the oval object they had ignored.

——Remote control flashbang!

What followed was simple. Ronan pulled out his stun gun and shot each of the officers, who were now covering their eyes and wailing.

The stun gun's ammunition was similar to the small iron discs used by Black Widow in "Captain America: The Winter Soldier." Once it adhered to a person's body, it emitted a high-voltage current, instantly rendering them unconscious.

Painless, quick, and minimally invasive...

After casually taking down the few officers who had escaped the flashbang, Ronan stepped into the police building.

With the power out, the interior of the building was pitch black, and even a flashlight provided little help. Ronan activated the infrared night vision function in his helmet, carefully bypassed a few officers, found the stairs, and began his ascent.

He assumed the fighting was over, but upon reaching the third floor, a lone officer spotted him.

The officer yelled, "Thief!" and lunged at him.

What the hell?

Ronan nonchalantly punched him. The officer, in good shape, didn't faint but instead charged forward again, clutching his bruised left eye.

So, Ronan punched him again. This time, the officer's eyes became symmetrical.

Well, Ronan admitted to having a slight case of obsessive-compulsive disorder, but he swore the officer had made the first move.

"Give me...the armor...now!"

Though the officer was lying on the ground, he continued to roar in defiance.

Armor? This suit belonged to the drama club, but if you really think about it, it seems to belong to 'Joe'...

Joe ! ?

Quickly switching off the night vision device and discarding the blinding flashlight on the man's shoulder, Ronan took a closer look and realized it was Joe Baker.

After taking two blows, Joe was dazed but still yelling, "Return the armor... Give it back! That armor belongs to my son! You... you're not... a prince..."

Prince? That's just a title...

Joe continued to shout, while Ronan smiled bitterly and said, "I'm not a prince. If anything, I'd rather be a knight..."

— Have mercy on the weak.

But even as a knight, he felt unworthy. Having power without protecting others often leads to regret only after it's too late.

'I'm truly a knight of hindsight…'

Ronan pulled out the stun gun, ready to knock Joe unconscious. But with surprising determination, Joe grabbed the barrel of the gun.

Yet, that was all he could manage. He had no strength left for anything else, though he might fondly remember the valiant gesture of grabbing the gun...

But in the end, he held on because—Ronan suddenly let go. Although Ronan immediately tapped the back of Joe's neck, knocking him out completely...

—At least it should be considered a last stand, right?

…

Ronan moved the unconscious Joe aside to prevent anyone from accidentally stepping on him. He left the stun gun next to him. Worst case, he could ask the Smart Guy to make another one later.

Continuing his way up, Ronan's destination was the detention room on the fifth floor.

Due to the sensitivity of the case and the minor status of those involved, Foster and others had been held at the police station.

Tomorrow was the day of the juvenile court trial. Ronan could have waited until the trial to confront Foster and the others. It would have been easier and safer.

But he didn't want to wait.

'Double jeopardy' is a basic principle of American law. Ronan didn't want his act of 'delivering justice' for Owen to be seen as vile, so what could he do?

—Conduct his own 'private trial' before the public trial begins! Isn't that exactly what juvenile court is, bending the law like this?

Perfect!

Ronan believed he fully understood the spirit of American law…

----

"Why did the lights go out?" Foster laid back leisurely on the bed, hands behind his head, and sarcastically said, "Did the police station suffer a terror attack? Are all the officers dead?"

Reynolds, panicked, huddled in the corner. The events of that day had terrified him completely, and he still hadn't recovered.

Gray glanced at Reynolds with contempt. Seeing no one around and knowing the surveillance was down due to the power outage, he turned to Foster. "Please, Foster, don't do this! My defense lawyer told me if we show remorse and anxiety in court tomorrow, we stand a good chance of being released. I don't want to end up in a correctional center!"

The panic he felt during the interrogation had long since vanished, as if it had all been a facade.

Foster sneered, unsurprised, as if he knew his friend all too well.

—Good at acting, timid and fearful on the outside, but vicious within. Even urinating on Owen was at Reynolds' instigation.

But thanks to his wealthy parents, the incident was quietly brushed under the rug, and his crime was seen as less severe than Reynolds'.

Foster had already guessed what Reynolds said during the interrogation. He must have pinned all the blame on him.

Whether out of revenge or genuine intent, Foster slowly said, "I think going to the correctional center isn't so bad. There are plenty of villains there—I'm sure I'll have great conversations!"

He laughed loudly, seeming to truly consider it a good thing.

Click, click!

Footsteps echoed in the distance. The two exchanged glances and fell silent.

If someone heard what was just said, it could reach the jury. Even Foster, who appeared indifferent, didn't really want to go to a correctional center.

Click, click!

The footsteps continued, but as the sound grew closer, something felt off. They were steady, heavy, accompanied by the clanging of metal.

They'd only heard this sound on TV—the sound of knights in armor walking on a battlefield in the age of cold weapons.

"Is it Halloween? Or is the police department throwing a costume party?" Gray asked doubtfully.

"That's not necessarily it!" Foster winked at him and mocked, "Maybe it's our new 'buddy'!"

"New buddies" referred to new prisoners.

But they were both wrong.

Because the figure stopped right at their door.

Clad in silver armor with a knight's helmet obscuring his face, the stranger spoke in a tone that was both smiling and chilling to the bone:

"Hello, come with me!"

Foster swallowed dryly. "Where to?"

"To court, of course!"

Three soft sounds followed—bah, bah, bah.

Ronan, carrying one man in each hand and another over his shoulder, slowly descended the stairs with Foster and the others.

He didn't encounter a single officer on the way. The unconscious officers seemed to have been dragged away. It wasn't until Ronan reached the lobby on the first floor that he found where the officers had gone.

They were all outside.

The police station's power had been cut off by a Smart Guy, leaving neither the main nor backup power functional. However, there are always more solutions than problems. The building might be without power, but there were still police cars!

Police cars surrounded the building, their lights on, illuminating the entire first floor. Behind the cars, officers crouched, rifles ready.

The police chief was furious, feeling utterly humiliated. The police station headquarters had been taken over by a lunatic in strange armor. If he couldn't take him down, his career would be over!

"People inside, listen, you are surrounded! Drop your weapons, place your hands on your head..."

The loudspeaker repeated the command, but Ronan wasn't scared. It wasn't over yet, and he still had hostages...

—The prisoners were still in his hands.

"I have a hostage and I demand—"

"Bah, bah, bah."

As soon as Ronan appeared, before he could finish, several gunshots rang out. If he hadn't dodged quickly, the three prisoners on his back would have been killed!

He had heard that U.S. police were tough, never accepting threats, often killing criminals and hostages together. Sometimes, hostages were killed by the police, but the criminals were arrested unharmed...

He never thought it would be true!

Ronan wiped cold sweat from his forehead.

—Great, now we're really at the end of our rope...

The loudspeaker continued to blare, demanding Ronan's surrender, but the police were not inclined to wait. The moment Ronan peeked out, a hail of bullets greeted him.

A classic American move—one thing on the surface, another behind the scenes.

Ronan seemed trapped in a desperate situation, but he wasn't fighting alone.

Boom boom boom!

The roar of an engine pierced the tense atmosphere. When the police, drawn by the noise, turned to investigate, they saw a red motorcycle, long ignored, roaring to life and charging at them.

The bike's twin machine guns erupted in a storm of gunfire, tearing through the police barricade. The heavy-caliber rounds sliced through several police cars, and as flames erupted from the exploding fuel tanks, the crazed red motorcycle plowed through the chaos without hesitation. Then, a strange noise emerged from the inferno.

——Kukukukukaka.

The flames roared, but what emerged was no longer a vicious motorcycle. Instead, a towering robot stepped out.

Standing about three and a half meters tall, with a sleek, high-tech design and a red paint job, the robot held peculiar firearms that gleamed with a threatening blue light...

It bore a resemblance to Arcee's humanoid form from movie, but with an even wilder edge.

The police were paralyzed by fear, unsure who fired the first shot. Bullets ricocheted off the robot's body, causing no damage. Even grenades barely left a scratch.

Having evolved once again, Arcee was now far beyond what these officers could handle. Ronan couldn't help but cheer inwardly:

Let's do this, Arcee!

——The stage and lights are ready, the humans have set it all up for you—time for the Transformers to put on their first show!

"Boom boom boom!"

As if she could hear Ronan's thoughts, Arcee unleashed the ion pistol in her hand without hesitation. The glowing blue beams obliterated everything in their path with astonishing force.

Police cars exploded, and the reinforced concrete pavement crumbled like soft clay. Shattered debris scattered everywhere, sending the terrified officers fleeing. Some dashed out the doors, others cowered behind walls, and a few unlucky ones ran straight into Ronan in the hallway. But they were too panicked to notice him.

Within seconds, the battlefield descended into chaos. Most of the police had fled, leaving behind a few stubborn holdouts who were hopelessly outmatched. The gap between human technology and the miracles of another world had never been more apparent.

When Arcee, in perfect human language, commanded the remaining officers to surrender, the police chief could only gape in disbelief, muttering to himself:

——What the hell!

After confirming that Arcee had destroyed all the police cars and that the police had no ability to pursue them, Ronan rode away on Arcee, who had transformed back into a vehicle. The police chief collapsed onto the ground in defeat.

The onlookers who had previously fled the scene slowly gathered again. Despite the massive destruction caused by the chaos, it was a miracle that no one was seriously injured. Even the injuries that did occur were minor, most of them caused by the person in knight armor who had fought earlier. The most injured among them was a policeman named Joe Baker...

—If something this big happened, I'm definitely going to lose my job.

The police chief could already foresee his tragic fate. Who better to take the blame for this disaster than him?

Still, he held onto a faint hope and asked his subordinates, "Does anyone know who that person was?"

The officers exchanged uneasy glances, but no one answered.

"Then where did he come from?" the police chief asked again.

Silence.

"Surely you at least know if it was a man or a woman, right?"

More silence...

—The only thing the police department has to go on is a set of knight armor…

"Doesn't anyone have anything to report!?"

Just as the police chief was about to explode in anger, one of the officers timidly raised his hand.

"You know something?" The police chief's eyes brightened with hope.

"I... I don't know!" The officer quickly shook his head, panicking.

The police chief's eyes narrowed dangerously. As he considered letting this officer be "resigned" before he himself was forced out, the officer, sensing his precarious situation, stammered out, "But... there's someone who might know! He fought with that guy and even managed to disarm him!"

"Really?" The police chief's eyes lit up again.

"Yes!" The officer nodded nervously.

"Then what are you waiting for!" the police chief barked at his subordinates. "Go find that hero, now!"

Joe Baker was carried into an office, still groggy from his ordeal. He was transferred from the cold stretcher he'd been lying on to a large, comfortable armchair covered in soft cushions.

Not only that, but there were people bustling around him with hot towels, eggs, and steaming coffee…

Joe was bewildered by the treatment. When he finally heard a strange yet familiar voice, he tried to peer through the narrow slit between his swollen eyelids and recognized the person speaking by the red stripes on their uniform.

"Hello, Chief!"

"Relax, relax, no need to be so formal!" The chief, usually so stern, was surprisingly genial. He inquired about Joe's name and work experience in a tone Joe had never heard from him before, which only made Joe more anxious.

—Are they planning to fire me because I got beaten up so badly?

Eventually, the chief got to the point and asked if Joe had fought with the guy in the strange armor. For reasons unknown to him, Joe naturally replied, "Yes, that's right! That guy was really strong! But if he didn't have that weapon, I definitely wouldn't have lost to him!"

Joe completely ignored the fact that he had been thoroughly outmatched...

"Is this the weapon?" The chief's eyes gleamed as he pulled out a strange-looking stun gun.

Joe was startled. He hadn't expected that weird guy to leave the weapon behind. But Joe's excellent professional instincts kicked in, and he replied without hesitation, "Yes! That's the one!"

"Did he share any information about himself?" the police chief asked, hopeful for any lead.

"Well..." Joe pondered for a moment before replying, a bit uncertainly, "He did mention something about being a 'knight'..."

When the director realized that he could no longer obtain any useful information from Joe Baker, he patted him on the shoulder, advised him to rest well, and then walked away, visibly satisfied.

As the director left, Joe Baker was still a bit confused. He grabbed a familiar colleague and asked if he was about to be fired, only to hear an envious complaint: "Fired? You're getting promoted!"

"Promoted? How can I get promoted after being beaten so badly by the other guy?"

"Because you have no idea what that guy did!"

"What did he do?"

"He took down the entire police station..."

There wasn't a single officer in the entire station who was a match for Ronan Valom. Only Joe managed to fight with him back and forth, even "seizing" the opponent's gun. If he doesn't get promoted, who will...

...

What happened tonight brought shame to the entire police station. Fortunately, due to the power outage at the time, this scene wasn't captured by the surveillance cameras, giving some people a chance to save face.

Additionally, Joe accidentally "seized" a gun from the enemy, and the station reported "zero casualties..."

Thus, with a hint from a certain chief, the notice sent by the police department to the higher-ups cleverly employed some "language art":

At 25:[-] last night, our police station was invaded by an armed criminal gang suspected of possessing high-tech weapons and some kind of intelligent robot...

The previous plot was mostly unchanged, except at the end: ...After the heroic counterattack by our officers, the enemy was repelled. A high-tech firearm was seized at the scene. The remaining officers are in pursuit. The number of casualties on our side: zero...

—Ignoring the number of enemies and some details, this is definitely a big victory!

To stage a show and make a display, the director even sent people to find a few old bicycles from the warehouse, instructing the officers to use them to replace the damaged police cars in their pursuit...

When the police finally pedaled their way to the enemy's last location, the sky was already getting brighter.

That location was a high school...

So, facing the rising sun, Ronan turned to look at the frightened prisoners and the other three, and ruthlessly delivered his verdict where the tragedy began:

He who speaks evil words and drives others to do evil will never be able to use his mouth again.

If you witness wrongdoing and add fuel to the flames, you will lose the ability to see.

He who uses his hands for evil deeds will no longer be able to use them...

Ronan opened his clenched left hand, revealing a bizarre mechanical insect with two antennae. This was a modified version of the medical probe used by Smart Guy after gaining knowledge about human medicine, enhanced with parts from his own body. According to him, this mechanical bug was like his clone. It could infiltrate the human brain, repair or destroy specific nerves, and even read human memories, making its use on Owen seem almost too simple.

Although Ronan was confident in Smart Guy's creation, he still felt it necessary to test it in the field before officially using it...

Just like now.

When the police thoroughly searched the entire campus and finally found the three on the roof, they discovered that Gray had become mute, while Reynolds and Foster had each lost an eye and an arm, respectively, along with all perception...

Ronan didn't resort to complete cruelty after all. At least, he didn't take everything from them, right?

After allowing Arcee to revert to her previous form, Ronan quietly returned to his home. However, less than half an hour after he lay down to sleep, Jennifer informed him of some good news and bad news.

The good news was that something happened again at school, and they had the day off.

The bad news was that Joe Baker got beaten up!

Well, Ronan had actually anticipated both bits of news. He had hoped to sleep all day, but Jennifer's plans shattered that dream.

They needed to visit Joe at the police station.

It seemed Joe had become an important witness in the previous day's incident, making it inconvenient for him to come home. If they wanted to see him, they would have to go to the police station themselves.

Ronan smirked. After Joe punched him twice yesterday, he had passed out almost immediately. How did he suddenly become an 'important witness'?

Ronan suspected the police station was up to something.

But the worry on Jennifer's face seemed genuine. Despite his reluctance, Ronan had no choice but to yawn, get up, and head to the police station with Jennifer and Billy.

A thick barrier had been erected around the front entrance of the police station. The public notice claimed it was for 'renovations,' and people were directed to use the side door. Naturally, Ronan, who knew the truth, didn't point it out.

After entering the police station through the side door, Jennifer still couldn't see Joe immediately because he was supposedly 'in a meeting.'

...

At the official seminar regarding last night's incident, a police officer responsible for briefing the current situation was speaking.

The meeting was presided over by Rubens, the leader of the special operations team. He was a veteran detective with over 20 years of experience. When the incident occurred last night, he had been attending an inquiry in Manhattan about his "excessive law enforcement," so he wasn't at the station at the time.

But even for a seasoned detective like him, what happened last night was beyond comprehension.

It was the first time in his career that a thug had broken into the police station alone, freed a prisoner, and then walked away unscathed.

After silently listening to the briefing, Rubens asked, "So the three people were not injured externally, but they lost their ability to speak, one eye, and all feeling in one arm, correct?"

The officer nodded.

"What about the surveillance on the school's roof?"

"Like the other surveillance footage, it was all destroyed."

There was no surveillance, no DNA evidence, and it wasn't even clear where the assailant had come from. The investigation seemed to have hit a dead end from the start.

However, even if the investigation couldn't proceed immediately, they at least needed to assign a code name to the suspect. So, Rubens asked Joe, who had been silent, "You mentioned something about a knight, right?"

"No, that's not exactly what I meant," Joe replied, a bit confused. "I was about to pass out at the time. I only heard him mention 'knight,' but I can't be certain..."

"Then let's call him 'Knight'! It's just a code name, anyway." Rubens nodded and then asked the other officers, "Did he have any other distinguishing features?"

The officers began to discuss among themselves.

"He wore armor and was very strong. Oh, and he also rode a red motorcycle. That motorcycle can also transform into a robot..."

A red motorcycle? A transforming robot?

That's quite distinctive!

Rubens casually jotted down a few notes in the file in front of him. Just as he finished, there was a knock on the conference room door.

"Come in!"

Two men in black suits walked into the room. They approached Rubens, and one of them pulled out a document, speaking in a flat tone: "Hello, I'm here to inform you that the incident at the police station last night has been transferred to us. We need all the clues and evidence you have. Once you've handed them over, you're free to go."

Rubens, visibly irritated, put down his pen and demanded, "Who are you? If this is some kind of joke, I suggest you leave the police station immediately!"

"We're not joking, sir," the second man replied, displaying his ID card, which read 'Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division', abbreviated as S.H.I.E.L.D.

"You can confirm with your director—we've already completed the official handover with him. So, good day, sir!"

As he finished speaking, a group of additional agents dressed in black entered the conference room. They systematically collected all the documents and evidence related to the case, including the disarmed stun gun that Ronan had handed over.

"I'll see myself out," Rubens muttered angrily as he stormed away.

The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who had shown his ID picked up the file bag left behind by Rubens, glanced at the writing on it, and smirked: "'Knight of the Red Bike'—not a bad codename..."

...

Meanwhile, Rubens, still seething with anger, confirmed with the director that he had no choice but to comply with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s orders. Left with no other option, he wandered alone into the corridor.

He lit a cigarette, taking a deep drag, before abruptly kicking a nearby trash can in frustration. "Damn it! Useless!" he cursed under his breath.

Nothing had been going right for him lately.

The agents' subtle mockery was only the last straw. What truly fueled his rage was the case he'd been handling earlier. A crucial witness had been murdered before the trial, and although Rubens had neutralized the attacker, he was the one under scrutiny. The pressure from Washington, combined with his growing sense of injustice, only exacerbated his anger.

Just as he was about to discard the cigarette butt and light another, he noticed a young man standing nearby.

Seeing the no-smoking sign posted on the wall and catching the boy's furtive glance, Rubens crushed the cigarette butt in his hand, slightly embarrassed. "Hey there, mind if I smoke?" he asked awkwardly.

"It's okay, sir. I don't mind," the young man replied.

"Thanks," Rubens nodded, but ultimately, he decided to pocket the cigarette case, refraining from smoking further.

"Judging by your attire, you're a student?" Rubens asked, trying to make conversation.

"Yes, sir, I attend a high school nearby," the young man replied.

"What a coincidence. My daughter is a student there as well. Maybe you're classmates."

Rubens smiled warmly. Just as Ronan was about to excuse himself, the man pointed out the window and chuckled, "Speak of the devil—there she is."

A young woman with long auburn hair and a tall, slender frame rushed into Rubens's arms. She was dressed in a loose red sweater and fitted jeans. Her face, slightly flushed from running, glistened with sweat, beads of which trickled down her cheeks.

Ronan felt a flicker of recognition but couldn't place where he had seen her before.

"Didn't you have school today?" Rubens asked, still smiling.

"Something happened at school, so they gave us the day off," she replied, leaping up to kiss Rubens on the cheek before latching onto his arm, her large, beautiful eyes twinkling mischievously.

"And what are you up to?" Rubens asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I heard there was an incident at the police station last night, right?" she inquired, her tone curious.

At this, Ronan couldn't help but eavesdrop.

"Where did you hear that nonsense?" Rubens responded sternly. "The police station is just undergoing some renovations."

"Yeah, right!" the girl huffed, then extended her right hand, revealing two broken grenades she had secretly picked up near the station's entrance.

"Do you normally use grenades for renovations?" she teased, her nose held high in defiance.

Rubens rubbed his temples in frustration.

"This is a secret!"

"Okay, can I visit your police station?"

— It doesn't matter if she doesn't tell. After all, she can look for clues on her own, so her family won't even be able to visit the police station...

The girl finally leaped away, waving goodbye to Ronan before leaving.

"Goodbye, Ronan!"

Ronan quickly returned the gesture and also said goodbye.

Rubens looked at them suspiciously and asked Ronan, "Do you know each other?"

"This... I don't know..."

He really couldn't remember.

...

Cleaning, feeding, changing diapers...

Owen's mother seemed to have reverted to Owen's childhood, doing everything herself without assistance. Even when a college student volunteering offered to help, she refused without hesitation.

If Owen could wake up, he should be going to college next year... She glanced at the volunteers in a daze, but then shook her head and snapped out of it.

—How long can others' help last? With Owen's current condition, this might go on for a long, long time. She must learn to bear it on her own.

However, she didn't know how long she could endure. She had already quit her job, and her savings from over the years were about to run out...

There were priests sent by the church to pray for the patients, including Owen. The priest sprinkled holy water on Owen's body, praying to God to save his soul and protect him from evil spirits.

Owen's mother also prayed silently in her heart, willing to give everything she had to save her son, pleading for the Lord's mercy.

Unfortunately, no miracle happened, and Owen remained unconscious even after the priest left.

The past few days had exhausted her, and she couldn't help but lie down beside Owen's bed, eventually falling into a deep sleep. When she woke up, she found that she was covered with Owen's blanket, and Owen, who was supposed to be lying on the bed, was now standing by the window...

"Oh my God! Almighty God! Is this the miracle you sent down?" his mother screamed, pulling the emaciated Owen into her arms.

Happiness is contagious. At this moment, even Ronan, who was standing on the rooftop opposite, couldn't help but smile.

Although compared to God, Ronan was the one who deserved the most thanks. But what the hell! God has so many things to handle; this is the least He could do.

It's better to go home. To celebrate Joe Baker's promotion, Jennifer specially made a seafood salad tonight. If Ronan doesn't hurry back, that brat Billy will probably eat it all!

Goodbye, my friend.

----

Ronan's life had returned to normal. Aside from Joe Baker wearing a pair of large sunglasses every day (his eyes aren't swollen now) and occasionally bragging about his bravery, everything seemed unchanged.

This, of course, was an illusion. After all, something significant had occurred under Ronan's guidance, whether intentional or not. How could anyone just pretend nothing had happened?

In a tactical deduction room of S.H.I.E.L.D., Peter and Henry were analyzing the clues they had. They were the two agents who had gathered all the investigative documents from the police station a week ago and were also responsible for managing the 'Red Bike' Knight case.

With knight armor-wearing thugs of immense strength, giant battle robots with apparent intelligence, and the destructive weapons they wielded...

All this captured the attention of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, and even Director Nick Fury had personally intervened.

After investigation, it was clear that the appearance of the Red Bike Rider was closely linked to the case that was going to trial the next day. A week had given them enough time to uncover all the details about this case.

From the social background of the three prisoners to the relatives and friends of the victim Owen, they had amassed a thick stack of documents.

There were close to a hundred people in the list of potential suspects based on their social connections. But after thorough investigation, the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were disappointed to find that everyone had evidence clearing them of involvement in the case.

It seemed as though their investigation was misguided. The 'knight' wasn't actually among these people. He had merely passed by, punished the three bullies, and then vanished...

Really? Could it be such a coincidence?

Of course not! No one would believe in such a coincidence, least of all the battle-hardened Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.!

Peter scanned the photos of every suspect o When Henry returned from the bathroom, he found Peter examining a photo. The picture showed a boy with black hair. He appeared ordinary and average-looking—neither ugly nor particularly handsome. He was the kind of person who blended into the crowd, easily forgotten by classmates within a semester. If he were to participate in a play, he would only be cast as an extra, hidden behind a helmet.

Why am I overthinking this?

Henry scratched his head and asked Peter, "Who is this?"

"Someone saw him returning home with Owen the night before the incident. He should be Owen's friend."

"Let me see!" Henry casually opened the file bag labeled with the name and pulled out the document inside. After a moment, he was surprised and said, "A high school student? Are you sure he's a suspect?"

"I just find it a bit strange…"

"Come on, this isn't a comic book! Unless he's Superman or Batman, it's not possible!"

Peter shrugged and replied, "Why not? There's already a Captain America in this world, so why couldn't there be a 'Superman'? Look at the last page!"

Henry quickly flipped to the last page and saw that the boy named Ronan was discovered in the wilderness by SHIELD agents 16 years ago…

"Just because of this?" Henry's eyes widened. "Just because he was an abandoned baby, you think Superman has entered reality? Are you kidding me?"

"Okay, I'm really just joking!" It seemed Peter also thought it was a bit far-fetched. He put down the photo of the boy but still insisted, "But it could be his family or friends! Think about it—if something happened to Owen, he might be very upset, and then his family or friends might seek revenge on Foster and others. There's a good chance…"

"That's quite a stretch," Henry sneered. "His adoptive father managed to break into the police station at night and escape without a scratch…"

"Adoptive father?"

"That's right! Because his adoptive father is a police officer at that station, and he was the one who got beaten the worst! If it really was him, then this young man is incredibly ungrateful!"

"This…"

"Moreover, the suspect had an alibi. Wasn't there a man named Sander who could confirm that they had been chatting that night?"

"Alright!" Peter had no choice but to pick up the photo of the boy again and toss it into the trash can.

Just as they were about to search for the next suspect, someone knocked on the glass door of the deduction room.

"Team Peter!" The door swung open, and a white woman with a lean face and tight black clothes entered. Upon seeing them, she immediately said, "Prepare your gear. You have a new mission!"

"But the current task isn't finished yet?"

"It doesn't matter. Set it aside for now!" The woman said seriously. "This mission is more urgent. You need to head to the Middle East within two hours and join your colleagues there for an operation!"

Peter and Henry quickly gathered their documents. The ones thrown into the trash were, of course, too difficult to retrieve.

While tidying up, they asked the woman, "What happened, Agent Hill?"

"Tony Stark has been kidnapped by terrorists. The Middle East branch is short on manpower and needs your help with the rescue immediately."

n the table and affirmed, "That guy has to be among them!"

The people in the photos came from a variety of backgrounds, including those who Foster had once bullied, school security guards, drama club classmates, and Owen's relatives and friends...

But the question remained: who had the capability to do such a thing?

"How about this person?" Henry picked up a photo casually. It showed a middle-aged man with a stern face. "A repairman from a motorcycle factory. He's skilled at modifying motorcycles and, more importantly, he has a grudge against Foster's parents..."

"Do you think he could build such a high-tech robot?" Peter picked up the photo, tore it up, and threw it into the trash can. "Besides, this guy's a villain. He's been arrested for theft a long time ago..."

"What about this person? He's a science teacher at school. He has a relevant background, acts strangely, has no family, and lives alone. Plus, he doesn't have an alibi for that night," Henry suggested, picking up another photo.

Peter shook his head and said, "Of course he doesn't have an alibi, because he spent the entire night in the red-light district."

"Ugh," Henry grimaced, wiping his hands and discarding the photo.

He was a mysophobic individual...

"What's even more disturbing is that the suspect is a man..."

"Uh...I'm going to the bathroom..."

Ronan knew that he was under investigation by S.H.I.E.L.D. and had even been questioned by them. Although the agents all pretended to be ordinary police officers, the Smart Guy secretly hacked into the police station and accessed the information they provided. After setting off the alarm, the data found was blank.

Ronan had expected this, but he didn't anticipate their response would be so swift.

It was clear: the Transformers were still too remarkable for this world! After all, Iron Man hadn't even been 'born' yet.

Though aliens had already visited Earth (Captain Marvel), such news had only reached a small area. For most people in this world, their understanding of the world was still limited to their imagination...

Thus, Ronan's appearance was quite conspicuous. He could only hope that Stark would become Iron Man sooner to absorb some of the attention himself...

It should be imminent. Ronan glanced at the newspaper in his hand once more and saw the headline on the front page: 'Tony Stark, owner of Stark Industries, was kidnapped by terrorists in the Middle East. The military is now organizing a rescue'...

—Calculating the time, there should be about three months left before Iron Man makes his debut.

After reading it, Ronan returned the newspaper to Joe Baker.

Joe's face was pale, and he lay motionless on the sofa. The kidnapping of Mr. Stark had caused him significant distress. If measured in numbers, it would be estimated around eight thousand dollars...

This is how much the Stark stock held by Joe had plummeted in value in just two days since Stark's abduction...

It turns out that Joe had accumulated significant private funds and that Jennifer had never been able to discover it because he had secretly purchased some shares of Stark Industries before they married.

Although the semi-annual dividends from these stocks are not large, they are still enough for him to live comfortably after covering his salary!

Incredible! Most people hide their private funds after marriage, but Joe took it to a new level—before marriage!

If Ronan hadn't noticed the change in his expression and secretly asked the Smart Guy to check it online, Joe would probably have kept this secret for life...

Due to his promotion, Joe recently received a car purchase subsidy from the police. He had initially planned to buy a sports car, but now it seemed his sports car would be missing two wheels.

Should I invest in some stocks myself? Ronan pondered, touching his chin.

Stark Industries' stock is expected to rise twice: once when Stark returns and again when he announces himself as Iron Man. If you seize these two opportunities and avoid closing the arms division, this could be a highly profitable venture.

But stock speculation also requires funds. It's much like legal gambling. More funds mean higher potential returns; fewer funds mean minimal gains. Should I borrow from a loan shark?

But what are the interest rates for loan sharks? I heard they can grow like a snowball. If the interest exceeds the earnings, why invest in stocks?

Loan sharking harms others and ourselves. As a future superhero, how can I help others do harm?

Then... borrow money first, wait for them to come to your door, and then pick it up from them! This is called robbe... No, it should be called 'fighting crime'!

But the problem comes again. Since he is going to get rid of them sooner or later, why wait for them to come to your door? It will be unpleasant to spread the news! You can borrow money first, and as soon as you get the money, you can go directly to your door and take them away!

Simple, efficient, and straightforward.

Eh... it doesn't seem right. Since you have gone to the lair to take them away, then the money they hid is naturally your own, so why should you borrow money? Left hand instead of right hand?

What a hassle!

Why not—just pick them up without saying a word, then take the money and leave!?

But... why is this process so familiar?

Huh?

Oh...

Um!

——Isn't this robbery? ! !

No, no, no! For ordinary people, it is robbery, but for these evil elements, how can it be considered robbery? I am fighting against evil! That's right! Fight crime!

Surprised, I seem to have found a good way to make a fortune!

——That's nonsense! Go directly to rob... No, wouldn't it be enough to go directly to fight against evil?

Is there something wrong with this logic? There's nothing wrong with it!

What a genius I am!

"Smart Guy, quickly search where the lairs of the 'evil forces' nearby are, and let's go make a fortune!" Ronan got on the motorcycle excitedly, and under the cover of the night, rushed towards his destination to make a fortune. Big plan.

...

New York, Manhattan, one of the most densely populated places in the world, the economic and cultural center of the USA, is home to Wall Street, the New York Stock Exchange, and Times Square, which made Captain America confused when he first woke up...

Of course, there is also the headquarters of a certain wealthy man's company, Stark Tower, which is also located here.

This is the richest area in New York and even the entire United States, but the rich material foundation cannot satisfy people's spiritual emptiness. People need fun, relief, and... drugs...

Although there are many tall buildings, there is inevitably dirt at the feet of the tall buildings, and as long as there is dirt, there will be crawlers lurking in it...

Ronan's goal of "fighting evil" is here. It's rich and chaotic. What better place to make a fortune than here!

But he didn't expect that someone seemed to have arrived a little earlier than him and got there first...

In a dark alley, two men in black clothes were checking their equipment in a rented car. It was raining lightly outside, but the rain could not extinguish the fire and anxiety in their hearts...

"Is the news accurate?" a man asked his companion.

Both of them are white and look to be in their 30s. The man who asked the question was wearing a black coat and his name was Evans. The other man was similarly dressed and his name was Picol.

Both of them were prisoners who had just been released from prison. Because of the pressure of life, they now had the idea of stealing and robbing.

"The news that old Wingers sold to me must be true!" Picol took a puff of his cigarette and then threw the cigarette butt into the rain. The rain would take away the DNA on it, so there was no need to worry about being discovered by the police later.

"Let's go!" he said.

Evans nodded, covered his face with the handkerchief prepared in advance, and followed his companion out of the car.

The two of them entered a small courtyard from the back of the alley. It appeared to be the backyard of a bar, but there were no goods in sight, and everything was neatly packed away.

Trying not to alert the guards outside, they walked into a room that looked like an office, though the syringes and wine bottles scattered on the floor indicated it was definitely not an office.

Making their way through the darkness towards the innermost room, Evans and Picol exchanged glances and knocked gently on the door.

"Who's there?" A man's voice called out from inside. As soon as the door opened, a gun was pressed to his forehead.

"Don't shout, or I'll beat you to death," Picol threatened fiercely.

They pushed the man back into the room. Upon entering, their eyes immediately locked onto a metal safe in the corner.

"Who are you?" the man asked, trying to suppress his fear. "I suggest you leave now. This place is no playground for you."

"Enough talk! Open the safe!" Picol demanded, aiming the gun at the man's head. Reluctantly, the man responded, "Who sent you? If you leave now, I won't inform anyone..."

"Idiot!" Picol muttered under his breath, smashing the butt of his gun into the man's face. The man promptly fell silent and opened the safe. Evans and Picol eagerly examined the piles of U.S. dollars, coins, and various pieces of jewelry inside. Ronan quickly retrieved a cloth bag and began filling it with the contents.

"What's this?" Ronan asked, holding up a small metal object that resembled a USB flash drive, but was placed in the most secure spot within the safe, suggesting its importance.

"Whatever!" Picol said, grabbing it and tossing it into the bag. Since they saw it, it rightfully belonged to them.

At this moment, the sight of money brought immense satisfaction. Their eyes were fixed on the cash in the safe, and they didn't notice the man they were holding hostage quietly retreating towards the work desk in the middle of the room.

The man struggled not to alert the two robbers, slowly reaching behind him to pull out a small revolver hidden in a compartment under the desk.

Taking a deep breath, he quickly raised his gun and fired. However, Picol had already sensed his movement. The two shots rang out almost simultaneously. The man's bullet struck Picol in the abdomen, while Picol's shot hit the man in the forehead, killing him instantly.

"Damn it!" With no time to count their haul, Evans hastily swept all the contents of the safe into the cloth bag. He slung the bag over his shoulder and helped the injured Picol out the door.

The gunshots had alerted the guards outside, who rushed in with guns drawn, blocking their escape in the large office.

"Use this!" Picol handed an oval-shaped object to Evans. It was a grenade.

"Why are you carrying this?" Evans asked in surprise.

"Always be prepared!" Picol replied with a grim smile. Ronan threw the grenade with all his strength.

"Boom!" The grenade explosion suppressed the guards' firepower. Seizing the moment, Evans pulled Picol up and they limped towards the exit.

They intended to drive away, but the guards had shot up their car, blowing out the gas tank.

"Damn it!" Evans shouted, running out of the alley. He stopped a passerby on a motorcycle, seized the bike, and sped off with Picol.

"Quick! Keep up!"

The guards were shouting, and some circled back to the entrance of the bar, speeding off to pursue them. Others began commandeering the cars of passers-by. Unfortunately, the narrow alley had few pedestrians, and most of them managed to get away before the guards could catch them. Only two were left behind, waiting helplessly. Eventually, they spotted a blue motorcycle and the rider on it...

Ronan was feeling a bit awkward. He was supposed to be 'fighting crime,' but now he was the one being robbed!

With the road blocked, he had no choice but to steer his motorcycle into a side alley. He glanced at the two dimwits slowly closing in on him and said, "Guys, don't worry! My bike has a bit of a temper. You might not be able to handle her... Let me talk to her first, okay?"

"Get off!"

The two guards showed no respect at all. They pushed Ronan aside and walked toward the motorcycle with lewd grins. But before they could get close, the motorcycle's lights suddenly transformed into two gun barrels, which were aimed directly at their heads. Then, a tall robot appeared in front of them...

Seeing the two men terrified and hearing the wail of police sirens in the distance, Ronan shook his head in resignation. It seemed his plan to make a quick buck tonight was going to be a bust.

...

The sharp gunshots and explosions caused widespread panic among nearby residents. Americans are generally very responsive; at the very least, they will call the police, regardless of the situation...

As soon as the alarm call came in, Rubens quickly assembled a team and rushed to the scene. He was familiar with the area because the witness murdered in his previous case had been an employee here.

The killer, it turned out, was the actual owner of this bar, the witness's boss...

The police established a perimeter near the bar and surrounded the alley, but just as Rubens was about to enter, he was stopped.

It was a middle-aged white man, flanked by two stern-faced bodyguards. The solid muscles and thick calluses on their hands indicated that they were no pushovers.

The man seemed to have just arrived; his brown leather shoes were still relatively clean. He wore a pristine white suit, and his short hair was neatly trimmed. He seemed to struggle with the foul air in the alley, covering his mouth and nose with a colorful scarf while waving it occasionally, as if trying to dispel the unpleasant stench.

But Rubens knew that the stench was inescapable—it was the smell of evil, of someone who deserved to rot in hell!

The man was none other than the actual owner of the bar, 'Barrister' Cecil...

"Well, well, if it isn't Officer Rubens, the sharpest and most capable police officer in the New York Police Department! What brings you to my humble establishment?" Cecil said with exaggerated politeness, his tone clearly mocking.