Transformer in MCU

Downey stepped up to John and grabbed him by the neck.

"The sharpest weapon you vampires have is your teeth, yet you play with guns," Downey mocked.

He acted decisively. As the vampires were about to attack, Downey swiftly intervened, subduing John first. His speed astonished everyone.

John's eyes widened in disbelief. How could this control-type mutant be so physically strong? He gurgled, attempting to speak, but no sound came out.

The other vampires, now nervous, aimed their guns at Downey, ready to fire at a moment's notice.

Small Transformers assembled around Downey like predators poised to strike, while outside, Optimus Prime prepared heavy weapons, ready to obliterate these vile creatures.

"One last question: why does Deacon Frost want me to fight vampires?"

Downey asked, tightening his grip. He had no sympathy for these predators of humanity.

If possible, he'd kill them all, eliminating a significant threat to humans.

John's eyes were bloodshot with desperation. He had no idea what Deacon's true motives were.

Someone like Frost wouldn't reveal such plans to a disposable pawn.

With a swift motion, Downey snapped John's neck. Then he turned and swiftly eliminated the remaining vampires.

A knife formed in his hand as he decapitated one vampire, knowing that for creatures of this level, decapitation would ensure their death soon enough.

The vampires, realizing they were doomed, fought back in panic. They knew that returning to their world without their master would mean certain death.

Many vampires fired bullets in Downey's direction, but his metal creations deflected every shot.

The gangsters, too, took the opportunity to retaliate, managing to bring down a few vampires.

"Don't let them bite you!" Downey shouted.

One vampire, hit by multiple bullets but still alive, removed its mask and lunged at a nearby gang member, sinking its fangs into his neck.

The gangsters were shocked. How could these creatures survive after being riddled with bullets? Were they mutants?

With a deafening roar, Optimus Prime burst into the room, his Vulcan cannon reducing the last vampire to a pile of mush.

In the ensuing chaos, Downey took no chances. He put down the man who had been bitten, knowing that killing him before he could transform was the only humane option.

"Who are these people?" one gangster muttered, still dazed by the bizarre scene.

"They're vampires," Downey replied calmly, dragging John's body into a small patch of sunlight.

As soon as the sunlight touched John, his body ignited and turned to ash.

The remaining gangsters were dumbfounded. What they had just witnessed defied everything they knew.

For the first time, they glimpsed a hidden world beyond their comprehension.

Downey, however, paid them little mind. He was more focused on urging the old bartender to upgrade his motorcycle for better combat performance.

He couldn't afford to rely on someone who played dead during every fight.

Before leaving, the injured strongman was helped up and shouted after Downey, promising him repayment someday.

Downey merely chuckled, pretending not to hear. He wasn't concerned.

While these gangsters weren't good people, they were still human.

For him, that was reason enough to save them, even if it meant killing vampires in the process.

Downey didn't see himself as a hero, nor did he want to be one. He simply followed his own code, driven by his instincts and goals, knowing that one day, his path would lead to a bloody end.

He was Downey, the Mechanic—unafraid to walk in the light or charge headlong into the darkness.

—

In the Vampire Kingdom, a secret society as old as humanity itself, a war had raged for millennia between vampires and various human factions.

Time and time again, vampires were purged, only to rise again, stronger than before.

This endless cycle had gone on for so long that some vampires had grown weary of it.

Deacon Frost, who appeared as a young, pale, and thin man with sharp features, tossed his earpiece onto a table with an indifferent expression.

John had been carrying a listening device, allowing Deacon to overhear everything.

Downey was more cunning than Deacon had anticipated, demonstrating a wit beyond his years.

But it didn't matter. Downey's cleverness was insignificant in the grand scheme of things. War between the vampires and their enemies was inevitable.

"Deacon Frost." A servant entered the room. "The council has summoned you. The members have some questions for you."

Deacon sneered but rose from his seat, carelessly running a hand through his disheveled hair.

His shirt was unbuttoned, and he looked unbothered, as though the Vampire Council meant little to him.

The servant didn't react. Deacon had always been this way, and given his rising power, he had earned the right.

The vampire council, however, was aging. Too old for Deacon's liking.

The Vampire King had been absent for years, and the council—composed of members from the thirteen pureblood clans—controlled most of the power. To ambitious vampires like Deacon, it was a decaying institution.

Deacon had grown up in this stagnant era, and behind him were countless smaller families like the Thompson clan, seeking to elevate their status and challenge the dominance of the thirteen clans.

Deacon had promised them change, and they followed him, eager to seize power.

The Speaker of the council had been under immense pressure recently.

Vampire hunters had increased their attacks, destroying strongholds and slaughtering many vampires.

Even blood banks had been decimated, threatening the kingdom's blood supply.

When Deacon entered the council chambers, the Speaker wasted no time in berating him.

"That damn mutant," the Speaker spat. "Do you realize what you've done? Charles, Erik, and SHIELD all have their eyes on Downey! And you provoked him? We've already lost too many. Do you want to start a war with mutant-kind as well?"

Deacon sneered, indifferent to the council's complaints. These arguments had become routine. He had no respect for these old relics.

"Humans are just food," Deacon retorted. "We are the superior species."

The Speaker and other council members scoffed. Deacon, they thought, was delusional—still clinging to a bygone era when vampires reigned supreme.

"Do you even know how many vampires are left in the world?" the Speaker asked coldly.

"Barely one million! We're outnumbered billions to one! This isn't the world you think it is. We are on the brink of extinction."

Deacon was momentarily taken aback. He had never known the true numbers. Since becoming a vampire, he had always believed in their superiority.

The Speaker continued, "This world is far more dangerous than you realize. There are countless races lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike. They could wipe us out, and that's not even counting the mutants and human forces that want us dead."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" Deacon's face darkened. His temper was legendary, and he had slaughtered his own kind for less.

"Because you're not one of us," one council member interjected. "You're not pureblood. You're a mongrel, turned after birth. You have no place in our council."

Deacon's fury surged. For years, he had been treated as an outsider by the purebloods. He had never been allowed into their inner circle.

Finally, Deacon sneered, "You'll all pay for this," and stormed out. His plans were nearing fruition.

He had deciphered the key to his "god-making" project, and he was merely waiting for the right moment to act.

As his footsteps faded, the council chamber grew silent.

One of the councilors turned to the Speaker. "Aren't you going to stop him? He's on the verge of unlocking something dangerous."

The Speaker gave a knowing smile. "I already know what it is. My family's ancient records mention it. It's an old weapon from millennia ago, created by our ancestors to fight a terrifying enemy."

"An enemy?" the councilor asked.

The Speaker nodded. "Yes, one of the first mutants. His name was Apocalypse."

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Sayo nara~~