All the missiles roared back mid-flight.
Several military bases scrambled to activate their interception systems, only to discover in mounting horror that they had lost all control.
"That devil… he hijacked our entire military network?! He's going to hell for this!!"
A technician screamed in despair as he watched the missile icons flash across the command interface, zeroing in on their exact location.
The base command center, his station, was the target.
Tears welled in his eyes. With trembling hands, he pulled out his sidearm and, with a final, broken sob, ended his own life. The report of the gun was barely audible over the chaos.
And then, the missiles landed.
BOOM!
The earth-shattering explosion consumed everything. Walls of fire rolled over the landscape, vaporizing steel, concrete, and flesh alike. Screams were cut off mid-breath as soldiers were instantly turned to ash, their final moments lost in a blaze of agony.
But the nightmare wasn't over.
A deeper, more resonant shockwave rolled across the United States.
KRA-KOOOM!
A mushroom cloud rose like a blooming, poisonous flower over California, a massive, grotesque specter leering down at the world.
Everyone who saw it froze in place.
They knew. Everyone knew what that shape meant.
"A… a nuclear warhead? Someone actually detonated a nuke…? Why…?"
A man crumpled to his knees, his voice barely audible over the roaring silence. All around the globe, fear locked the world in place. No one dared to breathe. Satellites scrambled into position, transmitting live feeds of the man responsible for this waking nightmare—Martin.
And there he was, calmly lifting his head, offering the camera a faint smile.
As if he'd just lit a firework.
And in truth, that's all it was to him.
A nuclear detonation, nothing but a little display. Just a toy.
To a Tier-4 Lifeform, a casual attack carried more force than any nuclear device. The tragedy was, none of these frightened mortals could truly grasp that.
To a being like Martin, nukes were playthings.
"With that little firework show, maybe those fools will finally get the message. Sit down, shut up, and wait quietly for extinction. Why fight for petty interests and so-called pride? Why die for nothing?"
Martin sighed and rolled his eyes. He adjusted the tie he'd painstakingly straightened earlier, then glanced at the warships below.
In response, the entire fleet of battleships shifted, armored panels groaning as they transformed into their vehicular modes, steel bones rearranging like clockwork. Martin nodded in satisfaction and stepped calmly onto the flight deck of a massive aircraft carrier.
Around him, millions of Transformers sprang into motion.
They scrambled over the ships, clambering aboard in disorderly waves—pushing, pulling, stepping on one another. Now and then, a larger Transformer yanked a smaller one clean off the hull, sending it tumbling into the sea with a shriek. The whole scene was chaotic, borderline slapstick.
"Hey! I'm already over capacity! One more mech and I'm swimming with you scrapheaps!"
A particularly irate destroyer-class vessel barked at the crowd piling on.
After a frantic round of jostling and jockeying, nearly every warship was packed to the brim with Decepticons. All except the flagship aircraft carrier, which remained conspicuously clean and spacious, with only Martin and Megatron aboard.
Any unfortunate Transformer that dared try to board was kicked off immediately by Megatron himself, his contemptuous boot smashing armor and sparks alike. The unlucky interloper usually shattered midair and plunged into the ocean, utterly wrecked.
The leftover bots had no choice but to swim.
Fortunately, most had undergone AllSpark-forged upgrades, their metal forms capable of withstanding moderate underwater pressure. But not all of them would survive. Some, especially the tiny ones who'd transformed from watches or smartphones, were simply too fragile. They were doomed to rest on the seafloor.
Megatron didn't spare them a glance.
His expression remained stone cold. These warriors were all future soldiers of his. The foundation of his new Decepticon army. And in his eyes, there was no room for the weak.
The colossal fleet surged forward, steel hulls gleaming beneath the sun, churning up waves as they cut across the ocean toward Africa—unapologetic, unstoppable, uncaring of the many eyes watching them from afar.
And yet no one dared interfere.
Everyone had seen the consequences. Nuclear warheads, casually wielded like firecrackers. That man, Martin, had no fear of global war, of retaliation, of consequence. He didn't hide his strength. He flaunted it.
That was what truly frightened the world.
Not power alone, but power with no restraint.
Powerful but honorable men aren't terrifying. Like Professor X, who could erase half of humanity with a thought.
Even tyrants with enemies aren't the scariest. Like Magneto, who could flip continents.
The most terrifying kind… is someone like Martin: overwhelmingly powerful, utterly unshackled, with no distractions, no weaknesses, no games, only purpose. If you stand in his way, you die.
That was the kind of man global leaders dreaded most, because he couldn't be manipulated. Couldn't be bought. Couldn't be contained.
Time crawled forward under a shroud of terror and tension.
And then Martin set foot on the African continent.
The steel tide followed him inland—treads, feet, wheels and wings—an invasion of metal and might.
Ding!
[Congratulations, Host. Sudden Mission: 'Global Deterrence'—Complete. Reward: One lottery draw!]
Martin smiled as he heard the voice in his mind.
In front of him, a glowing interface flickered into view, images cycling rapidly across it. Famous Decepticons, one after another. Autobots too, but their icons remained greyed out, unavailable for now.
He also glimpsed Cybertronian Relics, ancient weapons and artifacts, and even more tempting, a glimmering set labeled:
The Ten Supreme Artifacts, Ranked Above Sacred Relics.
His mouth watered.
"Draw."
[Congratulations, Host. You've obtained: Combiner-Class Decepticon — Devastator!]
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