Watching the chaotic Decepticon ships and fighters retreating in disarray, Abomination immediately sensed what was going on—internal strife.
He looked excitedly at William. "So that's why you vanished earlier… you flew to their planet, caused chaos behind enemy lines, and forced them to recall their troops?"
"Well, not quite all of it, but close enough," William said with a sly grin. "To win in the end, it's not just about defeating your enemies head-on or disrupting their rear—there's also one more key step: killing the Transformers' creator.
As for those grunts outside..." William opened his palm, revealing over a dozen healing talismans that floated in front of Abomination.
"I'm a mage. It's too risky for me to go head-to-head with Decepticons, but I can provide you with all the support you need. So, buddy—my only request is that you crush those damn aliens."
"A mage, huh?"
Abomination wasn't shocked for long—he was a superhuman himself now. A sinister grin spread across his face. "I like the feeling of smashing everything."
He raised his massive warblade, nodded to William, then charged through the wall and into the fray, aiming straight for the increasingly panicked Decepticons.
William followed with narrowed eyes, stepping through the dust-filled breach, dispersing it with a wave of psychic energy. He leapt to the rooftop of the building where Abomination was now engaged in battle.
Having personally experienced the power of the healing talismans, Abomination fought with reckless abandon. He shrugged off minor injuries and, after eliminating four Decepticons as a test, was rewarded with more talismans just as promised.
"Hahaha!"
He slapped one talisman directly onto his bald head, feeling magical energy surge through him once again. Standing atop a Decepticon corpse, he raised his blade and let out a wild, triumphant laugh.
"HULK! The contest isn't over yet!"
Hidden U.S. soldiers acting as battlefield spotters soon caught sight of this moment.
When William realized their comms were jammed, he said to Sunday, "Restore comms for these soldiers and war correspondents. I want the whole world to know that Abomination is the real hero.
As for Hulk… let him play second fiddle for once."
Was it better to be the celebrated hero or the ignored backup? That was hard to say.
But for William, giving the world a taste of a second-rate but visibly powerful super soldier like Abomination was far better than letting them focus entirely on Hulk.
If an organization like Hydra—or any group aiming to rule the world—actually managed to create something stronger than Hulk, more brutal than Abomination, that would be a serious problem.
"Understood, SIR. Signal restoration in progress."
Having already analyzed Megatron, Starscream, and Blackout, Sunday, now equipped with Kree and Skrull communication tech, had no trouble cracking the Decepticons' signal-jamming protocols.
Within thirty seconds, Sunday reported, "Signal is restored. However, it's best if you contact General Ross directly.
At this rate, if he gets desperate, he might just fly to London to find you himself."
Glancing at the severely damaged main streets, William smirked. After today, quite a few people were going to pay a price.
"Alright, things are just about wrapped up. Connect me to Ross's command center."
"Understood, SIR."
At that moment, Ross was overwhelmed with stress. When William suddenly appeared on the big screen, Ross jumped and shouted, "For God's sake! The whole world is on the brink of collapse—where the hell have you been, you bloody bastard?!"
William grabbed a spherical broadcaster and pointed it at the war-torn streets below. Then he tossed it skyward and said casually, "See for yourself—I'm right here."
"God above… you're inside the combat zone?!"
Ross's outrage turned to shock. He shouted, "Are you crazy?! I need your troops and mechs, not you risking your neck out there like a lunatic!"
"Relax," William said, feigning irritation while covering his ears. "Sunday, how are those twelve close-combat anti-Decepticon mechs I developed? The ones I asked you to field-test?"
Sunday paused for several seconds before realizing William meant the twelve Guardian Knights. "SIR, test results are promising. As long as they're well-supplied with energy crystals, their defense scales up significantly.
Even if they take damage, a single crystal can quickly restore them."
"Good. Get them on the ship."
Then, turning back to Ross—who now looked visibly more optimistic—William said, "Support is on its way. Now, let's talk business.
I didn't answer your calls because I was leading a group of Avengers through the space bridge to infiltrate Cybertron.
Luck was on our side—the ship entered Cybertron smoothly, and the Autobots ambushed the Decepticons.
By the time I flew the ship back to New York, a full-scale civil war had already broken out on Cybertron.
Those Decepticons invading Earth? They've likely received the news and are scrambling to respond."
He'd personally flown a mission behind enemy lines?
That revelation stunned every soldier and officer in the command center.
Then someone shouted, "God! The alien ships and fighters really are returning to Cybertron!"
Right on cue, the main screen showed a Decepticon ship vanishing into the space bridge.
Suddenly, all those complaints about William ignoring their calls and refusing to help now seemed like calculated brilliance.
Cheers and whistles erupted throughout the command center. Some even chanted, "Long live Devonshire!"
William graciously accepted their praise, then solemnly addressed the crowd:
"Alright, fellas. Settle down. The tide may have turned in our favor—but if you think chasing the Decepticons off Earth means we've won, then you're being naive.
If all these Decepticons pull back, the Autobots on Cybertron will be flanked from both sides.
And once the Decepticons regroup—after suffering heavy losses and ending their infighting—how do you think they'll retaliate? Do I even need to say it?"
The reminder hit home.
"You're right," one officer said gravely. "We must deal as much damage as possible to their active forces. In fact, if we have the chance, it might even be better to trap them here on Earth.
If the Autobots win on Cybertron, these Decepticons will be isolated.
Give it time, and our anti-Transformer task force will eventually eliminate them all."
Hearing that, Ross—who had been hesitating before—suddenly had a gleam in his eyes.
And William, keeping a close eye on Ross, smirked knowingly.
Perfect, he thought. I've just handed Ross the best excuse in the world for raising his profile by 'managing an ongoing alien threat.'
And Ross, already shifting into politician mode, immediately understood the implications.
As long as he kept the Decepticons alive and took them out one by one, his name would dominate headlines across the U.S.
And in America, fame was the greatest currency in politics.
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