Agent Coulson and Commander Hill's brief, sharp exchange about professional decorum quickly ended when the security system chimed.
Serana returned to the camera's view, her composure absolute, the momentary surprise at Hill's coldness having been suppressed beneath her executive persona.
"Gentlemen, I apologize for the wait," Serana announced through the external speaker, her voice calm and clear. "Mr. Zhou Yi is ready to receive you. However, he wishes me to reiterate that his time is extremely limited."
Commander Hill gave a curt, affirmative nod. Her response was delivered with surgical precision, leaving no room for ambiguity. "Please assure him, Madam, that we have no intention of wasting Mr. Zhou's time, or our own."
Serana's focus wavered for a split second. She had hosted countless investors, politicians, and directors on Zhou Yi's behalf, but this was the first time she had witnessed a woman address him with such dispassionate, almost dismissive professionalism.
Zhou Yi, the charming, witty entrepreneur, usually commanded at least a baseline of polite admiration, if not outright flirtation. Commander Hill treated him not as a captivating billionaire, but as an operational hazard.
Serana felt a strange, protective impulse—a pang of regret that she had facilitated this meeting at all—but she quickly suppressed it. Her duty was clear: ensure the visitors' intentions were benign. Should a conflict erupt, she would not hesitate to deploy the sharp fangs and hidden claws of a vampire protector.
As the heavy, bespoke wrought-iron gates of the estate slowly retracted, the black, armored Lincoln provided by the Strategic Homeland Defense, Offensive, and Logistics Bureau—SHIELD—drove silently up the winding path toward the mansion.
This was not SHIELD's first visit to the property, but it was certainly their first official, invited foray. Past surveillance runs had revealed the high-tech, deeply secured nature of the estate, but stepping inside confirmed the scale of Zhou Yi's resources.
When the Lincoln came to a stop, Serana was waiting at the front entrance, poised and welcoming.
Serana's identity as a vampire was an open secret within SHIELD's high-level intelligence community. While Hill and Coulson registered the irony—a billionaire playboy keeping a vampire personal assistant—it was merely a data point.
Zhou Yi's primary identity as a major global shareholder was a shield far more impenetrable than any armor. So long as he did not openly violate national security laws, his choice of domestic staff was irrelevant to the US government.
Serana, however, operated under the assumption of her own secrecy, diligently maintaining the persona of the competent, human executive assistant.
Guided by her, Commander Hill and Agent Coulson were quickly led into Zhou Yi's expansive living room. Zhou Yi was already seated on a low, custom-designed couch, awaiting their arrival. He had spent the brief interval running algorithms against SHIELD's likely motivations and preparing his own immovable position.
"Welcome to my home, gentlemen, and Commander," Zhou Yi began, inviting them to take the seats directly across from him. His tone was firm, his posture suggesting a CEO anticipating a difficult shareholder meeting.
"Let's be candid. Leaving aside our previous, shall we say, operational differences, I trust this is my first official engagement with your Strategic Defense Bureau."
The opening salvo was direct, a deliberate attempt to frame the conversation around past conflicts and establish an immediate power dynamic. Zhou Yi needed to gauge the level of SHIELD's knowledge and their current tactical posture.
"Mr. Zhou, I believe it would be most productive to consider this a genuine first meeting," Agent Coulson interjected smoothly, taking the lead and neutralizing the latent hostility in Zhou Yi's statement. His voice was warm and diplomatic.
"That frame of mind, operating without the burden of historical friction, will be far more conducive to the friendly and constructive communication we both seek. After all, we are organizations and individuals with fundamentally shared objectives."
"A fair point, Agent Coulson," Zhou Yi conceded with a slight nod. "I too prefer to operate in the present. Tea or coffee? I have an excellent Chinese green tea, or various grades of black coffee, if you prefer."
"Coffee, thank you," Coulson replied, glancing quickly at the silent Maria Hill for confirmation before answering.
Zhou Yi gave a subtle, genuinely surprised smile—a rare reaction for him. It was unexpected to find such meticulous consideration for a partner's preference in the cutthroat world of intelligence.
Serana soon returned, placing two cups of perfectly brewed coffee before the guests. She then paused, moving to stand silently behind Zhou Yi's shoulder, a tray still in hand—a clear signal that she was not leaving.
Both Hill and Coulson paused, their attention momentarily fixed on Serana, a silent request hanging in the air for the assistant to withdraw.
Zhou Yi recognized the unspoken demand for absolute privacy and decided to settle the matter immediately. Serana was not merely a staff member; she was his confidante and, increasingly, his moral anchor. He would not exclude her.
"Gentlemen, before we proceed to any sensitive topics, I must ask: does my choice of personnel present an obstacle to your conversation?" Zhou Yi asked, his voice firm but courteous.
"Of course not, Mr. Zhou, that was careless of us," Coulson responded, managing a pleasant smile despite the clear breach of protocol.
"Allow me to introduce us properly. I am Phil Coulson, Level 8 Agent with the Strategic Homeland Defense, Attack, and Logistics Agency. This is Commander Maria Hill. And, Mr. Zhou, purely out of professional courtesy, may I formally request that this lady be temporarily excused?"
"It is not a request born of malice, sir," Hill added, her voice flat. "It is derived from the necessity of compartmentalizing sensitive intelligence. I assure you, our conversation will not benefit her."
"That will not be necessary, Agent Coulson, Commander Hill," Zhou Yi said, gently patting Serana's hand to reassure her. "The people closest to me are privy to my actions, and as for Serana, you may consider her an auxiliary assistant to my other identity."
Agent Coulson exchanged a difficult glance with Maria Hill. She was the decision-maker here, and her authority superseded his. Hill, recognizing the impossibility of forcing the issue and the pressing nature of the threat, decided to concede the triviality for the sake of the objective.
"No matter. Let us proceed," Maria Hill stated, her focus instantly shifting back to the mission. Serana's presence was Zhou Yi's problem; any potential information leak would be contained within his sphere of influence, presenting SHIELD with a tactical advantage if he made a mistake. They needed him more than they needed secrecy at this moment.
The formal negotiation—a clash between the global security apparatus and the independent meta-human—began.
"First, we must state our primary purpose unequivocally," Coulson began, his tone now shifting from geniality to official gravitas.
"We are here to extend a sincere invitation for you, Mr. Zhou Yi, as the Dawn Knight, to join the Agency. This partnership would allow us to unify our efforts toward maintaining global security and actively combatting the proliferating destabilizing factors that threaten the normal world order."
Zhou Yi interrupted the pitch with brutal bluntness, resting his chin on his hand.
"I'm afraid I must interrupt, Agent. I am not interested in your kind of invitation. I have no desire for a supervisor, nor do I require someone to inject bureaucratic interference into my methods. Furthermore, can you possibly offer me anything compelling enough to trade my current life for a desk job? Let us assess the simple economics: what is my current monthly income, and what would your Agency pay for my services?"
Coulson visibly deflated. This was the exact response he had anticipated—the insurmountable wall of financial and operational independence. He had always harbored a healthy disdain for the notion that someone of Zhou Yi's immense global influence and net worth would ever subject himself to the petty management and oversight of a government agency.
Commander Hill, recognizing that Coulson's diplomatic route had failed, chose the frontal assault, shifting the argument from economics to ethics and control.
"Mr. Zhou, do you honestly believe that your alter ego is a state secret? And more crucially: do you truly believe that operating outside of all sovereign law, under the pretense of a subjective moral code, genuinely upholds justice and fairness? Your vigilante acts are not policing—they are global disruption," Hill stated, her voice tight with professional contempt.
"Maria," Coulson began, sensing the immediate temperature spike.
"Please call me Hill," she interrupted, glaring at Zhou Yi. "I do not believe our professional association warrants the use of my first name." Her voice was icy, emphasizing the distance between them.
Zhou Yi, surprisingly, remained composed, though his eyes narrowed slightly. He possessed an unusual tolerance for beautiful women, even distant and hostile ones, but he had not yet grasped the depth of his offense to her professional rigidity.
"Very well, Miss Hill," he conceded with an almost courtly shrug. "From my perspective, based on the Universal Calculus of Necessity, everything the Dawn Knight has done is objectively correct. The world has not devolved to a point where saving lives constitutes obstructing official business. And on that matter, I would suggest the NYPD, who I frequently coordinate with, would have more favorable testimony than your Agency."
Zhou Yi leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low, icy register. "But if you wish to discuss my 'alter ego' and the risk of exposure, let me remind you: I was saving the lives of nearly two hundred innocent civilians on AA6137. I saw no National Strategic Defense, Offensive, and Logistics Support Bureau aircraft, assets, or personnel defending that jet. Therefore, Miss Hill, your organization currently has zero operational justification to lecture me on my methods."
"And furthermore," Zhou Yi continued, allowing his sarcasm to edge into his voice, "if my identity were leaked, the catastrophic failure of a bureaucratic organization to contain an unregistered meta-human would be a far greater embarrassment to you than to me. I have no faith whatsoever that your bureaucratic structure is capable of maintaining a secret of this magnitude."
Commander Hill's composure finally fractured; her voice rose with a furious, metallic timbre.
"And who do you imagine yourself to be, sir? Who are we, you ask? We are the single global mechanism that attempts to maintain the order this world is supposed to possess! Our entire existence, dating back to the Second World War, is dedicated to preventing these supernatural elements from catastrophically impacting the normal population. And your emergence, Mr. Zhou, is the single biggest destabilizing disruptor to that delicate, normal order!"
"Ensuring peace requires the police, the military, federal agents, and the Strategic Homeland Defense, Attack, and Logistics Agency," Hill continued, her fists clenching subtly. "It does not require some billionaire thrill-seeker with a high-tech costume and a messiah complex."
"Is that truly so?" Zhou Yi retorted, matching her intensity. "Let me recalculate. How effective are the mechanisms you mentioned, Miss Hill? Ha! Sorry, but aside from the local police and the troops playing in the sand in the Middle East, I have seen none of your aforementioned forces engaging in the defense of global justice against supernatural threats in the moments that truly mattered."
"How precisely do you maintain order and justice? After the monster defeats every single passenger on a plane, do you quietly launch an ICBM, then issue a press release stating, 'Apologies, our defense forces mistakenly shot down a civilian airliner'?"
The conversation, in the space of less than ten minutes, had utterly devolved into a sharp, bitter stalemate. The rapid escalation was profoundly jarring, not only to Serana, who watched with wide, uneasy eyes from behind Zhou Yi, but also to the highly experienced Agent Coulson.
Phil Coulson found himself momentarily lost, utterly unable to intercede. He was willing to bet a substantial portion of his annual salary that he had never witnessed Commander Hill target someone with such intense, almost personal animosity. Her disdain for Zhou Yi exceeded mere professional jealousy or a concern for protocol.
Coulson began to weave strange, entirely unprofessional thoughts through his mind.
Did these two know each other? Had they tangled in a past life, or perhaps—God forbid—had a disastrous, covert relationship at some point? The tension was too thick, too specific to be purely professional. This was more than a disagreement over jurisdiction; it was a clash of two immovable, arrogant forces.