The negotiations, which had nearly combusted under the intensity of Maria Hill's glare, concluded with a final, audacious agreement.
According to the official, heavily redacted document exchanged between the billionaire's holding company and the Strategic Homeland Defense, Offensive, and Logistics Bureau, Zhou Yi would deliver two complete, non-schematic sets of the previous-generation Dawn Armor.
In exchange, SHIELD would use its unparalleled geopolitical leverage to procure and deliver approximately 200 pounds of Adamantium metal and the only remaining known significant stockpile of raw, unprocessed Vibranium—a mere 5-pound fragment.
Both parties walked away with a profound, almost smug sense of victory. They had exchanged items they considered strategically secondary for resources they desperately needed.
For Zhou Yi, the Dawn Armor was a technological smokescreen, a decoy designed to draw attention away from his true abilities and his core regenerative technology. He traded a sophisticated illusion for the most prized metals on Earth—a profound win from his perspective.
Zhou Yi needed the Adamantium—a metal whose known existence was already a carefully guarded secret—to finalize the development of his Alpha Nanometal. This wasn't merely about crafting sharp weapons; it was about stabilization. His current nanotech suffered from structural instability when scaled up for advanced regenerative purposes.
The molecular density of Adamantium was the only known factor capable of serving as a permanent, non-degradable catalyst for the nanobots' most complex functions.
Beyond that, the sheer volume was necessary for reinforcing his primary kinetic defense systems and crafting bespoke, next-generation weaponry—because his current, unfinished energy spear was woefully inadequate for the cosmic-level threats he knew were coming.
The tiny fragment of Vibranium—the vibration-absorbing metal—was equally, if not more, crucial. It was the key to unlocking stable, high-density energy storage, providing the theoretical limit for his personal power armor and allowing him to utilize his immense psychic energy without overloading conventional containment systems.
His nanometal project had been stalled indefinitely due to the impossibility of acquiring such materials.
Now, thanks to the sheer, desperate power of the Strategic Homeland Defense, Attack, and Logistics Bureau, he had weaponized their bureaucracy to steal resources from General William Stryker, the powerful, secretive figure who had controlled the Adamantium supply chain for decades.
Zhou Yi cared nothing for the inevitable political fallout or how the elderly General would react to having his most prized, personal project raided by the Council that technically controlled him.
Zhou Yi personally escorted Coulson and Maria Hill to their black Lincoln, a slight, victorious smirk playing on his lips. He clapped Coulson affectionately on the shoulder, the gesture slightly patronizing.
"I must say, Agent Coulson, I am exceptionally pleased with this particular agreement. Compared to the rather strained 'collaboration' discussions, I believe this transaction is the only truly productive outcome of our meeting today."
Coulson maintained his polite, practiced earnestness, correcting the emphasis. "Ah, Mr. Zhou, while the transaction is certainly beneficial, I remain convinced that our preliminary discussions on cooperation hold far greater long-term significance for global security. I look forward to the day we can welcome you back with the roster of teammates you specified."
"We can talk once you secure the appropriate personnel," Zhou Yi replied, giving a dismissive wave. He genuinely didn't believe Coulson could assemble the correct 'Avengers' roster anytime soon. Many key figures were either decades away from their prime or still locked in cryogenic stasis. He had all the time in the world.
"Until then, it's settled. Goodbye for now," Coulson said sincerely, extending his hand.
"Of course." Zhou Yi returned the handshake, then turned his gaze deliberately to Maria Hill, who stood stiffly by the car door.
"Miss Hill, I sincerely hope that by the next time we cross paths, you will have shed some of that rather intense prejudice against me. Although, I must admit, the source of such profound antagonism remains a genuine mystery."
Maria Hill briefly and superficially touched Zhou Yi's outstretched hand—barely more than a ghost of a touch—and turned instantly to slip into the driver's seat of the Lincoln, avoiding his gaze entirely. It was an act of profound coldness, yet it was technically correct.
Coulson was visibly embarrassed by her reaction. "Commander Hill may have been a little… stressed today, Mr. Zhou. That intensity isn't her typical demeanor."
"Relax, Agent. I never hold a grudge against women," Zhou Yi chuckled, his tone now laced with the very condescension Hill had initially accused him of. He patted Coulson's shoulder again, glancing at the rigid profile of Hill in the car.
"It's a demanding world, Agent. To reach her position, a woman has to sacrifice a considerable amount of humanity and sensitivity. You don't need to apologize; I understand the mechanisms of ambition."
A flicker of tension crossed Coulson's face, quickly replaced by relief. "I'm genuinely glad you understand. Then, we won't delay you further. Goodbye."
As the armored Lincoln silently pulled away from the expansive villa, Coulson immediately unclipped his tie and slumped slightly. He looked at Maria Hill, whose expression in the rearview mirror remained utterly frozen.
"May I ask, Hill," Coulson began tentatively, "what exactly was that? I've never seen you act with such… targeted malice toward a civilian principal."
Commander Hill kept her eyes fixed on the road. "It was a personal matter, Agent. I will review my performance internally. Don't concern yourself; it will not compromise the mission again."
"That's exactly what concerns me," Coulson muttered under his breath, watching her precise, careful driving. As the Agency's lead analyst, he recognized the threat in her unnatural composure.
Hill's unprecedented reaction to the Dawn Knight suggested a deeply ingrained, almost existential threat perception. "He can lift a fully loaded Aircraft. I was genuinely concerned you were going to get us ejected before we finalized the deal."
"He wouldn't have done that. I know him well enough to predict his tolerance for minor offenses," Hill stated, a strange, veiled certainty in her voice.
"And that, Commander, is precisely what worries me the most," Coulson thought, watching her profile. She knows him, but she denies him. She has an emotional reaction, but she claims professional detachment. The Dawn Knight is not just a disruption to world order; he is a massive, inexplicable variable in Maria Hill's life, and that makes him infinitely more dangerous.
Inside the house, Serana, who had been listening to the exchange with rapt attention, grabbed Zhou Yi's arm, her composure finally breaking into genuine curiosity. "That woman's attitude was truly bizarre. Zhou Yi, did you have some kind of history that I don't know about? Did you offend her deeply?"
"I wish it were that simple, sweetheart," Zhou Yi replied with a light shrug. "But no, I'm only just beginning to place this woman in my memory banks now. It's certainly an interesting start."
"It must be a zodiac sign mismatch then!" Serana declared, tapping her chin with a dramatic flourish. "It's such a shame I don't have her exact birth date and time, otherwise I could run a full astrological compatibility report for you."
Serana's unexpected hobby—astrology—was one of the many odd but endearing human quirks she had picked up, and Zhou Yi often indulged it.
Zhou Yi smiled, a touch of mischief in his eyes. "You want to study the zodiac signs, do you? Very well. Let's adjourn to a quieter room and study them properly."
"Wait, you rogue! What are you doing?" the vampire girl squeaked playfully, attempting a mock retreat. Zhou Yi simply laughed. He had time for simple pleasures. The true threats—the vampire family, the Alpha Nanometal development, and the geopolitical fallout from his demands—were now in motion.
While Zhou Yi returned to the comforts of his vast power and indulgence, General William Stryker, the victim of SHIELD's sudden, unprecedented theft of his Adamantium stockpile, was consumed by his own bitter reality.
William Stryker, an Army Major General largely unknown to the public and the political elite, was not an ordinary military figure. He operated a special, clandestine military division dedicated to tracking and neutralizing meta-humans.
He was not a traditional arms dealer or a corrupt officer; his authority stemmed directly from the secretive Security Council that technically oversaw SHIELD itself.
Stryker was a man of almost monomaniacal discipline. He had no public vices, no interest in excessive wealth or women. His life was rigidly structured by military codes. He was, in every measurable way, an honorable, if utterly ruthless, officer. But he harbored one defining, consuming characteristic: a zealous, profound hatred for mutants. This hatred was the sole, tragic engine of his life.
The origin of this terrible zealotry lay in his family. The mutant gene, often recessive, passed through his lineage, and it tragically awakened in his son, Jason Stryker.
Jason's mutation was horrifyingly potent: he was a powerful psychic with the ability to create vivid, uncontrollable, and seamless illusions directly within the minds of others by manipulating brainwaves.
As a child, Jason's powers, unchecked by conscious control, turned the Stryker household into a living nightmare. William and his wife were repeatedly subjected to terrifying, endless hallucinations.
Desperate to save his marriage and his mind, William, despite his military organization's ingrained hostility toward mutants, swallowed his pride and took his son to Professor Charles Xavier's school, seeking help from the world's most powerful telepath.
At the time, William still held a flicker of sympathy for the mutant cause.
Professor Xavier, a man of immense power, attempted to treat Jason. However, he quickly realized that the child's abilities were exponentially more potent than he had anticipated.
Jason's illusions were so pervasive they even threatened to destabilize Cerebro, the Professor's amplification machine, and certainly his own telepathic defenses.
Xavier, fearing for the safety of the other vulnerable students at the school, had no choice but to send William and Jason away. The Professor, humbled and powerless, refused the responsibility.
This rejection was the final, devastating straw in William's tragic life. Returning home, Mrs. Stryker, broken by years of relentless, terrifying hallucinations that blurred the line between reality and nightmare, finally succumbed.
In a moment of absolute despair, she took an electric drill and ended her own life, desperately seeking an end to the psychic torture.
A perfect family was violently shattered. William lost not only his wife but, in a spiritual sense, his son as well—leaving only the horrifying vessel of the mutation.
In the crucible of this unparalleled grief, William Stryker made a life-altering, genocidal decision: he would dedicate every last ounce of his military expertise, political capital, and remaining life force to the complete eradication of the evil mutant race from the world, a species he now viewed as the ultimate corruption of humanity.
He had hoarded the Adamantium—the very metal the Dawn Knight now possessed—to craft weapons and systems capable of achieving that horrific final solution. Now, that resource, the material embodiment of his life's mission, had just been stolen by the very council that was supposed to empower him.
The Stage was set: the businessman superhero with godlike power, the shadowy defense agency, and the ruthless, tragic General. The three were now bound by an impossible material: Adamantium.