The striking redhead leaned closer, her eyes gleaming with a mix of appraisal and suspicion, locking onto Su Zhan's gaze. Her posture—relaxed yet coiled—spoke of effortless, lethal competency.
"That depends on whether I'm talking to Natasha, or the infamous Black Widow," Su Zhan replied smoothly, his tone conversational, as if asking about the weather. He allowed his eyes to linger just a fraction of a second too long on her figure—a deliberate move to throw off her professional poise. Rule one of dealing with spies: treat them like a person first, a threat second. It annoys them.
His calmness was genuine, a residual gift from the Devour ability that had given him fundamental confidence. He knew her entire history, her future movements, and her weaknesses. He was playing chess with a complete view of the board.
Natasha's smirk widened slightly; his lack of panic was noted. "Well, Mr. Su Zhan. I knew you would know. So, in what capacity would you like to talk? Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.? Concerned citizen? Or something else entirely?"
"Let's be simple," Su Zhan suggested, raising a sardonic eyebrow. "Perhaps it's best for a woman to simply be a woman."
The line was brazen, perhaps even arrogant, but it forced a reaction.
Natasha leaned back, folding her arms. The playful light in her eyes hardened with a cold cynicism. "If you hadn't stolen that rather expensive vehicle just three days ago—and I use the term 'stolen' loosely, as I'm aware the financier was highly compliant—I might be happy to talk to you simply as a woman. After all... you're quite charming."
"Women are indeed realistic," Su Zhan shrugged, feigning a deep, theatrical disappointment. The cost of doing business.
Her meaning was crystalline: his identity was a perfect, dangerous blank slate. He had appeared from nowhere, demonstrated a world-changing ability (the Extremis absorption), and shown a willingness to engage in mild criminal activity to facilitate his lifestyle. She couldn't ignore him, and she certainly couldn't relax around him.
"I'm genuinely curious about you, Su Zhan," Natasha admitted, her voice dropping to a serious pitch. "Your ability to neutralize the Extremis Virus is unprecedented, frankly terrifying. You seem to have no past, no digital footprint, as if you emerged fully formed from a block of code. Whoever you are, and wherever you're from, this power demands attention. So, regardless of my designation, I think we should have a frank discussion."
Su Zhan glanced past her. Skye's minivan was still stationary. He had time. The bait was set for the hacker, but he couldn't afford to spring the trap with the Black Widow watching.
"How could I refuse such a beautiful lady's invitation?" Su Zhan said, giving in with theatrical grace. "Besides, I've always wanted to get to know the woman behind the legend."
"Why do you know me?" she pressed, her green eyes narrowed. That was the crucial, terrifying question for a spy.
Su Zhan maintained his poker face. "The reason, Natasha? That's the secret ingredient. It's better if I don't tell you. It keeps the game interesting."
"Sure enough," Natasha muttered, rolling her eyes with practiced annoyance. "Men. All the same, hiding their true motivations. Not one of them is ever completely honest."
He merely chuckled. He was being honest about being dishonest. That counted for something.
The bar was dark, smelling faintly of stale beer and distant despair, a typical mid-afternoon haunt. They sat in a secluded booth.
"I was wondering who S.H.I.E.L.D. would dispatch, but I didn't expect the heavy hitter," Su Zhan said, sipping a neat whiskey—a drink he hadn't enjoyed before transmigration, but found strangely appropriate now. "I'm not exactly immune to beautiful women, so go ahead. Ask away. I promise I'll be far more truthful than your last date."
Natasha's professionalism kicked in immediately. "My honor, Mr. Su Zhan. Let's start with the basics: your true identity."
"My name is Su Zhan. I'm Chinese. And the reason there is no data on me is simple: I didn't exist before last week," he stated plainly, watching her face for a flicker of doubt. "I think you've dealt with this kind of phenomenon before, haven't you? People who just... arrive. But I promise you, I plan to change the status quo. I want to live the life I want, so while there was no information before, trust me, there definitely will be in the future."
Natasha studied him, cataloging the subtle hints of truth in his bizarre statement. She had encountered 'special individuals'—people whose backstories defied logic. This wasn't the first time S.H.I.E.L.D. had to deal with an anomaly.
"Let's move to your ability," she continued, leaning forward. "The Extremis Virus is wildly unstable. If the world—or worse, hostile organizations like HYDRA—find out you can devour and stabilize a power like that, you know the pressure you'll face, right? Every major power broker will be hunting you for research."
Su Zhan smiled thinly. "So, you're saying I should run straight to S.H.I.E.L.D. for protection? Maybe a nice safe house and a complimentary uniform?"
"I didn't mean that," she countered, matching his smile. "But if you were looking for employment... S.H.I.E.L.D. would be happy to have you."
"Tempting, truly," Su Zhan said, the whiskey warming his throat. "But let's postpone that idea. For now, my abilities are harmless—to you, anyway. As long as I'm not running around incinerating landmarks, what I possess shouldn't matter. And as for turning me into 'one of your people'..." He let his gaze drift meaningfully over her, returning to his provocative mode.
"You are incredibly charming, Agent Romanoff. Maybe I'll consider it. For the right price."
"I always thought Chinese men were very reserved," Natasha noted dryly. "Apparently, I was misinformed."
Su Zhan stood up, tossing a few bills onto the table—more than enough to cover the drinks and a generous tip. "That's enough interrogation for today. I think the lady is done playing the Agent." He quickly scribbled a number on a napkin. "This is my personal line. I have a feeling you might need to use it sometime. Whether it's for official business... or for those 'personal needs' we touched upon."
He gave her one last confident nod and walked out, leaving her sitting alone.
Natasha watched the door swing shut, the facade of professional calm crumbling slightly into a thoughtful frown. She pressed a finger to the subtle comm link in her ear.
"Report: Identity and purpose unclear. High level of meta-knowledge regarding S.H.I.E.L.D. and the wider superhero community. Abilities confirmed: highly effective absorption and stabilization of exotic powers. Current disposition: difficult to ascertain good or bad. Recommended: close, continuous observation."
The voice in her ear—Director Fury—was predictably terse.
"He's interested in you, Romanoff. Use it. Find out his identity and purpose, using whatever means necessary. If he is a threat, neutralize him."
Natasha sighed, rubbing her temples. Great. The guy is a walking, talking enigma who knows my name and my job, and now I have to flirt with him to determine if he's going to end the world. This was going to be difficult, infuriating work. Su Zhan's glib cynicism was a powerful shield.
Su Zhan knew he was being followed. The entire conversation with Natasha was an elaborate, controlled performance. So, he did the only logical thing a new, obscenely powerful King would do: he went on vacation.
He spent the next week living lavishly, completely relaxed. High-end restaurants, exclusive clubs, scenic road trips, and absolutely zero use of his Extremis powers. He was a wealthy, charming, well-dressed tourist who did nothing more suspicious than reject three supermodels and overpay for a Picasso reproduction.
He was running the ultimate intelligence counter-measure: intentional boredom.
It drove Natasha mad. She was a professional assassin and spy used to action and high stakes. Chasing a guy who spent four hours debating the optimal thread count for his hotel sheets was agonizing.
Finally, after consulting with Fury multiple times, Natasha, realizing she was wasting valuable assets on a man who behaved like a bored Saudi prince, reluctantly pulled her surveillance team.
Su Zhan felt the shift instantly. The subtle prickle of being watched vanished.
Freedom.
He stretched, genuinely relieved. He hadn't come to this world to sip cocktails, but the forced downtime had solidified his plans. The game was ready to begin.
His target, Skye, had been under his casual, distant surveillance the entire time, even when Natasha was watching him. He'd bumped into her once at a coffee shop—a staged accident where he pretended to spill her drink—just to lay the foundation for recognition.
Now, it was time for the final, aggressive step of the plan.
Night had fallen. Su Zhan watched from a hidden alley as Skye left a small downtown Chinese restaurant, clutching a takeout bag and her phone.
He revved the engine of the stolen, high-performance convertible. This was going to look entirely accidental.
He floored the gas pedal, timing his approach to the tenth of a second, and slammed the sports car's reinforced front end directly into the rear bumper of Skye's dilapidated white minivan. The sound was a jarring, screeching mess of metal and collapsing plastic.
"Oh, no! Not the van!" Skye exclaimed, her takeout bag dropping harmlessly as she saw the devastating damage to her beloved 'home.' The rear of the van was crumpled like tinfoil.
Su Zhan burst out of his expensive car, feigning perfect, apologetic panic. His sports car was certainly more damaged—the repair costs would bankrupt a small nation—but that was irrelevant.
"I am so incredibly sorry! I swear, I didn't see you! I completely misjudged the time and speed—I take full responsibility!" Su Zhan hurried over to her. "Are you the owner? I will pay for everything, immediately."
Skye whirled around, ready to unleash a torrent of justified anger, but her expression froze halfway through the transition.
"It's... you?" she said, recognizing the handsome man with the wildly expensive car.
Su Zhan adopted a look of feigned, delighted surprise. "Me? Do I know you?"
"Yes! A few days ago, at the Espresso Escape coffee shop! I was the one who accidentally elbowed your ridiculously foamy latte all over the counter," Skye explained, a slightly disbelieving smile replacing her fury. "My name is Skye."
"Ah, Skye! Of course, I remember the great latte tragedy! What an astonishing coincidence!" Su Zhan exclaimed, extending his hand. "My name is Su Zhan."
He paused, then added with a wry, theatrical smile: "What an ironic coincidence! I spill your coffee, and then I practically total your car! You wouldn't think I'm holding a petty, delayed grudge over a cup of joe, would you?"
Skye actually laughed, the tension finally breaking. "Well, you certainly suffered much worse damage than I did. That thing looks like it costs more than my entire life savings to fix the headlight." She gestured to the crumpled nose of the high-end convertible.
"The cost is irrelevant. The mess, however, is not," Su Zhan said, gesturing to the scene. "Do you know a reliable place nearby? I need to get both of these beasts hauled off."
Skye frowned, pulling out her phone. "Let me check the local mechanics… Nope, everything's closed at this hour. I already pinged a tow company, though. They should be here soon."
Su Zhan shook his head, looking downcast. "I feel awful about this. Truly. This whole week has been crazy."