"We are not indulging in this for mere pleasure; it is a necessity for the survival of the clan," Nisha stated, her voice a low murmur that betrayed a deep, weary fatalism.
The primal fear that had gripped her moments before had receded, replaced by the grim determination of a sovereign negotiating peace with a superior power. She felt a profound, chilling pessimism about the outcome of this dialogue, but negotiation was the only avenue left.
"And what of their necessity?" Zhou Yi countered, his voice an unsettlingly calm contrast to the golden inferno that still smoldered faintly in his eyes. He raised the glass of whiskey he had somehow acquired, its condensation catching the fractured emergency light, and focused his absolute gaze on the few remaining, paralyzed victims.
They were pitiful figures: men and women who had been lured here, held captive, and designated as food. Some were already pale and lifeless, drained entirely.
Others were still gripped tightly in the vampires' claws, their eyes—wide and raw—locked onto Zhou Yi. That look, the silent, desperate plea for intervention, spoke of the most basic, frantic instinct for survival buried deep beneath the veneer of human civilization.
Nisha quickly pressed her case, hoping to appeal to a utilitarian logic she believed the powerful shared.
"Look closely at them. Our subjects are those whom humanity has already abandoned. They are deeply entrenched in the organized criminal element, afflicted by addiction, or so lost to temptation that their lives are irrelevant to the larger elite structure. Historically, the powerful among your kind turn a blind eye. We are, in a perverse way, purifiers; removing the decay that society ignores."
In Nisha's long view of history, the co-existence between the human elite and her kind was predicated on this mutual, silent agreement: the vampires contained the rot, and in turn, the humans allowed them sustenance. No one, she believed, would jeopardize this balance for a handful of social outcasts.
"A fascinating ethical framework," Zhou Yi said, finishing the whiskey in one sharp gulp. He set the glass down with a decisive clink that sounded like the gavel of judgment. He stood up, his towering figure radiating an immense, silent gravity.
"This is the third and most crucial step of our 'friendly communication.' I believe it is time I conveyed my own perspective, unvarnished."
He looked out over the carnage, his face a mask of cold, uncompromising authority. The grotesque faces of the vampires, formerly cowering like startled quail, were now utterly motionless, awaiting their fate.
"I find your justification irrelevant. I do not care which refuse bin you choose to feed from. My only criterion is my own contentment. And let me be clear: I am deeply discontented."
Zhou Yi's tone dropped, the words becoming heavy, resonant pronouncements. "A creature that cannot withstand the very first rays of the morning sun holds no right to dictate who lives or dies, much less stand in my presence and speak of morality."
His eyes, which had been merely gold, suddenly became twin suns. A blinding, pure light erupted from his pupils—not a gentle glow, but a focused, intense blade of solar energy piercing the subterranean darkness . Though the flash lasted only a single, terrifying instant, the consequences were devastating and absolute.
Vampires caught directly in the beam's path did not even have time to shriek; they simply disintegrated, their forms collapsing into a fine, black dust that drifted on the still air.
Those only grazed by the peripheral light cried out in agony, their bodies instantly catching fire as if doused in gasoline. They thrashed briefly on the floor, their ancient forms overwhelmed by the solar power, until they too were reduced to dust.
In less than three seconds, the bar was emptied of all monstrous life. Only Nisha remained, unharmed, shielded by a dense, unseen barrier that Zhou Yi had instinctively allowed her to raise. She stood amidst the ruins of her clan, breathing heavily, her face ashen, finally understanding the source of her bloodline's terror: she faced the very embodiment of the sun.
Zhou Yi smiled—a cold, almost distant smile that only heightened her fear. He ignored the dazed, rescued survivors and addressed Nisha directly.
"You should be grateful your instinct led you to protect my sister, for that alone is why you retain your existence here. Now, listen carefully: I want to hear no whisper, no rumor, no psychic echo of your presence in this city. If I learn that the secret of my appearance—or my identity—has been compromised, I will not hesitate to ensure the entire vampire species vanishes from New York's history."
Nisha nodded, her composure returning through sheer force of will. She understood the demand for silence, but the sheer power he had displayed—a force that transcended mere mutation—confused her. Why would a being of such magnitude care about secrecy?
As if reading her profound query, a terrifying shift occurred in Zhou Yi's aura. The solar gold faded, replaced by an ancient, suffocating sanctity. A wave of pure, majestic terror radiated from him, an intangible, colossal force that resonated deep within the spiritual core of all living things present.
This was the essence of a power learned from the deepest recesses of Chinese Taoist spiritual visualization—a raw, spiritual shock designed to obliterate recent memories and ensure absolute silence.
Nisha, the pure-blood vampire, felt her eternal heart stutter, her ancient consciousness overwhelmed. Her muscles seized, her brain momentarily failing to form coherent thought.
As for the ordinary humans—the survivors of the night's feast—the spiritual shock was too much. Most rolled their eyes back into their heads, a few foamed at the mouth, and all collapsed into unconsciousness. Their minds had been violently scrubbed. They would awaken with the primal fear of a traumatic event, but with zero cognitive memory of the event itself.
Having secured his perimeter and ensured absolute silence, Zhou Yi gave Nisha a final, dismissive wave. He vaulted through the massive hole in the ceiling and rocketed skyward. Instantly, a brief, piercing supersonic scream echoed across the upper atmosphere of Brooklyn, signifying his hyper-velocity ascent and swift departure.
Nisha watched him go, then glanced around at the field of unconscious humans and the piles of dust that were once her subordinates. She forced her paralized body to move, vanishing into the deep shadows—the last remnant of the Maginos clan to leave the ruined bar.
Less than ten minutes later, a specialized military unit swarmed the derelict factory. They were disciplined, precise, and moved with the unnerving efficiency of long-term covert operatives. They secured the bar, placed specialized sensors, and began the meticulous work of collecting the unconscious survivors onto stretchers.
Finally, a middle-aged man in an impeccably tailored, dark suit entered. He was clean-cut, with neatly combed hair, deep-set, intelligent eyes, and a perpetually kind, almost bland smile: Agent Phil Coulson.
A massive Black man, who led the armed team, approached Coulson with a regretful, professional tone. "Sir, we have control. We were too late to prevent the incident, but we found nothing suspicious, no hostiles. Just a large quantity of blood, this unusual dust, and the civilians, all unconscious."
Coulson walked toward the bar, his gaze immediately drawn to the gaping maw in the ceiling. "Collect samples of everything, including the dust, and rush them to Central Lab. Arrange for full treatment and immediate deep-level interrogation of the survivors." He paused, looking up at the impossible penetration point. "Tell me, Johnson, how did this hole form in reinforced concrete?"
Johnson looked up, his brow furrowed. "It looks like a deep-penetration, mass-caliber, armor-piercing shell, sir."
Coulson tapped him lightly on the shoulder, his smile gentle but knowing. "Johnson, I recommend a wider variety of reading material. Your imagination is severely limited."
He walked past the huge agent, his keen eyes scanning every detail of the wrecked bar. Just then, his secure comms device chirped.
"Agent Coulson, what did you find down there?" The cool, professional voice of Commander Maria Hill came through the line.
"Disappointingly little, Commander. It seems 'Mr. Superman' has departed the area. I have sent the dust and blood samples to headquarters for analysis."
"Phil, gather anything useful. And be advised: Director Fury wants an immediate debriefing on this Zeus Prime situation."
"I understand, Hill," Coulson replied, his voice suddenly hitching slightly, his focus momentarily lost.
Hill's voice instantly sharpened. "Phil? What is it? Report your immediate status."
"I believe I found something useful," Coulson murmured, his gentle fingers, protected by a handkerchief, carefully lifting the clear, empty whiskey glass from the bar counter—the one Zhou Yi had just used. The residual energy signature was minuscule, almost invisible, but there.
"It's a unique residual energy signature. Highly localized, non-thermal, almost… solar. And the glass is perfectly clean, except for a high-grade lipid residue. Fury will find this very interesting." Coulson tucked the glass carefully into a sterile sample bag.
Meanwhile, Zhou Yi decelerated rapidly high above his Long Island mansion, the air around him screaming a final, shrill protest. He executed a perfect, silent landing on his balcony.
His clothes—the fine Italian silk suit from his romantic dinner—were utterly destroyed: shredded, partially vaporized, and smelling strongly of fire and atmospheric friction.
This was the most frustrating, recurring issue of his hyper-velocity travel: the protective gravimetric field was an invisible pressure shell, but it wasn't a perfect thermal insulator. His outer layer always paid the price. It was why he avoided flying when a vehicle could suffice.
After a quick change into a clean cashmere sweater and slacks, he grabbed a carton of milk and two bottles of fine whiskey, then walked into the brightly lit living room.
Ororo, now fully dressed and radiating the furious intensity of a protective mother, was lecturing a terrified, head-bowed Sharice, Kitty, and Vivian.
"Ororo," Zhou Yi interrupted smoothly, placing the milk in front of the three students. "They've had enough trauma for one night. A stern lecture can wait." He poured whiskey into two crystal tumblers, offering one to Ororo.
Ororo accepted the drink, but her eyes flashed, indicating her extreme displeasure. "I still don't comprehend the severity of the threat! You said they were merely unscrupulous people," she said, her voice tight with controlled anxiety.
"Now you show up smelling of ash and plasma, and you expect me to simply forgive their profound lapse in judgment? What, precisely, were you concealing about the danger?"
Zhou Yi swirled the amber liquid in his glass, taking a moment to choose his words carefully. "I located them in a subterranean speakeasy that served as a feeding ground for vampires. They were, thankfully, unharmed, but they were in the presence of true, ancient predators."
"Vampires?!" Ororo's voice immediately ascended, her focus instantly shifting from discipline to existential threat. She knew the ancient, dangerous history between the superhuman community and these hidden species.
"Children, listen to me closely. Did any of them draw blood? Was there any physical contact, any bite, any exposure to their… fluids?"
The girls, stunned by Ororo's sudden, fierce display of terror, could only stammer. "No, Ororo. They never… never touched us. We just saw them feeding."
"Excellent! But an inspection is absolutely non-negotiable," Ororo declared, her relief palpable but her determination absolute. "We are returning to the Academy immediately. Now."
"Yi, can I open the portal?" Sharice asked meekly, desperate to prove her utility and shorten her punishment.
"Absolutely not!" Ororo shot back, before looking at Zhou Yi. "We take your car back. The trauma of that event, compounded by a spatial distortion, is too much for their systems. We drive."
Zhou Yi shrugged, having no grounds to argue against her protective instincts. "My car is in the garage. The key is on the magnetic strip behind the wall panel. I don't believe they'll cause trouble now," he said, referring to the surviving Maginos.
"An immediate medical and psychic examination is mandatory, regardless," Ororo insisted. "But give me two minutes. I need to brief Jean and pack a few things. You speak to Sharice."
Zhou Yi led his sister to the expansive glass balcony, away from the others. Sharice stood before him, small and hunched, ready for the scathing disappointment she felt she deserved.
Zhou Yi simply smiled softly, placing a warm hand on her bowed head. "First: Congratulations."
Sharice looked up, utterly confused. "Huh? For what?"
"For not running away," Zhou Yi clarified, his gaze holding hers. "You did the right thing in the worst possible way. You had the courage to put yourself in harm's way to protect your friends, which reveals a beautiful soul. But that is only half the truth, Sharice."
He walked to the edge of the balcony, looking out at the dark, rolling waves of the Atlantic.
"The other half of the truth is that it wasn't enough. You had the courage, but you lacked the power to match your decision. You were helpless, forced to hide behind a person you didn't know, utterly reliant on sheer chance to survive. You couldn't protect them, not truly."
He turned back, the easy, fraternal warmth in his eyes now mixed with the deep seriousness of a guardian.
"When your mother and I first decided to send you to the Xavier School, it was because I was not yet strong enough to secure your safety in a world that would inevitably hate you for being different. We gave you to Professor X to ensure you grew up healthy, protected from the worst evils and injustices against mutants. We succeeded. But now, you are older. You crave independence, and you make your own choices. That's inevitable."
He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a decisive whisper.
"Do not let today be a lecture on rules. Let it be a lesson on capability. You chose to walk into a deep, dark place. You chose to protect your friends when the monsters attacked. Those are admirable choices. But now you must live with the consequences of that gap between your courage and your competence. Next time, acquire the power first, or choose your battles with far more meticulous care. You are responsible for both your defiance and your defense."
Sharice remained silent for a long time, the immense weight of his words finally settling upon her. She looked up, her emerald eyes now clear of fear and only holding realization.
"I understand, Yi. But… what about the woman? Nisha? You promised me you freed her. And the rest of them?"
Zhou Yi's expression tightened briefly. "The woman is free. She won't trouble anyone again, and she will certainly never speak of me. As for the rest of her pathetic, vile kin… I didn't leave a single living vampire behind. I cleaned the slate completely."
Tears welled in Sharice's eyes—not of fear or sadness, but of profound, overwhelming gratitude. She finally grasped the impossible effort and the boundless, terrifying power her older brother exerted simply to maintain her safe, sheltered reality.
"Thank you, Yi. More than you know," she whispered.
Zhou Yi simply smiled, stroking her hair one last time. "Now, go. Ororo is waiting, and she looks ready to summon a localized hurricane if you delay much longer."