Zephyr One, serving as the command center, was not known for its firepower. Its powerful detection and communications capabilities, along with its ability to coordinate personnel, were what a mobile command center was supposed to have. Mike did not need an observer to report the anomaly on the radar. He could already hear the roar of engines coming from the ramp door, the rapidly approaching noise as conspicuous as someone shouting inside the cabin.
"That isn't the sound of a Quinjet's engines." Mike looked up thoughtfully. He was familiar with the sounds made by S.H.I.E.L.D. aircraft. Compared to the noise he was hearing now, a Quinjet sounded like the squeal of a kitten that had just opened its eyes. Moreover, the radar image showed that this aircraft was astonishingly fast, making Mike suspect at one point that its passengers were not ordinary people.
"Get your weapons and prepare to defend yourselves."
Nearly five minutes later, the engine noise vanished. The agents who had gone outside to establish a defensive perimeter returned to the command cabin with complicated expressions. Another agent followed behind, half dragging and half hauling a black-clad figure inside. Everyone could smell the sour stench of partially digested food. "Wanted fugitive Daisy Johnson," said the agent in front, frowning. "Should we notify Agent Coulson?"
"No. Just put her in a seat." Mike glanced at the three-dimensional map on the screen, set aside his task for the moment, and walked over. Even after resting, Daisy Johnson's face was still as pale as a corpse's. She lay limp across the seat with her eyes shut, seemingly unconcerned about whatever fate awaited her. Mike asked, "What happened to her?"
"A black aircraft brought her here. More precisely, she was thrown out of it." The agent felt that he would never forget