Coulson's probe

Only at 9:02 did Ye Mo slowly rise from the bench in the rear gate's guard booth. He held the vibranium fragment between his fingertips, rubbing it back and forth as though testing its temperature. The morning breeze was cool, but he neither pulled up his hoodie nor put his hands in his pockets. He simply stood quietly, his gaze resting on the man approaching at an unhurried pace ten meters away.

The man's steps were steady, his leather shoes almost silent against the flagstone path. A well-tailored suit framed his straight figure, and his tie clip gleamed coldly. He stopped five paces away and took his credentials from an inside pocket, his movements as precise as a textbook demonstration.

"Phil Coulson, S.H.I.E.L.D.," he said evenly. "Thank you for agreeing to meet."

Ye Mo tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting. "You burned out my listening device, and I returned the favor with a fake heartbeat. Does that count as establishing peaceful diplomatic relations?"

Coulson did not smile or put away his credentials. He simply studied him for another two seconds. Then he pocketed them and folded his hands in front of him. "I'm here to understand the situation, not exchange coded signals."

"Understand what?" Ye Mo slipped the fragment into his pocket and patted the space beside him. "Want to sit? Talking standing up feels too much like an interrogation."

Coulson hesitated briefly, but sat down. Half a bench separated them.

"During Tony Stark's kidnapping, you appeared at the scene," Coulson said. "You had no identity records or official file, yet you were able to guide him out of the militants' camp. Afterward, you helped him stop a corporate coup. Those aren't things an ordinary person can do."

Ye Mo shrugged. "The system reminded me it was time to do something useful."

"The system?"

"Yeah." He adjusted his silver half-rim glasses. "Every day, there's a voice in my head telling me, 'Heat source detected,' 'Watch your left,' and 'Run, don't just stand there.' If I hadn't listened, I'd have died three times by now."

Coulson stared at him. "Are you saying you've had some kind of neural assistance device implanted?"

"I said 'system notifications.' I never said it was man-made." Ye Mo smiled. "Maybe some alien technology hit me and activated a hidden function? Like mutants awakening in comic books?"

"Mutants," Coulson repeated calmly. "We have a dedicated department handling cases like that. If your abilities come from a genetic mutation, we can offer protection and resources."

"Oh?" Ye Mo turned to face him squarely. "So are you here to recruit me? Or put me on a register? 'Name, age, ability type, willingness to submit to supervision'?"

"We're assessing the risks," Coulson said, his tone unchanged. "If people with anomalous abilities aren't kept under control, they could trigger a larger crisis."

"Then let me ask you something." Ye Mo leaned forward slightly. "Are you afraid of mutants awakening, or of people refusing to follow orders?"

Coulson fell silent for two seconds. The wind stirred his tie, making the shield-shaped clip sway gently.

"I'm here to discuss cooperation," he said. "Not debate institutional issues."

"Cooperation?" Ye Mo leaned back against the bench. "Like me writing you a report detailing how I predict enemy movements? And then you take it away to study and replicate?"

"You can choose how much to disclose," Coulson said. "We only want basic intelligence to ensure you won't become the next threat."

"The problem is..." Ye Mo raised his right hand, palm up. "Even I don't know what the 'system' will tell me to do next. It's been especially strict lately, constantly popping up warnings like 'Operation violates regulations' and 'Insufficient permissions.' If I actually wrote a report, I'd probably have to wait for its approval first."

Coulson's brow shifted slightly. "You can't independently control the source of your abilities?"

"I can control my actions, but I can't turn off the notifications." Ye Mo spread his hands. "It's like automatic phone updates. You can't stop them. If it says to save someone today, I have to go. If it says I can't reveal myself right now, I shut up. Would you call that carrying out missions involuntarily?"

Coulson watched him, his gaze subtly changing. It was no longer merely scrutiny; there was something beyond assessment in it now, as though he were weighing the value and danger of an unpredictable variable.

"If S.H.I.E.L.D. wants to get involved, that's not out of the question." Ye Mo abruptly changed his tone. "But I have one condition."

"Please, go ahead."

"The next time we meet," he said, pointing to his temple, "let it speak to you directly."

Coulson did not respond. He stood and straightened his suit cuffs. "I'll report the results of this contact to my superiors."

"Wait." Ye Mo stood too. "Aren't you going to ask how I knew you burned out the listening device?"

"I know you installed a countermeasure outside the guard booth," Coulson said calmly. "A reverse surge of high-frequency current. Professional work. But the traces were too clean, which made it seem deliberate."

"So you think I was putting on a show?"

"I think you were sending a message." Coulson looked at him. "And now I've received it."

With that, he turned and headed toward the estate's main gate.

Ye Mo neither followed nor spoke again. Only when Coulson was about to disappear around the corner did he say quietly, "Don't dress so formally next time. It makes you an easy target."

Coulson paused without looking back, then continued on.

A black SUV stood by the roadside, its door opening. He got in and closed the door, and the driver started the engine.

The car was quiet for a few seconds. Then he took out an encrypted communicator and dialed a number.

"Contact with the target complete," he said. "He displayed no aggressive tendencies, but is extremely difficult to control. Recommend initiating level-two observation procedures."

After ending the call, he lowered his gaze to the tie clip on his chest and lightly brushed its surface with his fingers.

Meanwhile, Ye Mo remained where he was. A few seconds later, he took out the vibranium fragment and found it was growing slightly hot.

He frowned and quickly scanned his surroundings. Thermal Vision activated-the garden, the perimeter wall, the treetops, everything was normal. No one lay in hiding, and there were no drone signals.

Yet the fragment's temperature kept rising.

He turned it over. The patterns on its back had actually begun to glow faintly. A slight vibration traveled through his fingertips, as though some frequency were resonating.

He immediately slipped the fragment into his hoodie's inner pocket and hurried toward the study.

The corridor was deserted. He swiped his card to enter Tony's private area, locked the door behind him, and opened the laptop.

The instant the screen lit up, a new message popped up:

[System notification: Remote signal synchronization attempt detected. Source unknown. Allow connection?]

Ye Mo stared at the line of text, his finger hovering above the touchpad.

Outside the window, the sunlight was just right, spilling over the keyboard. His shadow lay diagonally across the "Y" key.

He neither clicked to confirm nor chose to reject it.

He simply pressed the vibranium fragment against the laptop's casing and asked quietly:

"Who do you want to talk to?"