[ S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ, Washington DC ]
The first person Fury contacted was his dependable subordinate and certified good guy, Phil Coulson. If loyalty had a face, it'd probably be Phil's politely smiling mug.
Coulson, ever prepared, launched into his report: "Sharon Carter will always put her country first—she won't break her principles. Maria Hill follows orders to the letter. Daisy Johnson... well, she's a bit too aggressive for leadership."
Fury didn't say a word, just jotted it all down in that mysterious notebook of his—the one agents whispered might actually contain recipes from the Cold War.
Next up on the video call carousel: Hawkeye, who apparently had just finished his morning archery warm-up and was already in judgment mode. "Ms. Johnson's fighting skills are top-notch. With training, she could even replace me. The other two? Not exactly combat-ready."
Melinda May chimed in later with all the emotional enthusiasm of a paperweight: "They're all average. Daisy's a little better." That was the May equivalent of a standing ovation.
Then came Black Widow, clearly annoyed at being pulled away from whatever dangerous thing she'd rather be doing. "How long do I have to babysit these ladies, boss? Please, just let me go punch someone."
Fury leaned back, massaging his temple with the expression of a man trying to solve a Rubik's cube blindfolded. He respected all three women, but deep down he favored Hill. She was sharp, capable, and had the same don't-mess-with-me energy as his coffee order. Still, she wasn't a yes-woman.
Sharon? She was the jack-of-all-trades type—knew everything a little, but not enough to stand out.
And Daisy... oh, Daisy. Brilliant in the field, but with the diplomacy of a sledgehammer.
It was going to be a long week.
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Back at the academy, Daisy's routine resumed: combat drills, quantum physics headaches, and recently, runes. Yes, runes. As in Norse symbols. Her classmates looked at her like she was doing ancient Sudoku.
"Why runes?" Sharon finally asked, baffled.
"Curiosity. Pure curiosity," Daisy lied, the way someone lies when they're hiding a portal to Asgard under their bed.
Languages were easy. Physics? Not so much. Quantum theories were giving her migraines. The SHIELD academy professors didn't help either. Great on paper, but they taught like they were prepping for a history exam. Daisy needed someone real. Someone practical.
Enter Coulson.
"A top physics professor? Isn't one of our faculty good enough?" he asked.
She gave a sheepish grin that said, "Nope." Coulson nodded, understanding he'd need to pull some strings.
Daisy figured she had at least a week of red tape to wait through.
She got a summons that afternoon.
Inside the conference room: Coulson, Black Widow, Maria Hill, Sharon, and her. Daisy raised an eyebrow. Was this a science fair or a covert op?
Coulson fired up the screen. On it: photos of a thin, stern-looking old man.
"Dr. Hank Pym," Coulson began, clearly speaking for Daisy's benefit. "Expert in biochemistry, quantum physics, robotics, artificial intelligence, and bugs. Like, actual bugs."
Daisy almost whistled. She knew Pym's legend. First-gen Ant-Man. Smarter than Stark, less public about it.
This wasn't a guest lecture—Pym was in trouble.
Coulson confirmed it: "He's missing. Our analysis suggests he's being held. By who? No clue. Where? Still no clue."
Black Widow immediately perked up. Finally, a break from chaperoning 101.
"He was last seen at his lab in Hungary. That's your destination. Find him."
Natasha's eyebrows lifted. "Us?"
"Yes, you four. And Nat, you're leading. Orders from upstairs."
Daisy rolled her eyes. Of course it was. Only Nick Fury would mix a top agent, a legendary hero's niece, a textbook soldier, and one aggressively sarcastic hacker into a rescue squad.
Clearly, this op had been sitting on Fury's desk longer than leftover takeout. Daisy's morning request just gave him the excuse to finally deal with it.
And the team? It was basically Marvel's awkward Team 7 reboot. All they needed was a bridge mission with way too much fog.
Everyone scattered to gear up. Black Widow muttered something about babysitting rookies.
Daisy packed light. Her trusty Chiappa Rhino revolver, nicknamed "Love and Hate," hugged her hip. A Glock in the boot, daggers in the jacket, bullets in her pocket, and soft underwear (a must) in the bag. Combat uniform followed.
She was ready.
Sharon, however, looked like she was deploying for a year. Giant military duffle. Daisy snorted. "You bringing an espresso machine too?"
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