[ Budapest, Hungary ]
Hill, oozing with confidence in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s muscle, gave a small, prideful nod. "You made the right call. S.H.I.E.L.D. can totally protect you. We've got everything—intel, gadgets, what more could a girl want?"
Daisy smirked but raised a skeptical brow. "You sure about that? I dug into the old bat's background and, well... you ever believe someone could live for hundreds of years?"
Instead of scoffing, Hill nodded seriously. "I do. I've read some pretty wild files since joining the S.H.I.E.L.D.."
Since joining S.H.I.E.L.D., Daisy had the clearance level of a particularly responsible janitor, but at least she now had access to their archives. Even with sparse and cryptic records, she'd pieced together enough breadcrumbs about Madame Gao to lose sleep. According to what she found, the woman had been seen hobnobbing with Japanese warlords in 1603, and later sipping tea in Southeast Asia like it was no big deal. She even popped up in the U.S. during World War I—clearly a fan of international chaos.
Daisy pulled up a wanted poster from the NYPD, the artist doing their best to capture Madame Gao's face, which looked like a sun-dried tomato that'd been through a paper shredder. "Recognize her?"
Hill blinked. "She looks... ancient. I mean, how much kung fu could she possibly have left in those bones?"
"Enough to knock out two grown men and a vending machine," Daisy muttered. "If she shows up on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s internal net, ping me. I'm not playing cat and mouse with Crypt Keeper 2.0."
Hill nodded, her lingering clearance proving to be a valuable asset—even if she wasn't technically Fury's adjutant anymore. If Gao ever popped her head up, Hill swore she'd be greeted by S.H.I.E.L.D.'s full buffet of bullets, drones, and possibly a Quinjet armed like it was prepping for an alien invasion.
Having united under the noble banner of not dying to a supernatural pensioner, Daisy and Hill felt the tension finally ease. They started chatting about life in New York, training at S.H.I.E.L.D., and the suspiciously high turnover rate in the coffee division.
As the bar continued filling up, a curious trend emerged. Guests kept arriving, but they were all women—dressed to the nines, heels clicking like a synchronized performance. Some looked like they walked out of a fashion magazine, others like they'd just finished hacking the Pentagon.
"Is this... normal for Budapest nightlife?" Daisy asked, wide-eyed.
The room shifted—lighting dimmed, the music softened, and everyone began mingling like old friends reunited at a reunion no one told them was filmed for reality TV.
Then it clicked.
Daisy slowly turned to Hill. "Wait a minute... you think this is a..."
"Yup," Hill whispered, her pupils dilating in slow realization. "It's a coming out party. And we are very much... not the target demographic."
Two particularly radiant women stepped forward—one tall and poised, the other tiny and beaming—and with the grace of practiced performers, announced something in Hungarian.
Everyone cheered. Then they kissed. Passionately.
Daisy choked on her breath. "This is definitely not what I signed up for. Let's abort mission, like, now."
Hill was already halfway through packing up her purse. "Forget Dr. Pym. Let him shrink his way out of this one."
The crowd had reached mosh-pit levels of density. Women danced, flirted, and celebrated like it was Pride Month on steroids. Someone popped champagne nearby—Daisy caught a direct hit, her blouse instantly soaked from shoulder to thigh.
The perpetrator apologized sweetly, but Daisy could only curse the bar owner under her breath. "Taking every type of event under the sun, huh? Could've used a heads-up, buddy."
Hill wasn't spared either. She got splashed, broke a heel, and was now hobbling like a catwalk model mid-disaster.
Somehow, after enough elbow-jabs, spilled drinks, and accidental gropes, the two rookie agents managed to escape the estrogen-fueled jungle.
Outside, they looked at each other in stunned silence.
Daisy's hair was glued to her skin, reeking of champagne. Her blouse was now transparent. Hill clutched her broken heel like it was a wounded comrade.
"We are never talking about this again," Hill muttered.
"Agreed. Sharon finds out about this, and I'm changing dimensions."
Since no clean getaway was possible, they went to their hotel room. Daisy barefoot-sprinted to the hotel, leaving a trail of squishy footprints.
The small hotel was mostly deserted. She opened her room door and let out a sigh of pure disgust. She was sticky, stinky, and soaked.
"Ugh, it smells like a frat party in a vineyard..."
Fed up, she yanked off her coat. It promptly tore straight down the back with the enthusiasm of a magician's trick. "Perfect. Just... perfect."
----------------------------------x---------------------------------------------------x----------------------
----------------------------------x---------------------------------------------------x----------------------
Send power stones and comment if you like this chapter