[ Peter Parker's School, New York ]
Daisy heard shouting from inside the room and didn't bother knocking. She shoved the door open like she owned the place—because honestly, she usually did.
"Who are you?" a woman with silver-streaked hair and glasses asked, blinking as Daisy strolled in like a Vogue cover with a vengeance.
Inside, the tension crackled thicker than bad cafeteria chili. Daisy scanned the room. There was Peter Parker—scrawny, nervous, eleven, and radiating that trademark awkward genius energy. Facing him was a boy a full head taller, built like a mini-fridge and just as charming.
The kid looked ready to rearrange Peter's face.
Flash Thompson.
Daisy studied him like a biologist identifying a new strain of annoying.
He had all the makings of your classic schoolyard overlord: meathead arms, limited vocabulary, and that twitchy aggression that screamed insecure future gym manager.
A bully who'd someday worship Spider-Man like a teenage girl at a boy band concert. Irony had a hell of a sense of humor.
In the comics, he later turned into Agent Venom. America loved its redemption arcs. Beat someone up? Just become a hero later and all is forgiven. Kick a puppy? As long as you wear a cape after, you're golden.
Daisy, having been on the wrong end of bullying herself in her life as Skye, didn't buy it. You don't forgive people just because they put on spandex and punch aliens.
She fixed her gaze on Peter.
"I'll take him."
The teacher's eyes narrowed. "Who are you to him?"
Well, pretending to be his cousin or long-lost sister was out. Peter wasn't dumb enough to leave with a stranger, not even one with cheekbones carved by gods.
"Can we speak privately?" Daisy offered smoothly.
The teacher reluctantly followed her to the corner. Daisy handed her a sleek leather wallet. No, not a SHIELD ID. She was still technically a trainee. But what she did have was a forged (but very well-forged) FBI badge—standard issue for SHIELD ops working field missions.
To this law-abiding relic of the school system, that badge might as well have been divine scripture. Still, the old woman was thorough. She verified the badge, the ID number, and even called the FBI hotline. After five minutes of bureaucratic ritual, she finally looked up, stunned.
"This is... this is real. You're FBI."
Daisy winked. "Sometimes."
Peter was just grateful he wasn't about to get pounded into nerd-paste.
As they walked out, Flash tried to puff his chest again, but the teacher's "Sit down, Flash Thompson!" shut him up faster than a math quiz.
Outside, Peter paused. Daisy had opened a sleek black car door like she was his Uber driver.
He eyed her with that familiar Parker paranoia.
"Relax, I'm not a serial killer. Probably."
She explained the movie project—half-truths, sprinkled with enough reality to pass the Peter test. A film needing someone agile and anonymous. A good paycheck. No unmasking. No danger.
Peter's eyes sparkled with possibility. Uncle Ben could use help. Aunt May's arthritis meds weren't cheap.
But he was cautious. As he should be.
Daisy admired that.
"Let me talk to your guardians."
Cue the longest fifteen-minute phone call of her life.
Uncle Ben was polite but cautious. Aunt May was a human lie detector. Still, after explaining the project, verifying her ID, sending over her business license, and promising three times not to put Peter in anything dangerous or embarrassing, she had their blessing.
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[ Parker House, Queens, New York ]
At the Parker residence, Daisy signed paperwork with them, laid out insurance, stipends, non-disclosure clauses—all neat, legal, and impressive.
"No exposed scenes. No missed homework. And we cover all transport," she said sweetly, showing off her best businesswoman smile.
"And what's the story about?" May asked.
"Dinosaurs," Daisy said.
Peter's eyes lit up.
Before leaving, Daisy turned to him and added, "There are some climbing stunts. Barbed wire. Trees. Walls. Practice when you can. It'll look more authentic."
Peter nodded, already mentally scaling the nearest building.
One down. One Gwen to go.
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[ Stacy House, New York ]
George Stacy, NYPD chief and dad of the century, was next.
He wasn't easy because of their past friendship. No, he was easy because he knew exactly who Daisy was.
"You're with SHIELD," he said flatly.
"Trainee," Daisy corrected. "But I do have the one-eyed pirate's blessing."
Stacy chuckled. "You mean Nicky."
Daisy smiled. "Only when he's not listening."
He gave Gwen the green light faster than a caffeine-fueled traffic cop. The SHIELD association helped. So did the fact that Gwen wanted it, and Daisy looked like someone who could obliterate anyone trying to exploit a child star.
Casting was chaotic, but her leads? Gold.
Peter scaled wire fences like they were suggestions. Gwen had the balance and fearlessness of a squirrel with a death wish. Daisy was quietly impressed.
The black computer expert role hit a snag. The director had complaints. Something about the original actor being too clean-cut. Daisy replaced him with a trainee hacker from SHIELD who looked like he lived on Red Bull and bad decisions.
Then came the problem of casting the villain – the greedy fat tech guy who doomed Dinosaur Island.
Problem? SHIELD had many things. Fat people weren't one of them.
She needed someone trustworthy. Enter Pepper Potts.
"Can you get me Happy Hogan?"
"You want Happy in your movie?"
"Fat, funny, and loyal. He's perfect."
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[ Restaurant, New York ]
They met at a classy little restaurant. Daisy expected Pepper and Happy.
What she got was Pepper, Happy... and Tony freaking Stark.
Tony sat without a greeting. "Lemme see the script."
Daisy blinked. Pepper gave her an apologetic shrug. Stark was already flipping through the pages.
He skimmed with genius-speed, eyes flicking like a caffeine-fueled scanner.
"Dinosaurs, genetic cloning, corporate greed," he mused. "If you give me the DNA, I could probably do it. Even without it, birds are basically little T-Rexes."
"The point isn't to build dinosaurs, Tony. It's to warn people." Daisy rolled her eyes. "You'd make a theme park and charge admission."
Tony smirked. "Exactly."
Happy read slower. After ten minutes, he put the script down.
"You really think I can play this guy?"
"You're trustworthy, lovable, and round," Daisy said with a wink. "Plus, you direct, right?"
Happy nodded sheepishly.
"You can assist behind the scenes, too. Help us keep things tight."
While Daisy worked her charm, Pepper finished reading.
Her eyes sparkled. "Ms. Johnson, this is genius. The script has serious commercial potential. Have you considered seeking more funding?"
To be continued...
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[ POWER STONES AND REVIEWS PLS ]