[ Tokyo, Japan] [ Three Days Later ]
For the next three days, Daisy stayed tucked away in a modest Tokyo apartment under one of her burner identities, wrapped in silk robes and coffee-stained spreadsheets. The Yashida family's finances were a labyrinth, but Daisy wasn't some intern fresh off a SHIELD onboarding slideshow. She was a data hound with a grudge, and numbers were her scent.
Materials could be manipulated, forged, or conveniently lost. But money? That was a snitch with a paper trail.
Thanks to global banking integration—and some backdoor access to systems she wasn't technically authorized to use—Daisy mapped out decades of financial flow. Her analysis flagged a disturbing trend: astronomical quantities of supplies had been quietly rerouted to South America over thirty years. The destinations were vague. The routes? Too clean. She couldn't prove it was Hydra—but let's just say the vibe was very "secret supervillain bunker" and not "charity for alpacas."
She ran a comparative logistics model and checked procurement frequencies. A pattern emerged: someone was funneling resources to a hidden base large enough to support a small city. Or a cult. Or a rogue science faction with delusions of godhood. Pick your poison.
It was big. Too big to ignore.
Daisy didn't waste time with bureaucracy. If she suspected Hydra was in the mix, she had one name on speed dial: Nick Fury.
Using one of his encrypted contacts—buried under the charming alias "OneEyedPirate42"—she initiated a high-security call.
The line crackled, then came Fury's gravel-and-caffeine tone. "What's the situation?"
Daisy relayed everything, concise and cool.
Fury's voice narrowed. "Why not go through the SHIELD Tokyo branch?"
"I don't trust them."
A pause. Then a dry chuckle. "Good. Doubt everything. You've got potential to become the king of spies."
King of spies? Daisy blinked. "Uh, thanks? That sounds… mildly terrifying."
"Send me the data. I'll take a look."
She uploaded the findings directly to his secure line.
Thirty minutes later, the phone buzzed again.
"Tell me your read."
Daisy leaned back, eyes half-lidded in thought. "Thirty years of off-book procurement. High-volume, high-variety. Chemicals. Food. Machinery. Daily goods. Either someone's building a luxury bunker for doomsday preppers, or we're looking at a secret base housing a large population, deep off-grid. This should not be the business of our SHIELD, right?"
"At least I don't know, Agent Johnson."
"I think it's someone. And whoever they are, they've got old man Yashida's fingerprints all over their logistics trail."
Fury went quiet. Daisy knew that quiet. He wasn't ignoring her—he was recalculating the chessboard.
"Investigate further," he finally ordered. "Forget Shingen's conditions for now. We need the location of that base."
And just like that, the call ended. Classic Nicky—drop a nuke, walk away whistling.
Still, his aloofness irked her. Was it because he knew more than he let on? Or because she was just a pawn in someone else's long game?
Doesn't matter. If she was a pawn, she was the kind that flipped the board when cornered.
The upside of Fury not breathing down her neck? Freedom.
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[ Yashida Mansion, Tokyo, Japan ]
Three hours later, Daisy was back at Yashida Manor.
At the gates, her expectations met reality. Wolverine had arrived.
Tall, rugged, with a face like a gravel road and an aura of 'I sleep in forests and drink whiskey for hydration,' Logan stood like an angry statue. Beside him, a red-haired Japanese girl—Yukio—was giving off major gremlin energy. Round-faced, pale-eyed, and glaring at Daisy like she'd just insulted her ancestors.
Daisy blinked. Is she rolling her eyes or threatening me with them? Whatever Yukio's issue was, Daisy mentally labeled her "Goth Pixie Gremlin" and moved on.
Mariko's way cuter anyway.
Inside, a servant escorted Daisy straight to Shingen Yashida.
Third meeting. This time, Shingen wasn't playing the cool executive. He looked tense, shoulders tight, lips thinner than his patience.
"SHIELD needs proof of your usefulness," Daisy began without preamble. "We need to know where the supplies ended up."
Shingen's eyes darkened. That was his trump card, and she was calling it.
Daisy pressed on. "In return, SHIELD will help you take control of the company. Protect your rise. Keep you alive."
Not that she planned to babysit him. If Wolverine stabbed him next week, well… accidents happen.
Shingen's silence screamed dissatisfaction. He wanted more. More power. More protection. Maybe a crown made of adamantium.
Daisy smiled thinly. "You think I'm naive because I'm young? Those supply deals drained your company. Whoever's behind it, they're not your allies. We're offering you a cleanup crew for your mess. All you have to do is cooperate."
Their eyes locked. And then—smiles. Cold, professional ones.
"Ms. Johnson is a rare talent," Shingen said. "SHIELD truly recruits the best."
"The Yashida family is lucky to have such… spirited leadership," Daisy returned smoothly.
But now he was the anxious one. If he wanted SHIELD support, he'd need to find the missing base. That pressure? It was his problem now.
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[ Later That Night ]
That night, the manor was silent. Mariko had disappeared—probably off to emotionally clash with her father in a drama that no longer interested Daisy.
She lay on the tatami in her robe, tapping through notes. Somewhere in this house was data on Yashida's cellular research, and she needed to find it without drawing heat. Too risky to take anything directly. But if she played this right, she could walk away with scientific gold.
Lost in thought, counting digital sheep, Daisy's eyes fluttered shut.
Then the shoji door slid open with an audible hiss.
Soft footsteps. Light. Feminine. Intentional.
Daisy didn't open her eyes—but her senses lit up.
A girl. Young. Her body temperature was high, breath calm, movements calculated. Judging from the frequency, the other party seemed to be hiding a deep cold malice under the fiery passion.
Then came the unmistakable rustle of fabric. Clothes being removed.
Daisy blinked once. Twice.
Wait. Waitwaitwait. Is someone—
Was Shingen seriously trying to bribe her… with company?
Is this some weird nobleman hospitality thing? Or did he think sending a half-naked surprise roommate would help diplomacy?
Daisy exhaled slowly, deadpan and unimpressed. Well. That's one way to offer a peace treaty.
To be continued...
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[POWER STONES AND REVIEWS PLS]