[ On The Quinjet ]
No matter how many Nobel Prizes they might win in the future, right now, the scientific duo—Fitz and Simmons—were still rookies so green they practically squeaked. This was their first field mission ever, handpicked by the one-eyed pirate himself. Naturally, they arrived looking like walking, talking laboratory closets. They dragged along a mini-museum's worth of gear: sensors, scanners, sample kits—and yes, a pistol, which Fitz carried like he was auditioning for a spy movie but forgot to read the manual.
Their gun handling? Let's just say they'd probably do more damage tripping over it than firing it.
Flying the Quinjet was a breeze for Daisy. After lessons from both Black Widow and Agent May (and a bit of simulator cheating), she had it down. The sleek aircraft roared through the clouds at Mach 2.1, slicing the sky like a hot knife through butter. It wasn't long before the dense green blip of the Costa Rican island came into view.
Meanwhile, in the backseat, Fitz and Simmons were still arguing about wind resistance and optimal parachute deployment. Daisy massaged her temples.
"Hold your scientific horses," she snapped. "You jump out now, you're not going to hit the ground—you're gonna hit three stories of chitin-covered rage bugs."
She flipped on the Quinjet's thermal imaging, scanning the island. Her brows twitched as glowing red blobs emerged. Not one. Not two. Three giant rhinoceros beetles, a mutant caterpillar, and a nightmare-inducing earthworm the size of a minibus.
The scientific duo froze mid-sentence. Their jaws dropped in synchronized shock.
"Sweet mother of Mendel..." Fitz muttered.
"Why is that worm smiling?" Simmons asked, terrified.
Daisy calmly selected auto-target. "Don't worry. Let Auntie Daisy handle this."
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[ Somewhere in Costa Rica ]
Ten minutes of aerial gunfire later, the bugs were nothing but twitchy chunks of exoskeleton. Daisy did a double loop just to make sure, then landed the Quinjet on a hilltop overlooking the smoldering remains of the old lab.
Black Widow had already done her destructive art. The lab was a crater. Daisy trusted Natasha's demolition skills—it probably wouldn't explode twice.
The island, however, looked like it had overdosed on Miracle-Gro. Trees that should be shrubs towered overhead. Grass sprouted like bamboo. It was less jungle and more Jumanji.
Fitz and Simmons got to work, setting up equipment like two caffeinated squirrels. They tested the air, water, soil, and even a plant that tried to eat Fitz's shoelace.
Thirty minutes later, they huddled in front of Daisy with solemn expressions.
"Good news first," Fitz said. "Air's fine."
"Soil and water show slight anomalies," Simmons added, "but nothing harmful to humans."
Daisy pointed to a blade of grass as tall as a toddler. "Then why do I feel like I'm in a 'Honey, I Shrunk the Agents' sequel?"
They babbled in techno-biology gibberish that made Daisy's ears bleed. Something about modified chloroplasts and pseudo-hormonal expansion triggers. Yeah, no. She'd heard enough.
She video-called her part-time professor and full-time grump, Dr. Hank Pym.
"Dr. Pym," she greeted casually. "Question. Could the particles Eggman copied have poisoned the land?"
Pym scoffed. "Those Dollar Store knockoff particles? Please. Pym Particles are safe and USDA-approved. His version? Probably made in a cave with a box of scraps."
She thanked him and turned back to Fitz and Simmons. "Full sweep. Every square inch. I want this island more thoroughly tested."
A full day of trudging through vine-choked jungle later, the verdict was in: aside from plants that could double as gym equipment, there was no sign of environmental collapse.
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[ S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ, Washington DC ]
Back at HQ, Daisy made a beeline for Counselor Coulson. She flashed her most charming smile.
"Hi, Coulson."
"Hi, Daisy." He smiled back with a bit of hesitation. He'd learned long ago: Daisy plus smile usually equaled complicated.
She sipped the coffee he offered and cleared her throat. "Did you know Nicky sent me to handle Costa Rica solo?"
Coulson blinked. "Director Fury? No, I hadn't heard. But you handled it?"
"Bug barbecue and all." She paused. "Now I need your help."
He raised an eyebrow.
"The public hates agents."
"Not... hates," he hedged. "More like... deeply mistrusts."
"Same thing. And world governments? They think we're an army of shadowy creeps in trench coats."
"Misunderstandings at lower levels. The top brass knows what SHIELD sacrifices—"
"Yeah, yeah, 'sacrifice.' Real poetic. Meanwhile, one bad headline and we're the villain. Look, I've been thinking: what if we leaned into the hero image a little?"
Coulson blinked. "You mean like... commercials?"
Daisy leaned in. "Exactly. Cap did it during WWII. That 'punch Hitler in the face' campaign? Recruited thousands. We clean up our image, work with local governments, show the human side of SHIELD."
Coulson's face twitched. "You do know Steve hates those ads, right?"
"But they worked. And we're not faking it—we have real heroes. You. Me. Hill."
She smirked at the last name, cheeks faintly pink. Coulson noticed, narrowed his eyes.
"You and Hill…?"
"Strictly professional." Daisy said too quickly.
"Uh-huh."
"Anyway," she said, brushing past it, "this is how we stop the next Hydra. We build something worth staying for."
Coulson mulled it over. "It's risky."
"Everything worth doing is."
He sighed. "I'll get you a meeting with Communications."
To be continued...
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[ POWER STONES AND REVIEWS PLS ]