The Devil Walks Again

[ S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ, Washington DC ]

Daisy's Information Department was officially removed from Victoria Hand's authority and merged into Jasper Sitwell's Operations Division. The resulting entity was renamed the Information Processing and Operations Analysis Department. A mouthful, but a calculated move.

Naturally, Victoria Hand wasn't pleased about losing two departments in one move. To placate her, Nick Fury placed S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy directly under her command as compensation.

Everyone left the table with something. Daisy had picked her battlefield and opponent carefully. Her strategic offensive on Hand wasn't blind aggression—it was a targeted takedown with internal prestige as the reward. And with this victory, her name echoed louder within S.H.I.E.L.D.'s ranks.

She had no doubts about the road ahead. Even without the edge of foresight, current polling suggested O'Neal was ahead. Once the election was won, her influence inside S.H.I.E.L.D. would rise even higher.

What she didn't expect was Pierce assigning Sitwell to work alongside her.

Sitwell—same voice, same polished dome, same man she'd once tricked into aiding her Terrigen heist. A year of maneuvering later, and here they were—unexpectedly on the same team. The irony wasn't lost on her. Fate had a wicked sense of humor.

Though it was framed as a joint partnership, Daisy didn't need much effort to dominate the dynamic. If she wanted, she could flash the Viper card and Sitwell would fold instantly.

But this wasn't the moment. First, she'd cement her grip on the Information Department—then she'd decide how to handle Operations.

To strengthen her influence and bargaining position, Daisy knew she had to ensure O'Neal's victory.

...

[ Brian O'Neal Campaign HQ, Washington DC ]

After spending two days running simulations, strategy briefings and after a phone call, she arrived at O'Neal's campaign headquarters in Washington, D.C.

Though he had climbed through political wrangling and backroom deals, O'Neal's personal charm couldn't be denied. His presence was calming, his demeanor warm—like a practiced spring breeze with polished shoes and a handshake that made people feel seen.

Today, Daisy dressed the part—hair tied, sleek glasses, formal attire. She carried the image of an intellectual strategist, not just another supporter.

After exchanging brief courtesies, she got straight to the point.

"I've read your platform—ending the war, pushing green energy, tax cuts, healthcare reform. Forward-thinking, sure. But it all reads... surface level," she stated with clinical precision.

He raised a brow. The words stung, but the delivery was smooth enough to keep him intrigued. Instead of snapping back, he leaned in. "What do you think is missing?"

"Your approach to people with developmental disabilities lacks depth," Daisy replied coolly. "You need something bold—something symbolic and strategic. Actions voters can feel."

He was sharp enough to understand what she was hinting at. Still, his caution surfaced. "A project like that takes money. My campaign funds are tight. We're under close scrutiny."

He assumed Daisy was politically inexperienced—perhaps moved by emotion more than strategy. What he didn't know was that Daisy could navigate federal audits blindfolded and talk a donor into funding a lunar base if she wanted.

Daisy smiled subtly and pulled a neatly bound document from her bag, handing it to O'Neal. "This is a new campaign proposal drafted by Seraph Data. Low cost, high visibility."

He took it with mild interest, scanning the bold title — Ice Bucket Challenge? — then flipping through the contents.

As he read further, the corners of his mouth lifted. The concept was undeniably effective: performative charity that came with viral potential and wide appeal. It gave voters something to latch onto emotionally without requiring much in return. It was the kind of PR that could shift a campaign's tone overnight.

By the time he closed the folder, his eyes were gleaming with calculation. Public goodwill, international media traction, and virtually no risk — just a little cold water and a camera crew.

"Ms. Johnson, this is brilliant. The ALS community deserves all the awareness we can offer," he said, voice heavy with performative sincerity.

Daisy nodded, matching his tone. "We can't overlook vulnerable communities. This is a start."

Neither of them gave a damn about ALS. What they saw in this was momentum.

This was a perfectly staged performance — Daisy's intention not just to bolster O'Neal's electoral push, but to gather attention for herself. Fame wasn't tangible, but it was capital — useful in ways people rarely understood until they needed it.

S.H.I.E.L.D. had lived too long in the shadows. That approach no longer served her.

She knew internal promotions, no matter how earned, were bottlenecked. Even Hydra's whispers only went so far. Reputation — real, public, undeniable — was her alternate route to ascendancy.

Tony Stark had once become director of S.H.I.E.L.D. without climbing through its internal ranks. He'd used legacy, fame, and global admiration.

If he could do it, so could she — and Daisy Johnson had just taken her first public step.

With the Ice Bucket Challenge proposal in his hands, O'Neal wasted no time, he immediately called a meeting with his closest staff members to review it and check if any improvements were needed.

His team consisted of three men and two women, all trusted aides with backgrounds in either large corporations or high-ranking government roles.

They had a general understanding of Daisy's connection to SHIELD, and none of them saw her presence as a threat. In fact, they considered it an advantage.

The two older women greeted Daisy warmly with a hug, treating her with the casual friendliness that came from political experience.

As they read through the Ice Bucket Challenge proposal, it became clear they were impressed. The idea was so simple and well put together, they couldn't help but wonder why none of them had thought of it first.

And when it came to offering edits, they found very little to change.

As Daisy's design didn't leave much to critique. It was pulled from a perfected iteration of her previous world, wrapped so tightly that even seasoned strategists found no edge to pry open.

O'Neal looked around the room. "Everyone agrees this can work?" he asked, scanning their expressions.

Even those used to offering sharp critiques had nothing to add. It was a straightforward plan, easy to implement, and highly visible.

"Alright, spread the word. Three days from now, I'll go first, and Daisy can go second?" O'Neal offered the plan smoothly, passing the spotlight just enough to share it while keeping the lead.

Daisy understood the gesture. Being second might not be as iconic, but it still brought visibility. The Ice Bucket Challenge was a smart way to ride the wave of the campaign—and she had no reason to refuse.

...

The campaign strictly regulated financial expenditures, but media appearances were left unchecked. O'Neal capitalized on this, making rounds on five talk shows in three days, delivering polished speeches that urged the public to support ALS patients and recognize society's vulnerable.

Most hosts didn't fully grasp his agenda, but they played along under the banner of social responsibility. Viewers at home, used to treating elections like entertainment, found themselves baffled. Analysts, however, sensed he was preparing a significant move.

The Republicans responded swiftly, rallying allies within financial institutions and the Treasury Department. The strategy was clear—attack the moment O'Neal stepped over the line.

The campaign was on. But Daisy had already taken her first step into the public eye. And she had no intention of stepping back.

To Be Continued...

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[POWER STONES AND REVIEWS PLS]