The Devil Walks Again

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

Several operatives exchanged unimpressed looks. Nick Fury barely masked his indifference—these were minor issues in the grand scheme of planetary threats, but political optics demanded lip service.

A missing billionaire and a military test subject hardly registered on his scale. Still, with pressure from higher up, Fury made it look official.

Appearances mattered, regardless of personal judgment.

When the briefing ended, Fury scanned the room with his one good eye, gauging who might step forward for either task.

Surprisingly, someone did.

"I'll assist the military in retrieving the experimental target," Victoria Hand offered coolly, hiding the fact that Daisy's recent moves had cornered her. She needed a win.

A brief silence followed. Daisy, mid-calculation on the Stark short sell, noticed the sudden attention directed at her.

What's with the staring? It took her a beat to put it together.

This was Victoria drawing a line—two women, two missions, one scorecard.

Clever of her. She'd picked the job with the least risk. Between Ross and Rhodes, one didn't need much analysis to see which officer had better political capital.

The disparity in leverage was obvious.

Daisy's lips curved faintly. Let the old woman believe she'd chosen wisely. Ross's task likely involved chasing the Hulk—high risk, low return. Stark? He didn't need saving. He'd escape on his own schedule.

Daisy considered the timeline. With Stark missing and three months until his return, the optimal moment to short his company would be after his declaration to halt weapons production.

The market was a brutal ocean. There were no buffers, no circuit breakers, only deep losses if she misstepped.

Her powers danced through quantum fields and gravitational echoes, yet even she couldn't manipulate stock fluctuations. One wrong pulse and everything she'd built could crumble.

A field mission would offer control—intel, proximity, and easier capital movement.

After weighing the odds, she shrugged internally. A trip to Afghanistan? Call it a working vacation. "Okay, I'll go rescue Tony Stark," she said without hesitation.

With her decision, the meeting concluded without fanfare.

She and Hand parted ways to handle preparations.

On her way out, Daisy scanned the mission brief. Sparse details, mostly placeholders and guesswork.

Time was against her—half a day to build a viable team.

...

[ S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy ]

She returned to SHIELD Academy to select her operatives.

Despite her promotion to level 7, she still attended lectures occasionally—but never to recruit. This was a first.

After receiving the student profile, Daisy skimmed through it, then headed straight to the training room as instructed.

There, a blonde woman wielded two short sticks, facing off against two male students. They barely held their ground, defending more than striking.

With one sweeping kick, the blonde took down a student. A sharp strike to the other's ankle followed—he collapsed with a sharp cry.

From the moment Daisy began observing to the match's end, only twenty seconds passed.

It was obvious the blonde accelerated the finish after noticing Daisy. That alone spoke of her awareness, ambition, and tactical mindset.

"Very good, Miss Barbara "Bobbi" Morse," Daisy greeted, her tone cool but cordial.

Here in SHIELD HQ, Barbara had no reason to suspect hidden motives. She holstered her sticks and returned the handshake, brows faintly furrowed in curiosity.

"The academy's too limited for your growth. I have an assignment and need you on it." The excuse was flimsy—truthfully, this was Hand's turf now, and she'd claim talent fast.

Miss Barbara looked like just another trainee, but Daisy knew better.

Her future wasn't ordinary. She'd go on to be known as Mockingbird—Agent 19—ranking alongside Sharon Carter, Agent 13.

Barbara had already conquered gymnastics. She'd passed SHIELD's core program. What she lacked now was field experience.

Faced with Daisy's offer, Barbara agreed almost immediately. It wasn't unusual for trainees to be sent on missions—especially when someone with Daisy's reputation came calling. Her only request was a spar first. She didn't want to follow someone who couldn't hold her own.

The outcome was predictable. Before Bobby could register Daisy's third move, she was already on the floor.

With one elite secured, Daisy checked the remaining academy files. A few names she recognized, but most were either unfinished trainees or already claimed by other departments.

She didn't waste more time. This wasn't a war—it was practically a PR trip.

Too many eyes were watching, so she left her sword, shield, and armor behind. Instead, an adamantium dagger slid into her boot, a vibranium wristband wrapped her wrist, and a standard SHIELD tactical suit masked it all.

From the Information Processing Department, a few field-capable agents joined her. Including Barbara, she led a team of ten—five men, four other women—to Andrews Air Force Base, ready to meet the handler: Air Force Colonel James Rhodes.

The tall, lean man was Tony Stark's close friend. One day, he'd don a suit of his own, earning a spot on the Avengers as War Machine.

In the movies, he looked like a background character—an upgraded soldier at best—but reality painted him differently.

The rank of colonel wasn't trivial. Nick Fury had held it before retirement, and even Captain America had needed years of war to reach the title of "captain."

A colonel didn't see the front lines often. In the eyes of enlisted soldiers, he was authority incarnate.

For the Air Force, the next rank up was Brigadier General. Considering that branch's quicker rise compared to the Army, Colonel Rhodes was undoubtedly a rising star.

Daisy couldn't help but notice the growing trend—there were just too many black people around her lately. Wakanda being all-black was expected. But the head of the secret service? Black. The presidential frontrunner? Black. Now even the Air Force handler? Also black. Where was that supposed divine representation of America?

Luckily, without a military rank herself, she had no obligation to salute Colonel Rhodes. Their exchange was brief, just enough to cover Stark's abduction.

From the intensity of the firefight, it was clear the attackers weren't amateurs. Every American soldier assigned to Stark's protection had been killed—no survivors.

The enemy had even used two missiles. Based on Rhodes' assessment, it was likely a revenge operation by a local faction, with Stark's abduction as the primary objective.

To Be Continued...

---xxx---

[POWER STONES AND REVIEWS PLS]