[ Tokyo, Japan ]
Daisy took the envelope and gave it a long, dry look.
The brown paper looked aged enough to have survived two world wars, but the brush-written Chinese characters—"Daisy Johnson"—were pristine, arrogant, and elegant in a way that screamed Gao. Calligraphy that flawless didn't belong to any modern poser selling scrolls on Tokyo street corners. It was the kind of penmanship that could probably kill if you stared at it too long.
She sneered. Classic Madame Gao.
The moment she saw that signature brushwork, she knew it was a game. Another one of Gao's mind games dressed up in silk and incense. Daisy didn't play games she hadn't already rigged.
Still, she wasn't reckless. Just because the envelope had been passed by an old cop didn't mean the inside wouldn't try to kill her with poetic elegance.
She ran field test she knew—vibration resonance. Nothing pinged. No explosive chakra tags, no cursed sigils, no invisible microblades dipped in neurotoxin. But she didn't take chances.
She slid down an alley and found a suitably disposable volunteer. He was tattooed head to toe in yokai art, sporting a bleached buzz cut and practicing his angry scowl against a vending machine.
"Do me a favor," Daisy said, raising her Glock. "Open mail."
The young man swallowed hard, cracked open the envelope with a flick of his switchblade, and held it up like it might explode.
Inside, on expensive rice paper, was a note infused with sandalwood and centuries of smug:
Esteemed Miss Johnson,
Moonlight in Kochi is unparalleled this time of year. The Yashida family humbly invites you to witness it. Do come alone.
—G.
Daisy rolled her eyes so hard she nearly sprained something. The whole thing practically wore a neon sash reading TRAP.
"Keep the envelope," she told the thug, tossing him a ten-yen coin.
--------------------------------------
[ Some Time Later ]
Daisy wasn't stupid enough to walk into the trap without backup. SHIELD's Japanese contacts were lukewarm at best—too many double agents, too few brains. She needed someone with actual firepower and an even bigger grudge against Gao.
Cue Madame Viper.
Hydra's East Asian boss-lady had the resources Daisy needed and the attitude of a snake with a grudge. Convenient. Hydra and the Hand had once cozied up under the banner of mutual loser-dom, licking ancient wounds together, but that alliance soured over the decades.
Hydra wanted domination. The Hand preferred mysterious rituals and cryptic prophecies. They were like a bitter divorce that never got finalized.
Baron Strucker, Dr. Whitehall—they focused on the Western world. But Viper? She was Hydra's reigning queen in the East. And Daisy doubted she and Gao were doing brunch on weekends.
Viper wouldn't kneel to Gao, and Gao wouldn't deign to breathe the same air.
So yes, ironically, Hydra might actually be Daisy's best shot at crashing Gao's moon party.
Finding Viper was easier than expected. After their last altercation, Daisy had memorized her frequency or now she called chi frequency—a sharp, toxic soprano hum. One night of triangulation and taxi rides later, Daisy found her holed up in a bland rental flat two streets from the warehouse where Daisy had previously gifted her some very aggressive spa therapy.
Not exactly the lair of an East Asian criminal empress.
She checked the area. No energy spikes, no vibrations that screamed ambush. Then she went with the classic entrance—through the window.
Boots hit floor.
The sound jolted someone in the next room. Daisy heard the distinctive click of a pistol chambering.
She rolled her eyes and leaned against the door. The air was tense, like a string about to snap. Then she sent out a gentle ripple of vibrational energy—just enough to get a sense of the room.
One weak heartbeat. No guards. No traps.
Weird. Viper felt… dim.
"Hey," Daisy said calmly through the wall, "as an old friend, I came all this way to see you. I let you go last time, remember? If you're gonna greet me like this, I might as well leave."
Three seconds. Then the pistol hit the carpet with a sad clatter.
Daisy walked in and stopped short.
Madame Viper looked like death warmed over in a silk robe. Her sultry elegance had abandoned her like rats on a sinking ship. The glamorous curves had disappeared, her signature mole looked depressed, and her usually immaculate hair now clung to her face like wet spaghetti.
From Daisy's angle, even her "deadly assets" looked a size smaller.
"What the hell happened to you? You poisoned yourself?" Daisy blinked. "Did the Black Magic Devil send you a bill you couldn't pay?"
Viper glared, voice like sandpaper. "I'm not poisoned, you brat. I'm sick."
Daisy blinked again. Madame Viper—Hydra's femme fatale, Chthon's favorite contractor—brought low by… a cold?
Oh, that was rich.
And now Daisy really looked at her. Viper wasn't dying of poison. She was just fighting the losing battle of bed-bound arrogance versus viral humility. The stronger the constitution, the harder the fall. Chthon probably hadn't anticipated his chosen one getting steamrolled by the flu.
And the devil? Radio silence.
Whether he was amused or just couldn't help, Daisy wasn't sure. But the sight before her was pure irony.
She burst out laughing.
"You laugh like a goblin," Viper hissed, red-eyed and furious. "This is your fault! Your cursed vibrations wrecked my nerves!"
"You're welcome," Daisy said sweetly. "Now, before your lungs become confetti, let's talk shop. Gao invited me to Kochi with the subtlety of a Bond villain. I need warm bodies and guns. You need a nurse. Match made in hell."
Viper groaned and tried to sit up with dignity. She failed. "Help me, and I'll owe you. I already found your target—Killmonger. But I can't give you anything while I'm dying. Medicine first."
Daisy raised a skeptical brow. "You expect me to believe you just happened to finish your investigation while your nose is dripping into your pillow?"
Daisy was not moved at all. Madame Viper was already in this bad situation like this, how could she get any information? It was nonsense. As for the favor? What if the other party poisoned her after recovering to normal. She wanted to get the benefits that she could get out of Viper now, when she is in this situation.
Viper seeing that Daisy was unmoved, She became anxious. She knew that if she didn't come up with some concrete intel, she would not be able to escape this disaster of her situation.
Viper went over all the information she knew in her mind, searching any intel that might be able to impress Daisy without getting herself into too much trouble.
After two full minutes, Viper groggily thought of one thing: "Nazis, I know where the Nazi remnants are."
That got Daisy's attention.
Fury—Nick "One-Eyed Pirate" Fury—loved dead Nazis. He practically collected them. If Daisy handed him a Nazi nest with a bow on top, her promotion chances would skyrocket.
Maybe she'd even get to boss Bald Brother Sitwell around.
Now that was a dream worth chasing.
Although she felt a little sorry for Hill, she still wanted to climb up. At worst, she could get rid of the Nick Fury and let Hill be her adjutant! In order to climb to a high position, she needed some shocking achievements.
She sighed. "Fine. You give me Nazi crumbs now, and I'll make sure you don't die coughing into a silk pillow. After that, you can rally your troops, and we pay Gao a moonlit visit. Deal?"
"Deal," Viper croaked.
"Start talking now."
To Be Continued...
---xxx---
[POWER STONES AND REVIEWS PLS]