[Hotel Room, Tokyo, Japan]
"Madame Gao is also your enemy, right?" Daisy began, her voice calm but laced with steel. "We have a foundation for cooperation."
It was a simple statement, but one that struck deeper than it seemed. A day ago, Madame Viper would've laughed it off. She preferred spectating over participating—especially when the chaos benefited her. Watching others claw at each other like rats in a cage gave her a delicious sense of control. Why get her hands dirty when others would do it for her?
But something had shifted in her—subtle, yet distinct. The psychic resonance from earlier still echoed faintly in the back of her mind. A thread of connection. A sliver of empathy. It didn't turn her into a saint overnight, but it nudged her thoughts in a different direction. And she began to seriously consider Daisy's proposal.
She hesitated, "Fighting the Hand to the death? Many of my men will be sacrificed."
Daisy scoffed, arms folded, back against the wall. "Don't pretend you care. With your charm, you could replace a platoon before lunch. Half of them would volunteer just to breathe the same air as you. And if they die? You save on payroll."
Viper arched a brow but didn't refute it. A wry smile tugged at her lips.
"Even if we take down Madame Gao, I'll still have the other four fingers of the Hand breathing down my neck," she said lazily.
"You're not exactly pen pals with Gao either," Daisy replied coolly. "Japan's too small for two apex predators. One of you has to go."
"And you're confident you can kill her?"
Daisy stepped forward, eyes gleaming with that signature Seraphina sharpness. "With my seismic powers and your poison? Gao won't know what hit her."
Then, she smirked and quoted their earlier conversation word-for-word, down to the cadence.
Viper's chuckle was low and smooth. Daisy joined in, both women laughing at the sheer absurdity of their alliance.
"Troublesome girl," Viper muttered, stubbing out her cigarette. But she hadn't said no. That, in itself, was progress.
She was weighing something—not just the plan, but what more she could extract. A promise? A share? Or something less tangible?
Daisy knew she didn't have much to bargain with. But as a disciple of Nick Fury's 'sell everyone but yourself' doctrine, she didn't need much.
"All the assets of the Yashida family," Daisy offered without blinking. "Yours."
Viper's eyes narrowed. "And you can authorize that?"
"I can guarantee S.H.I.E.L.D. won't get involved in the division of Yashida Enterprises," she replied smoothly.
Which was code for: I can't guarantee squat, but they've got bigger fish to fry.
Anyway, initially S.H.I.E.L.D. just wanted to obtain information about the disappearance of those materials. Now that the situation has changed, reporting the news about the Nazis will be more convincing to the superiors. S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't care much about the Yashida family at all.
Let's be real—Yashida Enterprises was a corporate leviathan. The moment it became up for grabs, every vulture from Washington to Wakanda would descend. And not just S.H.I.E.L.D.—Hydra too.
Hydra. The eternal nest of backstabbing snakes.
They talked a big game—cut off one head, blah blah. But in reality? Every faction hated the others' guts. If one branch fell, the others pounced like toddlers fighting over candy. The Red Skull had barely held them together by sheer terror. Once he vanished? Splinters everywhere.
So yeah, Madame Viper taking over Yashida Enterprises would be like trying to inject antivenom into a pit of cobras. Still, she was no stranger to power plays and bureaucratic fencing.
She mulled it over, then exhaled slowly. "Fine. I'll hear your plan."
Daisy grinned. "The old bat's set a trap for me. We walk in, poison the lot, clean up the mess. Easy."
Viper gave her a look that could curdle wine. Then she rolled her eyes, almost seductively. "You overestimate the effectiveness of poison and underestimate Gao's freakish endurance. Even if I managed to get something into her system, the Hand has mystical nonsense that heals them."
Daisy groaned and scratched her head. "Why does no one stay poisoned in real life?"
"Because this isn't one of your fantasy novels," Viper replied dryly.
"Then we poison everyone else," Daisy countered. "No backup, no muscle for Gao. Then we surround and smash the old lady into the floor."
Her plan was still for several people to attack together.
If possible, it would be best if hundreds of people attacked together! She didn't care if Gao had trained for 400 years or had chi-infused bones. She can be killed by sheer numbers!
They batted ideas around, reluctantly conceding that Madame Gao was no pushover. The woman was practically a cockroach with superpowers—every time you thought she was squashed, she slithered away.
Still, they accounted for Shingen Yashida, Wolverine, and their own skills. Optimistically? They might just pull it off.
"Take your people and move with us," Daisy said at last. "If things go sideways, I'll get you out."
To a bunch of righteous heroes, that would've been cowardice. To Madame Viper? That was strategic maturity.
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[Yashida Castle, Shikoku Island, Japan]
The ancestral castle of the Yashida family sat nestled among the forested peaks of Kochi Prefecture, built like a hidden fortress from a samurai drama. Seven hundred years old, its very stones whispered war stories. The family had weathered many storms—not by power, but by location. When the tides of history turned bloody, the Yashidas stayed tucked away in their mountain citadel.
The moon hung low, casting a pale sheen over the tiled rooftops. Lanterns glowed through the shoji screens. Traditional servants moved like ghosts, preparing a feast no one would enjoy.
Inside the main hall, four people were "seated."
At the head: Madame Gao, the ancient demon in grandma's clothing. Her clothes were plain, her eyes sharp. The kind of woman who'd stab you with a knitting needle and critique your posture while doing it.
To her sides sat Shingen Yashida and his daughter Mariko. Shingen looked like death warmed over. Blood trickled under his robes, face pale and pinched.
Mariko had fared better, save for a nasty bruise on her forehead. She sat upright, jaw tight, eyes calculating.
And then there was Logan. Good ol' Wolverine. Strapped to a metal chair, handcuffed with enough alloy to sink a battleship.
He growled, bellowed, and flexed—but it was no use.
"AARGH!"
"GRAAHHH!"
The sound of rage echoed through the hall.
Madame Gao chuckled. "Mr. Logan, I do admire your regenerative capacity. But let's be honest—you're not built for brute strength. Do save your energy."
She stopped speaking Chinese because she knew Wolverine couldn't understand her. Why waste her breathe ?
She had gone to great lengths to bait Daisy here. The teleportation trick rattled her. Power like that needed to be neutralized—or at the very least, understood. And if she couldn't ambush Daisy directly, then maybe a hostage buffet would do the trick.
She was counting on the girl's conscience.
To Be Continued...
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