"Could it be fake news pushed out by third-rate websites just to grab attention?" Hawkeye asked with a half-hearted chuckle, lounging in his seat like he wasn't flying toward what might be a hidden Nazi colony.
Nick Fury's eye didn't so much as twitch. "Most of those websites are noise, Barton. But not all. There's information floating out there—deliberately disruptive, planted to throw us off. Whoever's behind this has been circling us like vultures for years. They're still watching."
Daisy didn't bother adding to the debate. She sat cross-legged with a notebook on her lap, stylus in hand, tapping calculations into it. Her face was calm, eyes sharp with focus, tracking how Antarctica's shifting magnetic field would affect her teleportation range.
Black Widow leaned in, peeked at the complicated equations, and promptly leaned back. "Nope. That's your domain."
The quinjet sliced through clouds and night, flying for hours until they reached the southern edge of the world. By the time they landed, twilight was staining the horizon of the Antarctic Peninsula.
-------------------------------------------
[ Antarctica ]
Below them was Fury's hidden gem—a fortress carved into the ice, codenamed 'Snowstorm'. Daisy stepped out and immediately took stock of her surroundings.
Snowstorm was not some patchy outpost with shivering guards and cold coffee. No, this was an engineering marvel—built with a budget that screamed "stolen from SHIELD black ops funds." An underground helipad held two Quinjets, both with their serial numbers scrubbed. Inside the base were dozens of fully-stocked rooms: weapons, ammunition, survival gear, tech gadgets, and even recreational supplies. Daisy was impressed.
She turned to Fury. "This much firepower? You sure we're not declaring war on the climate?"
He gave her a look. "You're one of the few I trust to walk in here. Take it as a compliment."
Daisy smirked. "Must be worth its weight in gold then."
In truth, she understood just how rare this access was. If she wasn't Fury's 'most trusted agent'—whatever that meant—she wouldn't be anywhere near this place. It also explained why this base would one day be confiscated by the Avengers and repurposed as a surveillance hub overlooking the Savage Land.
Yes, that Savage Land.
Alien-designed, ancient, and ridiculously hidden, the Savage Land was like Earth's best-kept Jurassic secret—a volcanic basin preserved by extraterrestrial tech, once a petri dish for life experiments. After the aliens vanished, the Atlanteans claimed it, until the flood sent them spiraling into legend. Poe and Verne both wrote about it, and Hitler—because of course he did—became obsessed with it, setting off expeditions that led to… well, this.
He sent his men to search Antarctica, which indirectly led to their investigation here today.
Daisy scanned the white, endless horizon. Unsurprisingly, there was nothing to see. Nick Fury had built a fortress and hidden it. The Nazis had apparently been squatting nearby for sixty years, and still missed it. Which meant she wouldn't be spotting anything, either—not without a miracle.
She knows there is vibranium in savage land too, but without some alien cheat code, she wasn't breaking into the Savage Land anytime soon. The spatial tech used to seal it off made her current knowledge look like kindergarten play.
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[ Antarctica ] [ Next Morning ]
The base was buzzing with cold air and prep. Daisy dressed in full snow gear—thermal base layers, snow pants, a windproof coat, boots, gloves, and goggles. She still felt like she was freezing.
Natasha was similarly bundled, but she moved with the practiced grace of a ballerina assassin. Even encased in fluff, she could probably kill someone with her pinky.
Clint Barton, ever the minimalist, had on similar gear, but he refused to swap his bow for any high-tech ice-compatible weapon. His gloves, while warm, were thin enough to shoot in.
And then there was Nick Fury.
One-eyed pirate energy in full swing, the man walked out in a winter coat casually thrown over his usual leather ensemble. Not even a hint of shiver.
Daisy raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you cold, Director?"
He glanced at her. "I've got thick skin."
Clint muttered to Natasha, "Or he's just numb to everything by now."
With everything loaded up, the team climbed into a specialized stealth snow vehicle. Its sleek design made it look like a cross between a tank and a luxury sled. It purred silently across the frozen wasteland as they headed toward the coordinates.
The hunt for the last Nazi base had begun.
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[ Some Time Later ]
The vehicle rumbled steadily over an endless sheet of white ice, tires crunching softly on the frozen terrain. Not a penguin in sight—not even the dignity of a snowman to keep them company. Just wind, ice, and the haunting silence of the Arctic. Black Widow was behind the wheel, stone-faced as always. Daisy—battle-hardened soldier with a hint of mafia queen grace—was curled up in the passenger seat, her legs hugged to her chest, not even pretending to maintain her usual stoic poise. Two men sat silently in the back: Hawkeye, ever-watchful, and Nick Fury.
"Don't you feel cold?" Daisy grumbled, her voice muffled by her arms wrapped around herself. The heater, of course, had been sacrificed for stealth. The vehicle's interior felt like an industrial-grade freezer, and she had no shame left. Elegance was one thing—hypothermia was another.
She immediately regretted asking. It was a dumb question. Of course they were cold. Unlike her, whose Inhuman-enhanced physiology gave her a bit more tolerance, the other three were ordinary humans—strong, but still flesh and bone. They weren't superheroes, just really stubborn agents. And possibly frozen meat popsicles by now.
Daisy pulled herself together, drawing on sheer willpower, mental conditioning, and a quiet chant of "I am the storm" on repeat in her mind. The coordinates were etched in her memory. She would endure.
At last, they arrived at the location. To the naked eye, there was nothing. Just an endless expanse of white, broken only by the jagged silhouettes of distant icebergs. Anyone else would've driven right past it.
But something wasn't right.
"The light refraction here is off," Hawkeye muttered, squinting toward the shimmering horizon. "That corner's bending weird."
The four of them dropped into a nearby snow pit like kids hiding from parental lectures, pointing at the sky and air like conspiracy theorists with advanced degrees. They weren't hallucinating—the shimmer was real.
"How do we get in without setting off every alarm from here to the Pentagon?" Nick Fury asked, his gravelly voice low but firm. The one-eyed pirate of SHIELD had that tone again—the one that meant someone was either going to get promoted or disavowed.
They couldn't take risks. If this turned out to be a secret base belonging to another country, SHIELD would have a diplomatic nightmare on its hands. If it was indeed remnants of Nazi scum, however… then the stakes changed.
The plan came together quickly. Hawkeye would shoot a distraction arrow as far as his bow could stretch, causing a disturbance in the air. Black Widow would deploy a network of interference devices, disabling any active stealth barriers. Finally, Daisy would do what she did best—slip in like a ghost with teleportation, dragging the team along.
Three minutes later, a sleek arrow streaked through the sky to the stealth barrier causing it to shimmer from disturbance in a small area. Widow moved fast, hands deftly placing four small, high-frequency jammers in a rough square pattern. The shimmer around them twitched—and then collapsed, revealing the corner of a monolithic black structure, matte and ominous, like it had been dropped from another era.
Daisy narrowed her eyes. Her mind spun with calculations—spatial pressure, structural echo, quantum instability—and finally locked on to a corner that looked innocuously vacant. "That's our entry," she murmured.
With a soft hum, space warped. She grabbed Fury, Widow, and Hawkeye, and teleported them clean through the building's defenses.
They landed hard but steady. Weapons were already drawn before the light faded from their vision. No enemies. Just crates. Crates upon crates.
They were in a warehouse—cold, clean, and weirdly clinical. Steel racks lined the walls, filled with sealed boxes of what looked like medication.
"Architecture's mid-20th century," Widow muttered, brushing frost off a metal column. She plucked one of the boxes from the nearest shelf, inspecting it. "But this is modern medicines. Someone's been restocking."
"Let's not assume we're alone," Daisy said, her voice calm but laced with a velvet menace. She tilted her head like a predator listening to its prey's heartbeat. "Left passage. Northeast. Life signs. Could be two. Maybe three. Distance makes it fuzzy."
She stayed behind. Her teleportation signature was calibrated—she'd be able to use the same coordinates to pull them out again.
The recon team—Fury, Widow, and Hawkeye—moved with efficiency that only years of shared missions could bring. Five minutes later, they returned, eyes wide.
Fury looked composed, but Widow and Hawkeye were practically glowing with excitement. "Not just a hidden stash," Clint said. "It's Nazi. Real deal."
"We've hit the war criminal jackpot," Natasha added. "They've been here for decades. And they're organized."
"Wonderful," Daisy murmured dryly. "Frozen fascists. Just what the world needed."
They teleported out, their job complete.
------------------------------------------
[ S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ, Washington DC ]
Within the hour, the team was back at the blizzard base, stripping out of heavy winter gear and boarding a high-speed SHIELD quinjet. The mission wasn't over—it was about to explode into politics.
"Agent Johnson," Nick Fury said as they disembarked back at HQ, "you're coming with me to meet the World Security Council"
Of course Daisy had no objection to showing her face in front of the higher-ups, and she followed Fury into the HQ calmly.
Twenty minutes and a certain restricted elevator later, Daisy followed Fury into a high-tech conference room that screamed serious people meet here. Four holographic projectors hovered silently in the center.
Moments later, Alexander Pierce walked in with his signature grandfatherly charm and spine of steel. Despite being caught off guard by the sudden summons as he had not received any news in advance, whether from SHIELD or HYDRA.
Seeing Daisy being present here, he managed a warm smile at Daisy.
Compared to Nick Fury who always has a sullen face, Pierce looks a lot friendlier. Daisy thought.
"Ah, Agent Johnson. A pleasure," he said, exuding practiced benevolence. Daisy returned the gesture with a diplomatic smile of her own. She hadn't forgotten he played a role in getting her the Terrigen Crystal. That earned a sliver of civility.
The projectors flickered on, revealing four very grumpy members of the World Security Council.
"Director Fury," one sharp-eyed bald elder snapped, "you're not here to ask us for money again, are you?"
"Yeah, what happened to the last billions we gave you?" another one huffed.
"Director, we support protecting the world, but we have constituents who want answers!"
The chorus of criticism sounded like a group of angry grandparents trying to figure out why their internet bill went up.
Fury, for once, was smiling. That should've scared them.
He gestured subtly to Daisy.
She stepped forward, graceful as a queen addressing her court. With a flick of her fingers, she transmitted the collected evidence—photos, maps, energy readings—straight to the Council's data feeds. Then, for extra flair, she handed the tablet to a baffled Pierce.
The room went still.
Even Pierce's eyebrows rose. He hadn't seen this coming. Hydra had many factions, and while he was buried deep in its web, even he hadn't known that Nazi remnants still operated independently. That knowledge was… inconvenient.
What's more, Hydra had already separated from the Nazis in the era of Red Skull, and the Nazis are not Hydra. The two sides are not the same organization at all.
He quickly weighed the pros and cons in his mind of this situation.
The Security Council, however, was in full meltdown mode.
"This—this can't be real!" gasped a old white-haired woman. "These photos were not taken by your film and television company to fool us, Director?"
Fury gave a dry chuckle. Daisy tilted her head and raised an eyebrow, eyes gleaming with amusement. The idea had probably crossed the Fury's mind. Shame she'd beat him to it.
"These are real," Fury said, his voice low and proud. "My team found them. No fabrications. No green screens."
He and Daisy had already agreed on the narrative. Mentioning Yashida Enterprises was too risky in light of Japan's current political climate. Instead, they sold the discovery as the result of pure SHIELD grit—boots on the ice, intel in the dark.
Daisy didn't mind.
Fury, on the other hand, looked like a man finally cashing in his chips. Because now the finding remnants of Nazis had become the collective achievement of SHIELD under the leadership of him.
"Now, about that funding," he added casually. "Still think SHIELD's over-budgeted?"
The screen went uncharacteristically quiet.
To Be Continued...
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[POWER STONES AND REVIEWS PLS]