Daisy had no clue that Chief George had mentally filed her under "viligante tag," and she was still waiting eagerly for the big plan to roll out.
"We move tomorrow. I'll assign someone to protect Miss Johnson," said Chief George, sounding like a general before a siege. He actually took her seriously.
Daisy, however, had all the faith of a pigeon in a cat convention when it came to NYPD backup—especially a force that lost three cops every time a villain so much as sneezed. She asked, "Can I get a gun license then? Because I really don't want to rely on someone who can't survive an opening credits montage."
For the top brass of NYPD, granting a civilian a carry permit was child's play. George nodded like he'd just signed off on a parking permit. He promised her an official license in a week and immediate carry rights.
The next day, Daisy skipped the police escort and went full Batman, hiding in the shadows and playing watchtower.
This wasn't Spider-Man we're talking about—Spidey doesn't kill, just flips and quips. These washing powder dealers? Whole different ball game. The kind of ruthless where even the Chief himself had to stay in the armored command van.
Chief George wisely avoided using the local Hell's Kitchen precinct—also known as "the first to die" in any cop movie. He gave our heroic Officer Brett Mahoney a well-earned vacation and called in 500 officers from more competent corners of New York. They were stationed like chess pieces, surrounding the place.
When night fell, a familiar blind man tottered out with his bag full of powdery doom.
"Take him!" George barked.
The poor blind guy had about as much chance of escape as a villain in a Scooby-Doo episode. The cops searched his bag and uncovered three solid bricks of the good ol' "washing powder."
Boom. Case cracked. Chief George, feeling smug, gave the final order: "Total assault!"
Snipers took out the door guards. The rest of the squad charged in like it was Call of Duty: Gang Edition.
Inside, the place looked like a dystopian Costco. Over a hundred men and women stood in line, eyes empty, mechanically cleaning, weighing, and packing the contraband. Armed gangsters patrolled the aisles like bad-tempered Walmart greeters.
Gunfire erupted. Officers went down. Gangsters were dropped. Chaos reigned. But the numbers held, and eventually, the NYPD steamrolled the operation.
Meanwhile, the terrified workers—most of them blind—ran in every direction. Some were genuinely blind. Others had been chemically blinded or had their eyes injured by force. It was a humanitarian disaster wrapped in a criminal enterprise.
Chief George unleashed NYPD's full might—raiding the washing powder factory and two lower-level sales offices. Over 7,000 catties of powder were seized, and more than 130 gang members were either taken down or arrested. Unfortunately, Madame Gao had the vanishing skills of a ninja ghost.
Still, gang members were chatty once in cuffs. Multiple suspects fingered her as the boss. A police artist sketched a wanted poster that was about 70% her and 30% your average angry grandma.
Citywide manhunt initiated! The press went nuclear, highlighting the cruelty of the operation. Public outrage soared, especially once it was revealed how most victims were mutilated after the fact. Talk shows wept. Hashtags trended. Civil rights groups came out swinging.
This uproar flushed out all kinds of people—blind, deaf, or disabled—previously ignored.
Even Matt Murdock, who wasn't Daredevil yet and just a law student, found himself mobbed by concerned classmates. Meanwhile, a retired blind swordsman—once hiding out for a personal grudge against Hand—was nearly mistaken for a trafficking victim and escorted to a nursing home. After five days of unsolicited love and foot massages, he finally ninja'd his way out.
Daisy met with Chief George again two weeks later.
"Here's your gun license. The boss is still at large, so stay viligant. Only I know your name—your secret's safe. And this… is your reward." George handed her a shiny license and a bank card loaded with $100,000.
The man looked almost sheepish—as if apologizing for letting the big bad get away.
Daisy didn't blame him. Expecting NYPD to bring down Hand was like asking a duck to fight a shark. Madame Gao was an ancient chessmaster. Her paranoia was both her strength and her flaw. It would be years before she dared to return.
That night, she dined again with the George family. She left with a full stomach and a few new thoughts.
On the way home, her friend Angela called with juicy gossip.
"You won't believe it. The school's not being demolished anymore. United Construction's capital chain snapped like cheap spaghetti. They paid the damages this afternoon."
"Wait, seriously?" Daisy blinked.
"Yep. Liquidated and vanished. Poof."
Daisy chuckled. It wasn't a coincidence. Madame Gao's vanishing act had turned the local crime scene into a musical chairs bloodbath. Everyone had gone into hiding, and plans to gentrify Hell's Kitchen got tossed like expired yogurt.
Somewhere, greedy school administrators were probably sobbing into their calculators.
But Daisy had no plans to return to class—unless the curriculum suddenly included "How to Weaponize Vibrations 101."
Now that she had startup capital, it was time to build. No more scraping by—time to become her own boss.
She thought briefly about real estate… but buying in this economy? Please. With the subprime mortgage disaster incoming next year (hello, 2007), investing in property now would be like investing in floppy disks.
So she decided to go cerebral: start a company!
Daisy might not be a hacker genius like her MCU variant, but she had brains, a vision, and a solid grasp of fundamentals.
And she knew what came next in the timeline.
Big Data.
A term not even coined until 2008. And real applications? 2010.
She had a head start.
The idea was simple: aggregate tons of data, run it through a decent algorithm, and let the numbers do the talking. It's brutal, unromantic work—but revolutionary.
She filed a leave of absence and threw herself into it headfirst.
To honor her alternate-universe self, she named it: Sky Data Analysis Co., Ltd.