[ On The Quinjet ]
Daisy lowered her head in thought, fingers brushing her chin like a philosopher trying to solve the mystery of how socks vanish in dryers. "Actually, I want to understand this world... really understand it. In the East, there's this whole concept of cultivating immortals. In the West, you've got wizards and magic. Sure, it sounds like fantasy, but behind all the fairy dust and flying broomsticks, I think there's a set of rules, a logic—maybe even a science. For me, the biggest drive to study quantum physics is just... curiosity."
What she said was 70% truth, 30% improvisation. Black Widow and Dr. Hank Pym, both seasoned veterans of secrets and subtext, exchanged the kind of subtle glance that screamed, "She knows more than she's letting on," but ultimately let it go.
Her sincerity—or at least, her poker face—passed the test.
"Your purpose is very noble," Dr. Pym said with a respectful nod. "Curiosity has always been the spark behind mankind's greatest discoveries... and most catastrophic mistakes."
He adjusted his glasses with all the gravitas of a man who's watched too many brilliant minds vaporize themselves. Then came the pop quiz.
"What do you know about atoms?"
"What's your opinion on string vibrations and wave-particle duality?"
"Define, in your own words, the motion law of a duality system... without using the word 'um.'"
Daisy wasn't stumped—at least not entirely. She answered honestly, mixing textbook answers with unexpected insights and the occasional sheepish "no idea." It wasn't polished, but it was real. In fact, her take on a few quantum theories was so off-book it made Pym raise an eyebrow high enough to breach orbit.
She even dared to question two well-established formulas and backed her argument with examples that made the old man hum in curiosity. People who regurgitate theories were a dime a dozen. But Daisy? Daisy challenged them. And that made her rare.
"Interesting," Pym finally muttered. "You've got your own perspective. That's... unusual. I've seen plenty of parrots over the years, but hawks are harder to come by."
But then, like a grandmaster flipping the board mid-game, Pym dropped his tone.
"Pym particles," he said gravely, "are not a toy. They're dangerous. Promise me you won't go near them."
Daisy blinked. Of all the heavy science warnings she'd braced herself for, she didn't expect that.
Now, even if someone FedEx'd her a vat of Pym particles and a handwritten recipe, she'd hesitate to open it. Her DNA had been playfully enhanced by the Kree, which made her playing around with molecular-altering particles about as smart as giving a toddler a live grenade.
"I once had a student, Isadore," Pym continued, drawing out the drama. "Brilliant. Sharp as a laser. But she underestimated how precise quantum work has to be. Her math was off by a decimal."
Daisy leaned in. "What happened?"
"She was pulled into the quantum realm. Subatomic state. No time. No space. Just... floating."
Daisy's face went from curious to pale faster than a SHIELD intern being asked to spar with Romanov. "I promise. No touching the Pym particles."
Pym, apparently satisfied, handed her a business card. "Good. I'm at Yale University. Come see me when you're ready to learn the safe stuff."
Yale, huh? That was where Angela her dazzling bestie studied. Was fate bringing their paths together again?
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[ S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ, Washington DC ]
The Quinjet dropped Pym off in New Haven, and the rest of the crew returned to S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ for the bureaucratic part of every superhero mission: paperwork.
Daisy had barely typed 200 words of her mission report when Counselor Coulson popped up with his usual dad-smile. "Director wants to see you."
So soon?
The next thing she knew, she was standing in front of Nick Fury—aka The One-Eyed Pirate, aka Nicky the Unreadable. He didn't waste time on greetings.
"What are the odds you can get us the Pym particles?"
Daisy blinked. That escalated quickly.
"I already promised Professor Pym I wouldn't mess with those," she replied coolly, arms crossed like a moody cat ready to swat.
Fury stared at her with that singular, judgmental eyeball. "Really? You're sure? SHIELD invested a lot in you."
"I'm sure," she said firmly, then grinned. "Besides, have you seen what those things can do to your molecules? I like my face just the way it is."
Fury gave the kind of grumble that meant, "Fine, I'll find another loophole." Then, in the most begrudging tone possible, added, "You did well. Romanov and Pym both praised your performance. You're a natural. Could even be the future king of agents."
"Cool title. Does it come with a crown?"
Fury didn't laugh.
Next topic: the enemy.
"What's your assessment of those mercenaries?"
"They were trained like elite soldiers," Daisy said, shifting to serious mode. "Fought to the last breath. That kind of loyalty doesn't come cheap—or legal. I've never seen that kind of commitment outside of special ops. Or cults."
She was hoping Fury would leap to Hydra on his own. If SHIELD caught wind of them early, maybe—just maybe—they could avoid the implosion of the whole agency.
Daisy flashed back to the grim timeline she barely escaped. Coulson bleeding, their team using duct tape to keep gear together, downgraded from 'Strategic Homeland' to 'Super Homeless.' They went from flying Helicarriers to crashing Ubers. Five years of heartbreak, ramen noodles, and stolen cars.
Coulson was a good man—heart of SHIELD. But he wasn't Fury.
As she turned to leave, she caught a glimpse of Maria Hill outside Fury's office. Their eyes met, awkwardly, warmly, and... maybe something more.
Hill gave her a nod, lips twitching toward a smile.
Daisy felt her heart flutter just a little. Baby steps. Awkward baby steps into something complicated.
To be continued...
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[ POWER STONES AND REVIEWS PLS ]