"Quick, help me get dressed!" Hill instantly regretted coming back to the helicarrier today. Under Fury's scrutinizing gaze, she hastily scrawled letters on the back of Daisy's hand.
Daisy had been just as startled by Fury's sudden appearance. If she'd known this would happen, she would've teleported away earlier, even at the risk of raising Sharon's suspicions.
Hiding under the covers, she found Hill's underwear by feel alone. Two sneaky hands worked their way upward, finding the right spots while Hill made small, careful movements beneath the blanket to help her get dressed.
They moved slowly, silently. By the time Sharon buckled under Fury's stare and bolted from the room, they'd only just managed to get their tops on.
"I'll wait outside. We need to talk." Fury had no interest in watching his subordinates change clothes. He turned and walked out without a second glance.
Even after he'd left, neither of them dared make a sound. They finished dressing as quietly as possible, and Daisy slipped into the bathroom before teleporting back to her own quarters on the helicarrier.
She took the long way around, then staged a "coincidental" encounter with a visibly flustered Sharon.
After some idle chatter that went nowhere, Sharon reiterated her three-person alliance proposal and hurried out of headquarters.
Late that night, a certain someone snuck back into the captain's quarters.
"What did he want?" Daisy asked between bites of the vegetable salad Hill had made.
Hill seemed a bit confused herself. "He asked if I wanted to continue serving on the helicarrier. Said he's considering transferring me to work with NASA on some joint project. He didn't go into details—it's just a preliminary idea for now."
"And what do you think?"
"Of course I'm staying on my helicarrier. I'm still waiting for your flight system to be ready so I can captain the first flying carrier." Sharon's words from that afternoon had clearly had some effect. The two of them had gone from never discussing work to at least touching on it casually.
"Your face says you already know what the project is," Hill probed.
Daisy cross-referenced several pieces of information and the conclusion wasn't hard to reach. "The military's been applying pressure. They want to restart the Tesseract weaponization program. Fury's been stalling with every excuse he can find, but the Hulk incident probably changed his mind."
"Let's just focus on the helicarrier for now. The Tesseract project has a mountain of preliminary work to get through, and it's still only a proposal at this point—too many moving parts, too much busywork." Daisy was itching to study the Tesseract's energy composition, but the timing clearly wasn't right.
The next day, Fury announced the assignment to his senior agents. Since the project required joint development with NASA, he dispatched two senior agents at once: Victoria Hand, who'd taken a beating from Daisy lately, would handle external coordination, while Hawkeye would manage internal oversight.
Site selection, personnel transfers between agencies, researcher onboarding, family relocation for research staff, construction of the R&D center—all of it would take an enormous amount of time.
Hawkeye looked thoroughly miserable. He hated this kind of tedious administrative work. He'd spent years deliberately holding a do-nothing posting to avoid exactly this. Victoria Hand wasn't thrilled either. The sheer volume of minutiae meant they'd be buried in paperwork for a long time.
They spent the days discussing work and the nights discussing... other matters. After a thoroughly enjoyable week, Daisy hung up her lab coat and returned to New York. Private business had come calling.
"Ma'am, Justin Hammer has extended a very sincere invitation for us to partner with Hammer Industries." James Wesley, her resident strategist, brought her an unexpected piece of news.
Having killed Ivan Vanko early, they'd naturally lost any chance to short Hammer Industries' stock. Daisy had already moved on mentally, but somehow the situation had drifted in an entirely different direction.
Wearing a rose-pink business suit, Daisy sat in her office and considered the proposal. James found her outfit and bearing somewhat dazzling. He averted his gaze slightly and waited for her decision.
This was nothing like the consulting fees from before. Those had been straightforward pay-for-service arrangements—equal exchanges, clean and simple.
Hammer Industries' proposal was different. Justin Hammer was suggesting a cross-shareholding swap: 3% of Hammer Industries' stock in exchange for 15% of Skye Data.
The two companies weren't remotely in the same league. Skye Data's analytics services could be called industry-leading, but how long that edge would last was anyone's guess. After two years of growth, large-scale data analytics firms had proliferated like weeds. Skye Data's actual revenue had already begun a nosedive.
Hammer Industries, on the other hand, had smoothly absorbed the Department of Defense's massive weapons orders after Stark announced the closure of his weapons division. It now sat at the top of the defense manufacturing food chain. The two companies weren't even playing the same game.
When someone offers you a gift this generous, they want something in return. A deal this lopsided obviously had nothing to do with Skye Data's analytics business.
That was precisely why James had summoned Daisy in such a hurry. From a pure business standpoint, a windfall like this was once-in-a-lifetime. But James was no longer fixated on New York's laundry detergent market. He'd broadened his horizons enough to know that a decision like this required careful thought.
No matter what, Daisy had to make the call herself.
Hammer Industries' market valuation was nowhere near Stark Industries' level. The company's rise had been too recent, too fast. Years of being steamrolled by Obadiah, combined with a CEO who lacked any standout products, meant it had plenty of weaknesses.
Unlike those companies that traded on hype and internet buzz, racking up hundred-billion-dollar valuations on hot air alone, Hammer Industries was valued at a modest twenty billion. But it held a portfolio of patent licenses and a stack of military contracts, and its cash flow was obscenely healthy. It was currently the darling of the capital markets.
Someone was offering to trade a golden rice bowl for her iron one. Daisy couldn't think of a reason to refuse. She nodded immediately. "Tell them we're open to further discussions. Set up a meeting with Justin Hammer. I want to see what he's really after."
The other side was clearly in a hurry. Three days later, Daisy and her former mob consigliere met the somewhat neurotic Justin Hammer at an opera house. The slippery arms dealer maintained his trademark style: the moment they sat down, he launched into an unbroken stream of flattery. Not a trace of billionaire composure in sight—he came across more like a street-corner arms peddler hawking secondhand weapons.
They'd crossed paths before but never spoken. Daisy knew he wanted something from her, so she kept a pleasant smile and waited for him to make his pitch.
After complimenting her beauty for the fourth time, Justin Hammer seemed to run out of material.
He cleared his throat softly. A door opened nearby, and a pale, heavyset man walked in.
"Senator Stern?" Daisy hadn't expected him to be the real star of the show. Several thoughts flashed through her mind in rapid succession—she understood their angle immediately. But she still wanted to hear what he had to say.