"I'll be honest—these drone soldiers are terrible. But given enough time, I can make them combat-ready. At minimum, they'll meet the Department of Defense's requirements." Daisy laid out her value proposition first.
Justin was elated. He snapped his fingers, signaling his people to prepare champagne.
Then Daisy shifted gears. "But I expect compensation that matches my capabilities. Saving Hammer Industries and securing a five-year DoD contract? Three percent doesn't even begin to cover it."
Justin had anticipated pushback and came prepared with a counteroffer. He opened his mouth to sweeten the deal, but Daisy cut him off. "Mr. Hammer, I know your actual personal holdings aren't substantial. Do you even control twenty percent? My terms are simple: Skye Data trades fifteen percent of its shares for fifteen percent of Hammer Industries. Feel free to discuss it with your shareholders."
Justin Hammer's jaw dropped. The sheer audacity—she was asking for an absolutely outrageous price. That data company of yours—is it even worth ten million? You want to trade one and a half million in equity for a stake in Hammer Industries worth at least three billion? This is armed robbery. Can I call 911?
Daisy said her piece and left no room for negotiation. She picked up her handbag, gestured to James Wesley, and the two of them walked out of Hammer Industries.
"Will they actually agree to those terms? It seems a bit... harsh." As the company's CEO and Daisy's representative in all commercial matters, James Wesley rode in a stretched Lincoln. The two of them sat in the rear compartment as the former mob consigliere voiced his doubts.
He used the word "harsh" because they were on the same side. From an outsider's perspective, James thought what Daisy had just done was flat-out daylight robbery. Worse than anything the gangs pulled—they'd have to hustle for a year to steal that much.
If Skye Data acquired fifteen percent of Hammer Industries, they'd be a major shareholder in a publicly traded defense contractor.
Selling machine guns on street corners versus selling missiles in spacious boardrooms—those were two entirely different lives. James knew Daisy wouldn't have time for day-to-day operations. When the time came, taking a seat on Hammer Industries' board and exercising shareholder authority would be his job.
With Daisy's backing, even a shot at chief executive wasn't out of the question. The thought of becoming a titan of the defense industry sent the former consigliere's pulse racing. But he wasn't optimistic about Daisy's aggressive terms.
Skye Data was worth ten million, tops. Skye Pictures was worth more, but S.H.I.E.L.D. held the majority stake there—they only had management rights. For this deal, only Skye Data's equity was on the table.
"Relax, James. I'd say I have a fifty or sixty percent chance. Knowledge is priceless, remember? And right now, only Stark and I have the knowledge they need. They can't afford Stark, so that leaves me." Daisy's tone was unconcerned. In her private estimate, the odds were closer to sixty or seventy percent.
Justin, as the man running the company, would never sell his life's work this cheaply. But the people pulling his strings thought differently. HYDRA would be happy to offer him some "premium" advice, and capital pressure would force Justin to bend.
Hammer Industries had roughly forty-five percent of its shares in public circulation. The rest was scattered among major investors, institutional funds, and even a few well-connected generals with real political clout.
Controlling fifty-one percent was virtually impossible in the real world. Even Stark Industries split its ownership roughly into thirds: a third in public float, a third held by the board, and a third belonging to Tony Stark personally.
That final third alone had made Stark the richest man in the world, with enough voting power to wield considerable influence within the company.
Hammer Industries was far smaller than Stark Industries. To secure the support he'd needed, Justin Hammer had given away far too much equity. Daisy's earlier estimate of twenty percent had been optimistic. According to Danger's analysis, even including hidden holdings, Justin controlled roughly 16.5% of the company. The rest was in other people's hands.
A man who'd compromised once would compromise again. The pressure on Justin was immense.
What he didn't know was that the HYDRA operatives who'd been circling Daisy, hoping to extract Iron Man armor schematics through this elaborate detour, were nursing headaches of their own.
As Daisy had told James, this wasn't about money. For her, it was about knowledge. A lifetime of accumulated expertise had brought her a capital windfall. Killing Vanko early had given her a monopoly—she was the only game in town. Her price was whatever she felt like charging. Don't like it? Get lost.
For HYDRA, it wasn't about money either. It was about access. The arms market was enormous but tightly controlled by entrenched interest groups. An outsider trying to break in? Forget it. All the money in the world wouldn't buy you a seat at that table. Go play with your tech startups.
Three percent was still within acceptable limits. But if Daisy acquired fifteen percent of Hammer Industries, her influence would undergo a quantum leap. Her every move would affect the company's direction. Adding another player to an already carved-up pie was unwelcome news in a defense industry that guarded its turf fiercely.
To make this work, HYDRA would need to leverage its network, coordinate across factions, and broker a web of favors and tradeoffs just to get Daisy through the door and secure her a seat at the table.
The decision was too big for the rank and file. The question traveled up the chain, tier by tier, until it landed on the desk of Baron Strucker—HYDRA's most powerful leader—at Crown Base, HYDRA's financial headquarters in Kyoto, Japan.
The tall white man had cold, brooding eyes. He was Fury's mirror opposite in almost every way: one black-skinned and fighting for justice, the other white-skinned and perpetually stirring chaos. One had lost his left eye; the other, his right.
Strucker flipped through his subordinates' report, visibly displeased. HYDRA was accustomed to exploiting others—being on the receiving end was a novelty. And Daisy's deliberately ambiguous posture made it feel like they were walking up to the butcher's block of their own accord.
His single eye drifted to the Kyoto streets beyond the window. Annoyed, he tossed Daisy's dossier aside. One page in particular had caught his attention—he'd read it several times over. A HYDRA intelligence operative had reported that Daisy maintained close ties with Viper.
Strucker's people couldn't surveil a fellow HYDRA chief. He and Viper shared no intelligence, had no sense of coordinated action—everything between them came down to guesswork.
Bewilderment, confusion, suspicion—the emotions churned through him. Could Daisy Johnson be HYDRA? Was one arm of HYDRA now doing business with another?
Strucker concluded that Viper was scheming behind his back. Madame Hydra was most likely trying to swallow this valuable S.H.I.E.L.D. asset before anyone else could get to her.
It wasn't an unreasonable assumption. Strucker had clawed his way to the top by devouring Red Skull's former forces, then absorbing the bulk of Whitehall's operation after S.H.I.E.L.D. captured him. Merging those factions together was what had fueled his rise and secured his dominance within HYDRA.
Everything came down to personal cunning. That was HYDRA's iron law.