By the time the combined intelligence agencies traced the trail to the San Fernando Valley, Elektra was long gone. Run-of-the-mill agents had no hope of catching an elite assassin from the Chaste.
They did manage to extract wire transfer account numbers from a handful of film studios, but every last one had been masked by Danger—scattered across the globe, routed through a dozen jurisdictions. Unless the entire planet unified into a single country with full information sharing, those accounts would take years to untangle.
Meanwhile, compared to the inexplicable dread that had gripped the world, the adult films ignited an entirely different set of nerves in men and women alike.
To keep the public from getting too stimulated and doing anything they might regret, Daisy stuck to a work-and-rest rotation: one hour of adult films, then one hour of cartoons.
Cartoons weren't something you could extort studios over, so she simply compiled every animated show on the market into a rolling broadcast. Three of the titles hadn't even been released yet, and Skye Pictures' Tom and Jerry was quietly slipped into the rotation. On cue, Skye Pictures joined a coalition of animation studios in issuing a sternly worded open letter condemning the "brazen hacker organization" for its flagrant lawlessness.
Ordinary citizens were well and truly suffering. These were the only programs available—watch them, or get lost and go exercise. Those were the options.
The fear that the World Serpent had burned his own essence to spread was snuffed out as though it had never existed. Even the most timid soul couldn't help but feel their blood pumping while watching adult films. Fear was born from the unknown, but this was primal instinct, and instinct outranked everything.
Seated upon his throne, the World Serpent sensed something was wrong immediately. The divine power that had been surging back was abruptly slashed, then began draining fast. Through his psychic link, a chaotic flood of something came pouring in.
The old man was dumbfounded. He tried to sever the connection, but it was already too late. His essence operated on a tier above divine power—he couldn't recall it on short notice and had no choice but to passively absorb every stray emotion the link fed him.
Excitement. Exhilaration. Arousal. And underneath it all, the faint but unmistakable urge to commit crimes. The World Serpent didn't mind crime per se, but the kind of sin he craved and whatever this was were clearly not the same thing.
When the cartoons kicked in, a wave of pure, unfiltered joy hit him like a sledgehammer to the chest. He hadn't even fought anyone yet, and already he was spitting out a mouthful of purple blood. His hair, which had just regained its dark luster, turned ashen gray once more.
Watching through the satellite feed, Daisy was overjoyed. The gamble she'd taken at no small risk had clearly paid off.
She handed operational command to Hill, claimed she was exhausted, and ducked into the ready room to change gear.
"You're joining the fight too?" Hill followed her in. Even with no one else around, she kept her voice low.
Daisy gestured for Hill to help fluff her hair out. With how bad most Americans were at telling faces apart, nobody would recognize her.
She donned the Eagle Armor, strapped on the sword and shield, fastened her bracers, and clipped the lasso to her belt.
"We have to take the fight to them. The smaller the engagement, the fewer eyes on us, the better." Daisy had zero desire to fight, but right now unity was the only path to defeating the World Serpent. If she held anything back and the other heroes fell, she'd be fighting alone—and that would be pointless.
"Don't worry about me. If things go sideways, I can always run." She kissed Hill's forehead. "You're the one who needs to be careful."
They held each other tight. Then Daisy left the ready room.
Iron Man was already waiting in the adjacent room, along with War Machine, two of the Fantastic Four, Black Widow, Hawkeye, Storm, Cyclops, and the Asgardian quartet.
Sif's eyebrow rose the moment she spotted Daisy's sword-and-shield combination. If not for the occasion, she'd have challenged her to a spar right then and there.
"We lead the charge!" Sif insisted, as stubborn as ever. Daisy didn't argue. The first wave of enemies would be cannon fodder anyway—if Sif and her companions wanted the vanguard, they were welcome to it.
"Tony, Rhodey, Ororo, Johnny, and I can fly. The rest of you take the jets. We need to keep our tempo synchronized."
Daisy's plan was to mass their forces into a single strike group and maximize combined firepower. The idea was shot down almost immediately.
"I've studied the island's terrain," Cyclops said, cutting in first. "Professor Xavier confirmed the enemy has significant numbers. We should split forces and hit from both the north and south simultaneously. Whichever side draws the bulk of their troops, the other punches straight through to the leader."
Stark pitched a nearly identical proposal. He even floated the idea that he could solo the entire thing and the rest of them were dead weight.
Daisy sighed. She knew her authority wasn't enough to overrule men like Cyclops and Iron Man—future faction leaders in their own right. Captain America himself couldn't keep them in line. Heroes were too independent, too undisciplined, and that was precisely why villains kept beating them.
The split-force tactic was a bit reckless, but it wasn't without merit. Trying to fight a boss while simultaneously fending off waves of fodder was genuinely difficult.
"Fine. Let's balance the firepower. I'll take the Destroyer, Iron Man, Storm, and the Asgardians for a frontal assault. The rest of you circle around to the rear."
As nominal commander, this was the best she could get everyone to agree on. Mentally drained, Daisy coordinated the timing between the two groups, then opened a remote channel to Loki through the Destroyer. The Destroyer was going to be a frontline workhorse in the coming battle, with a high probability of being wrecked. She wanted Loki prepared for that.
"A crude trinket of such primitive craftsmanship? We have those lying around all over Asgard..." The moment Loki learned Daisy had never visited Asgard—and that Sif's group hadn't briefed her on the Destroyer's true specifications—he talked himself into a frenzy.
Like hell I believe that. Daisy didn't buy a single word. If Asgard had Destroyers to spare, how powerful would that make them? Odin wouldn't need to lose sleep over Thor's upbringing. He could've let his son live as a happy couch potato and it wouldn't have mattered.
Given that the construction technique was lost—that even Odin himself couldn't build another one today—Daisy felt zero sentimental obligation to preserve Asgardian heritage. She slotted the Destroyer firmly into the cannon-fodder role. Using it as a frontline battering ram would minimize Earth-side casualties, and if it got wrecked in the process, that also weakened Asgard's arsenal. Win-win.
Loki, ever the prodigal heir selling off the family estate without a second thought, was perfectly content to toss out a Destroyer as the price of staying out of the fight himself. A loss he could live with.
Having reached an understanding, Daisy took the controls of one jet while Black Widow piloted the other. Together they peeled away from the Helicarrier and flew, one after the other, toward the floating island—now less than eighty nautical miles off the California coast.
At that moment, the World Serpent was still watching Tom and Jerry. He couldn't help it—the psychic link simply wouldn't close. After passively sitting through two episodes, he had to admit it was actually rather entertaining.
He'd made up his mind: if he conquered Earth, he would absolutely keep that artist named Steve Rogers alive to paint for him. The animation style had a wonderful sense of history to it, rich with emotional depth. The artist was clearly a man of talent.