"Two giant corpses landed in the military's hands. Another fifteen human bodies—the Science Division is calling them Ancient Earthlings now—plus a number of Asgardian bodies have ended up with various organizations, and—"
Hill didn't have time for pleasantries. She was frantic, and the moment she saw Daisy she launched straight into the briefing.
The strain was obvious. She'd had to coordinate a room full of superhumans with clashing egos, recover alien remains, clear a battlefield, and simultaneously deal with government agencies, police departments, fire services, and civilian organizations—wasting her breath on people who had no idea what they were doing. Hill was running on empty.
As a senior operative raised on S.H.I.E.L.D. principles, with protecting the planet as her personal mandate, Hill didn't lack for intelligence. But she had absolutely no patience for the way most of these people operated. Civilians were grabbing Frost Giant corpses and running off with them, and agents had to sprint after them. Everyone apparently believed that if you took a Frost Giant body home and ate it, you'd gain superpowers.
The ancient Asgardian blades left scattered on the battlefield had been stolen, and within three days they were already showing up on the black market.
In short: the civilian population was impossible, the government wouldn't cooperate, and Hill had almost no authority to compel anyone.
"I've got the picture. From here on, this is my operation—you focus on the Helicarrier," Daisy said, looping an arm briefly around Hill's shoulders.
Given the choice, she preferred directing to fighting. And Hill, whatever her strengths, was a precise executor—put her on a single defined task and she excelled. Managing overlapping factions of difficult personalities was not her territory.
Having attended the Obama Heroes' Summit, Daisy knew people across the whole landscape—this coordination job was made for her.
One call to the Pentagon secured the limited cooperation of the Air Force Chief of Staff. Colonel Rhodey was on active duty; carrying out her assignment wasn't optional for him.
Susan Storm was next. Susan felt Hill had been condescending—she and her brother were here voluntarily, not under anyone's command, and they weren't obligated to follow orders from anyone. Under Daisy's handling, the two sides reached a grudging consensus.
Storm was a different case from Hill's headaches. She and Daisy had history forged in life-or-death situations. Once Daisy was back at the helm, Storm calmed down immediately and rejoined the relief operation—and pulled Cyclops along with her.
The hardest case was Stark, who proved impressively resistant to all conventional forms of pressure. Daisy had to bring in Pepper before his swagger could be properly tamped down.
"This is genuinely a hell-tier task," she muttered, surveying the assembled heroes and feeling a creeping dread about the future Avengers.
The hardest part was done. S.H.I.E.L.D. and HYDRA operatives had no such issues—they ran errands for her on command, no argument.
Hill didn't know about HYDRA. She was simply stunned that Daisy's authority extended this far. These assignments carried real risk; if she had been the one directing, operatives would have demanded concessions. Under Daisy, a single order and they executed without pushback. The compliance was almost uncanny.
The fragments of the Island of Fear had come down mostly along the California coastline, which meant Daisy had to negotiate with the California state government.
American states held enormous autonomy. When a hurricane hit Florida, if the governor objected, a presidential visit got cancelled. The same dynamic applied here—she had to build consensus with state authorities first.
Fortunately, she had resources Hill couldn't begin to match. After several rounds of negotiation, she directed thirty million dollars from Stark's Post-Disaster Reconstruction Committee to the California state government.
Whose money? Tony Stark's committee, with Baldy holding a half stake. Daisy consulted neither of them—she called Pepper, and the funds were approved.
With state government backing, S.H.I.E.L.D. agents finally had firm ground to stand on. They'd spent three days operating like thieves—sneaking around, trying to look inconspicuous. Now they walked tall in their black suits and white shirts, sunglasses on, kicking down doors whenever someone looked suspicious.
Civilian scavengers were dealt with easily enough. Official organizations were trickier: everyone wanted a piece of the battle debris—Dark Elf armor, Asgardian weapons, alien corpses.
Daisy's approach was clearance.
The FCC, the NTSB, every research institution that had arrived on scene—all of them, out.
S.H.I.E.L.D. dwarfed any one of them by a factor of ten, and all of them combined by more. She didn't need to indulge anyone.
Some civilian organizations had real clout—the NRA, for instance. But what exactly did a gun lobby need with a Frost Giant corpse? Target practice? An organization like that wouldn't band together to go head-to-head with S.H.I.E.L.D. over something well outside its core interests. She evicted them all. If they refused to go, she used force. If they still refused, she opened fire—and whatever remained would end up in a missing persons report.
Federal agencies—FBI, CIA—were a different matter. On American soil, she couldn't simply throw them out.
Her approach there was delay. The supervisor's unavailable. This requires a countersignature. The printer's broken. Every bureaucratic excuse she could manufacture.
She was counting on them being too cautious to escalate. But she wasn't unreasonable about it—she let each agency take away three bodies, Frost Giants and Dark Elves mixed.
Asgardian and Earth-human remains she collected in full. Whether their souls went to the realm of the dead or Valhalla was none of her concern—she cremated them all publicly. A decent send-off.
That earned broad approval across the board.
A week of directing operatives and heroes, and the job was finally done. She headed back to Washington HQ.
"What's your read on the Asgardians?" Fury asked, behind closed doors. "Could they threaten Earth? Conquer it?"
"Asgardians are aggressive by nature. Their current ruler has the wisdom to know his limits—Odin understands what's worth doing and what isn't. He'll restrain himself, analyze rationally. But future successors are harder to predict. Thor is impulsive and not particularly clever; if he were manipulated, or grew complacent once he took the throne, it's not impossible that he'd become a threat to Earth. People change."
Daisy made no effort to hide her assessment for Heimdall's benefit. She gave it straight, from as objective a standpoint as she could manage.
In truth, she knew Fury had already made up his mind. Whether it was the Asgardians or the Chitauri—either one qualified. All he needed was a single credible external threat, and he'd have the justification to build what he'd always been building toward: a coalition of enhanced individuals to meet the crises Earth could no longer handle on its own.
"Would you be interested in joining?" Fury asked, without preamble. He knew she'd understand.