May and Daisy sparred for two solid hours. When it was over, May simply labeled her learning ability as a reluctant "pass," tossed her a nod, and walked off into the sunset—no epic training montage, no ancient kung fu manual passed down through the ages, not even a "let's do this every week." Just… poof. Gone.
Daisy stood there, confused and slightly winded, wondering if the whole thing had been a fever dream or a stealth cameo. It had all the emotional depth of someone lending you a pen and then forgetting you exist.
Still, Daisy knew who was behind this little dojo detour—none other than Director One-Eyed Pirate himself, Nick Fury. She was almost certain it had to be one of his mind-game initiatives. What, did May just wake up and decide to pass on the ancient art of joint locks to the next random student? Please. There were plenty of other cadets, and May hadn't shown even a fraction of that energy for them.
Cafeteria was still open, so naturally, Daisy reloaded with two slices of pepperoni pizza. With her stomach satisfied, she returned to her room, took a hot bath, and dove face-first into the cozy abyss of her bed.
As the days rolled on, she started to find her rhythm at S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy. Her roommate/frenemy/girl-she's-supposed-to-spy-on, Sharon Carter, was thawing out fast. It turned out they were both convinced the other was secretly monitoring them, so to keep up appearances for the invisible puppet masters, they were now besties on the surface. So fake it till you make it, right?
There was no welcome ceremony, no big SHIELD-style parade with helicopters and exploding logos. You arrive, and you start. Period. The instructors taught at their own pace, and if you missed something?
Too bad. SHIELD doesn't do hand-holding. Didn't catch the lesson on stealth protocol or subatomic waveform alignment? Figure it out or fall behind.
Daisy was, quite frankly, overwhelmed. Most students had college degrees—some even had PhDs or came from military backgrounds. Meanwhile, our girl had a high school dropout badge and a barely-used library card. It felt like being thrown into the deep end with a cement floatie.
Thank the Terrigen for her slightly boosted intelligence. It didn't turn her into Einstein, but she could at least cram hard and use her powers to make theoretical concepts click. Quantum mechanics still felt like ancient alien sorcery, but she was holding on.
Meanwhile, Sharon Carter had been running her mouth about how she "aced all the sciences," but the moment Daisy threw a basic question her way, Sharon's confident facade cracked like a cheap phone screen.
"I saw you nodding in class! I thought you understood!" Daisy groaned.
"Quantum mechanics is overrated," Sharon muttered, scratching at her perfect blonde hair like the answers were hiding in her scalp. "Not really my field..."
Daisy had half a mind to throw a physics book at her. But alas, they were in this fake-friendship spy bubble together.
Outside of classes, Daisy started tinkering with her tools. She picked up a Chiappa Rhino revolver from SHIELD's logistics department (swiped it on her SHIELD card like she was buying a Frappuccino), and promptly went looking for someone to modify it.
Enter: Leo Fitz. Curly hair, sharp eyes, and social skills smoother than a cactus. The guy was buried in machinery when she knocked on his lab door. After she explained the situation, he looked at her like she just requested a tactical nuke shaped like a duck.
"This weapon's not great for you," he said, frowning like a disappointed dad. "It's got heavy recoil, a low ammo count, and a higher failure rate than my last relationship. You'd be better off with a compact Glock."
Daisy, ready for this exact speech, told him a creatively enhanced lie. She'd been taught wrist-strengthening breathing techniques since childhood by a mysterious martial arts master, so recoil wasn't an issue. Yes, Fitz was skeptical. No, he didn't call her out.
He sighed and took the revolver.
She handed him a design sketch. The gun looked straight out of Harley Quinn's collection: black gunmetal body, white handle, "LOVE" engraved on one side, "HATE" on the other. Did she need the dual symbolism? No. Was it stylish? You bet.
Fitz blinked at the sketch like it personally offended him but said nothing.
With the gun in expert hands, Daisy threw herself back into her studies. Then, a month into this spy-school grind...
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[ 1 Month Later ]
"Get up! Come on!" Sharon yanked Daisy out of her reading haze.
"I was analyzing wave functions," Daisy whined. "What now?"
"A tactical demo class. A new student. A very famous one." Sharon had that gossip-glint in her eyes.
Daisy blinked. "More famous than you?"
Sharon just smiled like she'd swallowed the answer and liked the taste.
The demo room was buzzing. And standing dead center, blending in but also definitely not blending in, was none other than Maria Hill. Yup. The Maria Hill. Nick Fury's right hand.
Decked in standard SHIELD tactical gear with her signature ponytail and those cool blue eyes, Hill looked like the only person in the room who could actually command a helicarrier.
To Daisy's surprise, Hill wasn't cold. She was polite, even conversational—but she radiated the kind of authority that made you hesitate before offering her a handshake.
"You know her?" Sharon asked, pretending to be casual.
"Maria Hill. Fury's second-in-command," Daisy confirmed. "What's she doing here?"
"Maybe she got fired," Sharon suggested with way too much hope in her voice.
Daisy doubted that. In most timelines she remembered, Hill was Fury's ride-or-die for years. When Daisy had eventually become SHIELD's director—and got suspended for blowing a hole in AIM's boardroom—it was Hill who took over.
The woman was a force of nature. Professional. Tactical. Loyal—but not blindly.
Still, Hill's presence gave everyone something new to whisper about. In an academy drowning in routine, any kind of shake-up was welcome.
And then—because apparently one high-ranking SHIELD icon wasn't enough—Phil Coulson waltzed in three days later. Not as a guest, not for a special ops seminar, but as a full-on teacher.
His course? Combat strategy… with a side of SHIELD propaganda.
"SHIELD is the barrier between humanity and the unknown," Coulson declared with dramatic flair. "We are the torchbearers. We protect the truth. We preserve peace. We… serve the mission."
Daisy, sitting in the second row, felt like she was watching a TED Talk on loyalty hosted by your overly enthusiastic uncle.
He meant every word, though. His eyes glowed with idealism. This man genuinely believed in the mission. He'd probably tattoo the SHIELD logo on his chest if the HR department didn't have strict policies against it.
She leaned over to Sharon and whispered, "I swear, if he says 'with great power' I'm walking out."
Sharon smirked. "Give it five minutes."