[ Daisy's House, Manhattan, New York ] [ June, 2007 ]
It was no longer the chaotic beginning of her reincarnation journey. Daisy had a little cash now—okay, a lot—and she finally convinced James Wesley (still reeling from post-Christmas exhaustion and probable regret) to help her set up a private training ground. Only the best equipment, of course. She didn't settle for mediocrity.
Four months of off-and-on production chaos later, the filming of Jurassic Park was officially wrapped.
Actors dispersed like leaves in the wind, the crew resumed their behind-the-scenes grind, the researchers went back to tinkering with science, and Mr. Ward continued doing what spies do best—looking important and telling no one anything.
Daisy had bigger problems. She needed to supervise the addition of computer-generated dinosaurs, then sit through hours of editing sessions with the two directors.
Her schedule looked like this: study in the morning, work in the afternoon, and beat her body into perfection during grueling evening training. Occasionally, she relieved stress by teasing a certain stern-faced agent who couldn't seem to resist her charm.
After a month of blood, sweat, and possibly tears (from the editors), the movie was finally announced as completed.
Now, a regular crew would jump into promotional overdrive, touring the globe, pretending they weren't jet-lagged zombies. But that wasn't an issue here. No one even knew who the hell made the movie.
Daisy took a... unique approach. She personally visited the propaganda departments of the five major nations under the convenient name of S.H.I.E.L.D. As for the smaller countries? A curt notice would suffice:
"Watch it if you want. If not, get lost."
Sure, global governments were confused—what in the flying helicarrier was S.H.I.E.L.D. doing making movies? Still, none dared question it. Orders came from the top. Theater owners received "friendly reminders" that this film was very "complicated" and that it would be... unwise to reject it.
So, every major chain offered prime time slots for this mystery movie.
Despite the fact that most of the promotional funds had mysteriously vanished into a black hole (embezzled by someone with great taste), the film's anticipation wasn't low at all.
There were no previews, no critic screenings, and definitely no press junkets. When filmmakers accused Daisy of not playing by the rules, she simply raised an eyebrow and said:
"Rules? Cute. Release it nationwide."
And so, curiosity drove people to the theaters.
The world wasn't the same as the one where this film was a legend. Daisy knew that. What was a classic there might flop here. So, she decided to go incognito and observe the reactions herself.
"Huuuuh..." Daisy exhaled dramatically in the private training room, placing the barbell down with a satisfying thud. Sweat clung to her face. She wiped it off and tossed the towel over her shoulder.
It had been nearly a year since she gained her powers, and intense training had paid off. She now packed over 800 pounds of raw strength, burst speeds that would make Olympic sprinters cry at 700 km/h, and healing capabilities that made most medkits obsolete.
But... that was the plateau.
Past this point, no amount of push-ups or protein shakes would give her meaningful gains. She needed something... more.
Across the room, metallic clang-clangs echoed as Maria practiced on the salmon ladder like a total badass. Sports bra, combat leggings, sculpted abs on full display—Maria ascended one bar at a time like a goddess who benched betrayal and deadlifts sarcasm.
Daisy smirked, eyes gleaming as she watched.
When Maria jumped down, Daisy walked over and offered a towel with a playful smirk. "Muscle massage? I promise I'm very... thorough."
Maria arched an eyebrow, deadpan as ever. "Shower. Now. Movie's about to start."
Daisy pouted as she was shoved into the bathroom.
They both changed into casual wear—hoodies, jeans, sunglasses, and baseball caps—fully embracing the undercover aesthetic. Then off they went, cruising toward an Upper Manhattan cinema.
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[ Upper Manhattan Cinema, New York ]
Daisy had seen the film a hundred times already. From planning to post-production, every frame was etched in her brain. But this was different. This was about the audience.
Maria, on the other hand, was genuinely curious. She wanted to know if all this effort had paid off—or if Daisy had just wasted government money for glorified CGI lizards.
Outside the theater, Maria paused. She pointed across the sidewalk. "Hey... isn't that the protagonist?"
Daisy blinked, surprised. No one from S.H.I.E.L.D. had shown much interest. Most agents gave it a passing glance and moved on.
But sure enough—Maria had sharp eyes. There stood two familiar faces: Peter Parker and Gwen Stacy.
Minor characters, really. But they had shown up.
Interestingly, they weren't alone. Peter had brought along a slightly chubby kid—possibly his best friend—and Gwen had a girl with cartoonishly large buck teeth. Clearly not a date. Just two teenagers trying to impress their entourage.
Their friendship strategy? Same as Daisy's pre-power days: choose friends who made them look cooler by comparison.
Daisy and Maria discreetly entered the theater via a special backdoor. No one questioned the two attractive women slipping past security. Probably because one of them looked like she could break necks and the other looked like she had already done it.
The lights dimmed. The Seraph Films logo appeared for the first time in cinematic history.
Ten minutes in, someone was already munching loudly beside Maria. She glanced sideways and raised a perfectly sculpted brow.
"Stop eating. You've inhaled a bucket of popcorn and a liter of Coke. Got plans for the future? Or just aiming for a sugar-induced coma?"
Daisy paused mid-sip. "Huh?"
Maria leaned in. "What kind of job do you want? You're not an agent. Don't you want a normal life eventually?"
Daisy nearly choked on her drink. A normal life? Adorable. Did Maria know who she was dating?
But she played along. "A normal life? With that bald brother Sitwell breathing down my neck? No thanks."
Maria didn't laugh, but the corners of her mouth twitched.
Whispering, Daisy added, "S.H.I.E.L.D.'s good to me. Besides..." She hesitated, then smirked. "My family's there."
Maria looked away, but not fast enough to hide the soft expression that crossed her face. Her voice, however, remained professional. "Just friends, remember? Work comes first."
"Crystal clear, Agent Hill," Daisy said with a wink.
Halfway through the movie, the audience was no longer just curious—they were hooked. Gasps and murmurs echoed in the theater as tension built.
Onscreen, the male lead was dragging two terrified kids across a deactivated power grid. Meanwhile, the female lead scrambled to reboot the island's systems on the opposite end.
Everyone knew the hero wouldn't die. But still, hearts pounded when he tossed the girl over and hesitated with the boy. The electricity surged back just as the boy was halfway through. Sparks, screams, and...
He was saved. Barely.
The audience exhaled in unison.
Even Maria looked invested. She leaned toward Daisy, voice low and serious. "If something like that happened on a mission—if someone got hurt because you didn't know what you were doing—what would you do?"
To be continued...
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[ POWER STONES AND REVIEWS PLS ]