Grant Ward never attended the S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy. He was entirely self-taught — a fact that set him miles apart from the academy crowd.
Still, he swung by headquarters every now and then. Daisy had called to set up a meeting time over the phone.
Surprise. Disbelief. Confusion. Those were the three emotions agents felt when they got the call about filming a movie — and Ward was no exception. For a Hydra sleeper who'd seen his share of chaos, the news still managed to leave him rattled.
"Why do you want me as the male lead? I've never acted a day in my life," he said with an amused look as the two of them sat across from each other in a coffee shop inside headquarters.
Daisy nearly scoffed out loud. Never acted? Your whole life is an act — start to finish. Put you up against any Oscar winner and you'd hold your own, easy.
Of course, she kept that to herself.
"Mr. Ward," she said evenly, "your look fits the script perfectly. Handsome, striking, strong-jawed, exceptional physical ability, a sense of justice — those are all genuine qualities you bring to the role."
Ward's first instinct was to refuse. Since when did spies become celebrities? That was way too much exposure.
But as a Hydra operative, he knew exactly how much Nick Fury valued the three girls right now. He couldn't tell which one the Director would ultimately choose, yet here was a golden opportunity to get close to Daisy Johnson — to analyze her intel, her personality, her habits, and assess whether she could be flipped to their side. An opportunity like this wasn't something Hydra could walk away from.
The brass wanted Daisy's file filled in. As a field agent, he wasn't in any position to say no.
Ward kept a pleasant smile on his face while a dozen different calculations ran through his head. Sensing that he'd been quiet too long, he lifted the script and pretended to study the character breakdown.
Honed by dual training under both S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra, he read at an impressive pace. Hiding behind his spy's composure, he sketched out a rough picture of Dr. Grant — the character's name — in under twenty seconds.
He had to admit: the character was a lot like him.
As the adopted son of Hydra senior agent John Garrett, Ward had never felt any real loyalty to Hydra. He'd always just done what Garrett told him — if his foster father said play the hero, he played the hero; if he said otherwise, Ward delivered that too. But no matter how much Garrett valued him, Garrett himself was only a mid-level player. When the higher-ups wanted an asset deployed, Garrett had no choice but to comply.
Caught between a rock and a hard place, Grant Ward felt like he'd been shoved to the edge of a cliff.
Take one step forward and he risked blowing his cover. Take one step back and Hydra would put him down — maybe drag Garrett down with him.
He had no choice.
After years inside S.H.I.E.L.D., Ward wasn't entirely immune to the idea of being a genuine hero. Real life just never gave him the room to try.
Maybe I could let myself… breathe a little? Something shifted inside him.
He pulled himself together and looked at Daisy. "What if a mission comes up during filming?"
"You won't be assigned missions during the shoot." She'd already worked that out with Nick Fury.
"And my cover going forward? An agent's actual face on a screen — what do we do about my career after this?"
That wasn't a concern either. People were notoriously face-blind. Look at the DC crowd across town — Superman put on a pair of glasses and nobody recognized him; Wonder Woman threw her hair in a ponytail and she was invisible. Their side was a step above that, sure, but the phenomenon still existed.
"You can grow some stubble, Mr. Ward. Our makeup team can also add a few years to your appearance if needed."
With every objection countered, Grant Ward couldn't find a single excuse left. He said he was in.
Daisy didn't waste a second — she walked him straight to Coulson for a screen test. Say what you want about Ward's reluctance to show his true colors, but his everyday "reckless golden-retriever" persona combined with the raw craft that leaked through in unguarded moments earned him unanimous praise from everyone in the room.
He also spotted a familiar face on set: Agent May — the woman who'd taught Daisy more than a few fighting moves.
By Western beauty standards, Daisy was considered decent at best, but Agent May was an absolute stunner. Every hard, sculpted line of her face somehow read as striking rather than intimidating.
Cast and crew lined up to chat her up. No matter when you walked by, someone was hovering around May.
The woman had recently finalized a divorce and had been keeping to herself, ice-cold since the split. She'd put in a request to transfer to a desk job. Coulson, an old friend, had pulled her into the production instead and given her a role: head of security for the billionaire character.
Daisy looked around the set and could only shake her head. Coulson. May. Ward. Fitz. Simmons. Add herself and that was it — someone could start rolling cameras on Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Season One right now.
With the male lead locked in, Daisy reached out to her unlikely mentor, Dr. Hank Pym. She'd decided to hand him the role of John Hammond — the villain of the piece.
"An old man who abuses genetic technology?" Pym frowned at the script she'd delivered. He was at an age where starring in movies hadn't exactly crossed his mind lately.
"Exactly," Daisy said, completely sincere. "It's a warning to the public — to approach science with humility. The old man lets his idealism run away with him and destroys everything. Honestly, I think you're perfect for it."
That framing landed. A message about respect for the limits of science and nature — Pym thought the theme had real value. He agreed after only a moment's thought.
Daisy sweet-talked the old man into signing on. On her way out, she came away with a five-million-dollar sponsorship from Yale University, with the simple condition that the lab sequence be shot on campus.
Five million dollars, easy. Leaving Yale, Daisy shook her head in quiet amazement. Having S.H.I.E.L.D.'s backing was practically a money printer. If Nick Fury wasn't burning cash on secret underground bases across the globe, he'd be the richest man alive.
The principals were nearly set. The remaining two roles — the kids — couldn't come from the agent pool.
One boy, one girl. Both needed to embody exactly what "nightmare children" looked like on screen: screaming, stumbling into danger, making every terrible decision possible.
Finding the right fit wasn't easy. S.H.I.E.L.D. had nobody that age, so she had to cast from outside.
The actors' union wrapped child performers in protection clauses that might as well have been written by their grandparents. The kids needed natural instincts on camera, and their parents couldn't be too difficult to work with.
She auditioned carefully — and actually found a match.
Gwen Stacy and Peter Parker. Both eleven years old. Both completely capable of carrying these roles.
Daisy decided to meet them first, then deal with their families.
Peter Parker wasn't in class when she arrived at the school. Ten dollars and a quick conversation told her why.
Simple enough story: the usual kind of school bullying. Peter had been hassled by a classmate named Flash Thompson, fought back, and now both the one who threw punches and the one who received them had been hauled off to the teacher's office.
Daisy got directions and headed for the faculty lounge.